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Saturday, January 13, 2018

CP Chapter 04 - The Prospect

After a few text messages back and forth we arranged a time and day for the session.  Despite us having met at the coffee shop to talk through a few things, get a sense of each other’s personality, our commitment, and interest, I was still worried he’d ghost me right up until he knocked on my door.  I was so relieved when he did as I had imagined the whole scene several times over the previous days and even waiting for him I started to get an erection.  I gave myself a moment to breath and focus, let it subside a little, before I answered the door.

He stood before me, eyes down causing his shaggy blonde hair to hang down in front of his face.  He was dressed in a white t-shirt and loose, baggy jeans, and old worn out shoes.  His shoulders were tense and he shifted on his feet.  He was nervous so I adjusted myself, not too serious, not too relaxed, let myself be open to however this would go.

“Hello,” I said.

“Hi,” he forced out of his throat.

“Would you like to come inside?”

He looked back at the street to his car then around at the other houses and shrugged his shoulders before stepping forward into the house.  I closed the door behind him then stepped away to give him space and let him look around but he barely moved so I motioned to a seat I usually leave by the door for taking off shoes and such.  He moved to it and sat, looked up to me with big, hopeful blue eyes.  I stepped back some more and smirked to him.

“I know it feels big, important, like the first time you had sex or something and it’s kind of like that but I’m not here to ridicule you, unless you’re into that, it’s a journey and we’re both on it together.  I just have more experience.”

He smiled back to me.

“I just want it to be right, you know, like I don’t want to make a mistake.”

“Don’t think of it like that,” I replied, “there will be mistakes and there will be corrections, that’s the point of this.  You want to explore something.  I didn’t go into detail but we’ll use a safe word.  Yellow if you want me to slow down and red if you want me to stop.  The important thing is if you trust me.”

“I do, really, I mean you were the only guy to be so nice and explain stuff to me, just, you know, it’s like new to me.  I mean I didn’t think much about it.  I tried to not think about it, but then I put on white briefs today, which is different for me and it’s been like all I can think about, all through class this morning I kept thinking about this.”

“What if we go into the living room first and we can just sit and talk if you want?”

“Yeah,” he said.

He stood and started to move towards the living room and I motioned for him to stop and pointed to his shoes.

“Sorry,” he replied.

He slid off his shoes and I motioned for him to follow me into the living room where I took a seat in the recliner leaving him the big couch to sit on.  He took the middle seat which was kind of interesting to me.  Most guys, most “alpha men” take a corner seat, try to project strength, so maybe he was more open to this than I thought.  I watched his breathing steady and even out as he looked around at the room.  He spotted a few photos of me and my husband, he smiled at the art on the walls, photographs and paintings of naked men.  Finally he sat back and I figured he had relaxed enough.

“Would you like to start?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Okay, then let’s go back to the front door,” I said.

I got to my feet and led him back to the front door and motioned for him to stand near the entrance so he did.  I took a deep breath.  He did too.  Sympathetic response, that’s good, I thought.

“From now on it’s yes sir and no sir.  Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir,” he answered.

“Good, and you understand about the safe word and how they work?  You can beg and plead, get into the role, but when you want things to slow down you say yellow and if you want them to stop you say red.  Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Follow me,” I commanded.

Through the dining room, down a long hallway of closed doors, at the very end on the left I opened the door and motioned for him to enter and he did.  I stepped in behind him and let him look over everything.  There was a bookshelf on the left and a built in closet, a bed to the right with a cross above it, the only in the house for mood.  There were a few pictures on the walls, simply decorative and common things I found in thrift stores.  Thick, heavy curtains covered the windows.  But against the far wall was the desk.  I called it the punishment desk.  It was old and well constructed with a simple chair that had no arms and would have very little comfort to a sore bottom.

The desk had a shelving unit on top where there were several leather bound journals, separated into the men I no longer played with, the two who currently visited me, and one lonely journal for someone new.  I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed a little for him to walk to the desk which he did obediently and without resistance.  I told him to sit and pull in the chair at the desk.  I laid out the new journal and a pen.  He opened it to the first page and took a deep breath.

That’s when I reached into the drawer and took out my favorite paddle, the introductory paddle, and set it on the desk in front of him in front of the notebook so that he’d have to look at it while he wrote.  He gulped and I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder until he calmed down.  He noticed that there were several journals there already and raised an enquiring eyebrow.  I told him the ones on the left were old journals for men I had known previously, most I barely if ever stayed in contact with, one had become my husband and didn’t need it anymore, one we were friends now and stopped being punished some years ago.  The ones on the right were for my new subjects.  I told him to write out his name, the date, and what he had done wrong to deserve a punishment.  He set to the task and I walked away, out of the room and down the hall to the kitchen to catch my breath and assess things.

When I returned he was still writing so I gave him a minute to see if he’d run out of energy.  I walked up to him and looked to the notebook.  He was on his third page and making a bullet point list.

“Are you almost done?”

“Yeah, just one more thing,” he said.

“Sir,” I replied.

“Just one more thing, sir,” he said.

When he stopped I closed the journal and set it on the shelf with the others before putting my hand back on his shoulder and telling him to stand.  He did so without much reaction so I told him to assume the position over the desk as I picked up the paddle.  He crossed his arms against it, let his head settle against them, his blonde hair fell down against the wood.

“Are you ready?” I asked.

“I need to pee sir,” he said.

“On a scale of 1 to 5?”

“One sir,” he answered.

“Wait,” I said.

The first whack caught him off guard and he barely made a sound.  His jeans took most of the impact.  I set the paddle down and grabbed the back of the his jeans and tugged up giving him a slight wedgie until I could make out the shape of his buttocks then I let him settle back down on his feet and against the desk.  I tapped his butt to let him know I’d spank him again and saw him brace himself so I cracked him once just to let him really feel it, what it was like when the jeans didn’t break the impact and he grunted.  I spanked him two more times in quick succession and he rose up on his toes so I paused and let him settle.

I tapped and he braced himself but this time I didn’t spank him and waited.  I waited until he relaxed a little then I gave it to him three times.  Instead of rising up on his toes he tried to grind his heels into the carpet, really plant himself there.  I tapped him and he tensed so I paused again, but not as long before I laid into him three more times causing him to grunt with each one.

“Don’t hold back,” I said, “let it out.”

He braced himself and I spanked him three more times.  One foot was up, one foot was down, he squirmed a little.  I could see his breathing had quickened.

“Do you still need to pee?”

“Yes sir,” he said, his voice crackling with effort and pain.

“From 1 to 5?”

“Two sir,” he answered.

“It can wait,” I said.

By then he had settled both feet but he wasn’t prepared, didn’t steel himself, so I spanked him two more times.  He grabbed at the back of his head, dug his fingers into his scalp.  I set the paddle down on the desk and told him to stand up and face me.  He did so, slowly, but he did it.  His eyes were down at my feet, his hair partially covered his face and I could see his jaw was tense.

“Are you ready for what’s going to happen next?” I asked.

“Yes sir,” he replied.

I reached out and took hold of his belt buckle, pulled him to me and opened it.  His hands at his sides he watched as I undid his belt, pulled it from his jeans, then tossed it onto the bed.  I unfastened his jeans next, opened them fully and let them slide down his legs to his knees before squatting down and telling him to lift one leg at a time until I picked them up from the ground.  I tossed them on the bed then went down to one knee and told him to lift his foot up enough so I could take off his socks, one at a time until there were two bare feet on the carpet.  I watched him ball his toes for a few seconds before standing and telling him to assume the position again.

He sighed and turned away from me to the desk, stepped to it and assumed the position.  I took the socks over to the bed, folded them, folded his jeans, rolled his belt up and piled everything together neatly as I looked to him, bare feet, bare legs, and a cute little brief covered butt.  I moved to stand behind him, picked up the paddle and he watched. He took a deep breath and readied himself.  I tapped him and he tensed so I paused again, reached to the waist band of his underwear and pulled his briefs up a little so I could see the full shape of his butt.  I lifted his shirt a little too, just above the band of underwear.  He began to breath easier.  

That’s when I spanked him two more times.  He squirmed.  I spanked him three times in quick succession and he shifted on his feet, almost put his hand back to protect himself.  I let him catch his breath, then laid into him three more times.  This time he put his hand back and covered his butt.  I took hold of his wrist gently and pulled his hand up his back as I stepped closer to him.

“There’s no way out of this punishment boy,” I said, “you know you deserve this and you’re going to take what you have coming.  Now be a good boy and keep your hand up here so you don’t get hurt on accident.”

I tightened my grip on his wrist and laid into him.  He grunted the first time, moaned the second time, whimpered on the third, and with the fourth he squealed and tried to break his hand free of my grip.  I set the paddle down next to him so he’d see, then I told him to stand and face me, letting go of him as he did.  He looked to my feet again.  I opened my arms and he stepped into them and we hugged, my hand naturally went to the back of his head deep into that thick blonde hair.  He cried into my shoulder for a few minutes as I said soothing words.  

“We’re not done yet,” I said.

“I know sir,” he replied.

I broke the bond between us and stepped away from him.  I put one hand on his shoulder and motioned for him to turn away from me.  When he did I led him to the corner of the room and placed him there.

“Do you still have to pee?”

“It’s a three sir,” he said.

“Can it wait?”

“Yes sir,” he said.

I moved directly behind him, put my fingers in the waist band of his underwear and slowly pulled them down.  When I got to his feet he stepped out of them and I stood back up, held them out to appreciate how new and clean they were before taking them over to the bed and folding them and placed them under the belt and socks.  I looked to him in the corner and he rubbed at his face and eyes before reaching back to touch his butt.  He did so carefully and was about to rub his flesh.

“Stop, hands on your head,” I ordered.

He did so immediately and without hesitation.  The hem of his shirt rose above his butt and even his waist letting me see his butt completely.  I could make out the reddest parts where I had spanked him the hardest and the most, the discoloration of skin around those spots, and the places I had missed like the bottom of his butt.  Little did he know I’d be back for round two in just a minute.  I crossed the room to where he stood and got right behind his ear.

“I’m giving you some time to think about what you did wrong and how you’re being punished.  When your arms get tired you can put them at your sides but don’t, and I repeat don’t, touch your butt and especially don’t touch your dick.”

He gulped.  I looked around to the front of him and I could I could tell he had a bit of an erection.  His dick was on the average side, maybe five or six inches when fully erect.  He took a deep breath and I looked up his shirt to his flat, taut stomach.  He tried to look down to me out of the corner of his eye but when I returned the look he looked away to the wall.  I smirked at him which he clearly saw, then I tapped him on the butt playfully, stood, and put my lips back at his ear.

“Don’t forget why you’re here bad boy,” I said.

“Thank you sir,” he replied.
I turned and walked out of the room.  I went to the kitchen and made myself a drink on ice, snacked on a bit of lunchmeat, looked over a grocery list on the refrigerator.  I tried to measure out the time and left him like that for ten minutes or so.  When I returned I was surprised to see him still there with his hands on his head just as I had left him, nearly as stiff too.  His little dick barely deflated.

I asked him if he needed to pee and he said that he would rate it a 4 so I guided him through the house to the bathroom and told him I’d leave the door open a little so I could make sure he wasn’t rubbing his butt.  I looked in to see him raise his shirt a little, thrust out his penis and hold it with the fingers of his right hand.  He peed a little and I smirked at him.  I took him back into the room to the desk.  

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Why not,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

I spanked him once on the butt.

“This is no joking matter,” I said, “you should take this seriously.”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Arms up,” I commanded and he did it immediately.

He raised his arms and I took hold of his shirt, raised it up to reveal a soft stomach and a chest that got very little if any exercise, off his shoulders and up his arms he bent over a little so I could get it past his hands and it was off.  I took it over the bed, where again I folded it and placed it on top of his jeans and under his other clothes and belt.  I went back over to him and picked up the paddle.  He squirmed at just the sight of it.

“Five more,” I told him, “now assume the position.”

He turned away from me and did so.  I tapped his thighs to get him to spread his feet and looked to his balls as they hung down, his limp dick, the way his cheeks parted and I could see his asshole.  I appreciated the sight.  And then I spanked him, five more times, with a little more attention to the spots I missed.  He wailed and screamed but he never tried to stop me or reach back.  I knew he was counting them just as I was and when I finished he nearly slumped against the desk but caught himself.

I pulled him from the desk and into a hug.  This time he gave into the feeling of being comforted and he grabbed back at me.  His fingers intwined with my shirt, his chest against me, his head on my shoulder.  He didn’t cry.  He wasn’t there yet.  I let him relax a little and feel the warmth of our bodies pressed together until I felt him calm down and let go of my shirt.  I broke away again and took hold of his wrist.  I moved to the chair and pulled him down over my lap.

“Please sir,” he begged.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Yes sir,” he said.

“Do you want to use your safe word?”

“No sir,” he answered.

I laid into him with just my hand.  I spanked one cheek then the other, right, left, then several times on the right, several times on the left.  He bucked and squirmed against me and when he put his hand back I took hold of his wrist and forced it to the middle of his back as I continued the assault.  He gave into my my control.  He gave into my hand and I felt him break, physically he went limp and he cried.  His chest heaved and spit flew from his mouth but I kept at him for another moment until he was blubbering and not making any sense.  I stopped immediately and pulled him up from my lap and to my chest where he hugged and clung to me.

Eventually he came around and felt him pull away to break that bond we had shared.  I helped him to his feet and he looked to his pile of clothes then around the room as I stood.  He hugged me again.

“Thank you sir,” he said.

“We’re almost done,” I said.

“Good sir,” he said.  

His face had turned red and white, the extremes of the body pooling blood, darker at his cheeks and ears, nearly as red as his butt.  He was now completely naked.  I put an arm around his shoulders before picking up the journal and guiding him out of the punishment room and to the living room.  I moved him between the furniture to a spot at far side of the room, far from the door, far from his clothes in the room we had left, far from any hope of safety.
I handed him the journal and walked over to my recliner where I sat and looked to him, even then putting one hand slightly in front of his crotch to block my view.  I smirked a little but then cleared my throat and made sure my stern face was back before speaking.

“Open the journal and read what you wrote earlier,” I said.

He had to use both hands to do it.  Reluctantly and with some patience on my account he did.  He held the book with both hands as he stood there before me naked, his dick slightly plump and stuck out from his body, his thighs shook a little.  I noted that his color had begun to return to normal in his face.  His eyes weren’t watery but he bit at his lip nervously and shifted on his feet causing his little dick to bounce a little.

I applauded his confession and that he had completed our little session.  I got up from the chair and moved to him, took back the journal, hugged him, and then led him back to the punishment room with one arm around his shoulders.  I told him to get dressed and he did so obediently, and carefully.  I assumed it was the first time he ever had a really spanked butt, especially as an adult.  I walked him to the door and opened it.  He stepped out into the sunshine and turned back to me.  There was something he wanted to say, something he wanted me to say.

“I’m proud of you,” I said.  “You did well.  I think you’ve learned a good lesson.  Do you want to do it again?”

That was the moment he could have run away.  That was the moment he could have said no and broken my heart.  That was the moment he could have given up on himself and decided it was something he never wanted to do again.  He didn’t.

“Um, I don’t know about my schedule exactly, but maybe sometime next week,” he said.

“Next week, same time, same day, and if you miss, it’ll get added to the next time,” I said.  “I’m going to hold you to this unless it’s some kind of emergency.  Do your work like you said you should, don’t waste time.”

“Yes sir,” he said, “thank you sir.”

I closed the door and put my back against it.  I had found my new project.

Tuesday, January 9, 2018

CP - Chapter 03: IRL

Sunday night was the first time I got a message from Luke, actually two messages.  Both of which I missed because I was cuddled next to Eric on the couch with a blanket over us, his wrists bound in cuffs and mitts over his hands to keep him from playing with his dick so I could tease him for as long as I wanted by slowly stroking his dick.  He loved it and buried his face in my armpit while I watched the show.

The first was a polite greeting testing the waters.  The second was a little more anxious and inquisitive.  I responded with just small talk, nothing demanding, no promises, just a conversation and when he didn’t respond I prepared myself for him to ghost me.  Like I said few make it to meeting me.  And he was green, or at least his ad said he was new to it so I figured he’d forget about me and I’d forget about him in time.  I went back to Eric and worked him until he shot over his belly and onto my t-shirt.  I grunted and moaned into my chest when I did.  

“That was fun,” he said.

“Now it’s time to clean up your mess,” I replied before throwing off the blanket.

“But I’m so helpless,” he said with a coy smile.

I pulled the key from my pocket and dangled it in front of him.

“Maybe I don’t feel like it,” he said.

“Are you being a bad boy?” I asked with a smile.

“Uh,” he said in an exasperated sigh, “not tonight.  I don’t feel like going to work tomorrow with a sore bottom.”

“Fine,” I said.  I took off my shirt and wiped up his chest then dropped it down over his crotch.  “But if you want to come again you’re going to have to earn it.”

“Anything,” he said, “well, just about anything.”

I got to my feet and pulled him up, used my shirt to finish wiping off his dick before dragging him to the bedroom where I placed him on the spanking bench.  He didn’t want to be spanked but he wanted to play and I wanted to drain him so I set up a flesh jack on his dick that he’d have to fuck for release, tied his balls with a rope that led between his cheeks and up his back to a two pronged hook I placed in his nostrils, then I led the rope back down to his ass.  He waited as I found an anal hook and inserted it inside him and tied it off to the rope.  He’d have to fuck the flesh jack while his balls pulled on his nose and the hook in his ass.  He grunted and squealed in delight before setting to work.  I went back to my phone and was surprised to find another message from Luke saying that he’d like to keep talking but wanted to go to bed early.  I took that he was nervous about the situation and needed to sleep on the possibilities so I wished him goodnight and turned on the television in the bedroom, kept one eye on Eric as he worked himself until he had his second orgasm for the night.  It didn’t take him long and afterwards he spoke up.

“I think I’m done sir,” he said.

“You’re done when I say your done,” I replied.

He whimpered and tried to get himself excited again but when I realized it wasn’t going to happen easily I got up and went to him, put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, then undid my little dilemma and freed him from the spanking bench.  He rubbed at his nose, balls, and ass in turn as he put everything away before heading off to the shower.

By the time he got back out he was clean and fresh looking, though tired, and he cuddled with me on the bed.  He played with my nipples a little bit and asked me about my spanking prospect.  I told him about the messages and that I was hopeful about this one.  He told me he wished me luck but to play the odds and look for others.

“I don’t know,” I replied.  “I’ll stick with this one for a day or two and see if anything comes of it.  If not it’s no big deal.”

“If not it’s my ass isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily, maybe Wesley or Paul will need a corrective hand.”

“I hope so,” he said.

Afterwards we fell into small, intermittent talk until we fell asleep.  I turned off the TV and we rolled into our familiar positions.  Too often, I thought, when we’re young we think the first time is going to be the last time and that the first time has to be the best time, but the truth is that it’s like anything else, like training or taking up a craft, experience and practice make the best of times.