“How are you normally punished?“ asked Miss Hourglass.

“I get the tawse”, I replied.

“Where is it kept?”

“In the drawer next to my bed.”

“Well, go and fetch it for me.”

I walked over to the bedside cabinet, retrieved the thick, black tawse and handed it to Miss Hourglass.  She held one end in her right hand and slipped the two tails through her other hand, judging the weight of the implement.  I felt the familiar sense of apprehension in my stomach only much stronger than usual as Miss Hourglass continued:

“And do you receive this on your hands?

The tension was almost unbearable.

“I get it across my bare bottom”, I croaked.

“I see,” said Miss Hourglass as she looked me in the eye, now holding the tawse in front of her, horizontally, near the hem of her short, black skirt with her silky tan stockings as a backdrop, “and how is it done?”

I half turned indicating the bed and told her I had to lie across the bed with some pillows under my hips.

“Well, you’d better get into position for me, then, hadn’t you?”

My heart pounded as I prepared things for my punishment.  I placed two large pillows in the centre of the bed and knelt in front of them.  I fumbled slightly with my belt and cast a glance at Miss Hourglass, who looked on patiently.  I pulled down my trousers, then quickly slipped down my underpants and lay across the pillows, trying to hide the semi-erection that had developed.

Miss Hourglass moved forward to the side of the bed and let the tawse hang down so that its two tails dangled almost against her stocking, just above her ankle strap.

“And how many strokes would you normally receive?”

“I would probably get twelve good ones – six from each side of the bed.”

“Well, then, today you shall receive your twelve strokes from me.”

Miss Hourglass moved to one side of the bed, laid the tawse across my bottom, with the tails resting on my left cheek then raised it back over her shoulder.  I could see Miss Hourglass in the wardrobe mirror.  The tails of the tawse stood out against her soft, white, satin blouse and I could see the seams of her stockings from the heel to the hem of her skirt all the way up her shapely legs.  The whole image created a warm glow of anticipation in my loins.

Then the first stroke from Miss Hourglass landed squarely across the centre of my bottom, with a stinging pain followed by a lingering, glowing warmth.  The stroke was hard enough to make me realise that a punishment had begun but so skilfully applied that the warmth from my bottom stirred further the arousal in my loins.

“One”, she counted, and the sound of her voice reassured me and excited me further.

The second stroke landed.

“Two”, counted Miss Hourglass, softly and sweetly.

I remained mesmerised by the sight of Miss Hourglass in the mirror: heels, tan seamed stockings, short black skirt, white blouse and the tawse drawn back over her shoulder once more, an implement of discipline that fascinated, aroused and excited me, especially when held delicately and femininely by Miss Hourglass.

“Three.”

I focused on the delicious warmth after the stroke which infused my buttocks and made the initial sharp pain so wonderfully bearable.

“Four.”

I was now fully erect with the warmth of my body pressing down against the pillow.

“Five.”

My erection twitched and I imagined being spanked over Miss Hourglass’s lap, against the warmth of her stockinged legs, held firmly and spanked soundly.

“Six.”

My left cheek glowed from top to bottom.

Miss Hourglass moved around the end of the bed and stood in the corresponding position on the other side.  As she prepared the tawse over her shoulder, our eyes met briefly in the mirror and, blushing and embarrassed, I turned away.

“I believe it would be more effective if you have to watch me give you each stroke, so keep your eyes on the mirror.  I’d like to see your face while you take your punishment from me.”

I turned my head again and thought I saw a gleam in Miss Hourglass’s eye as she waited to deliver the next stroke.

“Seven.”

It was shockingly exciting to watch Miss Hourglass tawse my bare bottom and only the pain in my bottom prevented me from coming into the pillow.

“Eight.”

A hint of a smile passed across Miss Hourglass’s lips as she appeared to delight in my punishment.

“Nine.”

My right cheek now glowed, as Miss Hourglass continued to punish me skilfully and methodically.

“Ten.”

The sight of Miss Hourglass and the movement of the tawse thrilled me.

“Eleven.”

I had grown slightly misty eyed with passion, excitement and a longing to continue to submit to Miss Hourglass’s exquisite discipline.

“Twelve.”

Miss Hourglass held the stiff, leather tawse in one hand and leaned forward and stroked my bottom briefly with her free hand to feel its stinging heat.

“You’re a very well punished young man now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Miss, thank you for punishing me”, I replied.

“You may get up now and put the tawse back in its drawer.  Now that I know where it‘s kept, I think it will come in very handy.”

I pushed myself up, making a clumsy attempt to hide my erection, but Miss Hourglass saw the small stain on the pillow case and guessed what had happened.

“Let me see”, she said.

I knelt on the bed and pulled my shirt clear of my shamefully prominent penis.  I was too embarrassed to say anything and simply bit my lower lip like a naughty boy who‘s guilty secret has been discovered.

“Does this often happen when you are punished?” she asked.

“Sometimes … a little bit,” I said, “but never before like this.”

“I see”, said Miss Hourglass thoughtfully, “I suggest you go and fetch a towel and we can begin your punishment all over again.”

“All over again?” I echoed.

“Yes, all over again.  Except I like the sound of thirty-six strokes instead of twelve”, said Miss Hourglass as she gave me a look that combined elements of strictness, understanding and sensuality and made me swoon with a passion for my new disciplinarian.

( From “P’….;)  )