A Promising Da

He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to have to pay a woman to administer a discipline spanking to him. Even if it was so incredibly cathartic. But it isn't fair to look at it that way, because by this point it appeared to William that he no longer had much choice. If a decision point was to be regretted, we need to go back further.

He didn't want his professional life to turn into this. He was not far out of law school when he snagged a good job as an Assistant District Attorney in a small jurisdiction in Louisiana. His decision point was precipitated by the groundswell surrounding what became his campaign for DA. Among his early supporters, the most influential were the backers with money. For William, that turned out to be a variety of religiously based organizations that shared many of the same socio-political interests. Shared with each other, not with the honorable District Attorney William Wacker.

And so, the hot-shot DA became beholden to those organizations in exchange for their continued and essential support. He won the DA seat by a slim margin, but his conservative religious base promised to ensure he remained in office. All he needed to do was support their agenda by pursuing the right cases from the right angle. Testing the most recent legislation, pushing at the borders, bending the law in the right direction via selective enforcement. It racked William with guilt. Guilt that he had only found one way to purge: corporal punishment.

So here he was, bare-ass naked, strapped to an upholstered hobby horse in a high-end dungeon, waiting for Mistress Emma to enter. Since he was paying by the hour, his rational mind knew she wouldn't make him wait all that long, but he was starting to wonder just how much denial she thought he would endure. By the time she did enter, he felt relief, but was still present enough to realize how strange that emotion should have been. After all, she was about to punish him severely.

"Why are you here?" her words dripped from above as she strutted alongside him.

"I'm here for a spanking, ma'am." There was a certain ritual to this dance, and it helped him get where he needed to be.

"Then ask me for it." She dragged the tips of the flogger down the length of his back.

"Please ma'am, may I have a spanking!" His voice was already shaky. He probably waited too long for this session.

"Why do you deserve it?" The first slap on his back was merely a playful tease.

"Because I've been bad. And I need to be punished when I've been bad." His head trembled as a wave of shame swept across his face.

"How have you been bad, William?" She punctuated her prodding with another slap of the flogger, this time less playful, but still not painful.

"I've been doing things I know are wrong. I've investigated people, prosecuted them. Exposed them to the wrath of moral indignation and social ostracism for doing things that are harmless. Things that are nobody else's business."

"Thaaat's it." She praised him. She knew the more concrete the confession, the more therapeutic the treatment.

"THAT'S IT!" SMACK! The flogger lashed across his bare buttocks with violent force.

"That is the - SMACK! - last time I want to have to hear you tell me that you have been bad! SMACK! How many times have I punished you for being bad like that? SMACK! And each time, by the end you promised me you would

be good from now on

, you'd

never do it again.

SMACK! And yet, here we are again. I can only conclude that I haven't been effective enough at making my point. SMACK! That changes today!"

SMACK! - SMACK! - SMACK! - SMACK! - SMACK!

"Oowww! Please Mistress! Please! I'll be good."

SMACK! "Don't you dare! Don't you dare try that line on me, you sniveling coward. Do you take me for a fool? What makes you think you can lie to me like that?"

SMACK! - SMACK! - SMACK! - SMACK! - SMACK!

"I'm sorry Mistress, I'm sorry"

He could think of nothing else to say. Short of his safe word, there was no way to make this stop. And he had promised himself early on that he would not use his safe word. Not as long as he trusted his Domme to not cross his hard lines; and he trusted Emma.

Mistress Emma knew the apology was not genuine, but his tears were real. But they were just the start. More was needed. She exchanged her short, faux leather flogger for a more serious one, with longer suede tassels and a longer handle.

"I don't want to hear your whiney apologies. I'm not buying it." CRACK!

"Tell me, you bad boy; when you do these things, how does it make you feel?"

"Ashamed. I feel ashamed."

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"Is that the way your mother raised you?" CRACK!

"No ma'am." Now blubbering through the tears.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"Do you want your MOTHER to find out?" CRACK!

"Aaaa... aaaah... aaaaahahahahaaaah! Nooooo!"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"I think I should tell your mother." CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"Do you want me to tell your mother?" CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"No! Please no! Don't tell! Don't tell! Don't tell!"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

His bawling threatened to deprive him of breath. Beneath his face, the floor was already covered his spit and tears. Now that pool was connected to his nose by a string of snot.

"If you don't want me to tell..." CRACK!

"Then you - CRACK! - had - CRACK! - better - CRACK! - straighten up! - CRACK!"

"Bwaaahahahaha! Aaaaaahaha! Aaaaaaa..."

Emma laid a hand on his head, signaling that his ordeal had come to an end. She unfastened his restraints, freeing him to rotate and lean crossways on the horse. He couldn't sit, but at least she could sit alongside him and hold him while his weeping died down. Donning a latex glove, she began gently rubbing lotion on his tortured ass.

"It's okay now. You made it. It's all over, all done. No more bad feelings. You don't need to feel bad. You're a good person. You just needed help. And Emma helped you, just like she always does. Just like she always will."

Like every good Domme, Emma knew aftercare was the key. The pain helps them purge, but the tenderness is what allows them to feel cleansed. And ultimately, that's why men like William come back.

When he was finally able to dress and leave with his self-respect restored, William was grateful. Grateful that his mistress knew how to not break the skin. Grateful that his prudish wife demanded they not see each other's naked bodies. Sleeping was in pajamas and sex was lights out, missionary position only. Which meant his wife would never see the welts and blisters that would be visible for days.

Back at his office, his assistant reminded him of his afternoon meeting with one of his biggest donor groups, the Righteous Warriors. They were always coming up with some new agenda to push. This time it was some stupid phone app that monitored porn usage. Rev Broussard had an entrepreneur in tow who pitched the product. William didn't really understand the details and frankly, wasn't interested. Something about using the app with a partner who is supposed to keep you from watching porn. These people just never quit. He sat through the pitch, then at the first opportunity, tried to brush it aside.

"Look," said William, "it does sound interesting, but I'd like to get our office IT guy to check it out first. I can see potential privacy issues, and I can't afford to encourage my staff to use something like that without first getting an independent assessment of the vulnerabilities."

"Certainly Sir, I would expect nothing less. I'll have Ed here provide your guy with all the software details. And it would be great if your staff can use it too, but the most effective advancement of our cause would come from your public endorsement of it."

"What do you want me to do, appear in a TV ad or something? I can't do that."

"No, no Sir. I'd like you to use it yourself, and then at some later date that information can become public knowledge. That would be a big boost for the product, as well as reinforcing your image as a God-fearing Christian whose private life models his public image. Let me just leave you with the brochure. It's got the URL for the product website. Just look into it at your convenience and we can talk again later."

"All right, all right, I'll take a look and get back to you." He put his arm around the Reverend, walked both men to the door and addressed his receptionist:

"Carol, please put his fellow here in touch with Michael from IT and let me know as soon as my next appointment arrives."

At home that evening, William was looking forward to a relaxing evening with his wife, while his 18-year-old son had dinner at a friend's house. Relaxing at least, apart from the discomfort of having to sit on one of the hard dining room chairs. Fortunately, his fictitious chronic hemorrhoids provided an excuse for the thick cushion he used whenever the condition "flared up" - as was currently the case.

"Anything interesting happen at the office today dear?" William's wife inquired. His job brought in enough money that Claire was able to dedicate herself to a full-time role as mother and homemaker. That left plenty of time for her to take an interest in the politics of his office and his public persona.

"Eh, the usual. Oh, get a load of this: Rev Broussard, from the Warriors, was pushing some phone app they want me to use. Some kind of porn usage monitoring thing."

"Oh! You mean Promise Partners? I heard about that just last week! I went online and read up on it. I think it would be perfect for you and Liam."

"What? Why?"

"Because Liam is 18, Bill." No one called him Bill except Claire. He didn't like the name, but he didn't mind Claire using it, because it was an intimate reminder of when he was a boy and his mother called him Bill, or sometimes Billy.

"You know what 18-year-old boys are like. With today's internet temptations, it must be difficult for a nice boy like Liam to resist the devil's call. He'll be going off to college in the fall and he needs to develop coping mechanisms and strength of character. Having a strong ally like you can give him someone to confide in. Someone who he can have open, honest conversations with about how to resist temptation."

"But what does this app have to do with having a conversation?" William griped, trying to mount a resistance.

"The app alerts a partner when porn is accessed, which gives the alert recipient a chance to initiate a timely conversation about the reason for the transgression. That's your opportunity to gain a better understanding of what's going on and figure out how best to help. It really could be a blessing dear, and I want you and Liam to install it on your phones and his laptop. We owe it to Liam to give him the tools he will need to stay on the straight and narrow once he's on his own out there in the world."

And with that, the District Attorney's arguments were summarily dismissed without a hearing. Promise Partners was installed on William's phone after dinner, and on Liam's phone and laptop upon his return later that same evening. William wasn't happy about it, but once he saw that the alerts were simply emails and the frequent, random screen grabs were blurred, he felt less anxious.

Of course he used his phone for porn all the time, but not the kind of thing that would appear compromising. His porn consumption was exclusively the written word -- erotic stories about spanking, and occasionally more severe forms of punishment. But it was all just text, which would appear harmless in pixelated, blurred screen grabs. And whatever Liam was up to, well, he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.

And so, William went about his days with little thought to the new app on his phone, always running unobtrusively in the background. The first time Claire asked him whether the app had reported anything from Liam's devices, William found it easiest to simply lie and say no, even though he hadn't actually checked. He felt a little guilty about lying to Claire, but guilt was a frequent companion, and it didn't bother him too much. He knew when it built up enough to become a problem, there was a solution.

A few days later Claire asked again, and he didn't think she'd buy the same story a second time, so he reverted to a partial truth.

"You know, I've been so busy lately, I haven't even checked." To placate her, he pulled out his phone and brought up the app. It didn't take long to see there were some very compromising screen shots, despite the blurring done by the app to avoid tempting him. William knew it would not do to have Claire see these, so he felt the need to convince her he had it under control.

"OK, some suspicious activity has been reported. The app recommends a non-judgmental conversation. The evidence is inconclusive; maybe just a false positive."

"Well, then you need to have that conversation. Be there for the boy, Bill."

She marched him right up to Liam's room, knocked on the door and retreated, leaving William standing alone as Liam called out:

"Come in."

"Uh, hey there buddy. How's it going?" Weak start, he thought to himself. Sure wish Claire had given me some time to prepare for this.

"Everything's great Dad. What's up?" Liam was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, thumbing through his phone.

"Well Liam, it's about this Promise Partners app." William took an uncomfortable perch near the foot of the bed. He went on in a tentative voice:

"It's reported some activity on your phone that I need to talk to you about. It seems you've been looking at some things that could get you in a lot of trouble."

"C'mon Dad, all kids look at stuff like that. It's just boobs and stuff. It's no big deal, everybody does it."

"Liam, you're not everybody. I've got a high-profile public position, and you know what your mother thinks about this kind of thing. And it's not just 'boobs and stuff'. Look at these screen shots."

William showed him one, then swiped to a second, then a third.

"They may be blurry, but those are naked men, Liam."

Liam buried his face in his hands and started to moan.

"Oooh, oh nooo... nooooo... this can't be happening. Please Dad, don't be mad. It was a mistake! I didn't mean to... "

"Liam - don't son. You don't have to lie to me. I'm not your mother. It's ok, it really is."

Lifting his head up to make eye contact with his father, he stammered:

"You - you mean... you're not ashamed of me?"

"Of course not, Liam. I'm not ashamed... of you. Sexuality is part of life, and to each his own. I understand the desire to stoke a fantasy, and exploring those fantasies can help you figure things out. I don't want you to feel bad about this." Then an idea struck William. It was weird, but so was this whole conversation.

"Maybe it would help if I told you about my porn use, just to level the playing field."

"But I've looked at the PP reports and..."

"Wait a minute, the

what

reports?"

"PP - Promise Partners. Anyway, the reports on you are all fails. No porn, it's all just text."

"That text

is

my porn, Liam. It's all short stories. I used to be into pics and videos, but for me the experience became more about the emotional than the visual. The stories I read are about spanking. About how it feels to be spanked."

"You mean like old school, over-the-knee type stuff?"

"That's what I like to read about. It conveys a level of personal intimacy that you don't often find in images, let alone in real life." This was getting a little more revealing than William had anticipated.

"Is it about the pain, or is it sexual?"

Geez, the kid was a dog with a bone. William needed to de-personalize this before it became a confession.

"It doesn't have to be sexual." As he thought to himself: because once again, that's hard to find! "It's also therapeutic. Pain is just a way to get there."

He felt the need to put a bow on this. "So, there you have it. Everyone has secrets. Now you know mine. What do you think... are we even?"

"I guess we are. Thanks Dad."

"You bet. Now, about your particular...

interests

. You know your mother can't find out."

"I know. She'd never understand."

"At least not while you're living under

her

roof. I'd like to think that maybe somewhere down the line... well, let's just say, people can change. Anyway, I'll deal with your mother. For now, just try to avoid visual stimulation. Maybe try reading some stories - you'd be surprised how much good writing is available online. Pretty much any subject you can imagine. Can you promise me you'll try?"

Holding up his right hand in the boy scout salute, he cheekily replied:

"PP swear, Dad."

Ha! The kid was going to be all right. As he went to his own bedroom, a plan was starting to take shape in his mind. A plan to redirect his wife's focus off their son and onto something where she could do more good than harm. He reflected on his conversation with Liam; specifically, the things he had started to reveal out loud. And he thought back - back to his teenage years...

"Billy, come here."

Just three words and it all came rushing back. His mother, Agnes, arranging herself in the straight-backed armless chair in the middle of the room. The stern look on her face. Her modest black skirt covering her legs to mid-calf. Billy knew what was expected of him, and he felt the familiar tingling as he obediently stood in front of her, his head bowed in shame.

"Billy, do you know what's about to happen?"

Mother initiated the catechism they both knew so well. The purpose was not to explain or educate, it was to give him time to anticipate. To dread what was coming. To elongate and amplify the agony in his mind.

"I'm about to be punished, Mommy."

"And how are you to be punished, Billy?"

"I'm to be spanked."

"How are you to be spanked?"

"Bare naked, over your knee, ma'am."

"Very well then, you may begin."

The shame was rising rapidly as little Billy fumbled with his pants, pulling them down until they fell around his ankles, trapped atop his shoes. He knew his underpants must follow, yet he delayed the inevitable. He didn't understand why he did this -- why he didn't just try to get it over with as quickly as possible. It seemed he needed to take the shame in waves. This wave was knowing that Mommy could now see how his underpants were poking out in front. He didn't understand, but Mommy knew. He needed to marinate in his shame, every step of the way.

"Billy, pull down your underwear for Mommy."

Billy obeyed and his shame was now on full display as he stood bare naked in front of Mommy. Mommy never reacted, never revealed what thoughts were behind that stoic expression. It increased his shame, knowing that his dirty thoughts were not hers, they were all his. Which made him feel even more ashamed.

"All right son, lay down on Mommy's lap."

He lowered himself across her lap, head down, arms gripping the chair legs, bare butt turned up. She began to slowly stroke his tender cheeks, providing a pleasurable sensation that served to contrast with what was to come. Always about what was to come.

The slaps would start out soft and slow, methodically covering every square inch. Gradually they would build in intensity. Ultimately tears would be shed. There would be bargaining, pleading, bawling. William bathed in the memory of it all. The feelings were seared into his brain, at once both traumatic and nostalgic. His mother understood better than he did at the time. He realized a part of him wished he could be back there, if only to visit. He could almost hear her humming You Are My Sunshine, a comforting favorite of hers.

William returned downstairs and found Claire ostensibly knitting, in reality, waiting. With her robust figure and tall frame, she looked imposing, peering over her readers to address him.