For Miss Amy Over The Knee

For Miss Amy - The Good, Old Fashioned Over-the Knee-Spanking.

MissAmy punished her pet fairly often. Not because he had done anything wrong, no, just because She wanted to see just how red, bruised and battered She could make his ass look. His tears and screams of pain were an added incentive that always added to Her pleasure in those times.

However, early in his training, there were times he needed to be taught a lesson. He needed to learn. Those affairs were intense. Drawn out. Sometimes they could last a whole day, several hours at least. He was often left drained, in tears, sobbing, sore, very, very sore, but he always learned those lessons and only rarely did She ever have to repeat Her lessons.

On this day, he had messed up Her coffee. She was quite particular about Her coffee in the mornings, it had to be served piping hot, and on time. It was the on time part he missed this time. Before bed, he had forgotten to set the timer so that the beans would be properly ground so he could make the coffee forcing Her to have to wait for it, tapping Her toe impatiently while he quickly ground the beans and got it ready.

He was blushing red as a beet and obviously quite nervous about his error, and rightfully so. As he served Her coffee to Her, She coldly looked him in the eyes, and said simply, "Punishment corner."

The color drained from his face, he hated that corner, truly. It was uncomfortable, put a strain on every muscle in his body, and he would be forced to wait there until She chose to come down and deal with him.

This time he waited kneeling on that hard board in the corner, his nose pressed tight into the corner, his knees spread to the two walls, as was his elbows his fingers laced tightly behind his neck for two full hours.

His knees hurt, his back ached, when he finally heard Her steps as She approached him. He heard Her take a seat, and She just sat and stared at him, tapping Her thigh with the implement She had chosen for this lesson. A large, old-fashioned wooden hairbrush. The bristles on this particular brush were not soft, the wood was dark-stained and was particularly hard. The handle fit comfortably in Her hand.

After what seemed an eternity he heard Her, "Come here, pet." Her voice was soft, but laced with the menace that came from Her teaching voice. A tone he had come to dread. He stiffly turned and bent down to his hands and knees, and crawled to Her. Stopping in front of Her and kissing each of Her feet.

She reached down and grasped a handful of his hair into Her fist, jerking his head up and looking into his eyes.

"Why are we here, pet?" Her voice was quiet, eerily quiet.

He gulped, "i..i was...was late....in...in serving Mistress's morning...coffee.." he managed to stammer out.

"Yes, pet, and what have you been taught regarding tardiness?"

"It...it is the sign of a poorly trained slave....if.....if he is not punctual when serving his Owner." She was pleased to hear the tremble in his voice. She so enjoyed his fear of Her.

"Yes, pet, that is very true, I am pleased you remember that, but if that is true, then it must mean that I have failed, pet. Is it possible that I have failed and trained you poorly?"

It was a trick question, he knew it was a trick question, but he also knew that no matter how he answered, it would not be good for him, so he gave the only answer that was true, at least to his mind, "No...no, Mistress, the...the failing was mine, Mistress, i am a bad slave, i deserve...to...to be ..corrected."

"Yes, pet, that does make more sense now doesn't it. You fucked up because you are a stupid little slave who needs to be constantly monitored and corrected. So, we will be here a while, pet, to see if perhaps this wonderful old-fashioned brush might drum some sense into that thick little slave mind of yours."

Gulping he replied, "yes Mistress."

"Good, now, over my knee."

This was new. He rose and draped himself across Her knees. She helped him to get in the position She wanted. It wasn't much comfortable for him, but She felt his cage Between Her thighs and his cute ass was raised in a pleasing manner for his discipline. "Place your hands flat on the floor, pet, and I shouldn't have to tell you, that if you dare to move from this position during the corrective discipline, you will regret it."

Gulping audibly, he croaked out, "yes Mistress." Mentally preparing himself for what was to come.

She began just rubbing the brush across his upturned ass, "Now I won't tell you that this will hurt me more than you, pet. The whole point is for it in fact to hurt you." The brush continued just rubbing his ass, making circles over each cheek. Continuing She said, "We will start with 50 whacks, pet. That is 50 to EACH cheek. You will count them, each one, stating after each count, 'a slave must not be late.' Do I make myself clear, pet? Do I need to remind you what happens if you miss a count or what you are to say?"

His voice was small, scared, making Her smile, "n...no...M..Mistress..."

"Good." With that simple word and no other warning, it began. The first stroke landing on his right cheek with a loud, harsh CRACK!

"One Mistress, a slave must not be late." The second strike quickly took his left cheek, and dutifully he said, "One Mistress, a slave must not be late."

She had taught him that when receiving a paddling, balance was key. Each butt cheek must be evenly spanked with the same number of strokes. He must always count 1 when applied to each cheek. This could sometimes get confusing for the slave, as Mistresses do not do this to make it easy on their pets, they must learn, so they must use what little brains they have to internalize the lesson.

Not only must the slave keep track of each count, plus what he has to repeat, he must keep track of the count for each cheek. If the Mistress simply alternates cheeks, it isn't that hard. However, sometimes She may strike one cheek several times in a row, then switch.

The last time this happened to him, it wasn't over-the-knee, he was simply bent over a table, and She ended up giving him over 200 strikes with the hard wooden paddle She had before he had finally gotten the count right, and the paddling ended. But he had never forgotten the lesson learned that day.

Quickly a loud smack and he quickly processed that was the left cheek, and counted out, "TWO Mistress, a slave must not be late."

Two quick smacks hit his right cheek, and he quickly cried out, "Two, a slave must not be late, three a slave must not be late."

This went on for some time, She striking his rapidly reddening cheeks, him repeating the count correctly along with his mantra, "a slave must not be late."

Then it happened. She had given five particularly brutal strikes to one side, and in the haze of pain, his vision blurred by tears, he missed a count.

Mistress froze, the wooden hairbrush raised as She hissed, "What was that, pet?" He couldn't concentrate, he had lost the count now for both cheeks, he was frantic as he tried to guess quickly and blurted out, "49 Mistress a slave must always obey."

He sobbed as the words left his lips knowing he had fucked up again.

Mistress got very quiet. Then the brush struck hard twice to each cheek. Then Her voice thundered in his ears, "YOU WILL START OVER FROM ONE, PIG!"

"Yes Mistress," he sobbed.

Two hours later, he was trembling, sobbing. His ass had gone from red to blue to black and blue and red all over. She touched his cheeks and they were searing hot against Her fingers. How that thrilled Her. But at long last he had got the count right reaching the magic count of 50 for each cheek. In reality he had taken nearly 300 total strikes with the wicked brush, and She was certain he would not be late again.

When the spanking finished, She whispered, somewhat breathlessly, before composing Herself and speaking in a more authoritative tone, "Go to your punishment cage, pet. You will not be getting dinner tonight, no playtime for you, you will go to your cage and think about the lesson you learned."

"Yes, Mistress," he sobbed out. If the punishment corner was its own special torture. The punishment cage he would spend the night in was hell.

He would not be able to lie down, no, he would sit on his battered and bruised ass on a hard board, the cage bars closed around him, forcing him to remain upright. and being raised, his feet would not even touch the floor. He would not get any relief to his bottom for sometime.

He crawled to the cage and heard Her stand and follow him. Climbing into the cage, he gingerly tried to sit, wincing with pain each time his ass touched the rough board, until, impatient, Mistress just placed Her hands on his shoulders and shoved him down so he cried out. His eyes closed in pain. She was glad for that, so that he didn't see the tremor of lust that crossed over Her seeing the pain affecting him in that way She simply adored.

She slammed the door of the cage shut, and locked it into place. A gag was placed in his mouth, and for good measure, She gripped his balls, hanging down over the edge of the board, and quickly tied a parachute to it, hanging a two pound weight to the parachute.

It wasn't much weight, but over the next 10 hours before he would be let out in the morning, along with his ass it would be agony.

She locked the cage and simply turned and walked away, up the stairs, turning out the light. As She passed the kitchen where the gurl's were quietly preparing a light dinner for when the punishment was over, She quickly selected one and grabbed her collar and drug the hapless gurl off.

Taking the gurl into Her study, She quickly shoved the gurl down, stripped her pants and panties off and mounted the gurl's very hard cock.

Slamming down on it, She closed Her eyes picturing every streak pet's tears had left down his face. Every squeal he had uttered, every sobbing breath he had taken. She rode the gurl hard, not carrying if the gurl was in pain or pleasure, just using a toy.

She began slapping the gurl's face, back and forth, back and forth as She slammed Her hips up and down on that hard cock.

The gurl's face was a haze of lust and pleasure. Of the two, Shawna was a bit of a masochist, Mistress had chosen well when She grabbed Shawna.

She rode the gurl for nearly 20 minutes quaking in mounting pleasure as the image of Her pet's tears, the sound of his cries echoed through Her mind as She relived every moment of his punishment. Until with a loud cry, She leaned down digging Her nails into the gurl's shoulders and hissing..."CUM FOR ME NOW BITCH!"

The gurl was waiting for this, and thrust upward to meet Her grinding hips, and the gurl's cock swelled and exploded deep inside Her. She rode that cock through Her own massive orgasm....shuddering and screaming out Her pleasure, all the while thinking about the misery Her pet was in down in the basement in his lonely cage, his ass on fire, his balls stretched and dangling, every squirm making them swing with the weights.

Her orgasm lasted for nearly 10 minutes as She felt the gurl's cock drain deep inside Her.

As She slowly came down from the sexual high, She scooted forward and planted Her pussy over the gurl's eager mouth. The gurl quickly went to work slurping and licking, drinking Her juices as well as the gurl's own cum, until She had a few more very pleasant orgasms.

Relaxing back against a sofa, still on the floor, Mistress lit a cigarette and casually spoke, Her breathe was ragged, making Her words come out deep and breathy, "Shawna, dear, in a few hours, go down and check on pet. Do not disturb hm, just look in and make sure he is OK. By morning, when I release him, he will have learned his lesson very well, and he won't ever be late again."

He never was.