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.
