Discipline Day

Part 1

She knew she deserved it. It was irrefutable that the necessity of the coming evening had been well and truly earned. The gradual build up of the level of her cheekiness and truculent behaviour of the preceding dates had culminated in his decision. It was as though she had deliberately pushed him into making the decision that a punishment was deserved.

Now she had been called to see him.

Like a naughty girl at a boarding school, she already felt like she was visiting the head teacher.

What was to come had been a choice she had consciously made in preference to a brief hand spanking.

She would have jumped at the brief hand spanking except for the fact he would have made it a public spectacle. A bit beyond her personal comfort level.

As much as the option she had chosen was much worse, she drove to meet him with an anxious wetness obvious in her knickers.

With trepidation she parked and collected her thoughts. It was obviously a nerve-wracking event she had committed to. She had had her backside patted many times over the years; a playful smack; a swipe with a crop during some good natured horseplay. She had smacked her own bottom on occasion, just to feel what it was like of course. But never deliberately asked for or been on the recieving end of a proper spanking.

She had had many self inflicted minor bruises over the years and she had seen girls in naughty films with much larger bruises. They always seemed to be wearing them like a medal of honour, and she had often wondered how they would feel afterwards; how fascinated she would be to see the colours change and adapt as they healed.

Deep breaths girl.

She locked the car and entered the house to find a single chair waiting for her.

This was obviously the waiting room before being called in to see the head. Desperate to know she was doing the right thing, she looked through the crack in the lounge door to immediately see a desk was ready for her, made up to look like a head teacher's office space. A pile of papers and files; his chair behind.

Heart thumping, she folded her skirt across her thighs and sat down and waited to be called.

Part 2

She could hear him through the wall and noted with some understanding and appreciation that he was giving her time to assimilate what was next going to happen to her. This was not going to be a meeting of minds or an opportunity for a discussion or any way for a resolution to be thrashed out.

She heard his cough and the clearing of his throat following a drink and all of a sudden wanted her own drink. No! She had thought about that earlier and had been careful with limiting her fluid intake from at least an hour ago. The last thing she needed compounding her problems was for her bladder to involuntarily release during the forthcoming events. Not that she got the impression he would mind whatsoever, but she was a grown woman for goodness sake.

There was a certain erotic humiliation to what was going to happen next and she was most definitely wet and mentally aroused at the thought but she wasn't going to grant him the image of her standing there in a puddle of her own creation and with pee leaking down her leg.

This thrashing was going to be one type and one type only, she smiled to herself ruefully. She had earned every stroke and chosen for it to happen.

She looked down at her thin blouse and regarded the slight tenting at her nipples. They always betrayed her true emotions, especially when not wearing a bra. Picking imaginary fluff from her skirt, she took the moment to gaze down at her cleavage and wondered about how hard he had previously pinched her nipples. She had never complained, noting at the time that there had been a measurable cause and exponential effect on her pussy at the time.

As she mentally calmed herself, out of the blue, she was called in, he by using her surname.

What the fuck?

Miss Blank

Not her first name.

Not Babe.

Not Darling.

That was distancing himself from the task in hand. That just reinforced the austere circumstances and removed any familiarity from the situation. This was not going to be a jovial and incidental experience.

Fuck.

Wondering what the hell she was doing, she collected her handbag from where it lay between her feet, took another deep breath, and made her way into the other room.

Part 3

On entry to the makeshift office, she immediately became aware of the desk and thereon the variety of implements which she guessed were for her discipline experience. He was standing, looking out of the far window, again distancing himself from what he was about to do. She wondered that if she shared a look with him, whether he would have the nerve to do what he had committed to, or whether they would just wrap each other in their arms and forget it all.

He was right not to look of course. This visit was for a given purpose. Indeed, what was about to happen had been in her head for such a very long while, touching herself at the thought so often and actually orgasming several times thinking about her own ass cheeks becoming red and purple as a result. She tended to bruise easily, but just as quickly heal. As nervous and apprehensive as she was, it was purely nervous sexual excitement rather than any particular fear, and she didn't want swaying from the promised path either.

Dropping her bag, she made her way to the desk and regarded everything upon it.

A series of different coloured card at the top right edge where her hand would rest and a thoughtfully provided pillow for use anywhere other than as protection for her buttocks.

Knickers off!

No messing. No conversation or chit chat. He was in his headmaster role. Adrenaline coursed through her body and whilst she knew she was exceedingly moist, she didn't feel like smiling.

She hitched her skirt up and pulled down the lacy nothings she was wearing. Stepping out of them, she kicked them away. They splatted damply a few feet from her, her prior arousal obvious on the inconveniently exposed gusset.

Bend over.

She leant on the pillow and placed her forehead to the desk, her elbows flat to the surface. No. This wasn't comfortable. She instinctively knew that she would fidget like this, not relaxed nor enjoying what was to come.

Taking a second, she altered the position and moved the pillow to rest her forehead on instead. That was better. She noted that the pillow smelled of lavender and briefly wondered if he had washed the covers deliberately for her. She moved it another inch, the bridge of her nose now on the pillow's leading edge and her mouth free to breath easily. Her eyes closed and she happily took a few deep breaths to calm a mild anxiety that had suddenly started to creep in.

The rules had already been given to her. She had spent the week thinking about them; being excited by them; suggesting her own thoughts and adaptions of them.

Twelve of the best.

They would start with six from his hand, three on each cheek. She knew he was looking forward to this part of the experience the most. Though he could potentially hurt his own hand, she knew that the skin to skin contact was an exciting thought for him. The sound of the slap; the shimmer of her flesh upon contact. The smoothing of her ass as he took his hand away, a possible gentle squeeze of her cheek as he did so; the slight accidental contact with her wet crack to cause a swift intake of breath, and of course the swift heating of her flesh after his actions.

A calm start. She expected to keep her hand above the green card indicating that though each stroke caused a sharp pain, it would dissipate quite quickly unless he hit exactly the same spot twice in succession. She hadn't had a bottom spanking since she had been a little girl, but the domination aspect and her submission to it had since, especially during her formative years, built into a fantasy.

She could imagine the tenting in his trousers at the slave-like image she would present in her highest heels, with a wide revealing stance and bending so submissively before him. She could imagine her wet crack opening and her asshole winking suggestively for him.

Next would come three with the flogger. These she expected to be much sharper and encompassing her whole bottom. She might even be instructed to pull open her ass cheeks so as he could catch the soft inner curves. The thought he might just catch her outer labia switched regularly between a fear to a hopeful excitement. Would it create enough stimulation to take her over the edge, especially as turned on and eager to climax as she would be right then? Or would the stinging pain on her reddened ass cheeks diminish her desire? That was the unknown. That in itself was a powerfully sexy thought.

Then two with the cane. These she expected to have to grit her teeth for; the thought of the striping across her bottom the most exciting. Having had her whole bottom warmed, prepped and readied, this was hopefully going to be extremely intense to cope with, especially knowing that after the first strike, there was going to be a second. She expected to swing her hand to the yellow or maybe red card on the table to silently ask for time to deal with the smarting.

Unless she took her hand off the cards altogether, which would mean that the experience was all too much and to end it there, he would give her as much time as she needed at any point. She wanted to take the entire punishment but they were operating entirely at the pace she was comfortable with.

And then one stroke with the horse crop. She could take as long as she needed between each of the former strikes by holding her hand away from the green card. It was a simple enough meter. But he would only strike her bottom at this point in the proceedings if her hand was held on it. This was going to be the hardest one to take; most likely to create the worst sting, especially after the gradual warming her bottom had received, and the most likely to leave a dark purple welt mark across her backside.

Plus he would have got his strength in by then; would know how hard he was stroking each time and most likely upped the power each time. The last one was going to be the decider. Could she cope with a smile on her face or with a tear in her eyes.

She hoped that the last stroke would stay evident on her for a good few days, to be admired in the mirror and to encourage her memories whenever she sat down. A trophy of sorts.

If this was going to be as intensively erotic experience as she expected, then a touch of her clit straight after at this point would mean she could potentially coat the floor with her squirt.

She was being asked a question and she breathed the answer through excited lips...

"Yes, I am ready."

She felt her skirt being folded up over her back to expose her naked buttocks, widened her stance at the pressure from his hands and felt him step back and take position behind her.