Note: The first two parts were posted here in April, 2000 and February, 2001. Rather than attempt to summarize the previous section, I urge you to read them on the MMSA Stories archive (under author Paddleme).
The rest of our Saturday morning went rather rountinely. On two occasions, my misbehavior earned me spankings. During breakfast, when I attempted to argue about eating oatmeal ("I'll teach you talk back to me, boy"), I was turned over D's knee, the back flap of my diaper pulled back, and my bare bottom was soundly spanked with a rubber spatuala/scraper. Later in the morning, when my t. v. watching was interrupted by the instruction to go up to my room and clean it up, I again balked. This time, since my bottom had just been spanked for talking back, D decided to up the ante and treat me to a bare bottom strapping with his thick leather belt. He made me bend over the arm of his sofa, he again peeled back the flap covering my bottom, and he whaled away at my naked butt at least 25 times. After three very sound spankings in one morning, my bottom was indeed very sore and I was really feeling like quite the naughty little boy.
At lunch time, you can bet I ate all the food put on my plate! And, even though my bottom was sore, I was certain to sit still in my chair when ordered to stop fidgeting.
After lunch, we were off to do some shopping and to visit a spanko friend of D's. Because I had learned my lesson and had not peed my pants all morning, I was allowed to wear my "big boy" underpants; a pair of plain old white, Hanes briefs. I was dressed in a juvenile looking pair of stretch-waist shorts, a plain t-shirt and a pair of kiddish-looking tennis shoes. Despite the size of my adult body, dressed like that I felt very much like a child.
The store we visited was a Spanko's paradise, an adult toy store that specializes in spanking implements, tapes and other neat "stuff" D had decided that the tawse he had purchased, while perfect for over the knee spankings (to which I can attest!), was just not substantial enough for the kind of truly sound strappings I was earning. In one aisle, we found a selection of about 10 styles of tawses; I had never known there were so many! They ranged from 2 to 4 tails, were from about 15 inches to over 2 feet long and were all made out of a heavy, supple leather. I immediately recognized one of the smallest ones as being just like the one I had been spanked with earlier in the day. D took several down and was playing around with them practicing his swing.
While D was handling the different tawses, a store clerk came around. "Do you have any questions about our leather goods?" he asked.
"No, no, I'm just looking for the right tool to try to keep my boy here in line," replied D.
I was suddenly embarassed. I think my face flushed as red as my bottom had been earlier in the morning!
"Feel free to try them out. If you need more privacy, we have a men's room in back. Think of it like a fitting room; we want all our customers to be satisfied that the implements they purchase here are a perfect fit. And, if you need more help, let me know."
"We might just take you up on that. For now, I think my son will just grab his knees and I will test a couple out right here," D answered.
I was mortified! "You can't mean right here in the middle of the store..." I said.
His reply came addressed to the clerk. "You see what I'm up against? Every time I turn around this kid talks back! Would you believe this boy has already been spanked twice today for talking back? Maybe we will need to visit your restroom!"
"But Dad..." I started.
"Okay, that's it. I guess we will need to use your facilities. Where are they?" he asked.
I was dumbstruck but managed to keep my mouth shut.
The clerk pointed to a door and, before I knew it, I was being led by my ear like a naughty 10 year old. In his other hand, D had grabbed a supply of 4 or 5 severe looking tawses.
The men's room was quite nice looking. In addition to the stall and urinals, there was a bank of sinks and a couple straight backed chairs. There were also floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one wall. It was apparent that this rest room was just as much for testing spanking equipment as it was for going potty! I could not believe I was about to be spanked in a public restroom. The last time that had happened was when I was a boy of 10 or 12 and my dad had taken his belt to my bare bottom in a highway rest area bathroom. Suddenly, I felt just like that naughty pre-teen all over again.
Before I knew it, my pants and underpants were pulled down and I was in that all-too-familiar position of being bent over the back of the chair and grabbing its seat.
"I'm going to give you six of the best with each of these 5 tawses. I want you to know that, if you had followed directions out in the store aisle, you were only going to have gotten 1 or 2 at best...over your shorts. But, since you think you have to talk back, I am upping the ante. And, you can expect more once we get home, Buster. Since I seem to have cured you of peeing your pants, I guess my next job is to break you of back-talk! Now get ready," he told me.
Without any further ado, he picked up the first of the tawses, drew it back and unleashed it. Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK!!! The stokes were slow and deliberate. And they stung like anything.
Again without a word, he set down the first strap and picked up the second. Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK!!! This tawse was even worse, It succeeded in causing a new level of pain by grabbing me in the some very sensitive places.
Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK!!! The strokes of the third tawse were unleashed. I was having a hard time holding my position and could see from the mirrors that my buttocks were already a mass of red welts.
Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK!!! The strokes of the fourth tawse landed with typical precision.
Finally, he picked up the last tawse. It was a vicious, 2 foot long, 3 tailed monster. Again, with his typical precise style, the strokes were laid on. Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK, Whizzz-CRACK!!! But this time I could not stand it. I was practically dancing with each stroke and finally even ended up with real tears in my eyes.
By the time this "performance" was over, we had a couple of other spanko guys standing in the restroom spell-bound. One of them was the clerk from before and he sported a grin from ear-to-ear as well as a bulge in his crotch. I don't know how much of the spanking they had seen but they had certainly seen the final one; which was the most severe for sure.
D set down the last tawse and said to me, "Well, it looks like we've learned one thing, anyway. That last tawse is worth every penny, huh boy? Now if you will just learn about your back talking!"
Even though there were others around, I was told to stand in the corner with my shorts and underpants still around my ankles. I did not dare argue. I just know those other guys were getting off looking at my fiery red, welted buttocks!
After my corner time, I was allowed to pull back up my shorts and clean up. Looking in the mirror, I noticed that the red strokes of the tawse were visible if you looked the right way where my shorts met the backs of my thighs. How embarassing!
D left the bathroom walking proudly knowing he had just well-spanked a deserving boy and that all in the store knew it. I, on the other hand, walked meekly through the store as if embarassed (although, in truth, I was really thrilled!). D replaced the four tawses in the correct aisle and we made our way to the front of the store. The store clerk continued with his knowing grin and, after D had bought the new tawse, wished us much pleasure with our new purchase.
As we left the store, with a warm, well-spanked bottom under my juvenile shorts, I continued to feel just like the naughty boy I wanted to be.
To be continued....