Author's Note: This story is completely fictional, and is quite intense. Sadly, the business is not real, and any resemblance to real people (other than me as the central character) is completely coincidental.
As the owner and manager of a CP bar and dinner club in a large city, I am blessed by being able to make money while indulging in my favorite fetish: spanking. Generally speaking, I merely tend bar and my participation is usually limited to observing some of the more interesting scenes being played out in the establishment. Occasionally, I am fortunate enough to administer an extremely sound spanking to some well-deserving young man or woman. My style as a giver of corporal punishment tends to run very much to the hard side, and unfortunately there are not that many takers. You see, I do not believe very much in hand spanking, OTK, or disciplining over clothing. It is my opinion that for punishment to be effective it should be administered very hard from the first stroke to the last, should ALWAYS be given bare bottom, and should be administered with some either a wooden paddle with holes, a razor strap, or a prison strap...or perhaps all three. But this story is not about my occasional role as a giver of corporal punishment. Rather, it deals with me being a recipient. Not wishing to be perceived as having a double standard, I firmly believe in getting every bit as hard or harder than I dish out. However, until this particular evening, I have only been spanked in private.
To set the background, I had made a grievous misjudgment in character regarding one of my employees, Max, a couple of days earlier. I had unjustly accused Max of stealing, and summarily terminated him, only to find out that he was blameless. After firing the real thief, I approached Max and apologized, asking him to return to my employment. It became apparent in the conversation that he was deeply hurt by my misjudgment, and he refused my offer. Needless to say, my feelings of guilt were quite extreme, and I undertook to remedy the situation. I invited Max to attend a "special session" later that evening: he as the guest of honor, and me as the main attraction. I guaranteed Max that I would be dealt with in a manner befitting the nature of my offense, and hoped that after my punishment he would reconsider returning to my employment. Although noncommittal about the job, he agreed to witness my ordeal.
I took my leave of Max, and upon returning to the club I flipped through the Rolodex in my office. After considering several names, I selected a gentleman, "Captain Dave", who was known for his prowess with the prison strap. Dave was also considered hands-down to be the hardest disciplinarian the club had ever seen. I called him, and explained the situation. Dave was in complete agreement that I deserved a severe punishment, and agreed to discuss administering it to me. He arrived at the club an hour later, and made his way back to my office. Dave was a big man, about 6' 3", with well-developed chest and shoulder muscles. He didn't have the muscle-bound look of a power lifter, but rather the appearance of grace and power one might expect from a world-class athlete or a Special Forces soldier. "Dave," I stammered, "since you agree with me that my punishment should be severe, I'd like to ask you to administer the hardest strapping you've ever given in your life. I know that's asking a lot, but I believe it is what is needed in this situation."
"I believe you realize what you deserve, but are you sure you can handle what you're asking for?" he replied. "We're not talking about something that's just going to set your ass on fire. We ARE talking about a punishment that's going to leave your bottom black and blue, heavily welted, and will cause you to be in pain for at least a week. With a strapping of this magnitude, we might even be talking about some bleeding."
"Yes, Sir. I understand, but I think it's the least I can do to atone for the anguish I caused Max. I hope this will help show him how sincere I am in my apology, and teach me to think twice before acting so rashly in the future. If it's OK with you, I've arranged for the central stage to be clear for my punishment at 7 p. m."
"Then I guess it's settled," Dave answered. "I'm going to go sit down and grab a bite to eat. We've got about an hour before you're on. I'll expect you to meet me backstage at five minutes before your appointment."
Dave took his leave, and I halfheartedly pushed papers around on my desk. Half of me willed the clock to race forward, to end the agony of waiting. The other half of me willed the clock to stop, so I wouldn't have to undergo the merciless treatment I knew was in store. Neither half was successful, and I made my way backstage at the appointed time. Dave was waiting, and gave me a sympathetic smile as I nervously approached him. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. "It's not too late to back out."
I looked out at the bench placed in the center of the stage, and considered the possibility. Finally I answered, "No, Sir. It has to be done. I know my ass is going to pay a terrible price, but it's a matter of honor."
"OK," he replied, "but remember, once we're on stage, you are completely in my control. Back here, you're still the boss. Out there, I'm going to do my best to reduce you to a crying, quivering mass of pain." With that, he slipped a collar and leash on my neck and led me out into the glaring spotlight at center stage.
Turning on his collar microphone Dave announced, "Ladies and gentlemen. Tonight we have a special situation. Most of you recognize Eric, the owner of this establishment. He comes before you this evening to receive a special punishment. Eric misused the authority of his position, and caused a great deal of mental anguish to a young man in the audience. Because of the grave nature of his transgression, Eric has asked to be punished in a most severe manner. I can assure you...his request will be granted. When I have completed his punishment, he WILL be sorry, and will have paid for his misdeed in a most painful manner. Eric, step to the bench and strip completely. NOW!!"
I quickly complied, not wanting to incur any additional penalty strokes. Once I was completely naked, Dave stepped forward. "Kneel on the bench with your legs spread as wide as possible." I did so, and he quickly cuffed each ankle to the sides, and passed a restraining belt over the small of my back. He then adjusted the bench so that my chest was sloped forward, elevating my bare backside for optimum exposure. In this position, my balls were clearly visible hanging just inside the protection of my thighs. Dave fastened the leash of my collar to the front of the bench, and stepped away. Brandishing the prison strap, he addressed the crowd again: "Eric is going to feel this strap tonight. When I am done, he will be intimately acquainted with the pain it can cause. The strapping will proceed as follows: I am going to administer 15 strokes from Eric's left side, followed immediately by 15 more from his right. After a brief break of about a minute, I will repeat this pattern. This will continue until Eric has received four sets from each direction, for a total of 120 strokes. Oh...and all strokes are going to be given with every ounce of strength I can muster. Those of you that know me, you realize what that means. Those of you don't, just watch, and pray you never find yourself in Eric's position!"
Stepping to my left, Dave lightly slapped my bottom with the strap as he gauged his distance. After a couple of such strokes, the strap left my bottom and there was a slight pause, as if to forewarn me that the punishment was about to commence. No sooner had my brain registered this chain of events, but WHAAPP! The strap landed square across the crown of both cheeks, nearly driving the breath out of my body. I prided myself on being able to take a hard spanking, but that one lick felt like it was nearly as much as I'd ever felt before. I could just feel a 3-inch wide welt beginning to form on my bottom when CRAACCK the strap landed about a half-inch below the top of the first stripe. Although I still hadn't drawn enough of a breath to vocalize my reaction, I was faintly aware of a sharp gasp from the audience. It seemed they were as shocked as I was with the severity of these opening strokes! About ten seconds later the strap descended again with a terrible SNAAPP!! It took until this third stripe for me to find my voice, but when I did I screamed. Not a half-hearted yelp, but a full-throated expression of the agony I was feeling across my bare seat. The first set continued with amazing regularity. Every ten seconds a blazing fire scorched its way across my backside and onto my right flank. Each stroke was about a half-inch lower, ensuring that most of the lick revisited an area already damaged and burning intensely.
After the first fifteen, the strapping paused, but only long enough for Dave to move to my right side and switch the strap to his left hand. Facing the audience Dave announced, "If there's anyone here who's been disciplined by me before, they can tell you...I'm ambidextrous. Rest assured that the left side of Eric's bottom will be getting every bit as harsh a treatment as his right cheek has." With that, the strapping resumed. Dave hadn't lied. If I thought my right cheek was burned beyond recognition, I soon found that my left was every bit as roasted.
Upon completion of the first set of thirty strokes, Dave set down the strap. There was a hush over the hundred or so people in the audience. In fact, the only sounds that could be heard were my gasps and the slithering sounds of my belly against the bench. In my mind, there was no audience. There was only the intense burning I felt on my naked backside. Oblivious to the show I was putting on, I pushed my ass out and then pulled it in, as I tried in vain to at least lessen the pain I felt. I could feel sweat running down my back and across my ass as my body responded to the assault it was undergoing. I looked over, and saw that Dave, too, was sweating from the physical effort he was putting into my punishment.
All too soon, the one-minute break was over. Again standing to my left, Dave resumed my strapping with a terrible WHOOSH SPLAATT!! Time seemed to stand still. There was nothing but the rhythmic sound of leather meeting bare flesh with tremendous ferocity, followed by a primitive scream in response. The second set of thirty blended into the third, then the fourth and final set. I don't believe Dave spoke again to the audience, except somewhere around the end of the third set to announce that I had several welts that were now bleeding.
Finally it was over. Dave unfastened my restraints, and a couple of club employees came forward to help me stand. As I wobbled rather unsteadily, I extended my hand to Dave. "Thank you, Sir. You only gave me what I deserved, and I am a better man for it."
As Dave shook my hand, Max came up onto the stage. "Wow," he said. "You really must have meant that you were sorry about what you did. I wish you hadn't had to go through this, but in a way I guess I'm glad you did. I completely forgive you for what you did, and I hope you still want me to come back to work for you."
With a hug, I whispered in Max' ear, "Thanks...and yes I meant that I want you back, but only if you'll accept a management position." My debt was repaid.