Spanking and Nylonfeet @gentleman-70 - Tumblr Blog

When I was a senior in high school, I didn't have much money extra to spend. So when I found some old books I had borrowed from the library, when I returned them I did owe a lot of money that I didn't have. So on an agreement she showed me, instead of a fine I could accept a spanking instead. The agreement read that I would receive four spankings and one a week and they would be given to my bare bottom.. Plus I had flirting with the cute blond behind the front desk so I thought they would be fun spankings.

I was to report to the front desk, ten minutes before closing on every Friday. So on Friday, I did show up on time for my spanking. Since I was still being spanked by my mom, I thought this would be easy for me. A woman at the front desk did show me to a back room where I would be spanked. I was surprised when I saw this woman waiting to spank me. She also had many paddles on the floor near her. I felt I had no other choice but to obey her.

My spankings really hurt more than I was expected and I should have just borrowed the money and paid the fine. This was a good lesson for me that I will never forget. I did try to be a more responsible man after that. It was a needed lesson for me.

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For Mother's Day - Part I

a two-part story by giffenprep-deactivated

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It was my freshman year in college and I had gotten my mom a bouquet of flowers for Mother’s Day. We celebrated by going to a long brunch that included mimosas, that may have been a factor.

“You really deserved better from me,” I tell her. “I’m really sorry for all the times I was rude to you or a lot of the things I did.”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” she tells me magnanimously. “All kids go through that. It’s part of growing up.”

“I know, but,” I say, taking a deep breath, “Sometimes I wish you’d just spank me when I do that stuff.” There. I’ve said it.

“What? What stuff?” she asks, shocked.

“You know, being rude. Even yelling at you sometimes. And, even other stuff that you think I shouldn’t be doing, I guess.” Already I’m questioning if I should have ever said such a thing.

“Do you remember the last time I spanked you?” she asks, “The way you kicked and cried and carried on?”

“Um, yeah, kinda,” I mumble, blushing. “Probably wouldn’t take much of that and I’d stop real fast.”

“You’d hate it, you know,” she reminds me. “And you’d have to go along. I couldn’t wrestle with you.”

“No, right. I guess I’d have to let you.”

“Even when you’re angry at me. I could give us time to cool off, but sooner or later,” she paused before adding, “You’d have to go over my knee.”

“Yeah.”

We’re quiet for a minute or two.

“Dumb idea,” I say at last.

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment,” she assures me, “But you would hate it.”

“Yeah,” is all I can say, so, more quiet.

After another minute I say, “Would it even work?”

That, apparently, was the magic words. “Oh, it would work,” Mom says. “Me taking down your pants, putting you over my knee, and turning your backside bright red? There’s a lot of things you wouldn’t do twice!”

“A lot?” I ask, a little alarmed. “Like what?”

“Well, maybe not a lot. I just meant that if I spanked you for something, you wouldn’t want to do it again.”

“No, I’ll bet,” I say.

More quiet.

“Rudeness? Yelling would go right out the window,” she muses. “Staying out too late on a school night.”

“Seriously?” I ask.

“If you had a big test the next day, maybe, yes,” my mom says. “Goofing off when you need to be studying,” she suggests.

“Now wait a minute,” I object.

“Okay, not that one, maybe. Unless I thought you really needed it.”

“Would you at least warn me first?” I ask. I don’t really know what I want, but some sort of balance between treating her well and living under a dictator would be good.

“Sweetie, I warn you three, four, five times. At some point, you probably do deserve a spanking!” she jokes.

“Yeah, I suppose so,” I admit.

“After all, I’m paying for your college,” she reminds me.

“Yes, I know. And I really, really appreciate it, Mom. You know that, right?”

“I do know. But I have to protect my investment!” she says with a chuckle.

“Of course you do,” I agree, smiling. “I need to do my best for you.”

We take a moment.

“Lying,” she says suddenly. I look at her, raising an eyebrow. “If you ever lied to me, you wouldn’t sit for a week!”

“I don’t lie to you!” I protest.

“Hmmm. I don’t know that you tell me everything, either,” she says, and I can’t tell if she’s joking.

“Things sure would be different,” I chuckle, trying to keep the mood light.

“For the better,” she adds.