"Disciplined in the afternoon"
I am sitting on his lap. This man I have only met one hour before.
There have been countless IM conversations, chatting, shared humour…leading to the empathy we are feeling now.
A feeling of comfort, no doubt fuelled by the vodka consumed in the bar. Comfort, tinged with apprehension. A strange feeling.
I snuggle a bit closer.
“Tell me what you want”
I whisper to him. But he knows, and I know, exactly what that is.
His arm is round me and I am leaning with my head on his shoulder. His hand travels up and down my back, soothing, reassuring. It’s a nice feeling.
Then he gently tips me forward.
“Let’s just give you a bit of a warm up” and starts to spank my bottom over my jeans.
I get the feeling he is enjoying this.
“You don’t have to get changed you know” he says, somewhat hopefully I feel.
But I do have to get changed, so I give him a key and off he goes, telling me he will be back in ten minutes.
I look around the room. I feel strange. I have thought about this for a long time. And now it is going to happen. How will I react? I really don’t know.
I discard the jeans and top, and reach for my other clothes…lacy undies, hold up stockings, black skirt and white cotton blouse. I am now wearing much more than I was five minutes ago. But no shoes. Cos I hate shoes.
I look in the mirror and see a different person gazing back. The old clothes were so much more “me”
I move to the bathroom and find the toothpase. Should just have time to smear a little around the door handle. Then I check my watch. Better not. Damn. Missed opportunity!.
I get back into the bedroom just in time to hear the door open.
He comes back in with a briefcase and a rolled up tube. Now, I know about this tube, and I know what it contains. And he is an optimist.
“Believe me, you won’t be needin’ them Grandad”
He laughs
“We’ll see”
A few minutes later and the “toys” are all on the bed. The apprehension comes back as he says
“Right. Come and stand over here”.
Suspiciously close to the chair he has placed there earlier.
He stands in front of me and begins talking to me about my schooldays. I immediately cross my arms, gaze at the floor and go into “shut down” mode. I don’t have to listen to this. I listen to his voice but I don’t hear anything. I just know he is talking.
All of a sudden
“Put your hands behind your back”
I do so.
“Look at me”
I do so but my gaze soon drops. He tells me again. Again, briefly, I look up but I cannot hold his gaze.
I feel his hand gently push my chin up so my eyes meet his.
I can no longer look down; his hand is preventing it.
I am starting to feel increasingly sulky. I can feel myself stiffen up; the resentment creeping through my body.
He asks me questions.
I mumble, or I don’t answer at all.
Finally he gets me to admit that I am lazy, and find it easier to play around than apply myself. He offers me the choice of a suspension or a spanking. I know what he wants me to say and I sure as hell ain’t saying it.
He asks me again. I have no intention of answering. He has a long wait if that’s what he wants.
Suddenly he decides to make up my mind for me, sits down, pulls me to his right side and tells me to get over his knee.
“NO”
I can feel him pulling me forward. My feet are glued to the floor…I’m just not going to do this. I might want it, and I might need it, but that doesn’t mean I’m just gonna let it happen.
With a quick movement I’m over his knee and looking at the floor and he has a firm hold. He starts to spank me over my skirt. It doesn’t hurt but I can still feel it. Then he lifts my skirt and spanks me over my panties. Before long my panties have found their way to my thighs and I feel his hand starting to smack me quite hard.
He seems pretty determined to be thorough, and his hand is covering every inch of my bottom – no mean feat. As he spanks harder and harder I begin to move around a little as I feel the heat building.
He lets me go.
“Right young lady you can go and stand in the corner and hitch your skirt up so I can see your bottom”
Christ, hasn’t he just seen enough of it?
I go unwillingly into the corner and fumble around with the back of my skirt. It’s not exactly tucked up high, but it’s the best he’s gonna get out of me.
I have no intention of standing in a corner with nothing to do, so I reach for a leaflet from the nearby shelf.
“SLAP”
Ow.
“Put that down”
I hadn’t realised he was behind me. I put it down and straight away go to pick it up again..until I remember.
In the meantime my skirt has found it’s way back down again. Now this is a real shame…but hopefully he won’t notice. That’s two optimists in the room then.
“And tuck your SKIRT up”
His voice is further away so bravado (or stupidity) takes over
“No”
“I said tuck it up”
“No way”
“OK if you can’t do as you are told you can take it off”
I quickly start to do as he says, remembering the penalty we have agreed on for disobedience.
“Take it OFF I said”
“But I’ve DONE it now” this said in my “there’s no pleasing some people” voice.
“But you didn’t do it when I told you to so TAKE IT OFF”
He means it.
I reach behind me and unfasten my skirt, resentment mounting all the time. It’s really starting to bother me, this not getting the last word business. In a fit of temper I turn around and throw it at him as hard as I can with a “Here – HAVE it then” accompanied by the blackest look I can conjure up.
I just have time to notice the surprise in his face before I quickly turn around again to face the wall. Shit. Shit. Why did I do that? I’m gonna lose the rest of my clothes here…I just know it. I hold my breath and wait.
“Come here”
He sounds amazingly calm, and having pushed my luck as far as I want to take it, or perhaps further than common sense dictates, I walk towards him. He takes hold of my arm and propels me to the bed, where he sits down and pulls me across his knee.
He starts smacking me again, harder this time, with more purpose and I can feel the difference.
“Don’t you dare to that again” he is saying, interspersed with hard slaps.
Well I can’t do it again can I? Cos my skirt is long gone!. But somehow, with my bare bottom upturned over this lap, I actually realise that it is time to keep one end shut for the sake of the other.
The stinging intensifies. It hurts. It hurts a lot, and all I know is that I need to get away from his hand. I am writhing around more and more and let out an expletive which fortunately for me he doesn’t hear (I’ve long suspected he has a hearing problem and this confirms it)
His hand is going back to the same place again and again…boy does he mean this! All I can think about is escaping and by this time I’m pulling away as hard as I can, but not being as vocal as I thought I would. I manage to pull away (must have caught him at a weak moment) and remove my bottom from his lap, but before I can make a (deserved) bid for freedom he’s dragging me back to where he wants me and I feel his leg over my legs, pinning me down so I can’t start my aerobics again.
“SLAP”
“That Bloody hurts”
“What did you say?”
“I said it HURTS” I mumble, face in the bed, bottom in the air, feeling sorry for myself by this time.
“No you didn’t. You swore. So you can have some more”
He’s all heart is Grandad, and he renews his attack on my bottom, and I cover it with my hand in an attempt to get some respite.
“Move that hand”
Surprisingly I do so without thinking, albeit reluctantly. Perhaps I realise that giving in a bit is good for the health of my bottom.
He continues to spank with renewed vigour. Doesn’t this man ever tire?
“OOW…stop it”
He takes no notice and finally and at last he lets me go.
“Right. Go and stand over there”
Back on my feet again I take the opportunity to sneakily pull my panties back up.
“Did I say you could do that.? Pull them down at once”
Grief!
“Now get over there”
So I do. But I’m not happy. I’m not winning, and you could fry an egg from the heat radiating from my bottom. And standing there with my knickers down, my bottom exposed, and a skirt that’s gone awol, is not my idea of a dignified afternoon.
But I stand there for a while until he decides I can move.
“You’ve pinched my skirt” I say accusingly
“I didn’t pinch it, you threw it at me” He points to the bed.
“It’s there look. You can put it on again now”
A reprieve. With the speed of a racehorse I’m there.
But the reprieve doesn’t last long
“Right. Put your palms on the bed and bend over”
Christ! Give me a break Grandad.
But no, he has decided it’s time for some toys.
“OUCH” I jump out of my skin as several whacks with I-know-not-what land on me.
“that Bloody hurts”. Why oh why can’t I keep my mouth shut?
“WHACK WHACK”
Well that bloody hurt even more but I know better than to tell him that.
He tells me to bend over again and I do so. I then nearly fly through the ceiling as a sting goes right through me. An American paddle has found it’s way to my bottom.
“Ouch” but I’m getting a bit quieter and old Grandad senses that I’ve had enough for now.
Down go the toys, he holds out his arms and gives me a cuddle…….but all the time reminding me that our “discussion” is not yet over.
and I remind him that it’s him that’s making the tea…….
his lap again. Now this is the good bit. I could stay here forever..it’s nice and cosy and …….
“Oh my God what’s that”.
It is a list. A list of all my wrong doings….pages of it! And he tells me his printer packed up half way through as well….. perhaps there is a God.
“Look at all this” he says, with some satisfaction. “You’re a bugger when you’re out aren’t you?”
He is looking at something I did only the week before. An incident in a taxi, which caused the taxi driver to swerve the car, laugh out loud, and my best friend to glare at me and threaten me with a slap.
He hugs me with affection. "“I like you, you know that don’t you?You’re my bright little brat...”
“Yes…” I say cautiously, waiting for the “But”
I don’t have to wait long
“but you go too far sometimes….”
Yes, well, that is why I am here with him in this room…with a case full of “toys” nearby. He seems to have been “topping” me for longer than I thought….and was obviously well aware of my antics on the brat board long before he got in touch.
“And do you remember this?” he points to the word TWAT, written in satisfyingly large letters on the page. I certainly do. One of my favourite words, and zapped over the Instant Messaging system to him in a quick insult in the early days….in the days when I never imagined we would meet! And far too long ago for a reasonable person to be bearing a grudge! Well, I had buried that anyway. I was hoping he had too…
“And this” he says
“ARSEFACE” Oh dear! My personal favourite this one..and mostly reserved for another top - I seem to have found myself in the unfortunate position of having two of them - who again I never thought I would meet…..why does distance always make me so brave?
“yes…but” I say, wriggling uncomfortably “I don’t call YOU it do I?….I mean…he can fight his own battles can’t he?”
“You have called me that too”
“Oh”
Not a lot I can say to that. So I just listen, with a deepening sense of foreboding, while he points out things out that I had truly forgotten….I thought older guys had bad memories?
He sits on the bed.
“OVER MY KNEE”
Maybe I’m feeling contrite but I don’t put up too much of a fight this time. He starts to spank me hard, lifts my skirt, and down come my panties. Some people are so predictable.
Christ, this hurts and I am soon doing my usual aerobics. But Grandad obviously realises by now that a Melody over the lap is worth two Melody’s running around the bedroom flinging clothes at him, so his grip is firm.
“KEEP STILL”
Yeah. Right!
“and move that hand” as I make a vain attempt to protect my burning bottom.
All of a sudden he is not there, leaving me face down on the bed enjoying the respite. But I am shaken out of my reverie by something very hard landing on my bottom several times, and I nearly jump out of my skin and try once more to wriggle out the way.
“KEEP STILL” he says again, rather unfairly I feel, as he continues to spank.
The next thing I know, he is sliding my panties down my legs and they are no more. This doesn’t bode well.
“Turn over”
I do so without argument.…I know now that I was at this point starting to go into switch off mode…
“What the heck??!!”
Suddenly my legs are raised in the air and, with a look of grim determination on his face, Grandad is attacking my bottom like a midwife with a newborn. Oh Christ! I can see my dignity in the corner, packing a suitcase…
“OW” I try to get away..Thankfully this spectacle does not last too long and when it is over I lay on my back glaring at him, feeling like a very well spanked five year old.
“Get on your knees on all fours!”
I reluctantly turn over – some people can never make their minds up – and get on all fours.
“Legs further apart”
Oh joy, my dignity has hailed a cab and is heading for the train station.
He starts to spank me vigorously with his hand and boy does it HURT. He is attacking my thighs and I start to feel very chastened. But things are about to get much worse.
“Down on your elbows – bottom in the air”
The train containing my dignity pulls out of the station and disappears around the corner, while I sadly wave it goodby.
A leather straps lands on my bottom. It stings.
“OUCH” I say, in somewhat of an understatement.
He continues to strap me several times, with a belt and then a tawse. He is reminding me of my misdeeds…there is a voice out there somewhere …..but I only know this from what he tells me afterwards…cos I am in another world. As far as I am aware I have received about four whacks with a leather strap. He tells me later it is much much more.
When it is over I seek refuge on his lap again and he holds me tight. He is a very gentle man, when he is not holding a belt. My bottom is so sore. He rubs it better and runs his hand up and down my back while I lean on him….
*******
“Right” he says
“Ready to continue?”
I can’t wait.
We “discuss” my work history – a very dodgy area for me, having been dismissed on more than one occasion. I do not suffer fools gladly, even if they are my boss.
“You attend courses, and then find a seat at the back and draw cartoons instead of concentrating”
Yes…well I know that. There are worse crimes. And there are people at work who actively push to go on the same course as me, knowing it won’t be so boring….so I’m doing a service aren’t I?
I start to switch off again…while he mumbles on about some lasagne, which somehow ended up over somebody’s head… I am twisting the bedspread in my fingers making a fascinating pattern…
He lifts my face to his and looks intently at me.
“You access the spanking site from work don’t you”
“No I don’t” I say indignantly. Cheek! JBet he does though!
“Well OK then you write stories in works time don’t you,despite me telling you not to?”
Christ, now he’s getting picky.
“Well…yes, but only when I haven’t got much to do”
Then he mentions The Email. A little incident which could easily have lost me my job, and which has happened in the last few months. But so funny. And unfortunately, as he woffles on about it, despite my burning bottom, I start to giggle.
“And what happened?” he continues, trying to keep a straight face ( I have to say nature did not give him a good start with this one).
“She wrote back to him” and at this I cannot contain my laughter any more, at the thought of my friend responding to such a daft email, which she thought was an invitation from the office romeo.
And try as he might, old Grandad is trying desperately to keep the corners of his mouth turned down instead of up.
I have to say I am not listening to a word of this any more, and Grandad senses that he’s lost my attention, well, the part of it he had, anyway. Unfortunately I have dived into Couldn’t Give a Shit mode once more…but even more unfortunately he recognises this.
He decides it is time to move swiftly on and offers me a written warning or a spanking. Now what would you do?
I tell him he must be joking and he tells me he isn’t.
“Well, that’s easy innit? I say perkily "In that case I’ll have the warning, thanks.”
Er..I don’t think that was the answer he was waiting for. In two seconds flat my feet leave the floor and I find myself hauled across his lap once again.
“YEEOUCH”
He’s not mucking about here. He is attacking the same spot over and over again…and then surprise surprise, up comes my skirt and down come my panties for some more jolly laughs.
He’s got different tactics this time. He is spanking very very hard and his hand is going back to that same old place time and again. I think I have inadvertently discovered where my sit spot is.
Christ! This hurts, and soon I am wriggling round on the bed desperately trying to get away again. My bottom is burning like nothing I’ve ever felt and as he spanks me harder and harder I start to get more vocal
“NO…don’t”
WHACK, WHACK.
“Don’t…..”
He hauls me up and holds me close. “Are you saying that because you mean it or because you are trying to get out of your punishment”
What a suspicious, mistrusting man he can be.
“No..it really does hurt” I say sorrowfully.
With that he throws me across his knee again and starts to attack the same spot once more. So no point asking then.
I put my hand in the way and he pins it behind my back and the burning intense pain carries on for a while longer. I am doing all I can to get out of his grasp, but of course after a whole afternoon with me he now he knows what he is up against, and there is no way he is gonna let me win.
Then all of a sudden he stops and hauls me to my feet again.
He wraps his arms round me and tells me that’s it. He holds me. He tells me I need to be more careful. He tells me to think before I do things.He asks me if I can please keep out of trouble…
I hand him the arnica and he pats his lap. He spends the next 30 minutes or so gently rubbing it in to my sore bottom, and massaging gently. This is a man who is enjoying himself. I look back and smile at him.
He smiles at me.
“You ok?”
“Yes thank you…...."
I lay there a bit longer, enjoying the attention and then I twist round again
"Grandad, did I tell you the joke about the……”
and as I lay there over his lap I think back to the places I have told jokes. In the pub, at work, at dinner parties, but never with my bare bottom being fondly caressed over somebody’s lap!
By Melody Ann
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