Emerson Learns His Place

"You're too embarrassed to say it, aren't you?"

She gave him a long time to say it, and he didn't. CRACK!

Emerson keened now, a sort of endless wail that lasted from the end of that spank, all through the ten second pause, and then hit a new peak of volume with the fourth CRACK! against his bottom. He began to lose all control of his breathing.

Ms. Hartford put a soothing hand on his back. "Say the phrase, Emerson. Tell me you want to be put back over my lap where you belong."

He opened his mouth to say it and began to sob instead. It was too much. The pain, the humiliatioin of his accident in her lap, the guilt of having actually annoyed her for real by not taking her forms seriously enough. He was overwhelmed and defeated. She only pressed the paddle once more against him in warning before he began to try to blubber it out. "Pl-please put me over y-your lap!"

"The whole phrase." She rubbed just her hand in circles on his burning skin, waiting.

"Please put me b-back over your lap where I belong, ma'am!"

The phrase was harder to get out while sobbing piteously. It added to the shame of saying it at all. She immediately released his wrists and ankles. His hands found his bottom to rub, and he did so with great abandon.

"Up you get," she said.

He expected to go over her knees again, just like his phrase indicated. Instead she took him to the couch and held him in her arms, laying his head against her chest, letting him cry it out.

"You were right," he said.

"I know."

"It hurt so much, ma'am."

"I want you to think hard about every single choice you make on that form. It's for your own good. Next time I see you, I only want one hundred percent honesty about your limits and your needs."

"Yes, ma'am!"

She rubbed his back and he melted into her, taking comfort in her warmth. He wished to stay here forever. She assuaged his regretful tears until they'd stopped. Then she held him just a bit longer than that.

Eventually, she turned him over her lap again, just to rub some lotion into his backside. She told him that he had a bit of bruising there. She rubbed the cream into his cheeks and upper thighs, and he arched up helplessly to meet her touch. It probably did nothing more than simply cool his skin, but it was the ritual and care of it that he liked. Ms. Hartford told him to sleep on his tummy tonight, by eleven as promised.

"I'm serious about your rules. I really meant what I said. You're smart. Don't mess up your future by doing badly in university. Promise that you'll be a good boy for me when you're not here."

His heart fluttered. "I'll be good for you, ma'am!"