The Work-Spanking Program

"Okay, all over," she said.

Even without the paddle spanking him, his sobs continued. His bottom burned more than it ever had before. It might have even been worse, on the whole, than his four spanks with the long, thick school paddle. At least that was only four. She must have given him a hundred or more today.

"Did we learn a lesson about slacking on the job? Being on our very best behaviour in front of my friends?"

He coughed out an "uh huh" with no "ma'am" and still could only sob, no proper words coming to him.

She waited, rubbing his back and beginning to shush him. "Shh, shh, shh, it's over. Emerson is my good boy once again."

Now his tears were starting to settle. He turned his head to wipe his wet cheeks on the sleeve of his own tee shirt, his hands still bound tightly before him. "Th-th-thank y-you, ma'am." He was shivering, a little, overrun with emotion and adrenaline.

She rubbed his bottom and let him know it was a deep and dark red. "I hope you've developed a good healthy fear of this paddle. You'll only see it when you've really earned it."

"Yes, m-ma'am," he sniffed.

"Good. You're going to stand in the corner again, pants down, red bottom on display, for twenty minutes."

"Yes m-ma'am," he said. He gingerly hopped off her lap and she untied his wrists for him. Once they were free, he rubbed at them. A tissue box sat on the counter, and he knew by now he was allowed to clean his face before corner time. So he did.

He held his pants up as much as he could on his way to the corner, then dropped them again to his ankles as instructed. Ms. Hartford got behind him and pulled his shirt up, held high under his arms crossed behind his back once more, now unbound. "Stay like this. No rubbing."

It was so shameful to be back in this position with his bright red bottom, still burning hot, but he did as instructed.

"Think about if you deserve to continue the work-spanking program I so graciously set up for you."

He began to cry again over that, softer and ridden with remorse. The program was everything he needed and wanted. Servitude and spankings. Working for her. Trying to please her. Being kept in line by her. But he'd squandered his first chance at it. Sometimes his youth made him so short-sighted.

Ms. Hartford retrieved him after the full twenty minutes, helped pull his pants up, and took him in her arms on the couch. His head rested on the fleshy front of her shoulder, just above her breast. The tears kept coming. "I'm r-really sorry."

"Was it too much? You poor thing. Did you forget the traffic light system we talked about?"

"No, but, I deserved it. I was really, actually bad."

"I see. But I have a feeling you'll never do that again."

"I promise, I won't," he said. He meant that. "But it's too late."

"It's not too late. You can go back to work next Saturday."

"Really?"

"Really. You're a good boy, all in all. I trust you. But I want you here, first. Just for ten minutes. I think if you have a freshly spanked bottom under your pants you'll definitely remember all your rules. Won't you?"

How humiliating, trying to clean and work with a burning backside. It would certainly put him in the correct mindset, though. Truly submissive boys did not even think to slack off. At least his tears completely stopped. He grew strangely sleepy in her arms.

"Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Was that thermometer embarrassing?"

"Very much, ma'am."

"A little reminder of your place can really enhance a spanking, I've found."

She stroked his hair and rubbed his back. He sighed and sighed. So happy, now. All was right with the world again.

Next Saturday, he'd be back, and she'd send him to work all day with a red bottom. She promised him that if he was actually good, he'd find his session quite a bit more fun than today.

The work-spanking program started with a bit of a bang, but he knew it was just what he needed.