The car ride home was quiet and tense. She was clearly still angry. I sat in the passenger seat with the bag of wooden utensils from the department store in my lap. The slotted spoon she had already used on me was tucked into her purse, but there were three more items still in the packaging. I wasn’t sure what she was planning, but I knew that I was in trouble and there was no getting out of it without a fight. I was fully aware that I was in the wrong and rather than prolong a useless argument, I knew my best course would be to accept her discipline.
She pulled into the driveway and turned off the car.
“Take those upstairs and lay them out on the bed,” she said, pointing to the bag in my lap. “Then, put your nose in the corner and wait for me.”
I offered to carry in the rest of the bags, but she shook her head.
“I got it,” she said. “Do what I said.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
Upstairs, I removed the other utensils from the packaging and placed them on the bed. A spoon and two spatulas, one slotted and one not. I looked at them, trying to imagine her thought process. It seemed that she intended to collect all four utensils in her purse by the end of the night.
I heard her coming up the stairs and I quickly moved to the corner, standing with my hands at my sides. I felt an increasing sense of giddiness with every step she took. Blood flowed to my penis and it pressed against the inside of my jeans. By the time she entered the room my fingers had migrated to my growing erection where I massaged it gently through the layers of clothing. She watched me for a moment, her arms crossed.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asked.
I didn’t know what to say, so I simply moved my hands back to my sides and leaned into the corner more. The ache of my erection overshadowed the sting on my butt that was still faintly present from my earlier spanking. I felt her breath on my neck as she moved in behind me, sliding her fingers around my waistline and unbuckling my belt. She unbuttoned my fly and pulled the zipper down slowly. She slipped one hand down the front of my underwear, hooking the thumb of her other hand into the waistband and pulling them down. She cupped my balls in her hand and pulled them out before sliding her fingers up to my dick and tightening her grip. After three quick jerks, she released me and stepped away.
I heard her at the bed, contemplating her next move as I stood in the corner like a naughty boy, my gentiles on full display.
“Turn around,” she said at last. I obeyed.
I kept my hands by my side, but my penis pointed at her quite conspicuously. She was holding the non-slotted spatula. After a brief deliberation, she walked over to the dresser and set the spatula down next to a bottle of lotion she kept there. Then she walked to me and took my penis in her hand, using it like a tether to pull me to the dresser. Once there, she released me again and put her hands on my shoulders, turning me around. She grabbed the sides of my pants and pulled them down to my ankles and then did the same with my underwear. She lifted my shirt and smacked me hard across the ass with the wooden spatula.
“Ow,” I cried, twisting away.
“Put your hands on the dresser,” she instructed. I obeyed.
She spanked me with the spatula until my attention was no longer on my erection, but on my burning cheeks. Then she picked up the bottle of lotion and squirted some into her palm. She rubbed the lotion over every square inch of my dick and balls before settling her fingers around my dick, rubbing slowly and rhythmically.
I let out a soft moan which turned into a yelp as she gave me another smack. She continued spanking me and jerking me off simultaneously, increasing the speed and intensity of both until I finally came, shooting my load on the front of the dresser. She delivered one last powerful smack to my butt then stood there next to me holding my dick in her hand as it went soft.
“Clean that up,” she said, pointing to the mess I had made on the dresser.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, feeling somewhat silly and ashamed now, naked from the waist down, my bottom red and burning.
I went to pull my pants up, but she stopped me.
“Nope,” she said. “Take everything off. No clothes for the rest of the night for you.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said obediently.
As I cleaned up the mess, she went downstairs to the kitchen. I was putting the towels in the hamper when she returned, holding an apron.
“You can wear this while you make me dinner,” she said. “I’m going to take a shower. Have it ready when I come down. And put this in my purse.”
She handed me the spatula. I glanced at the two remaining utensils on the bed.
“Yes, ma’am,” I said.
