I heard Tim close the front door. “Tim, can you come here for a moment, please,” I called out.
I watched as Tim came into the lounge. He was wearing just a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. I had chosen a sleeveless top and short skirt and I had bare legs.
Tim looked me up and down with his usual longing look for me. He was used to me being there and letting myself in. I was the cleaner and came every day and his mum trusted me with the key and I often had the house cleaned before she got back from work. Now, with Tim’s mum away for three months, she asked me to come every day to keep an eye on her son, and I readily agreed as the money was good.
I was on the sofa and I pointed to the cushion next to me and said in a friendly tone, “I need to discuss something with you, Tim. Do you have some time?”
“Sure, Olga,” he answered, in his, ‘How about making out,’ tone of voice.
I knew Tim fancied me. He was only seventeen-years-old and knew I was twenty-one-years-old but he must have reckoned he was in with a chance, given the way he always gave me furtive glances. I may, ‘Just,’ be the cleaner but he often deliberately came into the room I was working in to be near me. He didn’t know I’m not into men, but I can still have some fun with them, so I would purposely bend forward so he had the perfect view of my breasts. I leaned forward again now and his eyes opened wide when he saw I wasn’t wearing a bra, and I smiled to myself when I saw the bulge develop in his trousers when he ogled me.
“Have you been drinking, Tim?” I asked, giving him a stern look.
“Just a couple, Olga. I have been out for a pub lunch with the guys,” Tim replied, blushing at the thought he had been caught out.
“Oh, right”, I said, “A boy’s thing.”
“That’s right, Olga. So anyway, is there something in particular you want to discuss right now? The football is about to start and I really want to watch it.” He smirked at me as he told me his plans.
“I was thinking more of doing something together.” I winked and smirked and added, “You know, something we would both enjoy.”
“Like what, Olga?” Tim licked his lips and reckoned that he was thinking about a bit of canoodling.
I replied, still giving a friendly smile, “What about reading a magazine together? I found one you seem to enjoy reading and I thought we could read it together and see if anything follows on from that.”
Tim looked at me as though I was mad. “Why do that, Olga?”
Just like Tim, I thought, as he always made a smart alec comment, and he was always doing ‘Boys’ stuff. Well, now I had a lever so things were going to be different from now on.
I leant over the side of the sofa and lifted up a magazine, putting it on my lap so he could see the cover. It showed a woman dressed in a blouse and skirt, sitting on a chair with a man across her knee, and she was spanking him. Tim froze, which was such a delight to see as he was staring hard at the magazine,
I carried on. “One thing about doing the cleaning is that, when I tidy up, I get to find all sorts of things. I was putting some of your papers away and there right on top of the drawer was this magazine.”
He was looking at the magazine still but interrupted me. “No, it was not as it was a long way down and well covered…” he trailed off as he suddenly caught my eye and saw that I was smiling wickedly and he knew that he had walked right into it.
“Whatever,” I said off-handedly. I then asked firmly, “The fact is you have this magazine, so what I want to know is whether being spanked is one of the things you talk about with the ‘Boys,’ and do the others like it as well?” I asked him in a friendly, even maternal, tone of voice.
I decided to sit there, staring at him, until he answered and there was a long silence.
“No,” he said finally.
“Well then, as I said, let’s look through it together and see if we can find something that we both like. What pictures do you like best?” I asked, opening the magazine.
He looked as though he was about to cry, which was a move in the right direction, I thought cruelly. I continued. “I tell you what, let’s go through page by page and see which bits you like best.” I changed my tone and said sternly, “Oh Tim, and don’t mess around here. We both know that at the end of this, we will have a discussion about discipline around here and if I think you are not telling the truth, then it might work out worse for you. Do you understand me, Tim?”
He looked quickly at me and then turned away as fast. “What if I just leave the room?” he asked in a testy tone.
I replied candidly, “That would be brave as I would need to speak to a couple of your friends to get their views. In fact, maybe we should all discuss this together?” I asked but kept a perfectly straight face although I was laughing hard inside.
“What do you mean by discipline, Olga?” he asked reluctantly.
Quick as a flash, I raised my hand and brought it firmly down on the top of his thigh. There was a loud CRACK as it hit home and Tim let out a loud yelp. He looked at me wildly and rubbed his thigh, and for a moment I wondered if he was going to hit me. I stared him out, though, and he lowered his gaze and the balance of power had shifted to me.
“So, Tim,” I said, musing as I looked through the pages of the magazine, “I liked this set of pictures and story.” I flipped open the magazine at the page I had found earlier about a woman who caned her husband. “What do you think?” I could tell Tim knew the story.
“Have you got a cane?” he asked almost in a whisper. He had forgotten that I do amateur dramatics and we were doing a play about a school in the 1950s and we had all sorts of props. I leant over the arm of the sofa again and brought up a thin, very flexible cane. Tim’s mouth just dropped open as he looked at me almost in awe and he certainly wasn’t expecting me to produce a cane.
“Now, Tim, you read these magazines about men being punished by women, so surely you want to know what it feels like, don’t you?”
I put my hand on his thigh. “Don’t!” I shouted as he put his hand on mine to remove it and, to my delight, he immediately took his hand away.
I explained as though it was a done deal, “OK, Tim, here’s what will happen. I will give you six strokes of the cane on your bare bottom and then three strokes on each hand, and half an hour later you will go across my knee for a spanking. That will be it, and I will then continue with cleaning the house. Agreed? Now stand up and put your hands on your head, and stand still. You have thirty seconds and if you are not in position then, your mum gets a call, followed by each of your friends.”
I held my breath, wondering what he would do, and what would I do if he refused? These thoughts went buzzing through my mind but all the time I kept telling myself he must want to know what it was like or else he would not read those magazines and not have an interest. There must be other magazines showing men spanking women, and yet he chose one just showing women disciplining the men, which was telling. Then a movement caught my eye. I didn’t know how long he had taken, but Tim stood up and put his hands on his head and stared at the wall above my head.
Almost disbelieving he was submitting, I stood up and went and stood behind him. I leant forward and spoke softly into his ear, “I want you to remove your shorts and pants and go and bend over the right arm of the sofa, Tim, and stretch your arms fully out in front of you and lie still.” I watched avidly as he did as I said.
When he was in position, he turned his head and looked up at me, arms stretched out in front of him.
I said sternly, enforcing my position of authority over him, “You will address me as ‘Miss’ whilst I discipline you, as that seems to be the way in your magazine, Tim.”
“Please, not too hard” he pleaded. After a moment he must have seen my blazing eyes and he added a submissive, “Miss.”
“Don’t mess me about, Tim, as I mean it when I say you will obey me. I assure you that I have a strong temperament, absolute willpower, and the determination not to waver whilst I teach you a long-overdue lesson.” I smiled as I added, “Oh yes, and I also have this cane.”
I tapped his bottom twice, and went on in the same strict-sounding tone, “This will hurt you, Tim, a lot, but I will continue until I have finished the job and you can be sure of that. Now, Tim, are you ready?” I demanded.
He turned and hid his face in the cushion and said, “Yes,” just audibly.
I stood by him, raised the cane, and brought it down quite hard on this bare bottom. His head flipped up and he cried out, “Yeeowww!”
I waited for his head to fall back and then said sternly, “Tim, you will recall my first instruction that you will address me as ‘Miss.’ You did not, did you? Therefore, that stroke does not count.”
I could see distress written all over his face and he was about to plead, I could tell. I stared at him as he let out a weak, “Yes, Miss,” and knew that I was certainly winning here.
He buried his face again in the cushion as I raised the cane and gave him two strokes in quick succession. He arched his back and cried out and I wondered if I had hit him too hard. I was worried for a second, but then he relaxed again and buried his face, clearly waiting for the next stroke.
I pulled my arm back and, feeling more confident, landed another stroke across his bottom and I was now enjoying watching the series of wicked red welts appear across his bottom.
I listened to Tim’s gasp of pain and waited for him to settle down again. This time I noticed that he even raised his bottom slightly, so I thought that maybe I wasn’t caning hard enough after all. I lifted the cane again and brought it down even harder on his bottom, and when I heard his cry reckoned that was now just the right strength.
Again, I lifted the cane and gave two swift strokes that drew the most gorgeous cries from Tim; even so, he stayed in position and clearly accepting his punishment. Maybe more important, he was accepting my right to discipline him.
I put the cane down and let him rest there for a while. After a few moments, when he had relaxed, I told him to stand up in front of me, and to be quick about it. He shot up and stood in front of me and put his hands on top of his head, even without me asking, so he was learning, and fast.
“You will remember I said you will now receive three strokes on each hand. Do you remember, Tim?” I asked firmly.
“Yes,” he answered.
My face froze and I reached for the cane again, and realising his omission he speedily added, “Miss, I mean, sorry, Miss, yes, Miss.”
I relaxed my stare. “Very well this time, Tim, but in future there will be a penalty if you are disrespectful.”
I told him to hold out both hands in front of him, spaced apart, and explained that this way he would not know which hand I was aiming at until the cane hit home. I said I spotted that technique on page twenty-four of the magazine if he was interested. He just gulped and held out both hands.
I stood to his side and took aim. I told Tim to close his eyes as I raised the cane and flicked it down. I hit his left hand and Tim winced but did not shout out. I made the next one harder, with this one on his right hand. It hurt him more from his yelp but still felt that just a bit harder was about right and hit him twice more on each hand in turn. Finally, I reversed the order and Tim gasped when I hit his right hand first as he had been expecting the left hand. I smiled, but his eyes were still closed.
He kept his hands out and I saw the red marks across both palms. I walked behind him and saw again the welt marks across his bottom and thought what a good job I had done.
I smiled when I saw his penis as it was erect again, so I knew that he was going to keep on obeying me, I reckoned.
I sat down on a dining chair and told him to stand in front of me again and he came straight over, keeping his hands on his head.
I glared up at him and asked sternly, “Was the punishment as you had expected?”
“I guess it was, Miss,” he said.
He and I both became conscious of some further movement to his private parts, and he started to move his hands down.
“Stop!” I shouted. “Don’t worry, Tim, we both know you enjoyed it. You did, didn’t you Tim?”
“Yes, Miss, I did. It was just like the magazines said.” He spoke enthusiastically for once, I mused.
“You will recall that I said you would be spanked in half an hour. I propose not to do so.” I saw his face fall and continued, “That is because I think you have received enough punishment for one day. However, I will keep a close eye on you, and will not hesitate to discipline you in future if you are naughty. Do you accept my authority over you, Tim?” I demanded.
I leant forward so he could see my breasts again.
“Definitely, Miss,” he answered.
“Do you masturbate when you read the magazine, Tim?” I demanded to know.
Tim blushed. “Sometimes,” he replied quietly.
I looked at him sternly. “Don’t ever again. I will want to control your penis when I see you so need it full of cum. Understood?”
Tim licked his lips as I gave him another view of my breasts. “Yes, Miss,” he replied, and his erection stiffened.
“OK then. Now, go to your room and read the magazine so when I come next, let me know which other story in your magazine you want me to follow,” I said, smiling. I handed him the magazine and he started eagerly reading it as he left the room even as he rubbed his bottom.
So, the new regime started. I would be in charge and discipline Tim every time I came. I loved it that Tim got an erection when he looked at me so, and I knew he would hope we would have sex afterwards, but he had no chance as he wasn’t a woman. I remembered, though, the magazine explaining the punishment felt harder after cumming, so if I could make him masturbate before a spanking, I mused, it would hurt him more. That would be humiliating for him but I bet would make him worship me more, I reckoned.
My next visit will be tomorrow and I was sure he would study the magazine avidly and be ready to tell me what story he wanted me to duplicate. It would be bound to involve a lot of pain, for him, and enjoyment for me.
I wondered if he would just be naughty on purpose to earn a spanking? Lots of men would, given the chance of being spanked by a woman they fancied, and I smiled at the thought as it was still another three months before his mum was due back, and I was sure I would be disciplining him a lot.
I heard Tim close his bedroom door and from the squeaks of his bed reckoned he was masturbating right now. I didn’t mind as it was part of the plan I had hatched with his teacher, Lucy, and it was Lucy I made love to every day as we lived together. She warned me Tim might get over playful with me when his mum was away, just as he did at sixth form college where he ogled her all the time, but I told her about me finding the magazine and she told me how I could use that to ensure I maintained disciplinary control over Tim to stop him thinking about being amorous with me. Of course, it meant me disciplining Tim, which was something I knew I would love to do anyway.
I lay on the sofa, savouring the caning. I picked up the phone and dialled Tim’s mum. “Hi, Mrs J … Yes, Tim is fine … He left me alone to do the cleaning and I think he’ll be tidy as you asked him … So, you relax, Mrs J and I’ll take care of your son.”
I then phoned Lucy. “Hi, Lucy … Yeah, the boy is no trouble at all … I showed him the magazine although didn’t tell him I found it a week ago. Anyway, I took it from there. He was easy … He’s upstairs now and I think he is masturbating just as you said he would … I’ll go up soon and spank him … Don’t worry, Lucy, I have him under my control so he’ll behave … I so enjoy spanking men and now I will be almost every day I come here … That’s right, Lucy, it puts me in just the right mood for when we are in bed together.”
I listened out and there was silence and reckoned Tim had reached his orgasm.
So, I stood up and made my way upstairs and threw open Tim’s bedroom door and found him on his back with his cum over his chest and his penis still in his hand. He looked shocked when he saw me.
I said sternly, “I told you not to masturbate, so I think I had better give you that spanking after all, Tim.”
Tim blushed and stood up. “Yes, Miss,” he accepted readily.
I smiled as he didn’t realise it would hurt much more now he had cum. I was really going to enjoy dominating this young man, I told myself as I sat on the chair and pointed to my lap. When he went across my lap, I looked at his red welted bottom and as I landed the first spank, he yelped and he was soon crying as I turned his bottom a lovely glowing red whilst listening to his crying, which was like music. Still, I reckoned he was enjoying it as well.
