It was a cool morning when I pulled my 2024 Jeep Rubicon into the parking lot of Ye Treasures of Olde. This antique shop was the third I had visited that Saturday. The first two had offered many a nostalgic item across their expansive square footage but failed to have in their inventory the one item I had been searching for.
That object I could surely have purchased through any number of online shops. Truth be told, I had looked at too many websites to count in my search, each carrying their own version, but never providing any real description or specifications that would lead me to think it was “the one.” It is for this reason I have always tried to steer away from online shopping. The reality is that a picture is just that, an image. One can never know for sure the texture, or, in the case of the item I was looking for, its sturdiness. Even brick-and-mortar stores like Wal-Mart and Target had their own versions. Count beauty supply staples such as Ulta in that boat, as well. Most of the ones they carried, however, were plastic or too short. Some even had part of the handle protruding from the larger, flat end of the item, rendering it unusable for my purpose.
Thankfully, living in a small town on the outskirts of suburbia we have our fair share of antique stores. As antiquing became the “it” thing to do the shops just seemed to spring up overnight over the past few years. Many of these I would not consider, for lack of a better term, “worth the time” to visit, however. In fact, over the years I had only been to one before embarking out this afternoon. It was at The Barn Antiques last year that I found an old-timey picture frame for my sister. Heather is quite the fanatic for all things rustic and the frame I was looking for was a present in honor of her earning her Master’s Degree.
This morning, I made my way out past the high school football field for the second time to the area we locals call “Antique City” where there are seven or eight antique shops sprinkled around other little mom-and-pop shops. I quickly made my second career visit to The Barn Antiques, followed by a forgettable jaunt into Nothing’s New. While their name certainly was accurate in describing their wares it too did not offer any semblance of what I was looking for. After leaving Nothing’s New I decided to try the last shop on the long stretch of road that ran the length of “Antique City.”
As I sat in my deep blue Jeep I sighed, staring at the aged windows on the storefront of Ye Treasures of Olde. Turning the engine off I sighed, knowing that it is better to be pessimistic than optimistic when considering the chances of finding what I was looking for. For their part, the words spelled out across the windows did offer a small offering of hope. “Wooden Antiques and More” they read. The magical word “Wooden” gave that slight thought of “just maybe” as I got out of my Jeep and walked towards the door.
Opening the door a small bell sounded and I saw row after row of antiques going well back towards the back of the shop. To say these were aisles would not be accurate as it appeared each row was just a winding walkway with no discernable order to the countless items thrown across each shelf.
The bell, surely there to alert the shopkeep of when someone enters and leaves, was hanging just low enough to catch the top of the door as it opened. Its effectiveness was apparent when I heard a voice say “Welcome to Ye Treasures of Olde” from behind a tall shelf along the right side of the store.
Walking around a corner table and weaving between two shelving units taller than me, I saw a middle-aged woman, probably in her mid-fifties, standing behind a counter. The counter, which served as the point of sale, had one of the oldest cash registers I can ever remember seeing. The woman had golden brown hair, and was wearing a purple dress with small sunflowers scattered about the fabric. Her beautiful figure was enhanced by the snugness of her dress while her face shined a radiant smile.
“Thank you,” I replied.
“Have you even been to my shop before,” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.
“No, this is my first time. I don’t make my way out here that often,” I responded.
“You mean out to “Antique City?” she chuckled while a small giggle escaped from her lips.
I laughed back at her, “Something like that. I mean, I just never really had a reason to look for antiques before.”
“Oh, does that mean you are here today looking for something specific?” she asked with a helpful grin.
I gulped and sheepishly lied that I was just there to browse. “Well,” she winked her left eye towards me, “for someone who just said he doesn’t shop in antique stores you sure made a point to come to one today. But browse away. My name is Maureen so if you need any help just let me now,” she said warmly.
After thanking Maureen with the obligatory “Thank you, I will” response I turned from the counter and began walking the store. Step by step I made my way down each path twisting my body and ducking at times to make my way through spaces that probably were not meant to be walked through. It seemed like forever but in the end it wound up taking around twenty-five minutes to comb almost the entirety of the store. Sure, I found a lot of items that were really cool, such as an old board game from the 1930s I had never heard of. One area of the store even had shelf after shelf of glasses and plates that looked like they came directly off a Victorian dining table. But as I slowly walked through the last area of the store I had not looked through I felt as though I would be leaving empty-handed.
Pointing my head towards a table full of wooden tchotchke’s I saw something that caught my eye. I fixated on a long wooden handle stickup up from a large wooden bowl-type barrel. I reached out with my right hand and slowly pulled it out. My eyes lit up as I looked over the item with delight. With a total length of around twelve inches, the handle itself was about eight inches with the remaining four an oval at the other end, about three-and-a-quarter wide. One side of this larger end was full of thick, but not too rough, bristles, while the other side was flat and smooth to the touch. The wooden bathbrush felt heavy in my hand and with one single smack of the flat end into my palm I knew this was the one. Holding it in my hand firmly I checked its price. The white tag was looped through the hold on the end of the handle. In red marker, the price was marked as $13.99.
Goosebumps came over me as I turned my head in each direction not knowing which way it was to the cash register where I last saw Maureen. I had a hard time containing my excitement as I finally found the register area.
Turning my attention to paying for the item I slowly approached the register counter where Maureen was now sitting on a stool with a glass of red wine in her hand. I embarrassingly held the brush behind my back.
“What was that sound I heard a few minutes ago?” Maureen asked quizzically while setting the wine glass on the table next to her stool.
A sudden fear came over me. Had she heard me a few minutes before giving my palm a smack? Trying to cover my tracks I lied again, “I didn’t hear anything. It’s been very quiet since I came in.”
Maureen looked at me and then around the room, “You didn’t hear it? It sounded like a smack or something.” She paused, and then continued, “Well, never mind. Did you find anything to your liking?”
I squeaked out, “I think so,” as I reached for the brush from behind my back and placed it on the counter.
“Oh my, what do we have here?” She asked while standing up. “A wooden bathbrush? You know,” she said with a suddenly stern demeanor while picking up the brush, “the sound I heard a few minutes ago I can make with this brush.” With those words, Maureen brought the brush into her palm hard. The sound resonated through the store.
“Are you sure you didn’t do something like this?” she asked while giving her palm another smack of the brush.
I looked at Maureen. In my mind, I could tell she knew I was lying. Still, I choked out, “No, nothing at all.”
Maureen sat the brush back down on the counter. “I see,’ she said softly. “What is your name, young man?”
“Keith,” I replied.
“And how old are you, Keith?”
Puzzled, I replied that I was twenty-two, but would be twenty-three in a few months.
Maureen smiled. The look on her face showed that she was thinking hard and long about something, as if she was sizing me up, even.
Maureen broke the silence. “You know what I think, Keith?”
I nervously shook my head no, wondering where she was going with this.
“I think,” Maureen said as she picked the brush back up, tapping it in her palm again and again, “that you knew exactly what you were looking for today. This brush, or one like it. And when you found it you smacked it into your palm like I just did.”
I stood there motionless, not able to move.
“And,” she continued, “I think I know why.”
Looking at the brush being moved around by her hands I could barely muster, “Why is that?”
Because,” she said strictly, “you know what this brush is good for, just as I do.”
Gulping a few times, my lips parched, I weakly asked, “What is it good for?”
Grinning wide while shooting daggers through her squinted eyes, Maureen replied, “Spanking bad boys like you on their bare bottom.”
The butterflies flew into my stomach as I felt weak in the knees. I stuttered out, “What do you mean like me?”
Maureen looked at me without smiling, “Boys who lie. You have lied to me twice since you came into my store, Keith, haven’t you? Once when you said you were just here to browse, and the second when you said you didn’t hear that noise,” she said tapping the brush more and more into her palm.
“And do you know what else I think, Keith?” She said whimsically, “I think you fantasize about this brush, don’t you? Going over the knee with your bottom bare for a good, hard, spanking with it. That is why you came here. To find the perfect brush. And once you found it you smacked it in your hand…to test it to make sure it was just right. Isn’t that right, Keith? Or are going to lie for a third time by denying it?”
Maureen looked at me. I could not believe what I just heard. She knew, but how was I going to deny it? I wasn’t thinking clearly as I blurted out, “That’s crazy, Maureen. I mean, come on, really.”
Setting the brush down on the counter once again, Maureen hammered out, “Uh, huh, I think you are still fibbing me, Keith.”
“That’s silly, Maureen, I’m being honest,” I pleaded.
Maureen sat in her stool. “I’m not so sure, Keith. So…let’s find out.”
“What do you mean…how?” I asked confusingly.
You see this clock,” she turned her body sideways and pointed to an old analog clock on the wall behind her, ” What time does it say?”
Looking up at the clock, I replied, “10:25 am.”
“That’s right, Keith, 10:25 am, and I close my shop every Saturday at 12:00 noon, sharp.” Maureen reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of paper, along with a pencil.
“Now,” Maureen began, “There is a diner a few doors down. I want you to go sit at that diner, and I want you to write down your spanking fantasy.”
I protested, “There is no fantasy!”
She pointed a finger at me, “Let me finish. On this piece of paper, you are to write me a note detailing your spanking fantasy, exactly how you want it done. And I mean exactly. Now, what time did I say I close on Saturday?”
My heart was beating through my chest, “12:00 noon,” I said shakingly.
“That’s right,” Maureen said with a forbidding voice, “If you really have a spanking fantasy then all you have to do is walk back in five minutes before I close, carrying your brush and your note. But be warned, Keith, if you do, then your fantasy will become reality, and there will be no changing your mind.” I gulped and felt my stomach drop.
“Really?” I nervously asked.
“Yes, really. If you fantasize about being spanked, then why just keep thinking about doing it? Do it for real.” Maureen responded while sliding the piece of paper towards me across the counter. I looked at the blank paper and back up at Maureen.
Slowly, I reached out and picked up the paper and pen. With a smug cackle in my voice I flippantly said, “Or I could just take this paper and walk out and not come back. Proving you wrong.”
“Oh I’m not worried about that, Keith,” Maureen laughed, “I know you will come back.” She then picked up the brush and held it out for me to take. Folding the piece of paper in half twice I put it in my pocket. As I took the brush from her I locked eyes with Maureen.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, I guess,” I said in a half-hearted manner, as I began to walk towards the door.
“You too, Keith,” she replied, “but I know I will see you again soon for our…talk.” She winked at me as I opened the door and left.
Making my way to my Jeep I got in and thought, “Oh my gosh, what just happened.” Maureen had just hit the nail on the head. How did she figure all that out? It was all true. Now, the question was, do I do as she asked, or do I leave?
My Jeep was parked in such a way that Maureen could see it from her shop. No matter what, I knew I had to pull out and park out of her view. Backing out into the street I saw the sign for the diner she mentioned.
I slowly rolled along and found a spot to park on the side of the diner, clearly out of her view. I sat and looked at the brush as it lay on the passenger seat next to me. Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the folded, blank piece of paper. I let out a long, deep breath. Turning the engine off, I sat contemplating what to do.
After a few minutes I got out and, leaving the brush behind, I made my way into the diner. I stood at the podium just inside the door. A voice from behind the counter said to sit wherever I wanted and someone would be right with me.
Looking around I spotted a booth tucked away in the corner that had no other tables around it. “Perfect, I will have privacy there,” I thought to myself as I walked over and sat down. “The last thing I need is for someone to walk by and see what I am writing.”
It only took a moment for a waitress to come over and ask how I was doing and what she could get for me. Not really wanting to eat I simply said just a cup of coffee. She took my measly order and left, bringing back a cup of joe in only a few seconds. After putting in some sugar and creamer I took a sip and unfolded my slip of paper.
Flattening it on the table I took the pencil and began to shudder. What would I write? I could write ‘Ha ha, you’re wrong” and take it to Maureen, trying to prove there is no fantasy. But, I knew that was a lie. There IS a fantasy.
I began to write, each sentence painstakingly hard to craft. It started with “You are right about everything, Maureen. I do have a spanking fantasy.”
“My fantasy,” I continued, “is to be bent over the knee of a strong woman for a real, as hard as possible, no holding back, 15-minute, no holds barred, balls to the wall, rapid-fire, each smack with no mercy, spanking with the wooden bathbrush used as a paddle. All bare, right from the start. No warm-up, a blistering and roasting from the get-go.”
I slouched in my seat. I shuddered over and over, gulping as I read my fantasy again and again. Being in pencil I thought of erasing it and writing something else.
My heart continued to race as I looked at the clock on the wall over the grill. It was only 11:00 am. I still had forty-five minutes to sit and wait—forty-five minutes to decide if I was really going to take this note back to Maureen.
As I sat waiting minute after minute, second by second, I must have drank ten small cups of coffee. At one point, the waitress just brought me a carafe just so I would not run out, and had me pay my bill.
Finally, I looked at the clock. It was 11:40 am. I looked once more at my note before fumbling with it to fold it back into a medium-sized square. Placing it back in my pocket, I got up and walked to the door, and then to my Jeep. Sitting down inside I closed the door and looked at the brush, still lying on the passenger seat. It could be only a matter of minutes before it was in Maureen’s hand. I shivered at that last thought.
I had to make a decision. Time was ticking away and I only had a few minutes left to get back to Maureen’s shop. If I really wanted to do this, I had to decide right then.
Reaching over I picked up the brush and got out. I decided to walk back to Maureen’s instead of driving the short distance.
Standing just outside her door I looked at my watch. It was 11:50 am. The small bell jingled as I opened the door.
“Welcome back, Keith,” I heard Maureen chuckle as she approached me just inside the doorway. “You know,” she said grinning, “I think I am going close a few minutes early today.” With that, Maureen reached out and turned the deadbolt lever, locking the door.
“I see you have brought the brush,” she said with a smirk, looking down at my hand, “and the note, did you bring it, as well?”
I looked down and barely nodded, “Yes.”
“Well then, let’s not waste any time, Keith.” She took the brush with her right hand and then took hold of my arm with her left, “Let’s go to the stockroom.”
She slowly marched me to the back of the store and through a swinging double door. I saw an open space near the far back right side of the room. A single straight-backed chair was sitting in the middle, with a small table just to its left.
Leading me to the chair Maureen stopped and placed the brush on the small table. Turning towards me she reached out and said, “Hand me your note, Keith.”
There could not have been more butterflies in my stomach as I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out the note. I held it towards her. With a single grab, Maureen was now in possession of my true fantasy. I gulped. I was taken aback when she placed the note on the table next to the brush.
“Now, it is time for you to be honest, Keith,’ Maureen scolded. “You do have a spanking fantasy, don’t you?”
My whole body shivered as I looked down, embarrassed. With a short movement, I nodded yes.
“I thought so, young man. Have you ever had it fulfilled? Or been spanked at all?”
I nodded side to side, telling her, “No, Maureen, never.”
“But you want to do your fantasy, for real, don’t you? And that is why you came back, right?”
“Yes, Maureen,” I anxiously replied.
“Okay, Keith, then whatever you wrote on that note is about to happen…for real. You understand that, right?” She said as she pointed at the note.
I nodded solemnly.
Looking right at me, Maureen asked, “Do you remember what I said, Keith, about no changing your mind once you came back to the store,?”
Again, I nodded “yes” very slowly.
Pointing to a door on the wall directly to our left Maureen explained, “Well, you have one more chance to change your mind. That door leads to the side alley. I have to go back out front to do my closing paperwork, and I will be back in about ten minutes. During that time you have two choices,” she said sternly, “You can take your brush and leave through that door. I won’t think any less of you if you do. Or, and she pointed towards an area maybe fifty feet away, you can go right there, strip naked, and put your nose in that corner with your bare backside displayed. The choice is yours.” With that Maureen picked up the note saying, “And I am taking this note out front with me to read. If I come back in ten minutes and your backside is bared in that corner then whatever is written on this paper will happen just like you wrote. Your fantasy will become reality 100%. Do you understand? There will be no changing your mind or getting out of it. You will get the spanking you fantasize getting.”
I looked over towards the corner. I could not speak knowing what could be happening very soon.
Maureen did not like my silence, scolding, “Do you understand, Keith?”
I shuddered and weakly replied, “Yes, Maureen.”
Maureen gave me a wink and then, note in hand, walked back to the double doors, and disappeared into the store.
I stood there not able to move. My pounding heart and butterflies were overcoming me. I looked at the brush, then to the corner. My right hand reached behind to rub my backside a few times. What was it going to be? The fantasy I wrote on the note I knew would be a very painful spanking. But isn’t that what I really wanted, I thought to myself.
Unsure if I was making the right decision I stumbled my way to the corner. Once there I reached out and touched the wall, knowing this was it.
Nervously, I began to undress. First my shoes, then socks. I pulled my shirt over my head. Next, I reached down and with a quick movement, I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans. Bending slightly over I pulled them off. I folded my shirt and jeans and placed them on the floor. Lastly, I put my hands inside the elastic of my underwear, and slowly slid them off and onto my pile of clothes.
I stood there, completely naked, and inched my way into the corner. My nose was pressed ever so slightly against the wall while my hands fell beside my hips. My bare backside was, as Maureen requested, on full display.
Slowly I reached my left hand in front. The thought of standing there bare with a spanking coming had made me very hard. I began to stroke and massage over and over. The excitement of the fantasy was overwhelming. It was only a matter of minutes, I kept thinking to myself, before Maureen would be pulling me over her knee to literally toast my bare bottom. My strokes got faster and faster.
Time seemed to stand still as I thought continuously if I had made the right choice. I could have been in my Jeep driving home at that moment. Instead, I stood with my bottom bare about to be given the spanking I have always fantasized about getting. I began to realize the truth to my situation. The seriousness of what was about to come hit as I heard the creaking of the double door. My hand fell back to my side.
I heard Maureen’s footsteps as she walked closer and closer. I was throbbing hard as Maureen stopped, standing beside me, holding out the note. “So this is what your spanking fantasy is, huh? Balls to the wall? No holding back, as hard as possible, a real blistering,” she repeated back almost verbatim from the paper.
I could see her with my peripheral vision look down and see how hard I was.
“My, oh my, Keith. I see you are excited thinking about this spanking. Do you always get this hard when thinking of your fantasy?”
I quickly nodded “Yes” led Maureen to ask, “Do you masturbate while thinking of it being turned into reality?”
“Yes, I do.” I was embarrassed but could not deny it.
Maureen questioned, “And after you finish what are your thoughts regarding the spanking? Does it still sound exciting to do for real?”
I shook my head “no.”
“Why is that,” she asked intently.
I nervously explained how I often would think of my fantasy and masturbate while thinking of it being done for real. But once I was finished, I always told myself I didn’t really want it. It was just the thought that was exciting.
Maureen smiled. “So during your masturbation, you find the thought of the spanking fun and exciting, but afterward, you don’t really want to be spanked, do you?”
“No, I don’t,” I admitted.
“Then you have no idea how happy I am to find you standing in this corner bare bottom. This spanking is going to be a lot of fun,” she giggled. “Of course, the fun will only be for me, young man. You stand right there and don’t you move.” She then walked away and came back a few seconds later. In her hand was an old towel.
She turned me around and handed me the towel.
“Go ahead, Keith. Finish. I know you were probably rubbing that thing hard while you stood in this corner bare ass just thinking of me paddling you with the brush. So finish. Right now. I want that excitement gone. Once you finish you are going to be begging me to not actually give you this spanking. Let’s see how much fun you have over my knee when you really don’t want to be spanked.
Maureen stood there while I slowly reached down and began to stroke and rub. It was very humiliating as she watched me faster and faster pull myself closer to finishing. After thirty to forty-five seconds Maureen started scolding, “You are in so much trouble, Keith. Your ass is about to be…” Maureen then leaned to whisper in my ear, “…blistered to where you won’t sit for a week.”
Her words got me over the top. I finished with an exhale into the towel. Maureen reached out and took the towel from me.
Tossing the towel on the ground Maureen took hold of my left arm. With a soft pat on my bottom with her right hand Maureen asked, “Okay Keith, are you ready for your spanking?” She laughed.
Standing there frozen I began to shiver as she repeated her question, “I asked, are you ready for your spanking?”
My thoughts were racing. Just as always, after masturbating I immediately felt relieved, and my mind went to how I really don’t want the fantasy to be reality.
But it was too late. There was no pulling my pants up and going about my day as I had always done before. This was not me just thinking about having my bare bottom set on fire and getting excitement from that thought. As I stared back at Maureen I knew the spanking was going to happen. My bottom was bare, and it was about to feel the wooden bathbrush across it.
Shaking my head uncontrollably I heard Maureen scold for a third time, “Keith, you better answer me. Are you ready for your spanking?” The word “Yes” barely escaped in response.
“Then ask me. Ask me right now to turn your fantasy into reality. Ask me to pull your bare bottom over my knee for a very real and very painful spanking with me using the wooden bathbrush as a paddle,” she ordered sternly.
Gulping before speaking, I replied through a whimpering voice, “Maureen, I think it will be a lot of fun turning my spanking fantasy into reality. Will you please pull me over your knee for a very real and very painful spanking exactly how I fantasize it? A spanking of no less than thirty minutes with the wooden bathbrush used as the paddle with each smack as hard as you possibly can give it, with no safeword or allowing me to change my mind. No matter what I say or how much I beg, promise you will not let me out of what I asked for. Will you please promise to do the spanking fantasy I wrote down for real? Please?”
With a sinister grin, she replied, “Thirty minutes? Your note said fifteen. You just doubled your spanking, young man, and I am going to hold you to it. And no safeword, huh? Oh, you bet I promise. There is no getting out of this spanking now. You think this spanking will be fun? You are going to be very surprised, young man. You are in for the spanking of your life.” She paused before scolding, “Let’s get to it right now.” With a powerful tug, Maureen pulled me forward, saying, “And just remember as I am paddling your bare ass as hard as I can…this spanking was your idea.”
Maureen then marched me bare to the area where the chair sat. As she stopped and sat down my eyes fixated on the brush lying still on the table. Maureen placed the note next to the brush and, with a firm yank, she immediately tried pulling me over her knee. My legs stiffened, not allowing her to turn me over.
Taking an even tighter grip on my arm led to a more forceful tug of my arm and Maureen had me pulled over her knee. My bare bottom was now upturned and presented for her to paddle.
I could hear Maureen picking up the brush as I lay staring at the floor. I took hold of each leg of the chair with my hand. I held on tight as Maureen rubbed the brush over my bare bottom.
Maureen scolded, “How does it feel knowing you are about to have your bare ass paddled as hard as I can possibly paddle?”
Before I could answer she raised the brush over her head and brought it down with a thundering SMACK. There was no letup as the smacks continued to rain down.
The brush was relentless as it was brought down with such force that each smack caused me to screech and howl.
After five straight minutes of paddling my bare ass, I was sobbing and squirming over her knee uncontrollably. The smacks continued to fall upon my naked backside with no letting up. Maureen meant serious business and the wooden bathbrush was blistering my bare bottom with no mercy.
As the smacks fell harder and harder I could not help but blurt out “OUCH!” over and over.
Those cries fell on dear ears, though, as she continued the onslaught on my bare bottom.
“Does it hurt too much, Keith?” she asked with a laugh.
“Yes, yes,” I said sobbing with tears streaming down my face.
“Can’t take the sting? I thought you said getting your bare bottom paddled with this brush would be fun?” she giggled back.
My emotions overcame me, as I responded, “I was wrong. I have learned my lesson. I have learned my lesson.”
“Too bad! When you wrote that note and asked me to fulfill your spanking fantasy you were very clear that you did not want me to let you out of it. You made me promise to spank you the entire 30 minutes, no matter what you said during it,” she sternly reminded me.
“Having your fantasy turned into reality is not as exciting as it is just thinking about it, is it Keith?” Maureen laughed loudly.
The sobbing continued without an end in sight as I continued to plead with Maureen that I had learned my lesson.
“You have learned nothing yet!” was Maureen’s reply as the smacks continued to fall on my bare bottom. Each smack let off a resounding THWACK as my backside turned redder and redder with each forceful swat.
She continued, “You asked for this spanking, and we are only ten minutes into my blistering your bare ass!”
“You are going to learn a very painful lesson today. Be careful what you ask four, young man! This is what you wanted, and you are going to get it,” Maureen continued to scold mercifully as she pounded the bathbrush down harder and harder with no letting up.
The tears rolled down my face as I howled in pain as the smacks rained down.
After thirty minutes she stopped the paddling and placed the wooden bathbrush on the table next to her.
She gently rubbed my blistered and throbbing bottom. All I could do was lay there and whimper because my sobbing had left me unable to speak.
“That’s it, Keith. Your fantasy has been fulfilled. Now, stand up and get your bare ass in that corner right now. You stand there for five minutes just thinking about the spanking you just received,” she scolded. I marched cowardly to the corner crying and blubbering without control.
After five minutes Maureen pulled me out of the corner saying, “Now, if you ever want another spanking I promise I will gladly put you back over my knee. But, let me tell you, the next one will be even more painful,” she said with a gleeful laugh.
Still wiping tears from my eyes Maureen told me to go to the employee bathroom on the other side of the room, to get dressed and get composed.
I bent down, still sniffling, and picked up my clothes. It must have been a sight as Maureen watched me walk to the bathroom my bottom still bare. I stood in the bathroom and turned to where I could see my bottom in the mirror. It was thoroughly blistered beet red and was scorching to the touch.
As I looked at my bottom I noticed hanging on a nail on the back of the door a thick leather strap. Holding it in my hand I thought of what Maureen had just said. I finished dressing and went back to where Maureen was still sitting on the chair.
“Maureen,” I meekly whimpered, “remember how you just said if I ever want another spanking to just ask you?” Curiously, she replied, “Yes, I do.”
“You promise you really will?” I asked.
Maureen smiled, “Yes, I promise…if you want another spanking or have a spanking fantasy you want to do for real…write it down and bring it to me. Just be ready to bare your backside because any spanking fantasy you bring will become reality in this stockroom.”
Maureen stood up and gave me a hug. She then picked up the brush and handed it to me. “Don’t forget your brush, Keith,” she said with a wink.
I looked at her and at the brush. “You know what, Maureen, you should hold onto it. You know, just in case.”
Maureen laughed and then suddenly a serious look came over her face. “As you wish,” she said as she began tapping the brush in her palm.
Maureen walked me to the front door of the shop, and gave me a quick hug before I stepped out into the sunlight. The ride home that afternoon all I could think of was the next time, and how I could get Maureen to use that thick, leather belt, on my bare bottom. A real whipping.
Now I just had to write it out for her.