Paying the Price

From: Colt ([email protected])


A couple of notes about the story: I don't know why I decided to let some racial overtones into the story. Certainly it is not central to the plot. However, it seems to add a little difference - a little tension - that wouldn't be there if I took it out.

Also, I have never been able to come up with a name for this story that satisfies me.

Of course, this story is purely fiction blah blah blah. I hope you enjoy it and I am anxious to receive comments about it. I don't often get time to sit down and write, but hope to do more before too long. Feedback, good and bad - so long as it is constructive, helps the writing process.


Paying The Price

I) Caught in The Act:

"Just what do you think you are doing, Paul", Nina's voice was sharp with anger.

Paul had had his back to the door and was startled by her outburst. He shot straight up from his kneeling position beside her purse turning to face her has he did so. The $20.00 bill hung from his right hand. "I wasn't taking it. I was just borrowing it for tonight", he blurted. "When I get paid tomorrow, I was gonna put it back." This was true, but Paul didn't think that it would get him off the hook even if Nina believed him.

When Paul Scoffeld had landed a summer job in Durbin, twenty miles east of his home in Milestone, he had made arrangements to stay in Durbin with his mother's good friend Janina Baker. Paul's mother and Nina had worked in the same office since Paul could remember and the two had always been close despite their difference in race.

Nina was a tall, slim black woman in her forties. Her forehead and cheekbones were high, her eyes quick and intelligent. Her bearing was always one of dignity and confidence.

Nina's home, a large, old, two-story frame affair, had been her parent's; and, since she was divorced and her son, Raymond, away at college, there was lots of extra space. She had agreed to "rent" Paul a room for a nominal fee.

At 17, Paul had been eager to leave home for the summer and try being, more or less, on his own. He was sure he could handle it despite his mother's constant fretting and nagging about the way he handled money. She was so sure that he wouldn't properly budget his earnings that she had told Nina not to loan him "so much as a thin dime" if he ran out of funds between paychecks. Well, her fears had been justified it seemed. He had come up short by one day and he had intended to take Cheryl out to the movies that night.

"Explain yourself." Janina's voice had regained its usual air of poise.

So Paul did. He realized that he was making a real mess of it; stammering and blushing as he went. His longish, blonde hair bobbing over his forehead as he spoke. He ended up by explaining that he would be paid first thing in the morning and would be able to take a few minutes off to drop her money at the house by 10:00.

He finished and Nina made no reply. The big old clock in the corner ticked. The house creaked. The wind softly blew outside. To Paul, everything seamed to be stopping.

How could this be happening? He had waited until Nina had gone for her morning jog. This morning, she must have come back for something.

"I really was gonna give it back. I wasn't stealing it." His words were swallowed up in the vastness of that silence.

Finally, she spoke: "You were taking it without my knowledge, Paul. You were stealing. This isn't how your mother raised you is it?" Her voice remained low and calm.

Paul shook his head, looked at his feet and blushed again.

"What happens to you when you steal?"

Now it was his turn to let the silence build. The answer was obvious and yet he couldn't say it. He had a feeling that, if he just delayed it long enough, a miracle would save him. Finally, "Get punished", he croaked.

"How should you be punished?"

She hadn't wasted any time with that question and Paul was truly at a loss to answer it. He sure didn't want her telling his mother because she would make him come home and he'd lose his job.

He shook his head, shrugged his shoulders and stared harder at his feet.

"Has your mother ever caught you stealing anything?"

A lump had formed in his throat. He nodded.


He tried to speak but found that he had to swallow around that lump before sound would come out. "I lifted some stuff from a store a few years ago and she found out."

She waited for him to continue and when he didn't: "And what happened?" she prompted. That calm, persistent voice just kept asking the questions that Paul didn't want to answer.

"She made me take the stuff back.," he said; and as silence fell around him again, he knew that a more complete answer was required of him. Finally he finished, "And when I got home, she spanked me."

Janina was still in no hurry and she let Paul stew for several long seconds before she spoke. "She told me that she draped you over her lap without so much as a stitch and paddled the daylights out of your little, round heinie with a hairbrush. Is that right?"

This time, Paul didn't have to answer. His burning, red face said it all.

"How old were you then, Paul?"

Gulping again, he replied, "About 13."

"You must have thought you were pretty big by that age. A little too big to be spanked by you mother."

"I thought I was, but I was wrong," he croaked dryly. And Paul remembered just how wrong he had been.

Upon his return home, his mother had announced that this time he was "going to learn what it means to take a blistering". Paul had tried to placate her by arguing that he was too old to be spanked. Before he knew what was happening, she had jumped up, pulled him over the arm of the sofa and started smacking the seat of his jeans hard and fast with her bare hand. It hurt considerably and she didn't stop immediately when he started saying, "All right. All right! OK!!". In fact, she kept right on until he was squirming and on the brink of tears.

Finally, she stopped and asked him if he still thought he was too High and Mighty to have his backside blistered. He quickly assured her in a faltering voice that he didn't. She stood him up, ordered him to go to his room and undress and told him that she'd be up in a few minutes with the hairbrush.

By the time he had undressed, the fire in his hind quarters had diminished to a warm glow that was actually quite pleasant. Paul was beginning to think that his paddling might not be as bad as he had feared. There had been numerous times in the past when he had waited in his room for his mother to come and put him across her knee and spank him by hand; but, until now, the hairbrush had remained an untested threat. It seamed to Paul that it really couldn't be that much worse.

He had another problem, though. It had been well over a year since he had received his last spanking and in that time he had changed considerably. He was maturing physically and his penis and balls seemed, to him, to be so very large and pendulous. The thought of his mother seeing him naked in, what seamed to him, such a developed state was highly embarrassing; it was also highly stimulating.

He tried not to think about it. But as he lay on his bed awaiting his punishment, his right hand kept finding its way down to the meeting of his legs. His fingers would gently pull the loose skin of his scrotum and play with the small patch of hair above it. Then his hand would travel up the length of his hard cock to its tip. Then he would pull his hand away and try to think about something else once again. But it was no use. The scary-exciting thought of his mother seeing him mixed with the soft, warm glow in his backside was too much!

His index finger was lazily doing circle-eights around his balls when his mother walked in with the hairbrush. He immediately stood up when she entered and tried to cover himself with his hands.

"I had hoped that you would use this time to consider what it means to be a thief and the serious nature your crimes," his mother said, her tone one that could cut flesh. "But, I see you've occupied your mind in other ways."

With that, she yanked him by the arm to the bed where she sat down on its side. She didn't force him across her lap so that his nose ended up next to the carpet as he had expected. Instead, she spread her legs and pulled him by his arm until he was astride her left knee. He had still been quite short then and his toes barely touched the floor. Then, with her left arm, she pulled his torso down onto the bed at her side, wrapping her arm around his chest and pinning him to her in the process. In this position, his fully erect penis was jammed uncomfortably into his belly.


The first three swats landed fast and unbelievably hard! The hairbrush had a 5-inch handle and an oval-shaped head 5 inches long by 3 wide. Its wood was almost ½-inch thick. Because of Paul's position, straddling his mother' s knee, the swats landed vertically: one on each cheek and, the last one, dead center.

Paul let out a bellow of surprise and pain. As he drew in his breath for an even louder yell, his mother resumed her work. She spanked hard and fast. As the searing pain of one swat coursed through his bottom the next was being delivered. Because his position left him so open, she had a large target area and she used every bit of it.

As he kicked and bucked, she covered him with her stinging fury from the top of his buttocks to well down his legs and wasted no small effort on the sides of his ass. He tried kicking both legs to one side or the other of her knee. But, since he was pinned to her side, both of these positions just opened up new areas for the bite of the paddle; and when he spread his legs too wide, she applied the brush with the same scalding intensity to the inside of his thighs.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry, to beg her to stop. But the pain was too great and each spank came too rapidly on the heels of the one before. He kicked and writhed and squirmed but couldn't avoid the terrible, searing strokes. He was wailing like a Banshee. One misplaced lick caught him between the legs on the underside of his balls and his howls went up an octave. And still she kept paddling him.

In reality, the whole ordeal probably didn't take much over 5 minutes. But when it stopped as suddenly as it had begun and she turned him loose, Paul would have sworn it had lasted hours. He jumped to his feet, hollering and bawling, clenching his hands to his inflamed bottom, hopping from one foot to the other in a strange war dance. His earlier concerns for his modesty were totally forgotten.

His mother waited for him to settle down then put him in the corner for 15 minutes until he had quit sobbing. Then she sent him to bed.

The next day, he couldn't sit down and it was over a week before the last of the soreness left his bottom. That had been the end of it and Paul had resolved never to get another licking like it again.

II) Reason and Rationalization

"Paul? Are you listening to me?" Nina's voice had only slightly raised with irritation but it succeeded in cutting into Paul's thoughts.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, I guess," he stammered.

" I Said, Paul, if you weren't to big for it then, is there any reason for you to think you're to big to receive a sound thrashing now?" She was looking straight at him, her long, deep brown arms folded across the front of her blue jogging tank.

Paul couldn't believe his ears. Did she really intend to give him a spanking? As he thought about it he began to see the logic behind it. First of all, he was already feeling bad about his abuse of Nina's trust in him; it made it very hard for him to look at her. Then too, he knew that his actions called for some form of disciplinary action and he figured that, whatever it was, it wouldn't be to his taste and might be far more prolonged. A spanking would get it over with; and, after he had paid for his misdeed, it would be easier to look Nina in the eye again.

With this thought came another familiar problem: He felt himself begin to stiffen at the idea of receiving Nina's punishment. It didn't help that she was wearing that tight, blue tank top and blue jogging shorts to match. Paul had found himself thinking several times recently that Nina was quite sexy for an older woman.

Paul was wearing a T-shirt and a pair of cut-off blue jeans. He hoped that she couldn't see the bulge forming at his crotch through the tight denim but feared that it was probably all too apparent.

Janina waited patiently for Paul to reach the only conclusion possible. When she had walked in and caught him taking the twenty from her purse, she had felt totally enraged and she had had to force herself to maintain her composure. The anger had been fleeting. Looking at Paul, she understood very well how he had managed to justify the theft to himself. That didn't alter the fact that action needed to be taken.

Like Paul's mother, Janina had raised Raymond on her own and felt that she had done a pretty fair job of it. Certainly if Raymond had stolen from her purse when he was in High School, she would have strapped him good. Paul deserved no less.

One thought troubled her and that was the extent to which she found him physically attractive. She looked at him now as he stood before her. He was about 5'11" and on the slim side, probably around 140 lb.. His blue eyes, red-blonde hair and freckled face gave him the look of "the all American boy next door".

"No wonder the delivery service hired him," she thought as she scrutinized him. She also noticed that there seemed to be something stirring behind the buttons of his cutoffs and felt a little surge of heat build between her legs. She reminded herself that this was no time for such feelings.

Finally Paul spoke. "I guess I've really earned a hard spanking. I'm sorry I took the money, Nina. I really am." The words didn't leave his mouth easily. He thought each one would stick in his parched throat.

III) Paying the Price

"I have a strap that I used on Raymond when the need arose. Unlike a hairbrush, it is designed solely for the purpose of chastising boys who exhibit undesirable behavior. You will find that it is very effective." She watched Paul trying not to show his horror as she spoke but she wasn't through yet. "On one occasion, I felt that something even stronger was needed so I finished the session with some cuts from a curtain rod. I think this is just the kind of discipline you need today, young man."

She paused for a moment then said, "Do you wish to say anything in your defense?"

Paul wished he could but he knew there was nothing to say. "No ma'am," he mumbled.

She had Paul stand in the corner of the living room as she gathered the necessary items. When she returned, she had the strap and rod and a straight-backed kitchen chair which she placed in the center of the room. Sitting on the chair, she placed the implements on the floor by her right side. She asked Paul to approach her and he did.none too quickly.

The strap was about fifteen inches long; its handle taking up about four inches of that. It was made of stiff, black leather and was five inches wide. The clear plastic rod was twenty inches long and ¼ inch in diameter. When Paul saw them, his butt cheeks involuntarily tightened. To his dismay, he also felt his cock stiffen.

As he stepped over to her, she noticed, with suppressed satisfaction, that the fly of his shorts was stretched tight by what had to be a fair-sized erection. When he stood in front of her she said, "I'm afraid you will have to remove your clothing".

She thought he might argue but instead, after just a moment's hesitation, he bent down and began removing his shoes and socks. He then pulled his T-shirt over his head so that it turned inside out and dropped it to the floor. As he began to undo the buttons of his fly, he did his best to look anywhere other than at Nina. He fumbled the last one open and dropped the cutoffs to his ankles. He stepped out and kicked them aside to join his shirt.

He was standing before her wearing only his white, cotton briefs. The sheer, taut material bulged at the junction of his legs and then traced the line of his erect penis up to the elastic waistband. Paul's face was beet red.

"Looks like your pup wants out of his pup-tent," she thought. Aloud, she said, "Those have to go too, I'm afraid," as she motioned toward his briefs.

Paul bit his upper lip. Opened his mouth to speak once and closed it instead. Then said, "Look Nina, I know that I deserve this and I'm not trying to get out of it. But, I don't want you to know.." He motioned with his hands in front of his crotch and his mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. ".if you could give me some swats, you know, maybe by hand, on my pants first then I wouldn't be like this.." He ended lamely.

Janina thought for a moment: Certainly there was a part of her that would love to see Paul over her knee as her hand descended upon his thinly clad bottom. She reminded herself that this was no time to give this boy any leeway.

"I'm sorry, Paul, but your modesty is not my concern at the moment. The fact that you're aroused is unfortunate for you, I'm sure; however, I'm afraid that thieves don't deserve much dignity." Her voice was hard and crisp. Now she softened it and added, almost kindly, "If it helps you any, your current state is hardly shocking to me and I don't find it offensive."

She then reached over and pulled his briefs down to his ankles and he stepped out of them. He stood naked before her.

"God, what a stallion", she thought as she viewed his thin, taught frame. His body was nearly hairless except for a small, thin patch of reddish blonde curls under each arm and another to match above his cock. His erection was standing almost vertically and, although of modest size to her eyes, it arched back toward his body and seemed incredibly stiff. His balls were held tightly in their pouch underneath.

"All right Paul, over my knees," she ordered. And Paul lay across her lap. As he did, she opened her legs slightly and, putting her hands on his hips, she guided him so that his bottom was straight up and his erection slipped between her thighs. She closed her legs firmly.

Paul's white buttocks were positioned perfectly for punishment over Nina's lap. She lightly traced the curve of his cheeks with the palm of her hand and felt his body tense. His ass rose higher and she felt a surge of warmth start in her stomach and move down her body and into her most sensitive parts. She reminded herself that she was doing this for Paul's good and not for her own gratification. But, she asked herself, was there any harm in it if she found some pleasure in what she was doing?

She told Paul to put his right arm behind him and then held it firmly with her left hand, pressing it into the small of his back. She swallowed hard, and, keeping her voice low and calm said, "I'm sorry this has to be so unpleasant. I think you realize that you've brought this upon yourself, though."

With that, she picked up the strap, swung it high over her head and brought it down, full force, across the high point of Paul's ass.


Paul's body jerked in surprise and pain.


The next swat landed on top of the first. He let out a yelp as he tried to adjust to the burning swats that were much worse than he had imagined.

She sent eight more swats, hard and fast, to the same place. Paul's feet came off the floor and he kicked convulsively, but she held him firmly by the left hand and landed each spank on top of the last.

Paul's mind had gone blank except for the sensation of the terrible, burning strokes. He'd forgotten just how much a spanking could hurt! As he kicked, he gritted his teeth and tried to move so that the licks would not land in the same place; but she had him pinned. Then she moved higher on his ass and the first swat was actually a relief. By the third spank, the agony was worse than ever, though. And she just kept it up!


When she was finished working higher, she went lower and then to his upper thighs. She worked quickly and rhythmically putting as much as she could into each swat.

By now, Paul was kicking and bucking. His buttocks clenched and unclenched spastically. He was trying to beg her to stop, but each new swat interrupted him. "You've a long way to go yet, young man," she thought.

Paul's bottom was burning up! He knew it wouldn't be long before he started crying; and he didn't want that. Oh no!

He tried to twist himself on her lap to shield his flaming behind. But when he did, she smacked him on the sides of his ass and thighs until they were just as hot as the rest. Then he would be forced to lie flat again and let her continue to punish his bottom.

With one great twist, he pulled himself free of her hold and fell to the floor. He immediately began to beg her to stop and promise to be good. The fact that he was exposing himself fully to her view didn't matter now.

Nina grabbed him by his upper arm and forced him back over her left knee, draping her right leg across his legs in order to immobilize him. "I'm sorry, Paul, but it's not up to you to determine when you have had enough. Frankly, you have a lot more coming."

That's when Paul began to sob. As she resumed her work, he made an attempt to continue to struggle, but now, it was useless. He was simply held too tightly. He gave up. The swats still made him flinch and clench his bottom, but there was no way to try and avoid them. He was crying now and didn't even care. Only the agony in his hind parts mattered.

Janina watched Paul's struggles and reddening bottom with growing satisfaction. This was one lesson that Paul wasn't going to forget. No Sir! She was also aware of her increasing arousal as she continued to smack the boy's clenching, jiggling backside.

She felt her own warmth and wetness build as Paul thrashed and kicked and did whatever he could to try to resist his punishment. His frenzied attempts made her even harsher: Her pace faster, each stroke harder.

When Paul fell from her lap, she instinctively grabbed his arm to pull him back into position. He began to plead and, as she looked at him, she felt a surge of pity well up inside of her. She could see how close he was to tears now.

A part of her wanted to stop the beating. She recognized this as the same part that had been so enjoying the action a moment before. Another part of her said that Paul's ordeal was still insufficient, unfinished.

As she hauled him back over her knee, she resolved that she would finish the job. That she would continue to spank him until he gave in to it. Until he was crying and compliant.

In place of the pleasure she had been feeling, there was now grim determination. She was very relieved when, almost immediately after being dragged back into place, the boy quit struggling and began to sob.

She let another ten to fifteen hard smacks land on his sit-spot and upper thighs. Then she stopped.

She still held Paul's right wrist in the small of his back as she watched the boy sob, his shoulders heaving.

She felt a great temptation to gently caress his red, splotched bottom. Nina resisted, reminding herself that Paul wasn't getting any more punishment than he deserved and that she had also promised him that he would also feel the bite of the rod for his actions.

Doubt entered her mind at that thought. Hadn't she made him suffer enough for his crime?

Looking at his tortured behind, seeing and hearing him sob, feeling him shake against her knee as he did, she felt a strong rush of empathy for the boy. Suddenly she had to fight back tears. She blinked and swallowed hard a couple of times. She let Paul gain control over his tears then dropped his wrist and helped him to stand.

Paul stood before her, head down, red-faced and tear-streaked. His hands went slowly back to explore his tenderized flesh. She let him feel it gingerly with his fingers, but when he began to rub, she took both hands by the wrists and held them firmly at his side.

"No, Paul. I'm afraid that is a luxury that you don't get right now." Her voice almost betrayed her and cracked as she said it.

Standing, she used her thumbs to dry the tear marks from each of Paul's cheeks and then led him to the corner. When his nose was snugly set into the joint of the walls, she had him clasp his hands behind him and placed the curtain rod in them, reminding herself that she still didn't have to use it if she decided not to. When she placed the implement into his hands, he whimpered a little and she thought that he was going to beg her. He returned to silence, though.

Quickly, Nina left the room. She had to get away; she had to think a little. She needed to sort out her own thoughts and emotions. What had begun as a straightforward attempt to justly reward Paul for his act of thievery had become a complex moral and emotional issue for Nina.

Paul stood alone in the corner. The pain in his buttocks was intense and seemed to throb. Still, he realized that it was not unbearable. It occurred to him that it had been the fear of continuing punishment that had prompted his tears as much as it had been the pain of the blows.

As he thought of the curtain rod in his hands, another rill of fear went through him. The rod was light, almost weightless, and slightly flexible. He could imagine the sound it would make swishing through the air. He winced and his buttocks clenched involuntarily. He could almost imagine the white-hot line it would make across his already burning bottom. Even as he shuddered at the thought, he felt his balls tighten and his cock stir.

Nina paced in the kitchen. She stopped at the sink to get herself a third drink of water; wishing its coolness would clear her head. She had told Paul that he would receive the curtain rod for his behavior! Didn't she have to make good now? Right away, part of her said, "YES!" But then, she tried to analyze that part of her and she found herself hopelessly muddled.

Was she punishing Paul or gratifying herself? Could she do both at the same time? If this was about teaching Paul a lesson, hadn't he certainly had enough? But what about her promise to use the rod? Should she admit she had been wrong? What would Paul think of her idle threat?

Finally, her mind settled enough for her to realize that the ultimate question was whether Paul had learned his lesson or not. She felt that it was obvious that he had. She sighed in relief to herself as she made the decision and headed back into the living room.

As she entered and looked at the corner, her breath caught in her throat. She struggled to keep her tone of voice low and controlled. "Paul, what are you doing?"

Paul's body stiffened. "I."

As Paul's curiosity about the rod in his hand had grown, he had begun to lightly rub it over his tender bottom, teasing the skin with it. He had given himself a couple of light swishes with it to try to get an idea what lay ahead for him. Then he had traced it down his inner thighs and back up so that it lightly tickled his balls. When Nina spoke, he had moved the rod to his front and was stroking down his abdomen and into his pubic hair with it.

"Turn around, young man. NOW!"

As Paul turned, one glance at his erect penis was all that Nina needed. She walked quickly over to him, seized him by his upper right arm, and marched him over to the chair at a brisk pace. In a terse, businesslike way, she directed him to bend over the back of the chair and grab the seat.

She took a couple of deep breaths. "You know, Paul, I was going to let you off the hook. But it seems that you are still enjoying yourself a bit too much for that."

Stepping to his side, she cut the rod through the air once to get a feel for it and to let Paul hear the sound. She then turned and delivered three stinging blows to Paul's helpless cheeks.

She didn't use anywhere near full force. She knew that, if she did, it would cut and tear his flesh. There had been a moment, when she had walked into the room, that the thought of pure, bloody, murder had crossed her mind. As Paul had turned, his face had looked so shamed and panic-stricken that it had brought her back to her senses.

The three fast licks landed on the center of Paul's bottom before he had a chance to respond to the first one. He yelped. His toes could barely touch the floor and now he danced from foot to foot, small sounds escaping between his clenched teeth. This was FAR worse than he had imagined. He hoped that this might be all of it!

Nina watched six bright stripes appear across Paul's fanny, three on each cheek. "That's three, Paul. You're getting twelve."

"Noooooooooooo!" Paul's voice came out in a whine of fear. He tried to stand up, but Nina had been thinking he might do just that and simply put her left hand firmly between his shoulders. There was no doubt that she had leverage on her side.

Paul tried to struggle briefly as she held him in place. Sharply, letting her voice raise for the first time, Nina said, "Perhaps we should try for fifteen, Paul. How about twenty?" Paul's attempts to stand stopped.

"That's better, young man." Her voice was calm again, even soft. "Now, if you don't try any more shenanigans, this will go relatively quickly and we' ll be done with it. I trust that will meet with your approval."

Knowing that his answer wasn't required, Paul just waited as Nina stepped back. She touched the rod to the top of his buttocks and let it slide down over the three marks on each cheek. Those marks had already become welts that had raised about an eighth inch off his flesh. Paul sharply drew in his breath as certainty flooded him that she planned to resume his punishment on exactly that same spot.

She lifted the rod and, aiming it lower, brought three fast, hard, swishing strokes onto his sit-spot. Paul screamed. Both feet left the floor and, for a moment the chair solely supported his weight. Nina moved closer, extending her left hand just above his back in case he tried to get up, but Paul held his position. She saw his torso shake and knew that he was sobbing again.

"You're half-way there, let's finish this up." She murmured, as much as encouragement to herself as to him.

Quickly stepping back into place, she delivered the next three licks to his upper thighs. Again, Paul wailed. "Oh, no! NOT three more." The thought flashed across his mind through the searing pain. "PLEAOOOOOOOWWWW.!" He had intended to beg for Nina's mercy in the break before the last three swats; but there really was no break.

As Paul opened his mouth, Nina sent the last three licks crashing home. Her swing much fuller than on the previous ones, she briskly climbed up his backside: thighs. sit spot. center! SWISSSSSH!!! SWISSSSSH!!! SWISSSSSH!!!

She watched as Paul's legs came up, bending at the knee. His elbows folded under his chest; and, for a moment, she thought he was going to fall forward and somersault over the chair! He drew breath and howled again, but his feet came back to the floor and the danger of his falling over the chair passed.

"OH GOD! OH GOD! OH GOD! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" It was as if the dam had broken and Paul began to bawl.

Just as suddenly, Nina's resolve to remain stern collapsed. She felt such pity for him wash over her. She stepped to him and helped him to his feet. He was shaking with his sobs and tears flowed freely down his face. "Oh, Paul!" she said as she clasped him to her.

She wanted to tell him that she was sorry she had given him those last three cuts; that she shouldn't have made them so hard. Yet, something stopped her. Instead, she held him to her and rocked him back and forth. Now there were tears in her eyes too.

In a few minutes, Paul began to get a grip on himself. His sobs turned to sniffles and he found he could blink back his tears. He became increasingly self-conscious as he hugged Nina. He pulled himself away from her. "I'm sorry, Nina. I'm so sorry." It was all he could think to say.

"I know Paul. You're basically a good kid." Nina's words came out in a sigh. She looked into his eyes. "Just remember that nothing is worth stealing to get." She allowed herself a trace of a smile. "Now, get dressed." She said softly.

Paul moved over to where his cotton briefs lay and pulled them up; carefully stretching the elastic waistband wide as he slid them over his hips. As the material encased his rear, touching it everywhere at once, his eyes widened and he quickly, but just as gingerly removed them. He looked at Nina out of the corner of his eyes and looked a bit sheepish. He carefully donned his cutoffs without the briefs underneath. That was marginally better. They were rough, but at least they didn't cling!

Paul remained with Janina Baker for the rest of that summer and returned the summer after. They remained friends and Paul certainly never gave Nina cause for a repeat performance!

Paul would later come to better understand his own sexual desires that were tied to spanking. He would learn about spanking games and seek out women that enjoyed them too.

In time, Nina took in a full time boarder. At first it was simply a matter of convenience, then it became a friendship, eventually they were married. If they played spanking games, it is for another story to tell.

The End


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