We had been in our relationship for about one year. On the surface everything was quite normal.
We got along with a familiarity of each other that had become routine and predictable. We didn’t
finish each others sentences but I was aware of certain buttons that I dare not push or I would
suffer days of sulking, doors slamming, one word answers and unpleasant moods replete with
indifference and disgust. I have always hated arguments and confrontations so it was easier to be
submissive and let her dominate our lives. I know, very unmanly. And so it went.
It was nearing her birthday and I had almost finished a hand mirror with her initials carved on it.
She knew I was making it and I showed it to her to find out what kind of finish she would prefer. I
was pleased when she said she liked it. She showed me a hair brush she had and wondered if I
could match the finish on it. Maybe the two would then match like a set. It was a large oval, rock
maple hair brush that must have weighed in at a couple of pounds. She told me she had it since
her daughter was a little girl. In fact she had used it to paddle her many times as she was growing
up. I said, “That must have hurt?”
She said, “You do not want to receive one of my spankings with this hair brush,”
I said, “I think I could handle it.”
Her reply was a chuckle and ‘”We’ll see.”
We’ll see, I thought. What does that mean?
Three or four days latter I was coming in the back door with my work boots on. I didn’t realize
they were covered in mud and I made a mess on the kitchen floor. I looked up and saw her face
turn crimson. She said she had just cleaned the floor. Why was I the most inconsiderate lout she
knew? I instantly pulled off the boots but this created an even a bigger mess.
She grabbed me roughly by the wrist and dragged me into the bedroom. She took her hairbrush
off the dresser and placed it on the edge of the bed. She nearly screamed, “You strip down to
your shorts right now… Mr. Nasty.”
I was in shock but dutifully played along thinking this is probably just a game. She placed a
straight back chair from the desk beside me. She sat down in the chair and yanked my shorts
down around my ankles. Grabbing my wrist she pulled me over her lap. The palms of my hands
were on the floor and my feet were dangling in the air.
“I am going to give you a break I never gave my daughter.”
“Oh”, my voice quivered. I now knew this was not going to be play time.
“I will numb you up with my hand first before I get serious.”
I don’t know what I was expecting but the first slap on my butt made me holler. It was followed
immediately by a second slap on my other cheek.
“Ouch, please not so hard.”
“Oh, I thought you could take it.”
The next round was doubled in number and ferocity and the next was doubled again. I then felt
the coolness of her hand as she rubbed circles over the fire on my ass. I then felt a new cool
sensation and realized it must be the hair brush.
She rubbed it in circles for a moment and then, WHAM! The brush was slammed down onto my
ass with a resounding crack and again quickly on the other cheek. I didn’t think the so called
numbing had done much good because the hair brush hurt like hell.
I started to get up and she said. “Oh no, Mr. Nasty we have just begun your lesson.” Before I
could protest there were four quick paddles that took my breath away. I found myself yelping in
pain. She placed her cool hand on my bottom and again rubbed circles over it but quickly
resumed my lesson with about six more slaps that were harder than the previous. She ordered me
to stand up. I hoped we were finished. My hopes were dashed when she said, “Go to the edge of
the bed and lay face down.” I tried to tell her I had learned my lesson and I would never mess up
her floor again but to no avail.
“I will make damn sure that you don’t forget.” I heard the closet door open and wondered what
was in store for me now. Out of the corner of my eye I could see she had returned with a wide
leather belt in her hand. I didn’t know how I could stand any more but was determined to see this
to the end after my stupid macho comment. I thought of my step-daughter and had a new found
respect for her.
“I think about a dozen with the belt should keep you from repeating your error.”
The belt slammed into my butt landing on both cheeks at the same time. At first the belt didn’t
seem to hurt as much as the hair brush. Maybe I was finally numb. When the second dose landed
I realized she had just not been as forceful with the first stroke. The pain was excruciating but
was also erotic. I was beginning to get an erection standing in this new position. The next several
were quick and hard. Then she rubbed my butt with the palm of her hand.
“Your ass feels like it’s on fire,” she said.
“You’re telling me, “I said.
“Don’t be smart with me.”
Before I could say I wasn’t I received the last half dozen, the last blow being delivered, with all
her might. “You may stand up now and rub your bottom. Oh, I see you found this exciting, in that
case… tomorrow I want you to cut half a dozen switches of various thicknesses and place them
in the corner of my closet. They will be waiting for the next time Mr. Nasty makes a mess.”
Almost a week went by and the purple was beginning to fade from my butt and I was starting to
look normal again. That evening I was on the couch watching TV when I heard, “Mr. Nasty get in
I jumped up and hurried into the kitchen. Mr. Nasty? What had I done now? When I got to the
kitchen I could see she already had a leather belt in her hand.
“What’s the matter darling?”
“Don’t darling me. You were supposed to wash the dishes tonight.”
But I did dear… I did.”
She held up a dish and flicked off a piece of dried on food. “And look at this silverware, filthy.
You must think I’m Mrs. Nasty. Well I am not. You get your damn clothes off right here and now
I stripped as quickly as I could. When I was naked she ordered me to hold my hands out palms
up. She took the belt and slapped each palm half-a-dozen times. I hoped that would be all the
punishment but she said, “Now get your ass into the bedroom for the rest of your punishment.”
As I walked toward the bedroom she was already slapping at my butt with the belt. “Lay over the
edge of the bed damn you.” With no warm up she began to throttle my butt with the leather belt
unmercifully. Approximately a dozen strokes without relief. I didn’t dare say a word. I knew she
was really angry and I did not want to make it any worse. When she stopped I lay there trying
to catch my breath. She told me to stand up and pulled me by my hair over to the closet door. She
opened it halfway out into the room. From her dresser drawer she pulled out three lengths of rope
each with loops on the ends. The first rope she slipped over my hands. Grabbing the rope in the
middle she jerked my arms upward and put the rope over the top front edge of the door. She
pushed me in the back, forcing me to straddle the door with my legs. Taking the next rope she put
one loop on the inside door handle, stretched the rope tight around behind my back and fastened
the other loop on the outside door knob. I was trussed up so I could hardly move. The last rope
she slipped around the back bottom of the door pulled the loops to the front and made me put my
feet in the loops.
She went into her closet and brought out the switches I had cut some time ago.
“I told you these would be waiting for you next time you messed up. Now is that time.
“I’m so sorry,” I said.
“Oh I think you are going to be
Mr. Nasty.” She took the thinnest switch and showed it to me. “I think there will be three sets of
ten with this one. I will give you a small break between each ten so you may think about your
lesson. She touched my butt with the switch tapping her target. I tried to prepare myself but
nothing could prepare me for the switch. The belting seemed to do little to lessen the sting from
the first swish of the switch.
That was only the first, how was I going to stand twenty-nine more. She gave the next nine in
rapid succession. My time out was only a quick break from the switch. She grabbed a thicker
switch and lashed the backs of my legs from my ankles up to just below my butt cheeks. These
strokes were applied more slowly as if she were savoring the moment. Then with out relief there
were ten more ferocious strokes onto my butt. My legs were getting weak and beginning to
buckle. My god only ten more. During this break she squirted lotion onto her hands and rubbed it
into my cheeks.
The final set began and I tried to count the strokes but the pain was clouding my thinking. I felt
we were near the end when she said, “What number are we at Mr. Nasty. I’ve lost track?”
Without thinking I stupidly said, “I don’t know.”
“Well if you don’t know we must start over at one. And you count out loud this time.”
I was pressing hard against the rope around my back for support. She applied the strokes so fast I
could barely keep up with the count. At nine there was a pause and then a swish so hard I almost
lost my balance. My legs buckled and my knees clamped down on either side of the door for
“Well I feel better. I’m hardly even angry anymore,” she said.
I almost said something stupid but caught myself in time. Nearly forty strokes from the switches
were all I could stand this time. She removed the ropes and ordered me to stand back from the
“Let’s see if you got excited this time. It appears you did not find this lesson as stimulating. Still, I
think you should pleasure me before you go wash the dishes again.”
After rewashing the dishes she ordered me to lie beside the bed. She had placed a pillow on the
floor for me to lay my head on but instructed me to lay with my butt up in the air. As she watched
television she would occasionally smack my upturned butt with a paddle to help me remember
my lesson for today.
The future had many lessons for me to learn and most contained some new wrinkle to her
technique. There were clothes pins on my nipples, slaps to my face or Ivory soap in my mouth as
I sat out corner time. I asked where she was learning her techniques. She said from her friend at
work. It seems one day at work she was in a bad mood and her friend asked what the trouble was.
She told her she was angry with me for being so messy. Her friend told her she treated her
husband just like the children. If he messed up she would punish him just like the kids and spank
And by the way she was considering letting her friend demonstrate some of her expertise on me
to see what effect it would have on my learning curve.
The next time her friend stopped by the house I felt very humiliated knowing she was aware of
my ass thrashings. It also scared me to think she might be there to demonstrate her expertise. She
was a large powerful looking women and I feared for my life at her hands. I didn’t know her
husband but I had great empathy for his behind.
Another humiliation came when my step-daughter said in passing one day that she liked the hand
mirror I made
and she understood I was familiar with the hair brushes other use. I pretended not to understand
but we both knew I did.
The lessons were a regular part of my life from then on but at least I did not have to endure her
foul moods. My punishments washed away her anger.
She would inspect the consequences of her handiwork on occasion by pulling down my
underwear to see if my butt was back to normal. If it was, I knew there would soon be a new
lesson to learn. They were painful and sometimes severe but after they were over there was never
any sulking for days as before and this seemed to make the discipline worth while. And I must
admit that if it went to long without any discipline I would find myself doing something to tick her