Angela’s story: a new order



Angela’s Story continues:

A few days later, as promised, David took me to task for playing dating games to make him jealous. Despite my still very sore bottom, I received a hearty spanking with a clothes brush that had me climbing the walls, or would have done if I could have broken free of David’s knee. Afterwards between sobs I made a genuine heartfelt apology and kissed the back of the brush that had so vigorously kissed my bottom. After David had assured himself that I had done all my work for the day, I was directed to the corner were I stood bare bottomed for the rest of the evening.

Making up was fun but it was almost a week before I could sit down again.

I did not mind of course, now that I had landed my man I was walking on air. But this was to prove a dangerous state of mind.

“You are going to have to stop mooning about and knuckle down or I’ll ground you for the rest of term and you will only see me at weekends.” He told me sternly one day.

Although I was dismayed at the prospect of not seeing him, I got a warm thrill from being scolded.

“Yes Sir I understand, if I do any mooning you will spank me.” I teased.

“I am serious.” He growled. “You have to do well in your next two essays.”

My next essay was so-so but not disastrous. After a thorough telling off, I got a respectable deck-shoe spanking on my still tender rear end and was made to stand at the sideboard to go over all my work and prepare for my last essay.

“Are you going to put me in the corner after I have done my work?” I pouted.

“Well you certainly deserve it, but as it is already late let’s see how you get on.” David smiled warmly but his tone was firm.

“Couldn’t I have a cuddle instead? I can do this tomorrow.” I wheedled.

“Let me see.” David moved menacingly closer pretending to ponder my suggestion. “If I don’t see some real progress over the next two hours I am not only going to bounce Mr Stick off your tail two dozen times and give you a thousand lines about slacking off, but you will spend what little spare time you have left this week in that corner. Is that clear enough for you?”

“That’s a no then?” I flipped him and got a tremendous whack on my behind for my trouble.

The rest of the night was relatively trouble free and we got to have some serious quality time and an early night.

Thanks to David’s firm motivation, I finished my last essay two days early and had time to show him.

“Not a bad effort I suppose. Not for someone who wants to work at Burger King for the rest of her life. What has got into you?” He was scolding me again.

My face fell and I was close to tears.

“Listen its not so bad really all the elements are there but you have to put them together better. The main trouble is that although you have obviously done all the reading you are not making any particular point. Ask yourself what conclusions do you draw and what is your central thesis?” He began to reassure me in the old David way.

I had another go and showed the result to him the next day. After he had read it, he was beaming and gave me a thumbs up.

“Someone deserves wining and dining.” He offered.

I was happy to accept.

Over dinner we talked about the rules of engagement so to speak. I kept getting excited and David had to shush me although it was my embarrassment he wanted to spare rather than his. I kept asking about spanking and drawing odd looks from the other diners.

After I insisted that he had to make the rules but that it wouldn’t hurt to let me in on some of them, he finally made a contribution to the conversation.

“Alright if that is the way you want it. I reserve the right to put you over my knee for any reason and at any time in private for my own amusement and to let you know who is boss.” He smirked letting the news sink in.

I squirmed in my seat and try to be horrified, but neither of us was fooled.

“If I have to reprimand you then I will administer a stiff spanking, usually with a slipper or something similar.” He continued, studying my reaction.

I blushed and chewed my lower lip trying to ignore the tingle in my belly.

“A moderate punishment will consist of a sound spanking with a slipper or brush over the knee anywhere and in front of anyone I deem suitable to render you suitably ashamed.” I opened my mouth to say something; I had never been spanked publicly before. He didn’t let me interrupt. “And we must not forget corner time that will always follow and may well proceed any righteous correction.”

“Then of course for more serious punishment there is the strap, the cane and I have been giving some consideration to birching and the Canadian Paddle Strap.” He was grinning evilly at me now.

“I think we both know that I am at your mercy Sir, but am I allowed to say one thing?” I asked at last.

“Naturally.” He conceded gracefully as he dabbed his mouth with his napkin like a man who had just dined well, I felt like it was me that had been on the menu.


That night I had my first erotic spanking. I had not thought before that David could enjoy just spanking me for no reason, but I was glad he did.

It was a gentle affair at first with slow steady love pats building up to an agreeable slow burn. What made it all the more agreeable was the fact that we were both naked. As I surrendered to his hand I felt him grow beneath me and I giggled.

“So this is funny is it?” he began to spank me harder.

“Ow, no.” I squealed. “I was just thinking that I am about to be punished with another kind of rod.”

“If you think it is punishment then I am doing it wrong.” He spanked me hard as I melted into him.

The next day I handed in my essay and went to the library to continue my revision. I couldn’t give it the attention it deserved because another problem was looming on the horizon, the Christmas holiday.

I had to surrender my room in halls for the break and that meant I was expected home. I wanted to stay with David but it was way too early to let my parents in on our relationship.

This and other things began to play on my mind. You would think I would happy. I had no worries; I had a man and my own private tutor to boot. But I always find something to worry about. With hindsight, it is not so surprising that my crisis should come about because of my old bete noir, my fear of exams.

On the day of my end of term exam I panicked and locked myself in the bathroom on my corridor. Fortunately the exam was in the afternoon so I had a chance to get over it, although all hope was fading fast.

I don’t know who or how they knew but someone, a friend on my corridor phoned David at school. Now it is not many head teachers at your average school who could or would be able to come across London to extract a silly girl from a bathroom, but at 11 there was a hammering on the bathroom door.

“Angela open the door.” It was David.

I slid back the bolt from the habit of obedience and stood there embarrassed and on the verge of tears. There was a small group of other students standing there with concerned looks on their faces. I wanted the ground to open up.

David gave them a look and a nod of the head and they dispersed.

“Thanks guys.” He called after them cheerily.

Then David bundled me into the bathroom and locked the door after us.

“What the hell is going on? Do you want me to lose my job? I can’t be here now.”

I got the telling off of my life and then David sat with me for 20 minutes and built me up. By the end I was laughing.

“OK get some lunch and go and get ‘em.” He smiled punching the air. “Anyway you have got more things to think about, when you come over tonight you and I are going to have a very long talk. I know someone who is not going to be sitting down for a long while.”

In the event my exam was fine. I later learned that I was just off getting a 2:1 and my grade average for the term was a high 2:2. I was never going to get a first so there was plenty of time to up my game a little. For now a 2:2 was more than enough to ensure my place at college for the next three years.

That was all in the future for now I had to face the music with David and I knew I was in very serious hot water. As I caught the bus to David’s house I had butterflies in my stomach and bottom seemed to tingle in anticipation.

When I arrived David was in the lounge. He didn’t look up when I entered the room.

“Sorry.” I said.

“How did it go?” He asked still without looking at me.

“It was OK I think I’ll be alright.” I replied sheepishly, I was thoroughly ashamed of myself. “David I am sorry. Really.”

“Not as sorry as you are going to be.” He growled.

“Yes Sir.”

He looked up and told me to go upstairs and change into my night things. I put my bag down and walked like a condemned woman to our room. I put on my short white baby-doll top. I knew David liked it and I intended it to make amends, not to distract him out of punishing me. It only just covered my bottom and if bent forward or even raised my arms then the target area was exposed to his wrath.

I went back down and stood meekly in the centre of the room biting my thumb. There on the coffee table was the clothes brush, Mr Stick and short leather strap that I had never seen before.

“Are you trying to seduce me into being lenient?” He barked.

“No Sir. I know I deserve it. I am sorry.” I whimpered my eyes did not leave the implements laid out before us.

“Go and stand in the corner with your hands on your head and think about what happens next.”

I almost ran and did as I was told.

As ever, corner time was intense but this time my mind could not help but dwell upon the implements on the table. Was he going to use them all on me?

I stood with my nose obediently at the point where the two walls me with my hands on my head for what seemed like forever. The act of raising my hands had elevated my short nighty exposing my bottom to both his gaze and a slight draft, which played across my nether cheeks.

However, there was no danger that I was going to get cold. One pair of cheeks was already blushing hot with shame the other pair were in holding pattern awaiting to get even hotter.

“Alright let’s get you ready for your first instalment.” David said at last.

I was led to the sofa and he put me across his knee. The brush was already in his hand.

“You know why your getting this don’t you?”

“Yes Sir.” I said. “I’m sorry Sir.”

Then the spanking began. I had not had much experience with the brush so far. It hurt worse than almost any other kind of spanking. It was certainly the loudest. The solid thwack rang back off the walls to sting my ears, although not as much as it stung my behind. Unlike with a slipper there is no gradual build up of sting. It does not slowly overwhelm your defences until you break it. It grabs your attention from the first and never lets go. It compels you to announce every spank until you are hoarse from competing with the noise of the impacts.

“I’m sorry, I sobbed, I’m sorry.” I repeated over and over like a mantra.

There comes a point early on in a spanking, if you are a person like me who needs spankings in your life, when you want to beg to be let off because it hurts so much but you don’t because you are genuinely afraid that the spanker will stop. And you don’t need that to happen yet.

Then there is the point when you want to beg but your own stubborn pride won’t let you and you begin to hope that he stop soon anyway.

Then there is the point where you really want to beg but you are afraid that you will anger the spanker by trying to get let off a spanking you so richly deserve and you will make the situation worse.

Then comes the point you don’t beg because you know it won’t do any good and if you do beg and he doesn’t stop then all semblance of control and all hope that you can stop it is gone.

Then you begin to beg anyway.

“Please stop I am sorry.” I sobbed. “I’m sorry, please.”

In hindsight, I would have been disappointed if he stopped then. He didn’t. He continued until he had extracted every last ounce of contrition from me.

By the time it was finally over my discipline had crumbled and I just clung to him and howled. His tight grip on me prevented anything but a bottom-led waggle-dance across his lap.

“Alright hush, get up now and go back to your corner. No rubbing mind.” He ordered.

“Es Sir.” I sobbed.

I could never find a pulse as a child when I played doctors and nurses. But that evening as I stood in the haven of the corner my bottom pulsed for England. In all my previous punishments, I had never felt that my bottom had swollen so much. It felt huge, like if I moved I would knock ornaments of the shelves.

This time I was permitted to stand with my hands clasped behind my back to keep my hemline raised. The significance of this, I knew, was that I was to be here awhile.

For a long time I did not mind. I needed a good long stint in the corner to revel in my cleansing pain and humble submission. I must have stood there for an hour before I began to relate to the world in a normal way. Then my actions of the day came flooding back. I felt like an idiot. I would be forever known as the girl that hid in the bathroom on exam day until her older boyfriend had to leave work to get her out. What would they say at school? David was in a difficult enough position dating a former pupil without me making it worse. I had acted like a child. I started to cry again.

Whatever punishment David had in store for me I was certainly going to deserve it.

To be continued.

3 Responses to “Angela’s story: a new order”

  1. 1 Elly

    What a great installment.

    I hope she gets the rest of her punishment I can’t wait.

    Oops! Looks like I am going to have to.

    Elly x

  2. 2 Lindi

    “my bottom pulsed for England.” Best. Line. Ever

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