A Lesson In Humility

Originally posted on Yahoo 360 on Tuesday July 31, 2007 - 09:02pm (CDT)

Terry is a bright boy. He is very smart and knows a lot about a lot of things. Unfortunately, he sometimes thinks he knows more than he does, and then wants to argue about it. This never goes well for him, especially when he forgets rule # 1 and decides to pick a fight with Mistress of all people. For such a bright boy that really is a not very bright thing to do.

“It’s time you learned some humility,” I told him last night. And the lesson was long and hard.

We started with the flyswatter, on his bottom, then the back of his thighs, and then the insides of his thighs, just for good measure.

After that came the groove strap. He started to whimper a bit as the end bit into his bottom, then into the tender flesh of his thighs.

Once he was warmed up the spanking began in earnest. A nice supple switch came down on his bottom again and again and again. At some point the count was lost, but it did not matter, the switch kept teaching its lesson. Soon it too found it’s way down the backs of his thighs.

By this time Terry was begging, pleading, promising to be good. But it wasn't quite desperate enough. There were not enough sobs, not enough tears, so we continued.

After the switch came a long, hard set with his candy strap, a thick grooved plastic cord in rainbow colors like a child’s favorite sweet. There is nothing sweet about the way it sets his bottom on fire, though. Now he really was sobbing. We were almost there.

I used a thicker switch, again at a rapid pace. The pleas had stopped, now there were just sobs as the spanking finished. When it was done he lay on the bed, sobbing. When he finally found he voice he told me every inch of himself was on fire.

I spoke a few words of comfort to sooth him. But, unfortunately we still weren’t quite done.

A few weeks ago we started a new program to clean up Terry’s language. Each swear word used each day meant one stroke across his shaft with that rod he hates so much. That wasn’t quite enough so now it’s 2 strokes for each time he swears.

Last night’s count was 5 swear words. 10 strokes. I made him reach down and “tickle” as he calls it, until he was full erect. Then we got out the rod. The strokes were delivered with force, one right after the other. Each made him gasp and moan. But he got through them.

At long last the lesson was over. He put the “toys” away and I let him rub his sore places before I put him to bed.

I think it will be awhile before he decides he wants to pick a fight again.

Ms. Betty