The Yard Stick

It had been a lazy morning that day.  Both of us just lounging around, enjoying the quiet and freedom of the kids being gone.  I received a text from D.  We talked about the possibility of play and he replied he’ll try and swing things around to see if he can drop by.   I made the executive decision to get the house cleaned and me ready for play before I needed to take care of some work before the possible date.  My boy asked about food first, as it was lunch time.

“Sure”, I replied, “but do you want your punishment before or after you eat?”

He stops at the base of the stairs, quietly shifting his feet.  It’s a question he doesn’t want to answer.  It’s a question I know he was hoping I might forget.  He stutters, unable to find the words.  He knew the punishment was coming, but I had kept him ignorant of what the final price actually was which was increasing his dread.  

“Better pick an answer boy or I’ll happily pick on for you”

“After lunch” he quietly states as he turns to head into the kitchen.

After the food is consumed, my boy tries his hand at sucking up.  Kneeling down in front me, he gently takes hold of my foot and begins adoring them with the devotion of a hopeful man about to be hung.  Not able to hold back the laughter at his blatant attempt, I grab him by the chin and force him to look me in the eyes

“Are you trying to butter me up in order to save your hide?” I growl at him.

“It’s not beneath me to grovel and beg”, he says, almost defiantly, “besides... I thought you liked it when I begged”

I couldn’t help but laugh hysterically at that statement, and answered matter of fact, “Why yes...yes I do”, as I let go of his chin to allow him to get back to task.  Maybe it was unfair of me to let him continue.  My resolve was already set.  The plan had been formed.  Absolute nothing he did was going to change the outcome.  But then, I didn’t really see the harm in milking the situation to my advantage.

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20 mins and 2 orgasms later, I pushed him away with my foot and commanded him off to the bedroom. He hesitated for a min, in order to bow his head before asking me if I would use his Grandpa’s yard stick.  At first I told him no.  I wasn’t interested in adjusting my plan last min.  But then, as I stood up from the couch, my eyes spotted the yard stick lying on the desk.  Something about the site of it changed my mind.  Maybe it was the long length of the stick, stirring an image of how it would sing through the air so nicely as I swung.  Or maybe it was the simple fact that it was a ruler, this was punishment and I liked the sadistic irony of such a classic punishment implement.  Or maybe, just maybe it was the symbolic nature of the fact that it was a sentimental item that tugged at my spiritual side.  Whichever, I snatch the stick off the desk and quickly spun around.

“Actually, I think it might work in quite nicely”, as I tapped it across my palm.  “But you understand the damage I can do with this; you realize what you are asking for?”

He slowly bowed his head again, “Yes Momma.  Thank you Momma.”

And with that I turned and headed upstairs, leaving him to pick himself up and follow.

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In the bedroom, I set him to task in untying and retying all the ropes so that I could restrain him the way I wanted.  I smiled at the slight cruelty of the task.  The mental torture of having to actually tie your own bonds, knowing that if any one of them slipped... the consequences would be far worse.    Once completed, he stood up.  I placed my hands on his face, kissed him ever so sweetly.  I let my hands slide gently down his arms, taking each wrist and tenderly placing the cuffs on.  I, then, slide behind him, kissing sweetly on his back as I stepped forward slowly, forcing him to the edge of the bed.

“Bend over bitch”, I bark harshly… breaking the spell and shoving him down forcefully.  I stepped around to the other end of the bed and quickly attached the ropes to the cuffs, tightening them just enough to stretch him out to my satisfaction.  I finished my prep by blindfolding him, leaving him in the dark with my words and his pain.  As I stepped back around, I snatched the ruler off the dresser.  To gain a feel for the weight and length of the stick, I began lightly tapping it against his ass.  At the same time, I outlined the extent of his punishment.  Ten hits by the ruler for failing to go to bed when ordered.  But the week long tea incident, that warranted unlimited play-time with the belt for me.  As I finished my speech, my tapping ended with a good hard smack.

“Now, count them out bitch”

At that point, my mind stopped caring about the punishment I felt he deserved.  It didn't matter much to me anymore how much he kicked and screamed.  I looked down at the stick in my hand, felt the urges that first smack rose within me and smiled.  Yes, I was going to enjoy this!!

My time with the yard stick didn’t last long at all.  10 hits wasn’t all that much and even with a long wind up for emphasis... it was over before I knew it.  His ass began to dance by the fourth hit and I realized I hadn’t tied his ankles.  By the 6^th, his cheeks were beginning to glow a dark pink.  By the last two, he was yelling out the numbers in a way let me know he hated every minute of it.  It made me a bit wet.  I was actually a bit disappointed when he screamed ten.  Then I remembered… It was belt time...