For F/M Sunday this week, a repost of a popular story. I return to one of my favorite authors from the early days of the internet, the talented kfr. This story caters to one of the most popular F/M fantasies, the lone male sentenced to a group punishment by several women, which adds another popular fetish to the mix, CFNM. Things to notice here are kfr’s descriptions of the characters and their emotional state. He really does an excellent job of this. For example, take this passage :
….Now, my knees almost knocked together as she folded her arms, accentuating the swell of her ample breasts. French-manicured fingers drummed on the arms of her Grey business suit, and her lips pursed slightly as she gave a little shake to the full mane of strawberry-blonde hair that surrounded her pretty face.
That is skilled writing. So without further ado, I give you:
Medicine for Misbehavior by kfrY2k
An orange sun was weaving its way down through broken, red-tinged clouds as I gazed out of the window, watching dusk turn into dark. About a block away, the white and red lights of passing traffic crawled along, merging into the larger stream that would become a major suburban artery. My face was reflected in the glass I looked through; a face that showed youth, and something else – apprehension. The lunchroom I inhabited was deserted now, except for the aroma of stale coffee and junk food. Soon, though, I would no longer be alone. Glancing at my watch, I saw the hands inexorably creeping toward six o’clock; she would be here any minute. My pulse began to quicken as I pictured what would occur – this was not my first time, nor would it be my last. Licking dry lips, I shifted uneasily in the hard metal chair, my body already anticipating what was to come.
“Are you finished with the inventory, Chris?”
Ruth’s melodic voice startled me out of a daydream. I quickly laid aside the automotive magazine I’d been browsing, turning quickly to face my boss. At nineteen, my mind was more stimulated by fast cars and slick women than humdrum office work, and I found concentrating on routine tasks a bit difficult.
“Ah, um, no, Miss Becker.”
My voice trailed off as I lamely tried to concoct a plausible excuse. Ruth’s blue-green eyes found mine, and I was quickly pinned like a butterfly to a board. She saw the truth instantly, her gaze turning from balmy warmth to icy chill as she regarded me coldly. Despite the twenty-year age difference, I found her incredibly attractive, especially when she was angry. Now, my knees almost knocked together as she folded her arms, accentuating the swell of her ample breasts. French-manicured fingers drummed on the arms of her Grey business suit, and her lips pursed slightly as she gave a little shake to the full mane of strawberry-blonde hair that surrounded her pretty face. One high-heel clad foot tapped the floor impatiently, a gesture that intimidated me considerably, because it was exactly what my mother did when angry with me. I broke under her gaze, swallowing hard and looking down at my feet, but was even more intimidated by the sight of her dimpled knees and well-turned calves below the short Grey skirt she was wearing.
“Do we have to go through this again, Christopher?”
Her voice had an edge now, made sharper by her use of my full name. Just like mom, I thought silently. Mom, however, was a paper tiger, with nothing but scolding in her arsenal. Ruth Becker was a horse of another color. She believed quite firmly in a more traditional form of punishment: the old-fashioned spanking, and was not averse to taking matters into her own hands when it came to scatterbrained teenagers. I had learned that three months earlier, having messed up a job she had given me. After explaining the proper way to do the work, she followed the lesson with a sound and thorough application of a solid wooden ruler to my bared bottom. Faced with the choice of accepting her discipline or losing my job, I obeyed her orders – taking down my pants and underpants to lie across her lap to be spanked. It took her somewhere between five and ten minutes of scolding and spanking to turn my bare bottom a color that matched the hue of my embarrassed face. I will never forget how humiliating it was that first time: the hard wooden ruler stinging my bare behind again and again, her left hand gripping my right wrist firmly, holding it away from the burning target so she could spank uninterrupted. Howling like a child, I twisted across her knees, vainly trying to escape the barrage of smarting swats that rained down. My pants and shorts hobbled my ankles, making it even harder to move. Well before she was done, I was crying harder than I ever remembered and begging her to stop. I shuddered as the memory came flooding back.
“N-no, ma’am. I mean, I’m sorry – I’ll do it right away.”
Blushing, I stammered my weak answer, looking hopefully at her for approval.
“You bet you will, mister;” she said with venom, “and I’ll see you in the lunchroom at six o’clock sharp.”
Her words nearly paralyzed me as she gave me one last hard look, then departed, her heels clicking with menace on the concrete floor.
Crap, I thought to myself; now I’ve let myself in for another session across her knees. My eyes began to mist a little as I remembered the awful sting of that ruler, and how she used it so thoroughly, leaving me unbearably sore from bottom to mid-thigh. Sitting down would not be fun for the next couple of days, and the other women in the office seemed to know what had happened. For weeks afterward I got knowing glances and teasing smiles from three or four of the billing clerks. I blushed just thinking about it.
The door to the lunchroom opened suddenly, nearly scaring me out of my wits. My heart pounded as I was yanked out of my reverie into the present. Ruth walked purposefully into the room, the nasty ruler dangling from her right hand. The glossy surface glinted evilly, drawing my eyes to it, adding to the adrenaline that already coursed through my veins. There was an amused look on Ruth’s face, and I immediately knew the reason why as three other women entered the room behind her. I was so stunned, I couldn’t speak; I just sat there, my eyes flicking from one woman to another in disbelief.
“Chris, I think you know Phyllis, Rose, and Helaine?”
My tongue still wouldn’t cooperate, except to make sputtering noises. Looking at my amazed and embarrassed face, the three newcomers laughed gaily, but continued to regard me with predatory looks. Rose was the senior of the bunch, an attractive but fairly heavy sandy-haired woman in her forties. Phyllis was a year or two younger than Ruth, very pretty with copper-colored short hair and a heavier build. Helaine was the youngest – early thirties, blonde and relatively slim. Ruth ended my confusion quickly.
“I think it’s about time you learn a lesson you won’t forget, young man. To make sure you never disobey me again, I’ve asked Phyllis, Rose, and Helaine to join me in giving you what you so richly deserve.”
“But, but..” I protested, cut off by a wave of Ruth’s hand.
“There’s no use trying to get out of it, unless you want to walk out the front door and never come back – that’s your only option, and you’re free to exercise it. Otherwise, you’re going to be spanked on your naughty bare bottom by all four of us, good and hard. It’s up to you.”
For a long moment I regarded the four women, wrestling with my pride. I couldn’t give up my job. I was trapped like a rat, and they knew it. With my face red as a beet, and tears starting to form, I slowly got up and began unfastening my pants. Ruth took a seat on one of the chairs and crossed her lovely legs, slowly tapping the ruler in her left palm. The others sat in a semi-circle, in order to watch the first part of my punishment. Giggling and making comments, they grinned at me as I pushed my underpants down to my ankles. Helaine reached into her purse and took out a solid looking hairbrush, and shook it at me with a foxy smile.
“Wait ’til I get this little item to your hiney. You won’t sit down for a week!”
The other women laughed and chattered. Phyllis put in her two cents.
“That looks like it will sting like crazy, ‘Lainey; can I borrow it?”
Helaine handed it to her to look at, Phyllis smacking it experimentally into her palm.
“Ooooh! That smarts! Oh, little man, is mommy going to whack your naughty buns with this!”
Her eyes burned into mine as she shook the hairbrush at me, grinning.
“Let me see,” said Rose.
Taking the heavy hairbrush from Phyllis, she stood up and walked over to me. Putting one substantial knee forward, she tucked me under her left arm and bent me across it. A ball of fire erupted on my right cheek as the wooden brush hit it squarely, hard. Before my shocked vocal cords could recover, the brush hit me again on the other cheek, setting an oval patch of skin ablaze. Two spanks later my voice recovered, but made only random sounds of surprise and dismay. Ten spanks later Rose stopped, and released me to sputter and grab my blazing behind with both hands, rubbing the smarting skin as my eyes filled with tears. I had never felt anything that stung so much! The women applauded, laughing as Rose returned the hairbrush to Helaine. Turning to me, she winked and warned me:
“That will serve as a reminder, young man. I have much more in store for you when I get you over my knee later on, believe me!”
Ruth reminded me of my initial destination.
“Let’s go, Christopher, turn over my knee.”
I shuffled over to where she sat, blushing as she uncrossed her lovely legs and hiked up her skirt a bit, patting her right knee as she did so. Feeling the smoothness of her nylons against my midsection, I noticed that the view around the room was similar; well-turned legs and heels creating an attractive forest, topped by faces that shone with excitement and anticipation. Ruth’s left arm lay across my back as she settled me in place, and she reached down to tug my briefs down around my ankles.
“Now, young man; let’s get this naughty bottom spanked good and proper.”
The fire that Rose had started quickly leapt back into full flame as Ruth began smacking bare skin with that nasty wooden ruler. Its thin character made it sting without bruising too much, but it set fire to everything it hit, and it hit everywhere. Spanking briskly and smartly, my lovely boss covered my whole bare bottom and upper thighs with sharp swats, pausing every now and then to scold me, then driving her point home with more spanks. Being brave was no option – as Ruth scalded my young bottom repeatedly, she soon had me crying as hard as she had the first time and pleading for her to stop. My right hand attempted to intercede, but found itself firmly in the grip of Ruth’s left hand, unable to do anything but flail impotently as the spanking continued unabated.
Through weepy eyes I could see the other women waiting their turn, nodding approvingly to one another and smiling with the satisfaction only a woman gets from seeing a naughty boy properly punished. The thought that I would be draped across each pair of knees in turn for more spanking before my ordeal was over made me cry all the harder from frustration. Part of me knew it was my own fault, but that didn’t make it any easier.
After delivering a classic, old-fashioned bottom warming with all the trimmings, Ruth finally stopped, and with a handful of crisp swats, got me on my feet. I stood next to her right knee and bawled, frantically rubbing the flaming globes that my bottom had become. She handed me the ruler.
“Give this to Phyllis, and ask her to warm your naughty bottom good; and no arguments, or you can get right back over my knee for some additional incentive, do you understand?”
Choking and sobbing, I nodded, hobbling over to the chair where the attractive redhead was sitting, regarding me with an amused and wicked smile. As I held out the ruler, she hiked her skirt back with both hands, nearly to her hips, revealing a firm and ample lap. Cocking her head to one side, she gave me a thin, inquiring smile, raising her eyebrows.
I blushed harder than I could ever remember. Hanging my head, I managed to choke out the words.
“Please, Miss Richards, warm my naughty bottom good and proper.”
The humiliation was incredible! I wouldn’t have believed that anything could make me feel so small and helpless. I didn’t know then that there was much more to come. Phyllis motioned for me to bend down. Taking me firmly by the left ear, she pulled me down across her knees.
“You bet I’ll warm your naughty bare bottom, but good, young man; and if I ever hear of you disobeying Ruth again I’ll take matters into my own hands. I’ve got a well-oiled razor strop in my closet that’s just the ticket for a disobedient boy like you. Meanwhile, I’m sure that ruler will do a good job, but I think I’ll borrow Helaine’s hairbrush.”
Helaine handed her the polished ebony brush, and after settling me in place, she started whapping me good and hard with the brush, adding more fire to the places that Ruth had so ably set ablaze. Scolding as she spanked, she took great delight in whapping the exact same spot two or three times in succession, making me howl all the more. My cries increased as the heavy hairbrush, wielded with vigorous snaps of her nicely sculpted forearm and wrist, stung my upper thighs with a vengeance. My legs kicked vainly, mostly disabled by my pants and underwear, and my right wrist was pulled firmly up behind my back, unable to do anything. Helpless, I squirmed and howled for many long minutes as the brush stung my bare bottom over and over, leaving me sobbing and nearly breathless when Phyllis decided she had taken her fair share out of my behind.
Once more I stood on my feet, practically dancing as I tried with little success to rub away the worst of the smart that afflicted my throbbing bottom. My nose was running, mingling with the tears that flowed unchecked from my watery eyes. With a fire-engine red bottom and face to match, I must have been a sight.
A musical voice called out impishly, making me turn in its direction. The voice was Helaine’s, and the look on her face pure deviltry. Her left hand was beckoning me to her.
“Bring me the hairbrush, little man; time to get over Aunt Helaine’s knee.”
She took the brush from me and patted her left palm with its glossy back.
“I’m going to spank your naughty little bottom long and hard, and long before I’m through you’re going to wish you’d never disobeyed Ruth. But don’t worry; I’ll leave some of your cute hiney for Rose.”
With eyes and nose leaking copiously, I shuffled to Helaine, then tried to beg off.
“P-please, Miss Rollins, I’ll behave from now on, please, my bottom is so sore.”
“I’m sure it is, Christopher, but it’s going to be much, much hotter when I get through with you, now turn over, right now.”
Taking hold of my left arm, she pulled me down across her shapely thighs, giving me a swat with the brush for emphasis. My right hand immediately flew back and was intercepted by her left. I managed to pull it free.
“Give me your hand, young man.” She ordered, swatting me again.
I held back, but I don’t know why, because she just got a firm grip an me and began using the hairbrush hard and fast, whacking my already tenderized rump soundly.
“Very well, I’ll have it soon enough when you get tired of having this hairbrush sting your disobedient bottom, but now you’ll get extra, and it won’t be easy on you.”
She was much stronger than I imagined, gripping me firmly, her thighs supple but strong beneath me, and she handled me without a problem. Using the hairbrush expertly, she concentrated on the very tender spot where the bottom joins the thighs, dealing out crisp smacks that stung viciously. As she knew it would, my hand tried once again to interfere, but this time she caught and held it firmly.
“Now, my little man,” she said venomously, “Let’s see just how long and hard Aunt Helaine can spank this naughty bottom.”
With me powerless across her knees, the feisty blonde spanked and spanked and spanked, whack after stinging whack of that ebony hairbrush, every swat deepening the remarkable red hue of my upturned bare bottom. After a long series of steady, rhythmic spanks, she paused.
“Have I got your full attention now?”
“Y-y-yess,..” I choked, gasping and crying at the same time.
My reward was an extra hard series of spanks on my upper thighs.
“Yes, WHAT?” she demanded, swatting me hard before I could reply.
“Y-yes ma’am?” I stuttered tentatively.
Another hard series of swats, spread over the target area.
“Yes AUNT HELAINE!” she admonished, swatting me a few more times.
“YES AUNT HELAINE!” I fairly shrieked, correctly.
“Good;” she replied, settling me across her lap and getting a firmer grip on my wrist, “now let’s see how long it takes for my arm to get tired.” Renewing her efforts, she continued to spank my fiery red bottom with a thoroughness that left me limp across her lap, sobbing my sorrow and regret for having disobeyed Ruth. When she stopped at last, she held me across her lap for several minutes, talking to me softly and giving me an occasional swat or two as punctuation. It was very humiliating, and quite effective. I didn’t want to go back over her knee for any reason, and would do whatever she told me without argument. When she stood me up, the faces of the other women told me how impressed they all were with Helaine’s performance. Rose made a suggestion.
“I think our naughty boy should spend a half-hour or so in the corner, to let his bottom cool off, and so he has time to think about the long, hard spanking I’m going to give him.”
She took me by the ear and marched me over to the corner, putting my face in it.
“You just stand here and think about your disobedient ways, young man. Clasp your hands behind your back, and don’t let me catch you rubbing that well-spanked bottom. When I’m ready, I’m going to take you over my knee and blister your hiney with that hairbrush until you can’t sit down for a week.”
With both bottom and face flaming, I stood and listened as the women chatted and laughed about the spanking session.
“This is fun!” Phyllis said gleefully, “we should do this more often!”
“The way he behaves,” replied Helaine, “it wouldn’t hurt to wallop him once a week.”
“Well,” said Ruth, laughing, “any time you feel he needs it, be my guest!”
Helaine was still holding the hairbrush, and she said seriously,
“Most boys his age need their bare bottoms warmed regularly. I’ve got a good mind to tell his mother and make her a present of her own hairbrush; she ought to spank him long, hard and often, and right on that naughty bare bottom!”
“Not a bad idea,” Rose added, “and if you don’t, I will!”
Too soon, I heard a chair scrape, and then the measured clicking tread of Rose’s heels on the tile floor. I could sense her standing right behind me. She turned me to face her, holding the brush up for me to see.
“That behind of yours has cooled off some, and should be nicely tenderized. Let’s see how much more fire Momma Rose can generate with this marvelous hairbrush that Helaine so thoughtfully provided.”
Taking me by the arm, she led me back to her chair and sat down. Leaving me to stand while she pushed up her sleeves, the hairbrush glistened as it rested in her very ample lap. Pulling her skirt up almost to her stocking tops, she just took my left arm and pulled me bodily across her knees.
“Give me your hand, unless you want some persuasion.” She ordered.
I obeyed, and felt my right arm drawn up tightly behind my back. The next thing I felt was polished wood on bare skin, as the hairbrush began re-stinging every square inch of my exposed bottom, from the very tops of my cheeks down to mid-thigh, and all points in between. Pausing briefly, she told me,
“I don’t believe in scolding a naughty boy who’s being spanked. You know what you’ve done wrong, and being told again won’t help. You also can cry all you want, but don’t waste your breath begging me to stop: I will continue to spank until I think you’ve been properly punished, and until I reach that point, I’m just going to keep stinging that bare bottom of yours hard and fast.”
“Momma Rose” kept her word, as the ebony hairbrush, used by her strong right arm, whacked my bright red bottom until it blistered. Spank after hard, smarting spank assaulted my flaming bottom. At one point during the spanking, she stopped again, but only long enough to bend me further over her left knee and throw her right leg over the lower part of my legs. Having rendered the target more accessible, and more vulnerable, she resumed spanking, hard and fast. Every time I thought the target had gone numb, she found areas that were still tender and receptive to the smack of the hairbrush, which she then proceeded to spank with diligence. When she was finally done, she had kept her promise, and I would not be disobeying anyone for a long time – at least so I thought at that particular moment.
Dismissed by Ruth, I painfully got dressed and went home, vowing never to put myself in that position again.