The Disciplinarian:
A Collection of Short
Spanking Stories
By
Natasha Knight
and
Casey McKay
Copyright © 2014 by Baronet Press. All rights reserved.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are a work of fiction, intended for adults.
www.baronetpress.com
Table of Contents
The Disciplinarian
Guilty as Charged
Consequences
Paying Rent
The Penitent
The Agreement
Other Stories from Baronet Press and Natasha Knight
The Disciplinarian
by Natasha Knight
Chapter One
I double checked the address on the little slip of paper I'd folded into my purse and parked the car along the road just in front of the very ordinary looking house. I looked at my watch, relieved that even after having gotten lost twice, I was still ten minutes early. I didn’t want to be late to this appointment.
My heart raced as I thought of what was about to happen. I was in the suburbs, no, I'd call this the country, almost two hours from home. My boss, the stiff-lipped Ms. Holt, had sent me here after I'd reluctantly agreed. I didn't know the Disciplinarian at all, not by name or face. In fact, up until a week ago, I had no idea there was such a thing as a Disciplinarian. At least not the sort of Disciplinarian I was visiting today.
I worked at a fairly well known accounting firm and for about two months now I'd been skimming a few dollars here, a few dollars there, off some accounts. All in all, I'd managed to collect all of six-hundred dollars. It was hardly worth the embarrassment of what was about to happen to me. Not to mention the pain. I wasn't even sure why I had done it. Because I could, maybe. They paid me fairly well and it wasn't as though I needed the money. It was just that one day, I pushed some buttons, playing around with some codes I was studying, and there it was, the first of my little stash of stolen funds transferred discreetly into my account.
I shook my head and looked down at the address again - or really, at the letterhead of the stationary:
From the desk of Ms. Amanda Holt
She'd caught on to me a few weeks earlier and had been watching, keeping an eye on me. When she called me into her office that day a week ago, something had told me that she knew. That I was about to be fired, or worse, arrested. But what she'd done was give me a choice. In lieu of losing my job and having to face possible charges, attend a session with the Disciplinarian and pay for my crime with a good old fashioned bare-bottom spanking.
I had thought I'd not heard her correctly at first. Surely, she wasn't suggesting a spanking? I mean, who did that sort of thing?
Apparently the man who lives at 103 Woodshed Lane, Jen.
I checked my watch. One minute until I was due to ring his doorbell. I collected my purse, dropped my car keys inside it and climbed out of the car, my legs heavy as they carried me up the long walk. Ever since that day in Ms. Holt's office, ever since I'd agreed, I'd been thinking of this, researching spanking online, watching videos and imagining how my own session would go.
I'd received exactly one communication from the Disciplinarian three days earlier. It was a brief email with directions, should I need them, a telephone number to contact him in case of emergency, although he did not anticipate that there would be one, explicit notes on how I should dress for my disciplinary session, and instructions not to be late.
And now, here I was, standing at his front door with my finger on the doorbell. I took a deep breath in, checked my watch one last time and pushed the button, wondering what I was doing, wondering how I'd gotten myself into this mess at all.
The door opened and I found myself facing a tall man in a dark suit. Well, truly, I was looking at the center of his chest. His very broad chest. I swallowed and lifted my gaze to meet his navy blue eyes and caught my breath. He had black hair, cut short, and looked to be a professional. At least he was dressed like a businessman so a professional Disciplinarian? Was I just his first appointment of the day?
"Good morning, Ms. Stanton," he said, checking his watch. "Right on time for your session." He extended his hand and I placed mine tentatively in his as he more held it than shook it in greeting.
"Good morning, Mr…"
"Sir," he corrected, holding my hand for a moment longer before releasing it, his grip on mine firm but not so hard that it hurt.
"Sir," I repeated.
"Come in," he said, standing aside, smiling just a little as if in an effort to be polite or cordial. Although what I was here for, what we were about to do would be anything but polite or cordial.
"Thank you." As I took that step inside, I wondered again what I was doing, why I'd just taken a step into a stranger's home, a stranger who in the very near future would bare my bottom and spank me. The thought gave me pause but the moisture between my legs was undeniable.
He closed the door behind me. "Let's go into my office," he said. "I'll have a look at your paperwork and we can get started right away. You did bring the forms?"
"Yes, sir," I said. Along with his instructions, he had e-mailed me a consent form which I had signed stating that I had come to him of my own free will to receive corporal punishment. Not that I'd report him. Christ, I didn’t even want to imagine the humiliation if word of this got out. If word of why I was here in the first place got out…
I followed him down a hallway, glancing at the living room along the way, getting a glimpse at the dining room. Everything was in its place and neat. A world of difference to how I lived. His study was brightly lit by the sunlight pouring in from the windows and I wondered if he'd bend me over his desk right here to do it once he'd looked over the forms and everything was in order.
I waited just inside the door as he closed it and watched while he took his seat behind the desk and looked up at me.
"The forms, Ms. Stanton?"
"Oh," I stepped forward and set my purse on his desk to search through it for the papers he requested. Although there was a chair in front of his desk, he didn't offer me a seat and I didn't want to take it without being invited to. Instead, I took out the folded sheets and handed them to him, standing there, waiting, feeling awkward while he looked them over.
"All right, these look to be in order," he said, looking up at me. "Please remove your coat and set it over the back of the chair."
With clumsy fingers, I untied the belt on my raincoat, slid it from my shoulders and placed it where he'd said so I stood before him wearing a white sweater and short skirt I'd had to go out and buy specifically for this event. Along with these, I wore white knee socks and high heeled patent leather pumps.
"Turn around please," he said once he'd scanned me from head to toe.
I did so, slowly.
"Raise your skirt and lean forward please."
Agitated, this whole thing suddenly becoming very real, I turned to him. "Look, is this serious? I mean…I…"
"You know your safeword. If you use it, your disciplinary session ends and you walk out of this house. Ms. Holt then receives a call from me and you deal with the consequences of your choices, just as you are dealing with them now. Are you using your safeword, Ms. Stanton?"
"No, sir," I said after a moment.
"Good. Now turn around, lift your skirt and lean forward."
I turned and reached to lift the hem of my very short skirt up over my bottom as I leaned slightly forward. Beneath, I wore the simple white cotton panties he had required of me.
"Good. You may drop the skirt and face me."
I did so, quickly.
"For your punishment, nine strokes of the paddle have been requested. Would you agree the punishment fits the crime, Ms. Stanton?"
I thought for a minute, not having any idea what that number truly meant but just assuming it was bad. Although in reflection, didn't I deserve it? I had stolen and I'd been caught. I suppose I just didn’t expect to be caught. "Yes, sir."
"Have you been spanked as an adult in a disciplinary session before?"
"No, sir," I barely got out as my eyes filled with tears. This was all happening and it was all very real.
"Well, I'll be warming you up with a hand spanking first before we get to the real punishment and I can only say that today's spanking will teach you a lesson you won't soon forget." He stood, looking even more intimidating as he unbuttoned his jacket and slid it off to reveal a thickly muscled chest. My heartbeat quickened. This was about to start.
"Do you need to use the restroom before we begin? You will not be allowed to during the punishment."
I hadn't been able to eat or drink a thing all morning and shook my head. "I don't think so, sir."
"All right then," he took a step, gesturing for me to go ahead of him as he opened the door.
"Should I bring these?" I turned, hesitating, unsure whether or not to pick up my purse and coat. He must have known because he shook his head when I looked at him.
"You'll come back for those things once we've finished."
I followed him out of the study and down the hall to the last room on the right where he stopped and turned to me. "Shoes off, please."
I stepped out of my pumps and stood now three inches shorter which brought me to just below chest level. He opened the door. "In you go."
I walked inside ahead of him, looking around the space. The overhead light was on and it was the only source of light in the room as, luckily, the blinds on the windows were drawn. The space was mostly empty but for a simple wooden chair in the middle of the room. In one corner was a heavy leather armchair and across from that was something that resembled a wooden saw horse except that this had a padded leather top and restraints on each of the four legs. Along the walls stood racks of various implements from leather to plastic to wooden paddles, some with holes drilled into them, another rack with straps of various sizes, all looking very well worn, and another with canes like the ones you'd see in old fashioned school houses. He also had a small collection of riding crops, several items with which to restrain an unwilling spankee, a table with sex toys I'd only ever heard about but never used, as well as a camera, one of those old fashioned ones that print instant photos. I wondered if some of his clients requested mementos.
"We'll start with you taking some time in the corner while you think about the actions that have brought you here today, Ms. Stanton."
My eyebrows went up. "Pardon me?"
He smiled. "To the corner please, your nose touching the wall. Take your panties down to just beneath your bottom and tuck the hem of your skirt into the waistband before placing your hands at the back of your head. You'll assume this position between spankings as well. Go ahead."
"Um…you're serious?"
A smile broke out across his face. "You'll find I never joke about a punishment, Ms. Stanton."
I swallowed.
"Corner please. If I have to put you there myself, you will take additional strokes and I can tell you, you won’t want that."
I studied him for a moment but his gaze was too much and I dropped mine, walking to the corner he had pointed to. Once there, I slowly reached under my skirt to push my panties down to just beneath my hips and, with a glance behind me to find him watching, I lifted and tucked the hem of my skirt into the waistband, effectively exposing my bottom, placing it on display for him. My face felt hot with embarrassment when I touched my nose to the wall and brought my hands to the back of my head.
"Good girl," he said, and for some strange reason, those words comforted me. "Ms. Holt has asked for photographs which I believe you've agreed to at various intervals throughout your punishment?"
"Yes, sir." She had not only asked for photographs, but after my disciplinary session, I was to report to her office and show her in person the evidence of my spanking. I wasn’t sure what I was dreading more: the spanking itself or having to bare my bottom to Ms. Holt for her inspection.
For what seemed like an eternity, I stood in that corner listening. He moved around the room, taking some items I guessed from his arsenal of spanking equipment and perhaps moving some of the furniture about. I didn't dare turn around until finally, he gave me permission to.
"Let's begin, Ms. Stanton. Come here, please."
I turned and looked to find him rolling up his shirt sleeves, thinking how nice a watch he wore. I then tore my eyes away and glanced at the items he'd chosen that now stood on the one empty table I had seen earlier: a long wooden paddle with several holes drilled into it and next to it, a tube of lubricant and what I knew to be a butt plug. At that, I turned panicked eyes to my Disciplinarian.
"What's that for?" I asked, pointing to the plug.
"To encourage you to keep your bottom soft during your paddling. If you do not, I'll have to use it to remind you."
"Oh…"
"Come here and lay across my lap. Hands and feet will remain on the floor at all times. Do not kick and do not attempt to cover your bottom, is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
He gestured to his lap, holding out his right hand to me. I took it and he guided me over so that I leaned my belly on his thighs until I could reach the floor. Once I was there, he adjusted my position a little, lifting my hips higher and pulling me tight to him. My skirt had fallen back over my bottom.
"Reach back and bare your bottom please. Panties lower, skirt lifted."
My face reddened, wishing he would just do it himself; feeling like it would be easier if he did. But he waited patiently for me, and, with a groan of protest, I reached back to bare my bottom, taking my panties lower and my skirt up over my back.
"Here we go." And without a moment between his words and the first spank, my punishment began.
It was loud, the sound of his hand slapping the naked flesh of my bottom, and it stung far more than I imagined it would. He was rhythmic and quick, starting on one cheek, moving to the next, left, right, left, right. The smacks came hard and fast and within a few moments, he had begun to strike twice in one spot before moving to the next and repeating. I was whimpering and finding it hard to keep my hands and feet on the ground. He reminded me four times to plant my feet down and in the end, held both of my wrists in one of his hands as he dealt my punishment. Or at least the start of it. If his hand hurt this much, I didn't even want to imagine what the paddle would feel like.
"Please…I'm sorry, please stop. It hurts."
"Are you using your safeword?" he asked, without pausing.
I groaned and shook my head. "Just slow down. It's too fast."
"Almost done with your warm-up."
"Warm-up?"
He laughed. He actually laughed behind me as he delivered what would be the final volley of five hard smacks to each cheek consecutively.
"There," he said, his large hand coming to rest on my throbbing, hot bottom. "That should ready you." He held me there while his hand circled my bottom for a few moments and I realized I was crying. He slowly stood me up and I reached immediately for my bottom only to have him take my hands and shake his head. "No, no. Naughty girls don't get to rub out the pain."
I nodded.
He let go of one hand and reached into his pocket to take out a tissue. He then stood and rather than handing it to me, he wiped my eyes an
d my nose, even patting the moisture from my forehead, making me realize how I was sweating.
"Why don't you undress fully for the next part and return to the corner, assuming the same position you had before."
I found myself simply nodding, reaching for the hem of my sweater, pulling it over my head without a single protest. My rational mind didn’t even register that I was stripping naked for this stranger, for this Disciplinarian who had just thoroughly spanked my bottom and was sending me to stand once again in the corner with my hands clasped behind my head and my naked, spanked bottom once more on display.
"Take a few moments to collect yourself," he said from behind me. After that, I heard the first click of the camera and listened while the photo printed from inside it, my face burning as I knew that soon, I would be delivering the shameful photographs to my boss.
"Pretty picture," he said. "Your bottom colors beautifully."
I didn't say a word, only felt the heat of my embarrassment spread across my face.
It was quiet for the next few minutes and the throbbing of my bottom lessened somewhat, although the heat was still there.
"All right, are you ready to continue, Ms. Stanton?"
I turned to look behind me to meet his gaze and nodded. "Yes, sir." The quicker this was over with, the better.
"Good. Center of the room, bend all the way over and hold your ankles please," he said, picking up the rectangular wooden paddle. "Keep your legs together. You have nine coming, each of which you will count out and thank me for every time."
I couldn’t peel my eyes from the paddle he held so casually at his side.
"Ms. Stanton?" he asked politely, even smiling just a little.
"Yes, sir." I moved to the center of the room where the chair had just been and bent all the way over to grab my ankles and present my bottom to him once again.
"Don't round your back. Your bottom should be lifted to receive punishment. That's it. Keep it just like that."
"Yes, sir."
He placed a hand at my low back and I felt him set the paddle up against my bottom.
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