Clay Lee knew he had a really hot body and so did his senior nanny. However what Clay did not know was that this professional, institutional-looking matron took great delight in soundly spanking deserving male bottoms – but with a wicked twist.
Sounds of Spanking Fill The Air
Clay Lee stretched his five-foot, seven-inch frame and pushed himself away from his desk. He clenched his developed thigh muscles and watched the sharp definition of his quads fill the legs of his cotton Chinos. It was time to take a break from looking at all those figures on the flat screen.
At thirty, Clay had done well for himself. He started out in banking, then moved to real estate with great success. Now, he was an investment advisor and personal account manager and did this all out of his home office. He designed the large, comfortable space above the garage behind his home. Aside from excellent functionality, the office featured a big, beautiful, picture window behind his desk providing lots of good light.
He contemplated taking a nice afternoon run as he was in the mood to show off his body and a good sweat would feel good. Clay was in great shape, in fact, a real head turner. In high school and as a college freshman he was a gymnast and wrestler, then he got into bodybuilding and placed in many contests. Aside from lifting, his favourite activities were running and cycling Well disciplined, Clay kept his short, yet perfectly proportioned body in excellent form. On top of all of that, the good-looking Eurasian maintained a boyishly handsome face into his thirtieth year. Deciding to do his long run, Clay clicked the mouse and closed out the program, when some sounds caught his attention. His windows were open and the noises he heard were coming from an opened second story window of the house next door. Clay recognized those sounds. He was hearing a spanking in progress.
He knew his neighbours well: they had a boy about nine and they had hired a rather pinched looking spinster nanny. Clay wheeled his chair over to the window and off to the side. He tried to peer into the scene across the way but the angle was not right, so he focused on the sounds. A steady repeated slapping on the rapid purposeful side was accompanied by whimpering interspersed with yelps and squeals – nothing brutal, but it did seem to go on. As Clay listened to the sounds of spanking, he was transported back in time to when he was eighteen years old.
A Formidable Nanny Arrives
Clay’s parents had also hired a nanny. It seemed like a highly practical solution to them, as she would run the house and keep an eye on Clay in their absence which was frequent. So, the new nanny was given all authority to oversee the operations of the home as well as completely governing Clay – his parents’ house, their rules, even at eighteen years of age.
Eightteen-year-old Clay was the ultimate jock boy: tanned, toned, muscular and popular. Being on the school wrestling team Clay earned some nicknames from his friends, who sometimes called him, “Little Big Man”, and “Quadzilla“ – Clay loved the attention. Being eighteen he felt grown up in so many ways so the presence of a nanny for him at that age was more of an irritant. Clay decided he was going to dismiss this person whoever she was – albeit until he met her. She turned out to be a force that would not be so easily dismissed nor forgotten.
Harriet Alba Krum was a presence. She stood at slightly over six feet in her laced up, old lady, orthopaedic Oxfords, which came in three colours, navy, black and of course nursery white. Her dress was tailored in the traditional “governess” style over her large frame. Actually, she appeared quite solid and fit looking for a woman of her golden years. Her greying hair was pulled back into a severe tight bun which accentuated her high forehead and arched eyebrows. She was not beautiful, not even pretty, but matronly in an institutional sense – a very institutional sense.
The truth was she made young Clay feel uneasy. He could not pinpoint the exact reason for this uneasiness, but it was there a constant undercurrent. When she spoke to him, her eyes seemed to drink the entire boy in. She seemed to be studying him with an interest that even his own parents never demonstrated. Clay’s gut was more right than he could have known. However, gut reactions aside, how much do almost eightteen-year-old boys really know of other people’s lives and personal motivations?
Her Wicked Delight
What Clay did know was that Harriet Krum is a nanny by profession. What he did not know was that her charges have always been boys, some even older than Clay and there was not one that this lithe and strong woman could not handle. Secondly, Clay did not know that Harriet had a secret. Yes, a strange little secret, a deep and driving passion buried just beneath the facade of the consummate, professional, nanny. This passion often drove and motivated her especially when naughtiness and wickedness reared their ugly heads, then Harriett was compelled to duty. A duty that she polished and honed through a particular method with ease and skill. You see, Harriet Alba Krum loved to spank! More specifically, she loved to spank boys. Regardless of age, all males were boys to Harriett, and if “boys” were the possessors of exceptional good builds and remarkable posteriors, they were already deemed naughty, period! The beauty of their posteriors was their wickedness which had to be dealt with, and the pleasure in doing this solemn duty was all Harriett’s.
Okay, so far dear reader, see what I, the writer, am setting up. It is a predictable formula that works something like this; Age and experience (expertise) meets up with youthful beauty and inexperience. For Harriett, the question was not “how” was she going to arrange spankings for Clay, but merely a question of “when”. She had motivation, ah, I mean duty, and certainly the vigour and expertise. Truth is Harriett has been palpating male posteriors most of her life in ways that few can imagine. Clay had no idea that this old woman was going to introduce him to the joys that have long enchanted classic minds. All that stood between him and his first lesson was timing. Harriett knew this as well and she decided to wait until the right opportunity came along, and as fate would have it, she didn’t have long.
Caught With No Escape
Then, it happened! A stroke of pure luck! While bringing clean, laundry to the boy’s room, thinking he was out with his friends, opening the door and walking in, she surprised the dickens out of Clay as he sat at his desk wearing only a T-shirt, and white athletic socks. He was masturbating. At first, Ms Krum was shocked. But not as shocked as Clay, who cried out in surprise, rather than the orgasm that was just a breath away.
Clearly flustered, he ordered her to leave his room, making the outburst out of mortification, which grew greater as she strode over to him undaunted by his barking. Like a skilled rider of a horse, Harriett was in control and loving every second of this humiliating exposure. The boy hunched over, putting both hands over his genitals trying to hide his shame. It was pointless as his hands were inadequate to hide the considerable length and girth. It appears that Clay was well compensated for what he lacked in height. A porn magazine which was spread over his textbook greeted the pure and chaste eyes of our haughty governess. She let out a gasp of indignation, mock indignation, I assure you while being secretly thrilled at this unexpected gift from the gods. Quickly she reached out and snatched up the magazine while glaring down at the embarrassed boy.
“What are you doing with this filth, young man?”
Not waiting for his answer, she rolled the magazine up, rolling up the picture of a young woman who was kneeling before a muscular, man, trying with great effort to swallow his ample erection. This was secretly tickling up Ms Krum and her “duty” hackles began to rise.
“I see, you’ve been indulging yourself, using this filth! Does your father know you have this filth under his roof? Does he approve of this, and what would he say as to your self-abuse? Answer me, young man!”
She tapped the magazine as she spoke. She wasn’t raising her voice, she spoke in a sure, steady, authoritarian tone while tapping the magazine in the palm of her other hand. Clay noticed for the first time how long her hands and fingers were, including her well trimmed, short, and unpainted nails. Her hands seemed almost masculine.
“You don’t have any right to come in here! You can’t, it’s none of your damn business!, Get the hell out of my room! Now!”
That should show her! Clay did raise his voice, but it was false bravado. He was never sure of this woman, nor did he really want to test her. To make matters worse, she towered over him and with him seated, she towered even more. She gave him what seemed like an insane smile. It dripped with arrogance.
“I said get out of my room! It’s none of your business!” He repeated but still could not look her in the eye. Clay suddenly pushed his chair out wanting to escape her penetrating gaze. He intended to make a break to his bathroom and avoid this entire ordeal and put an end to it. But she knew his plan.
“Wrong Move, young man,” she said with a chuckle. “Such a wrong move,” Harriett reinforced firmly, almost cheerfully, seizing his ear in her strong fingers, like a vise. The boy was stuck, half standing away from his desk, partially off balance, he was now going to be re-directed, painfully. The fire in his ear was paralyzing.
“OOOW! HEY! LET GO…AH THAT FUCKIN HURTS!”
Uh oh, now he used the “F” word. Old Harriett was all butterflies inside. Duty was calling, hell, it was singing out. It demanded that justice be exercised and administered! Ah duty, sweet duty. It was indeed calling, and oh, the things that it often required her to do.
A sudden upward, pain-filled direction inspired the young man to stand tall. Now, he was in full view, momentarily dazzling the old woman with the lush image of youthful male perfection. The promise of a very masculine man was in the making, be it a short one, but quite muscular, with a very round and protruding, deeply dimpled, almost chiselled posterior. The beautiful wickedness of that posterior rushed her. Flushed and heated, the flustered matron re-directed her energies to the task at hand. With a greater sense of duty and determination, she escorted the boy to her room. The empty house was filled with the cries of young Clay who tried to keep up with his ear as it was briskly marched down the hall. They both stepped quickly into her bedroom and without releasing his earlobe from her vise-like grip she grabbed a moderately tall stool and in a quick, smooth, motion she sat on it while directing a mortified Clay towards her lap. He resisted, trying to slap her hand off of his ear. Another wrong move, a very wrong move.
A vicious, hard, tug on that tortured ear made Clay cry out and stumble forward. As he did, his thick, white, athletic socks slipped on the over-polished hardwood floor and he lost his balance. The crucial foundation for a successful and very lengthy over the knee spanking was about to take form. Anticipating the toppling boy, Harriett placed her right foot up on the bottom rung of the stool, elevating that thigh while her other foot remained on the ground lowering the other while at the same time keeping both thighs close together. Her “platform” now ready for poor Clay featured an elevated peak which could be clearly seen despite being cloaked by her uniform and thick, grey apron.
Harriet trembled with glee anticipating her next moves, how many times had this method worked with naughty boys. Her moves were well practised like a dance, and she was leading. As Clay falls forward, her right-hand catches him from behind, going in between his legs under his left posterior, cheek. Then, utilizing the momentum of his fall she successfully directs him upwards which sort of tosses him up over her knee. Not just across her lap, but he lands up and over that clearly elevated thigh with his hips expertly pinioned on it, his bare posterior riding high over it, and his ample penis, wedged against the circumference of it. Brilliant! Now he appears clearly stuck and perched, while folds of crisp material brush against that sensitive little hot spot on the underside of his penis, just behind the oversized glands. A spot that we guys know so very well.
With expert direction, and guidance from his new mentor, Clay finds himself “bottoms-up”, pinioned on this engineered spanking platform, and for a moment he is totally stunned. It takes a few seconds for him to realize that his naked, posterior is now the highest point of his body. Not only well elevated but jutting outward as well, providing an almost lewd presentation of the meaty, lower, under curves, as well as an intriguing, little, “peak-a-boo” of his perineum and scrotum. His feet are totally off the ground and his fingertips just brush the shiny, hardwood floor. He has been successfully “jack-knifed” and starts wiggling like a hooked fish on a line. What a shame, all this activity and nowhere to go. He struggles with the air, dangling, and shamelessly displaying himself.
An arrogant smile is on the face of Harriett Krum and she feels the rewarding rush of victory. Indeed she has won, regardless of the boy’s muscles and athletic ability, she has him exactly where she wants him and enjoys knowing he’s never had this experience before. She softly chuckled, as her mind reviews the many young men who found themselves in this very position. She places her hand gently and evenly, flat across both cheeks of Clay’s bare bottom. She pats and rubs very tenderly feeling the goose flesh and being further rewarded with his moans, groans, and gasps. She continues her gentle touching watching the goose flesh wash over him and seeing his ears blush red. To make matters worse, or better, depending on your view, Clay becomes totally erect again. That’s right, a hot, throbbing, steel-like boner, wedged between his own gut and the crest of her knee. And it feels good, very good. His moans take on a breathless quality as he is clearly overwhelmed with these strange, new, sensations. As she strokes him gently, she lectures him about his sins and assures him that she must do her duty. This lecture is lost on Clay who is totally in the throes of this bizarre treatment. What Clay cannot see is that Ms Krum’s expression has just changed. The rush of victory behind her, its time to get down to business. She is now in full duty mode. The light touching is suddenly replaced by a firm, sharp slap!
Hand of Discipline
Harriet Alba Krum starts to spank Clay Lee’s amazing, meaty, jutting, bare, posterior! She slaps using a fully extended hand, fingers closed, with a fluid, and flexible off-the-wrist action. As she builds up steam, falling into cadence, it seems that her slaps are contained within a tight, short, arc of travel, almost appearing circular in motion. The slapping seems effortless, as these stinging bites make momentary contact flatly across both upturned cheeks. With eyes sparkling and her tight-lipped “doing my duty” expression, with just a trace of a smile, Harriett is up to speed delivering a sound and thorough spanking well cadenced similar to a spirited, trot. Her “paddle of flesh” repeatedly lays into Clay’s posterior cheeks, covering both mounds at once, making a sharp momentary contact, followed by another. Immediately it is apparent how purposeful and fervent this spanking is as she sits erect, slightly bent over her prey.
The muscles in Clays lower back bunch as he raises his upper body in response while pointing his big toes to the floor, clenching his leg muscles, holding them slightly spread as the first heat arrives in his bottom. His eyes open up wide and flutter as his bottom stings sharply as if bitten by a swarm of bees. The panic sets in as the burning-stinging sensation threatens to grow. At the same time he now fully realizes how helpless he is in this posture of upturned presentation and submissive reception, as does Harriett.
“Oh Dear! Oh, my word! Just Look what I have to do here!” Harriett crows with an amazed expression. What a naughty boy with such a round, naughty, bottom!”
Clay’s posterior was truly being spanked. A no-nonsense spanking with a marked enthusiasm. Her cadence was amazingly consistent and delivered with such accuracy across both sensitive under curves over and over causing his densely muscled, big, beefy cheeks to quake, dance and burn.
“OW!” OWWW!, OH, IT STINGS!, STOP IT! STOP IT! OWWWWWW! OH! OH! Nooooo, STOP, STOP! OW IT STINGS…OWWWW, NO, OW! THIS STINGS! OH, PLEEZEE! OH! AH! OH! OW! OW! OHHHH!”
A smirk of a smile appeared on the old woman’s face as she lectured and spanked. “Silly Boy! Of course it stings, naughty boys with naughty bottoms get a good, well-deserved spanking! Just look at you. What would your friends on the wrestling team say if they saw you like this? Hmmm? Goodness! And to think you brought it all on yourself young man! “
“OWWWWWW! OH! OW, Miss Krum, Please stop, no more…Ohhhh, OW! OW!”
Clay is unwillingly marched, briskly up and down spanking lane by old Harriet who was really near bursting with excitement successfully contained within the cool, almost impassionate mask of duty. What was really striking was the appearance of ease and economy of effort on her part, contrasted to the young man’s more energetic, frantic reactions. Poor Clay is mortified and embarrassed and wants the stinging spanking to stop.
“Owwwww! Ohhhh! Pleezeee Stop! It Stings! Oh Stop! It Stings OWWW!” “Oh Really It Stings……Ouuuuuu! It’s getting worse…Why don’t you stop! Ohhhhhh”
Clay is clenching and unclenching his posterior slightly wagging it from side to side as best he can seeking escape from this unrelenting cascade of stinging spanks. He kicked his legs as his toes attempted to reach a floor that just wasn’t there and his fingertips could find no purchase to aid in any escape. What was intriguing was the lifting of his bottom as he arched his lower back in reaction as if he were wanting more, of course, this was not the case. Despite all of these gyrations, the slapping continues unabated. In the same brisk, maddening cadence, she continues to pepper, those delicious, meaty, under curves of his posterior cheeks. His efforts excite her further and she gloats, chiding him.
“Oh you poor, poor boy! My Goodness! How can such a perfect bottom require so much correction!”
Clay knew he was stuck up there and that was that. The truth was for all of his panic the spanking had not become more painful as he expected. The stinging in his rear was not driving him into the ultimate humiliation of tears. Instead, it was the unbroken tempo that was undoing him. And this was exquisitely known by his tormentor.
“Tisk, Tisk, Tisk, So sunk in error! I see every moment how right it is that I do this!”
As she was saying this his thighs parted, now gasps, consisting of “Oh’s” and “Ahs”, had hints of other sensations rather than the fear and panic at first. His struggles turned into a flexing of his hips and an intermittent bucking of his bottom. His erection was suddenly back and running at full bore. Having no choice, Clay rode his erection which rode her knee. His embarrassment burned anew with new sensations coming into play in this strange drama. The stinging in his bottom was now morphing into a hot tingling sensation which started to travel from his hot cheeks to his rectum then washing down to his perineum and balls. It was electric, and something of the likes he never felt before.
Pain and Pleasure
The lines of pleasure and pain had crossed and blurred, now a sexy, horny, tickle was emerging. How could a sensation like this happen during a spanking? His eyes fluttered and his breath caught and as his hands stretched towards the floor, without thinking he was also arching that fanny up and out trying to increase and protect this new tickling sensation. Clay was becoming totally bewitched and was unaware that he was now offering his posterior to the spanking hand. Clay’s upward, outward arching, made his posterior open up like a beautiful flower. Poor, innocent, Clay communicated a posture of pure want. This pleased Harriett greatly. She enjoyed the initial bite, sting and burn of the spanking, which brought about the delicious panic she loved to see, but even more fascinating to her was the twist of sensations that would occur about this time. She was playing the boy right, as he was right on schedule, and, like a bitch in heat offering her ass, Clay arched his fanny up for more and she happily gave it fully intending to put the boy in the battle of sensations. It was time to step up the heat, she would continue to play one sensation against the other for poor Clay, who was quickly becoming just as overheated as his fanny.
“Oh My, what an angry, red-hot-posterior we have young man!” She sounded amazed as if she were a bystander and not taking any part in this activity. Clay’s moans and gasps took on a keening quality, which spoke of an urgency, and need.
“Poor boy! Poor little man with the red-hot bottom! Poor little man with such a beautiful, wicked red, hot, bottom” Red-hot-bottom stated with each slap to his hot cheeks, bringing wonderful pitiful moans from the boy.
Clay’s reaction was to spread his legs even wider and hold them apart, splaying his posterior cheeks even more. Oh, what this did to Harriett! She was treated to a masculine display of surrender as high, tight testicles appeared to ride like ripe fruit on his bloated perineum. His erection felt like hot steel against her leg, she could even feel the ridges of his big, helmet shaped head. He was clearly engorged. She began to bounce her one foot up and down, keeping sync with her slaps. Not much, just a slight bounce up and down, after all the boy couldn’t move or go anywhere, and perhaps he needed a little “counter” stimulus to the peppery slaps still dusting his hot bottom! The thigh under Clays erection began to dance slightly, causing a delicious rubbing. Material brushed against his cock, rhythmically and it tickled. Oh, if felt so good.
“Oh Dear, I can’t seem to keep my leg still! Oh, it must be a nerve in my leg…Oh, My! Bouncy-bouncy-bouncy, yes, up and down, up and down…” She taunted him and it worked. “Rub-a-dub-dub, little man in the tub…”
The frottage from this bouncy thigh was amazing, Clay cocked his head and with eyebrows stitched up in concern, he had to express his current state of affairs.
“OH! OH! AH! Ohhahhhh! Arg! Ughhh! Ohhhh! Ohhhhhh! Ah! Oh! God! Oh! Oh!”
While masturbation can take many forms, how often is it combined with a spanking? Was Clay being punished for masturbating? Or, was Clay being masturbated? At this point, it was hard for him to tell. Either way, he was going to have to ride this horse to completion and it was clear that since Harriett was not backing off on the spanking part, she was deliberately creating this conundrum.
“Ahhhooooooooh, God…Ohhhhhhhmmmmmm, oh, oh, oh…ah OhhhhhhwhaaaaataaaRRRRUUUUUUUDooooooooinTaaaaaaaMeeeee?”
It was a rhetorical question of course. He was being soundly spanked and slightly bounced up and down, nothing more, just sound, good old-fashioned domestic discipline that’s all, right? Yes and pigs constantly fly. Clay’s posterior was indeed an angry red. No welts, no bruises, just a deep hot red. With the help of the bouncing knee, another sensation battled for predominance and it was similar to what he was feeling before she came into his room. Only it was greater, yet shackled with a measure of pain. Harriett’s lesson was proving to be as frustrating as was powerful. Oh, when would this end? He wanted release but at this point, how? The most direct contact was the hand that was slapping and slapping his hot posterior. The tickling in his perineum was growing more urgent and he felt it in his balls as well. If only he could do more for himself, get a hold of it, jerk it. But he couldn’t, all he could do was ride and pray that this subtle rubbing that was being delivered to his teased and bloated cock would make him come. He wanted to come, he had to come, yet she continued.
“Spank, Spank, Spank, Spank!, Oh what a hot bottom my naughty boy has…Spank, Spank, Spank!” She was almost singing her words.
“Oo0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0hhhhhhhhhPleeeeeeee-zeeeeeeee”, Clay’s voice had a quality of reverberation because of the lap bouncing him.
Over the Cliff
Harriett knew that Clay would orgasm and orgasm hard. In fact, she planned it this way, engineering every step in this lengthy experience and she delighted in his reactions to this slow journey to nutville. It was the boy’s doing, after all, Harriett was just doing her duty and providing much-needed correction. Never mind that her keen sense of duty had created a circumstance in which an already super horny young man was slowing being edged towards an orgasm like a big stone being rolled uphill.
“Oh Dear! Oh My! You naughty boy! Just look at you! Goodness! Just look at you!” Old Harriett was not untouched by her own deed as her bosom heaved with her own deep excitement as waves of pleasure filled her. At the same time, Clays’ head was up, his body arched with a familiar posture of expectation. She continued the slapping, now clearly spanking the boy as encouragement, urging and coaxing him now as he arrived in the eye of the storm. She could see his head slightly turned to one side, and he was sucking in air, gasping – the boy was reaching the cliff. “OH! OH! OH! OH!” sounding more like squeaks with an upturned tone at the end. Was that a hopeful tone or one of true amazement? Harriett changed her spanking tactic and the hand that had been slapping away at Clay’s bottom was now resting gently at the very top of his thigh, while the old woman, using her left hand and changing the orientation from across the cheeks to in the middle of the divide, began to spank using only the top of her hand and slapping even faster, but lighter right over his rectum. The frantic, rapid “atta boy” whaps over his “pucker” and just above his “taint”, made a nice sound while Clay’s eagle-spread legs, locked in passion and trembled, his big toes pointed to the floor.
“Are we learning young man? Are we?
Suddenly, he threw his head up, as he went over the cliff….Hard!
The quick whapping continued as Harriett watched his anus spasm hard, in fact, his entire perineum was flexing with the spasms as the boy’s super stimulated, over-teased organs obediently and violently reacted. Clay was in the clutches of an orgasm that seemed to never end as he felt hot wet squirting under his belly.
Thirty-year-old Clay Lee pushed the buttons in his cell. She was home, and so was her brother, who was visiting from out of town. Clay would visit, after all, two hands were better than one.