Tax time is almost upon us. So here is a tax expert with an unusual method of insuring compliance with her advice. It works especially well with arrogant scions of rich families who have run the family business into the ground. I guess it would have paid to peruse the service contract a bit more carefully.

The author is the always excellent C. Flint who wrote for a few boards and publications some time ago, most notably CF Publications, where you can still find some of his work.

Bobbi Jo
By C. Flint

The sales clerk smiled at Bobby Jo McAllister as she handed her the hairbrush
and watched Bobby Jo turn it in hands, admiring the wood and the natural
bristles.

"This is one of the finest brushes that we carry --- that anyone carries," the
sales clerk said. One look at Bobby Jo convinced her that no sales pitch was
necessary.

"May I try it out?" Bobby Jo asked.

The sales clerk looked dubious. "We usually don't let people . . . . . It's a
sanitary thing."

Bobby Jo smiled grimly and pointed to Barry. "It's not for me," she said, "It's
for him. And it's not for his hair. It's for his bottom.

The sales clerk looked at Bobby Jo trying to determine if she had been joking.
Barry followed Bobby Jo's beckoning finger and, stood by her side.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I'm ready."

When she saw the red blush spreading over his face the sales clerk realized that
Bobby Jo had not been making a joke. He mouth gaped open in surprise and wonder.
She had always wondered how many of the hairbrushes that she sold were used on
bare bottoms. Now she was about to witness the impact of the back of one of her
hairbrushes on a man's backside.

She giggled.

***

"Thank you, Sarah," Barry Bernard told his secretary as she ushered the woman
into his office. He cast a lingering glance at his secretary's shapely legs and
wiggling backside, wishing for a moment that his secretary would accept his
advances, then turned his attention to his visitor.

Barry stared in surprise at her. She was about his age but seemed older. Her
dark hair was drawn into tight bun on the back of her head and there was no
make-up on her face. She wore a dark tailored suit. The jacket and starched
blouse hid whatever bust she had and the tight sheath of the skirt masked her
legs. Barry did not move until she stuck out her hand.

"Mr. Bernard," she said, "I'm Bobby McAllister. You contacted me about some tax
problems you're having?" There was a pronounced southern drawl to her speech.

Barry looked at her again. "I'm sorry for my surprise," he said, "I was
expecting . . . ."

"A man." she finished for him. "I'm Roberta Josephine McAllister. My friends
call me Bobby Jo. And I wish to assure you that I am the best at what I do. You
won't find a better tax lawyer anywhere."

Barry shook her hand and then sank back into his desk chair. "I'm sure that you
are," he said. "It's just that it's going to take a miracle to get the IRS off
my back. They want about a quarter mill and they want it now. I just don't have
that kind of cash; it's our slow season."

Bobby Jo looked at him. "I have looked over your books, Sir." Her words were
precise and her drawl pronounced. "I cannot promise you anything, but I do
believe that I sense an opening."

Barry felt like wiping the sweat from his forehead. "If you get me out of this,
I'll do anything."

"Anything?" she shot back. There was an arch to her eyebrows. "Do you really
mean 'anything?'"

Barry stopped to look at her again. The frankly sexual connotation of her words
sounded as out of place coming from her colorless lips as a loud sports jacket
at a black tie dinner. Barry thought of himself as a playboy. If giving Bobby Jo
his work resulted in another notch on his gun, he would be happy. Maybe, he
thought, there's a body hidden under that armor. "What did you have in mind?" he
asked.

Bobby Jo cleared her throat. "In addition to my work I occasionally manage the
private affairs of some of my clients. I teach them better habits, both in
business and in life. I have an opening right now. I think you might benefit
from my services."

Barry agreed quickly. "If you get the IRS out my hair, you have it. You can have
anything you want."

Bobby Jo pulled a contract from her attaché case. "Here is my standard contract
for such services. I want you to read it thoroughly for I expect you to sign it
on the day the tax matter is resolved."

Barry dropped the papers on his desk. "I said I'll sign it," he told her.

Bobby Jo frowned at him. "You are to read the contract first, Sir. It is exactly
that kind of poor business practice that has landed you in a situation with the
tax people. You inherited a fine firm from your father. You have run it poorly;
it is time that you ran it correctly. Now read the contract, Sir, and ask me any
questions you have."

Barry next saw Bobby Jo two weeks later when, towards the end of the business
day Sarah Madison once more ushered her into his office. She was dressed the
same as she had been on her prior visit. As far a Barry could tell, it was the
same tailored suit and the same starched white blouse. Bobby Jo smiled as she
put an envelop on his desk.

"A letter from the IRS, Sir." she told him. "They apologize for the delay in
approving your refund for the overpayment you made. You will find a check
attached to that letter. And, Mr. Bernard, should you decide to retain your
current accountant, I suggest that you ask him to learn the proper methods for
deducting computer equipment."

Barry stared at her. "You did it," he said. "You really did it. You're this
firm's tax lawyer from now on." he paused for a second. "And the contract," he
continued. "The contract for personal management . . . ."

"Have you read it, Sir?" was Bobby Jo's answer. "Do you understand the terms?"

"Yap," Barry said. He was lying; he had only glanced over the long legal
document.

"Then you understand, Sir, that you are promising to obey my every order for a
period of six months . . . . "

"Yup." he interrupted and reached for a pen to scrawl his signature on the
contract.

Bobby Jo went on as though he had not spoken. ". . . . and that if your fail to
do so you will be punished as I see fit? And that those punishments might be
quite harsh?"

Barry was about to agree when the meaning of her words became clear. "Punished?"
he asked. "How?"

Bobby Jo smiled at him. "I have some rather old fashioned ideas, Sir -- a
standard of traditional maternal discipline, corporal in nature. I also have
adopted some modern techniques. I find them quite effective."

Barry stared at her. "You mean that you . . . ." his words trailed off into
silence.

"I mean, Sir, that I will take you for a trip to the woodshed whenever I find
you disobedient. Should you wish for me to more specific, Sir, once in the
woodshed I shall take your pants down just as though you were a bad little boy
and tan your bare hide until you are crying like a baby. Now do you understand
what I am saying?"

Barry rubbed his chin. He really didn't believe that this slender woman could
really control him if he wanted to break loose. He decided, as well, that the
kinky games she suggested might be fun. He finished putting his signature on the
contract. "O.K. Here it is." He said as he handed it to her. "When do we start?"

Bobby Jo carefully folded the contract and placed it in her attach_ case. Slowly
she rose from her chair and turned the small knob that locked the door to
Barry's office. She rattled the door to make sure that it was locked. "We shall
start right now," she told him. "Right here. You will start with a lesson in
manners, Barry. You will hereafter address me as 'ma'am.'"

Barry was taken aback by the sudden reversal of roles. Seconds before Bobby Jo
had been calling him "Sir" and acting like the hired help she was. Now he was
"Barry" and Bobby Jo was demanding the title of respect. Conscious of how their
roles had changed and not sure that she could maintain her pose, Barry smiled at
her and played along with her game.

"Yes, ma'am." he said.

Bobby Jo smiled back at him. "Very good," she said. "You seem to be a quick
learner. Now we will progress to the next step. Take off your pants and your
underwear."

Barry just stared at her.

"Take off your pants and your underwear," she repeated. "Do it now."

"I can't." he said. "Not here in the office."

Bobby Jo stared at him. "You are defying me, young man. If you don't take those
pants down immediately, I will come over there and do it for you."

Barry sneered at her. "You and who else?" he spat.

"I shall do so alone," she told him. Her voice was steady and level. "You will
not lift a hand to stop me. I need only tear my dress and raise a fuss. Who do
you think will be believed? Now shall you take off your pants or shall come over
there and do it?" Her words hit Barry like a slap in the face.

Barry slowly rose to his feet, his hands fumbling at his belt. He turned his
back to Bobby Jo and let his trousers fall to his feet. He turned around to face
her.

"Now the underpants," she told him.

Reluctantly he pushed his jockey shorts down to his feet and stepped out of
them. Even though the tails of his shirt covered both his backside and his
manhood, Barry was embarrassed to stand like this in front of Bobby Jo.

"Come here," she said. As Barry silently complied she took out several safety
pins and began to work on his shirt-tails. "Good," she remarked as the tails
were pinned in position leaving Barry naked from his waist to his heels. "But
you are a very forgetful young man. I told you how I am to be addressed and you
have consistently failed to do so. And you defied me by failing to obey my
orders. I think, young man, that you have earned the first taste of my
discipline." Bobby Jo reached into her attaché case and handed a black mass of
fabric to Barry. "You may put this on," she said. "It is what you will be
wearing under your clothes until further notice."

"What the hell . . . . ." Barry yelled.

Bobby Jo took his reaction in stride. "Young man, the next time you use foul
language in my presence, I will wash your mouth out with soap. Now this is a
good tight girdle. You will wear a woman's girdle until I allow you other
underclothes. In a month or two, if you are a good boy, we will go shopping for
some nice, frilly panties to cover you. In the meantime you shall wear this."

"But . . . . but" Barry stuttered, "it's . . . it's for a woman."

"And now," Bobby Jo told him, "it's for you. It will teach you a valuable
lesson. It is a model with long legs and a high waist. Your days of playing
macho man in front of a urinal in the executive washroom are over, young man.
The only way that you will urinate is to wiggle your girdle down and sit on a
commode. You will wear this until your behavior improves. If it does not your
situation will just get worse."

"Worse," Barry said, his voice was loud, almost a yell. "How could it get worse?
I won't do it."

"It could get much worse," Bobby Jo told him. "but you should not worry about
that now. The faster you learn to obey my orders, the less likely it will be
that you need to find out. Now are you going to abide by the contract you signed
and put this on?"

"You can take your contract and tear it up," Barry spat out. "Consider it
breached." He was so mad that he barely noticed that he was nude in front of
Bobby Jo.

"I certainly will do so if that is what you want." Bobby Jo told him. "As you
will have noted there is a liquidated damage clause in the contract calling for
one million dollars should one party breach the contract. It is, I assure you,
entirely legal and enforceable. And you will note that the damages are doubled
if you breach the contract during your first week under my discipline. That, I
am told, is enforceable as well." Bobby Jo held out the girdle to Barry. "Now
shall you put these on or shall we consider the contract breached?"

Barry took the girdle reluctantly from her hand and held it up in front of him.
It was black and lacy with designs in black satin on its surface; garters for
old-fashioned stocking hung down from it. He dropped it on the floor, sticking
his feet into the leg holes. Slowly he squeezed into the garment. It was so
tight that he could move it up his legs only a fraction of an inch at a time and
had to suck in his stomach to get the high, tight waistband in position. The
girdle squeezed against his abdomen and buttocks compressing them, into a hard
mass. The smooth crotch was cut for a woman. It compressed his testicles into
his body and the lycra front panel smashed his manhood against his belly. Barry
tried to take a step. His genitals ached from the movement of his legs.

"How could this get worse?" he moaned.

Bobby Jo gave a laugh. "You will get used to it," she told him. "and it can get
much worse. Have you any idea how it would feel with a handful of sand placed
inside . . . . or if you were wearing a butt plug? Now that you are properly
attired, it is time to start your discipline."

"But if I'm on a date . . ." Barry started.

Bobby Jo laughed. "What makes you think, young man, that you will be going out
on dates where a young lady would expect to see your underwear . . . . . unless,
of course, she was about to take you on a trip to the woodshed? I will control
such matters during the duration of our contract and you can be assured that any
young woman you escort will be instructed in the proper methods for correcting
any misbehavior. Just as I am about to do now."

"What?" Barry cried out.

"You will not learn, young man," she said. "You just will not learn. I have told
you more than once to address me as 'ma'am.' You have not. You will be spanked
for that. You have defied me by refusing to obey my orders. You will be spanked
for that as well. Now stand up and pull your girdle to your knees. Any spanking
I give you shall be on your bare bottom."

"But you just had me put it on . . ." Barry started to speak.

"That was so that you could experience the indignity of taking it down for a
spanking," Bobby Jo informed him. "Now stand up and pull your girdle down. And
if you forget to address me correctly one more time, I shall deal with you again
when I take you home tonight."

"Yes, ma'am," Barry said carefully. "But why are you taking me home tonight?"

The woman laughed. "Because I intend to inspect the place where you live. You
will also be punished if it does not meet my standards. Now let me see you pull
your girdle down to your knees."

"Yes, ma'am," Barry said again. Barry was not sure the repetition was necessary
but as he saw Bobby Jo pick up a metal ruler from his desk, he decided to be on
the safe side.

The girdle came down as slowly as it had gone up. Barry pushed and pulled but
could only move it a fraction of an inch at a time. Finally he worked the tight
elastic garment down to his knees as he had been instructed. The stiff elastic
wrapped around the lower part of his thighs and the upper part of his calves
compressing his knees together. Barry breathed a sigh of relief as he worked the
rigid material past his genitals freeing them from the strict confinement of the
girdle. Bobby Jo gave Barry no chance to savor this release.

"Now over to your desk," Bobby Jo told him.

"Yes, ma'am," he told her. Barry was beginning to answer automatically.

"Very good," Bobby Jo told him. "Perhaps you will be a faster learner than most
of my young men."

With the unyielding roll of material around his knees Barry could barely walk.
His feet could move only inches at a time. It felt like an eternity before he
was able to cross the ten feet to his desk. He stood there and looked back at
Bobby Jo.

"Now you shall bend over your desk, young man," Bobby Jo ordered.

As Barry answered "Yes, ma'am," Bobby Jo nodded her head and, as if that was a
signal, bent at his waist and laid his body on his desk. His legs were long
enough to put his feet flat on the floor with his knees slightly flexed; his
fingers wrapped around the edge of the desk.

Bobby Jo tapped him lightly with the ruler. "Keep those legs straight, young
man."

"Why?" Barry asked.

"I do not understand," Bobby Jo told him in a voice dripping with sarcasm, "why
you young men consider an order an invitation to a debate. I asked you to
straighten your legs and stick your posterior out for a good spanking. I expect
you to say 'Yes ma'am' and do as you are told. I do not expect to discuss the
matter further. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," Barry told her. As he flexed his legs against the floor, he could
feel his backside rise off the desk presenting Bobby Jo with a tempting target.

"Now before I proceed to punish you," Bobby Jo said, "I think we should come to
another understanding. I will instruct you further in how to behave during a
trip to the woodshed a bit later. Just now I want to warn you that the sounds of
a good bottom warming are quite distinctive. There is nothing that duplicates
the sound of a bottom being spanked. I want you to remember that there is a
lovely young lady sitting right outside your door."

"Oh God," Barry interjected. "You mean Sarah will hear . . ."

Bobby Jo spoke before Barry had a chance to finish. "You will call that lady Ms.
Madison in the future. While you are under my instruction, you will accord all
women that bit of respect. I am sure that Ms. Madison will be quite suspicious
about the sounds that will emanate from here when I use this ruler on your bare
bottom. I am equally sure that if you stifle any caterwauling you feel inclined
to do, that her suspicions will be allayed. I do not think she is posed outside
your door with her ear pressed against the keyhole. Your silence should avoid
any embarrassing questions."

"Yes, ma'am." Barry agreed. "I'll keep quiet. I will."

"The, young man," it is time for your bottom to receive the attention of this
ruler. As you will be spanked again later, this will be a mild punishment for
your failure to address me correctly."

Bobby Jo stood beside Barry and raised the metal ruler from his desk high over
his backside. There was a swish and then a meaty crack of thunder echoed around
the room. As he suppressed his natural desire to cry out, Barry thought that the
noise could be heard in the farthest reaches of his office. He was so upset at
the thought that he barely noticed the stinging in his bottom.

Bobby Jo made sure that the ruler brought him back to reality. It smacked again
against his backside just below where the first blow hand landed. "Ughn," Barry
grunted and rose high on his tiptoes.

Bobby Jo didn't even seem to notice. She stood calmly beside him and every time
he managed to put his feet flat on the floor, she smacked his bottom again with
the ruler. before long Barry's entire bottom was pink and he was dancing on his
toes at every smack of the ruler. He did, however, manage to control the howls
that he would naturally have made. The frustration of holding back had a another
effect on Barry; Bobby Jo could see tears glisten on his cheeks.

Bobby Jo did not want to prolong the spanking. She intended to spank Barry long
and hard and often. She had at least two more spankings planned for that day.
Bobby Jo stopped spanking him as suddenly as she started. She watched as Barry's
back rippled in anticipation; he did not know that she was finished for now.

"The proper way to treat a little boy after a spanking," she said to him, "is to
place him in the corner with his spanked bottom on display for all who care to
see." Bobby Jo pointed across the room to the corner most distant from his desk.
"I have decided that corner over there shall be yours. Go to it at once."

"Yes ma'am." Barry grunted. The words came out as a strained whisper as his
effort to control his voice was obvious. Barry started to walk to his corner.
The girdle still fettered his legs and he could barely shuffle across the broad
open space of the carpet in front of his desk.

"I declare," Bobby Jo said, as she watched his slow progress. "You are a slow
poke. I wonder if we should put you in high heels as well."

"No ma'am. Please ma'am," Barry almost shouted at the thought of this new
indignity. "I'll move faster, ma'am."

Bobby Jo smiled as Barry shuffled his feet much more quickly and, almost like a
cartoon character banged into his corner.

"Now one rule when you are standing in the corner, is that you are not to talk
and you are not to rub your bottom. Do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Now what time does your staff leave the office?"

"At five, ma'am."

"All of them."

Barry thought for a moment. "All except Sarah . . . . Ms. Madison. She does not
leave until I tell her to."

"Very good," Bobby Jo told him. It is not twenty minutes to 5:00. I shall spank
you again at 5:30 when all of your staff will be gone. I will also inform Ms.
Madison that she can leave. Now until your spanking you will remain in that
corner. And please do not try to rub your bottom. I shall be very angry if you
do."

Barry cringed as the thought of another spanking. His buttocks still stung from
the ruler and Bobby Jo had intimated that he had just received a mild spanking.
Barry wanted to rub his buttocks, hoping that the soft touch of his hands would
reduce the sting. He tried to focus on a picture just above his head as the
tingling in his backside began to fade but Barry could not forget the
humiliation of being bent over his desk like a schoolboy being paddled by a
strict teacher. He could not see a clock and his term in the corner seemed to go
on and on and on. He thought it must be about 5:00 when he heard Bobby Jo open
the door to his office. Even though he knew he could not be seen, he pressed his
shoulders against the walls, trying to hide himself in the dark wood of the
paneling.

"Ms. Madison," he heard Bobby Jo say in her sweet southern drawl, "you may go
now. Mr. Bernard and I have some business yet to complete. And I should inform
you that I will be handling the accounts here in the future. We shall discuss
some new duties for you in the near future."

Then Barry went back to waiting in a silence that seemed to drag on forever. He
squirmed from foot to foot. As much as Barry hated standing in the corner, he
anticipated with trepidation what would happen when he was summoned by Bobby Jo.
Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she called to him.

"You may pull your girdle up, young man, and come over here. You are about to
get your first real tanning."

"Yes, ma'am." Barry responded automatically. It was getting easier to use the
phrase that epitomized his submission to Bobby Jo each time he used it. He
wondered how it would feel after six months of total obedience to her commands.
He vowed that he would fight it as hard as he could. "Why?" he continued, "you
told me that you . . . ."

"Silence," was the sharp reply. "If I hear another word I will have to consider
methods to make you understand I mean what I say. I want you to experience the
shame of having to wiggle your undergarments to your knees for a tanning. I want
you to feel disgraced and dishonored like a naughty little boy each time I give
you a thrashing. Now do as you have been told."

"Yes, ma'am." Barry replied. This time he added nothing to his reply. Instead he
grasped the top of the girdle and began to tug it up. The stiff elastic scraped
over his bottom reawakening the stinging that had faded while he stood in the
corner. When the firm band of lycra was tight around his waist and the
reinforced panel on front was pressing against his tummy, Barry turned around to
see Bobby Jo sitting in his chair at his desk.

"Come here," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," came Barry's reply. He noticed that his reply was so automatic
that it was out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying.

Barry took a step in her direction. A painful step. The crotch of the girdle was
stiff and unyielding and not designed for male anatomy. Barry stopped with a
pained look on his face.

"You will have to learn, young man, that you must arrange your . . . . .
equipment properly when you don your girdle." Bobby Jo told him. Barry noticed
that her southern drawl became more pronounced whenever she taunted him. "Now
move along. We have a lot to do tonight besides giving you a good trip to the
woodshed."

Barry closed his eyes and minced over to Bobby Jo wincing every time he took a
step.

"Well, you finally here," she said. "Let us continue by watching you wiggle that
corset down to your knees again."

"Yes, ma'am." Barry told her and began the difficult task of lowering the
garment for his spanking. As he finished the task he turned around preparing to
bend over his desk again.

"And just where are you going?" Bobby Jo asked.

"Over the desk, ma'am," Barry told her. "I thought. . . . "

"It is not your job to think, young man." Bobby Jo announced. "That is my job.
When I spank a young man it is over my lap. That is where you place a child for
a spanking and it is where you will be placed. Now place yourself over my lap. .
. . .and do be careful."

Barry thought for a moment after he gave the required response of "Yes, ma'am."
He looked down at the lap formed by Bobby Jo's slender legs. He was not sure
that it would hold his bulk and lowered himself carefully onto her lap. His arms
braced him on one side of Bobby Jo's lap and his feet on the other. Her legs
seemed to dig into his hips and chest.

"That is not how I want you," Bobby Jo told him. "Your rear is too low. I want
it sticking up. And your head cannot be level." As she spoke she shifted him
forward, pushing his nose almost to the carpet. As his body moved forward,
Barry's feet left the ground. Suddenly he did feel like a little boy about to
punished by an angry parent. "Now that is better," Bobby Jo said. "In the future
when you are ordered over my lap, I want to see that rear end high in the air
and that nose close to the ground."

Barry felt strong fingers hold him in place and suddenly saw a short strap
dangle in front of his face. It was only a foot and a half long but it was
almost two inches wide. One end was shaped into a handle and the other cut into
three strips for a third of its length. The leather was so supple that Barry
could see it curl in the air as Bobby Jo waved it in front of his eyes.

"The real symbol of a woman administering discipline," Bobby Jo told him, "is
the hairbrush. We shall make sure that you are provided with one this evening
for use on your bottom. In the meantime this should provide a sufficient measure
of correction."

Barry glanced up at the clock -- noting that it was exactly 5:35 -- when he
heard a loud crack and felt a sudden pain in his rear end as the strap lashed
his backside. He felt the supple leather curl around his backside leaving a
burning strip across his bottom. Barry was not prepared for how much the hard
stroke with the strap would hurt. He started to crt out, almost as a natural
reaction, then choked his response back.

Bobby Jo rested the strap on his bottom. The leather seemed cool against the
warmth it had created with just a single stroke.

"I do not want you to think that I admire stoic men who pretend they are not in
pain. I take it as a form of lying and you should be aware that I do not approve
of lying." Bobby Jo told him. "I am correcting you and I want to know my efforts
are making an impression upon your rear end. Any caterwauling you do will allow
me to judge how your correction is progressing. If you hold back your natural
response it will just make me spank you harder. And, oh yes, you should be
warned that I am a very good judge of which howls are sincere and which are just
crocodile tears."

Barry didn't answer. He didn't have a chance. As she spoke, Bobby Jo had lifted
the strap high in the air. As she finished speaking the strap swished through
the air. The loud crack as hit Barry's backside was an emphatic punctuation mark
to her statement.

Barry had opened his mouth to say something when the strap coiled around his
buttocks and he had no control over what he said. He howled "Oh-ooo," almost as
if in direct answer to Bobby Jo's command.

"Now that's better, young man," Bobby Jo said. "That's how a little boy reacts
when his mother takes him to the woodshed."

Again Bobby Jo emphasized her statement with a stroke of the leather strap.
Again Barry howled in distress and felt his legs kick up. Again the strap
lingered on his backside for an instant, warming itself from the glowing heat of
his bottom. Again it rose from the stinging surface of his bottom.

"You may kick as much as you like, young man. I find that as effective an
indication of how your correction is progressing as your wailing. But you should
be warned that if you try to roll off my lap, serious penalties will ensue."
Crack said the strap.

"Ow-ooo," Barry wailed again.

Bobby Jo paused for what seemed a long time before she used the strap on his
backside again. As he laid over Bobby Jo's lap, Barry could feel two stripes of
fire on his backside and wondered what he would feel like by the time she had
finished. He cried out again as the strap wrapped around his bottom.

SPLAT! "Oh! Ow!" Barry knew that he could have stifled the cries but he knew that
Bobby Jo would not be satisfied unless he did.

Bobby Jo let Barry wait again before she strapped his backside. The pain from
the most recent lash seemed to grow insistently. Whenever the strap landed there
was an immediate sharp pain. But that was not the end of it. After the initial
shock was gone the stinging continued to grow until the spot where Bobby Jo had
spanked him burned with a fire that would not go out. Just as it started to
fade, Bobby Jo struck again.

SPLAT "Aw-ooo!"

By the time Bobby Jo had whipped him a dozen times at this slow deliberate pace
his whole bottom felt like it was alive with flames. Barry could feel his cheeks
clench and unclench as he waited for Bobby Jo's next stroke. He was starting to
wonder how long it would be before his cries of distress were real. He wanted
the spanking to end. He wanted to jump from Bobby Jo's lap and hide on the other
side of the room with his back to the wall where that awful strap could not
reach it.

Bobby Jo spoke again, almost if she had read his mind. "I am sure that you are
starting to appreciate the kiss of the strap. It shall get worse. I would advise
you not to even consider rolling off my lap." she said in her slow southern
drawl. "I would be quite unhappy if you did not remain in place for the rest of
this spanking. I would so unhappy that I would return tomorrow and repeat your
strapping. If I did, I would not let that nice young woman outside your door
leave during your performance. I am sure that she would recognize what is
happening."

Barry thought about the prospect of Sarah Madison hearing him being spanked. He
did not like the idea at all. His mind raced as Barry frantically tried to thin
of a way to escape Bobby Jo's spanking. She did not leave his backside alone for
long.

SPLAT! The strap landed four times in quick succession. Barry
cried out each time his backside was jolted by the strap. Now his outcries were
real. He could feel his feet kick like a swimmer's. With the girdle around his
knees Barry could do no more. He tried to fold his legs up but the stiff
material prevented that. Barry could do no more that flop like a fish out of
water.

SPLAT! Bobby Jo ignored his cries completely. The strap
continued to crimson his backside as quickly and with as much strength as Bobby
Jo could muster.

SPLAT! As the spanking continued Barry lost complete control of
his vocal chords. His cries were not just in reaction to the strap curling
around his bottom; they were continuous moans of pain. The he noticed that
strange words were coming from his mouth. He begged and pleaded for Bobby Jo to
stop strapping him.

Bobby Jo paid as little attention to his pleas as she
had to his outcries. Barry felt her wrap an arm around his waist to hold him in
place. Suddenly he thought that his hands could be put to better use than
gripping the base of his desk chair. He reached back with one hand and tried to
cover his bottom.

That did not work either. "You are not to do that," Bobby Jo told him. "You are
to keep your hands away from that part of your body. How much your bottom will
be tanned is up to me; you have nothing to say about it."

Barry ignored her. He gritted his teeth and left his hand on his bottom.

SPLAT! Denied her chosen target Bobby Jo turned her attention
to the back of his thighs. Barry suddenly discovered that there was a worse
place to receive a spanking than his backside. He tried to reach down to the
backs of his legs but his hand could not reach. Defeated he twisted his arm and
grabbed onto the base of his chair once more.

SPLAT! Bobby Jo turned the strap back to Barry's buttocks. His
bottom seemed alive with a fire he could not stop or extinguish. As the strap
continued to lash his backside, Barry could feel tears of pain and frustration
flowing from his eyes. He felt as powerless and as juvenile as any small boy
turned over his mother's knee for correction.

"Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!" he said over and over again as the
strap punished his rear end.

Even his open acknowledgement of the impact of the
spanking, did not seem to effect Bobby Jo. The strap continued to land until
Barry stopped even these protests and lay over her lap accepting each lash. His
backside hurt so much that he did not even notice the tears coursing down his
face. It was only then that Bobby Jo stopped strapping him.

Barry knew that she had stopped. He knew that the strap was no longer smacking
into his backside. Still he was afraid to move or to say anything. He knew that
with a flick of Bobby Jo's wrist, the strap could curl around his buttocks once
more.

"That's better," Bobby Jo told him. "I thin you are finally understanding how I
want you to behave when you are being spanked. You must remember that you are
nothing more than a little boy in a man's body. You may rise now."

Barry rolled off Bobby Jo's lap and tried to rise to his feet. The girdle
prevented him from using his legs and his hands had been clapped on his behind.
He rolled on the floor kneading his buttocks in a futile effort to stop the
stinging.

"You are to stop that at once," he heard Bobby Jo announce. "We are not done for
this evening yet."

Barry thought that Bobby Jo intended to continue the spanking. He continued to
roll on the floor in a random, jerky manner as he rubbed at his behind. "No," he
cried out. "Don't spank me any more!"

Bobby Jo looked down on him. There was almost a smile on her face at this
further admission of her power. "If you do not arise at once, I certainly will.
We have other things to do tonight than just beating your rear end."

Barry's gyrations ceased. He stared up at Bobby Jo as if waiting for
confirmation that she would not span him again if he obeyed. When he noted the
stern set of her mouth, Barry tried to rise again. The girdle defeated him; he
still could not move his legs enough to get his feet under him. Defeated, Barry
removed his hands from his backside and took hold of the edge of his desk.
Slowly he managed to pull himself to his feet. Bobby Jo waited until he stood
erect, his hands wiping the tears from his face, before she spoke again.

"Stop that," she ordered. "A sound spanking produces tears. Let them alone."

"Yes, ma'am." Barry wiped one last tear from his cheek and placed his hands at
his sides."

"A proper spanking ends with you being sent to the corner with your red bottom
on display. There you will learn to appreciate the stinging in your backside and
meditate on the reason for your chastisement. But I am short of time. We shall
continue this when we reach your home. Pull up your girdle and put on your
pants."

Barry grabbed the waistband of the girdle and tugged. It barely moved. He
gritted his teeth and pulled even harder on the stiff garment drawing it slowly
up his legs. His eyes found the clock and, in passing Barry noted that it was
not even 6:00. It had seemed like Barry had been turned over Bobby Jo's lap
forever. He was sure that the strapping had gone on for hours rather than
minutes. He moaned when he realized that it had taken less than half an hour to
reduce his to the level of a child cowering at the thought of the further
spanking that Bobby Jo had promised.

Barry cried out again as the girdle scraped over his sore bottom. This time he
was careful to push his testicles up into his groin. Even with this precaution
the girdle pressed against his crotch like a hard wedgie. The tough lycra not
only squeezed his buttocks together but held in the heat that emanated from his
glowing bottom. Barry was not sure, as the girdle pressed against him, whether
it would not be better to be standing in a corner. Even the disgrace of having
the evidence of the juvenile manner in which he had been punished on display was
better than wearing a girdle. Barry wondered how long Bobby Jo would force him
to wear it.

Bobby Jo interrupted his stream of thoughts as he zipped up his pants. "Now give
me your credit cards," she ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he said automatically. As he did so, Barry realized what she had
said. "Why, ma'am?" he continued. "Why do you need my credit cards?"

Bobby Jo laughed. "For the same reason I will take control of your checkbook and
your ATM card," she said. "You cannot have thought that you would be allowed the
freedom of your credit cards when you are under my tutelage or spend your money
on any frivolous whim. Besides, we have some shopping to do."

"Shopping? For what?" Barry asked, and a Barry Jo's eyes narrowed he added
"Ma'am."

Bobby Jo picked up her purse. "First for a hairbrush." she said. "You need one
for use on your bottom. Second, for some more girdles. Since you will be wearing
the girdle every day until your behavior improves, you will need more than one.
We might also buy you a few pairs of nice, lacy panties as well in the hope that
your behavior does improve."

Bobby Jo took his hand and, like a mother leading a child, led Barry out of his
private office.

***

"Bend over," Bobby Jo commanded.

The sales girl gaped as Barry stiffly bent at the waist and put his hands on his
knees. He waited silently for the attention Bobby Jo was about pay to his
backside. The sales girl's mouth opened in surprise as Bobby Jo spanked Barry's
rear end.

Bobby Jo put one hand on the small of Barry's back. She drew the hairbrush back
and smacked his backside as hard as she could. The meaty sound of wood on flesh
echoed around the small shop. Barry howled as the hairbrush collided with his
sore bottom. Bobby Jo paid no attention. She spanked him three more times before
turning back to the sales clerk. Barry stayed in position.

"This will do," she told the girl as she handed her one of Barry's credit cards.
"Give us two. One for his office and one for his home."

The sales girl slowly closed her mouth. She looked over at Barry and giggled
again.

"You may rise, young man, and we can proceed to the next store we must visit."
Bobby Jo said. As she spoke she turned to the sales girl writing up the order.
"Our next stop is Victoria's Secret," she confided, "this young man needs some
basic supplies. Girdles, panties, a garter belt and stockings. You know what I
mean."

The sale clerk looked at Barry again. She imagined what he would look like
dressed in feminine lingerie. She giggled again.

"Yes, ma'am," Barry said.

Very intriguing story, Chelsea. Very well written, and descriptive, I believe the photo may explain now that his tax situation has been properly taken care of (lol). I wonder if Miss Bobbi Jo is taking any more clients (grins)?

This was really good! If you enjoyed writing this you should definitely write more or continue this!

the manipulation of his demeanor through her tutelidge was exquisite and i miss that control over me. the whole story made me smile and blush at the same time

the manipulation of his demeanor through her tutelidge was exquisite and i miss that control over me. the whole story made me smile and blush at the same time

A few years ago at the accountants office, we went in after the taxes had been done to get some help filling out some things. I remarked to the young woman CPA that came out to help us that I had trouble following directions and that was why we were there. She said she had a couple of brothers and had to clobber them for the same reasons. Once we were in her office I made a joke about not seeing a paddle anywhere. A little light banter continued. As we were leaving I said something and she ga me a light smack on the back. I said "that's too high" and she said "I know but she's here", referring to my wife. I think she would have smacked my bottom otherwise. 

Great story!  Thanks for sharing.

When I was 19 I worked for a bowling center and one of the lady bowlers ended up giving me my first ever spanking.   This story reminded me of that.  That spanking is why I'm a spanko now.