The road wound upward past trees in bloom. SpankBoy felt his pulse throb as he neared the address of his latest client, Ms. Florence Stiles. Meeting a new client and finding out what she wanted to do with him brought up a swirl of emotions from arousal to terror. The cage that held SpankBoy’s dick grew tighter as he turned into Ms. Stile’s drive. He gritted his teeth. Mistress Vera favored cages with tiny barbs that sink their teeth into his penis as it tried futilely to swell.
When Ms. Stiles opened the door, she seemed surprised. “I didn’t think you’d show!”
“Am I late?” SpankBoy hurriedly checked the time. Tardiness would not only mean additional punishment from Ms. Stiles. It would mean a thrashing from Mistress Vera as well.
“No, you’re on time. I just didn’t believe anyone would do what you do.”
“I hear that a lot, ma’am.” Ms. Stiles brought SpankBoy into her house and indicated he should have a seat on her dark green couch. Her log home was rustic with dark earth tones. Ms. Stiles herself was brown from the sun. The tan skin set off her long, silver hair. She wore a jacket, blouse, jeans, and a pair of high brown leather boots that SpankBoy admired greatly. She sat across from him and crossed the boots. The sight of the dusty soles made his dick press against the spikes again.
“So . . . you’re here to get your ass whipped?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Do you get a lot of business?”
“Yes, ma’am. I think you’re my twenty-third client. Many of them have been repeat customers.”
“Your ass must get pretty sore.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Vera said I could whip you as hard as I want, for as long as I want.”
SpankBoy gasped a little. “That’s correct, ma’am. I’m here to serve your needs. You may punish me as severely as you need to.”
Ms. Stiles licked her lips. “Do you get any of the fee I paid?”
“Not to spend, ma’am. I’m in college. Mistress pays for my tuition and my room and board.”
“So, mostly you just get to sit on a sore butt on your way home.”
“Yes, ma’am. I enjoy that feeling.”
“You ever cut a switch before?”
“Uh . . . no, ma’am.”
“C’mon, I’ll show you how.”
Ms. Stiles rose and led SpankBoy out her back door and into the woods behind her house. There was a worn path leading up the hill. Ms. Stiles obviously hiked the trail regularly; SpankBoy had trouble keeping up with her. The regular exercise might also explain why the pleasing curves of her rear didn’t jiggle at all in her jeans. SpankBoy allowed himself a momentary fantasy of planting his face between those cheeks and thrusting his tongue deep inside her tight little treasure. The spikes bit him, but that only made the idea more exciting.
Ms. Stiles came to a fallen tree and sat down on it. She produced a pocket knife from her jacket and handed it to SpankBoy. “You see that long skinny new branch on that limb?” He nodded. “Cut it off and bring it to me.”
He sawed the switch at its base and brought it to Ms. Stiles. It was about two feet long and had some leaves on it. The leaves rustled as she swished it through the air. “Spring is the best time to cut switches. New growth is still a bit green and that makes it flexible. See?” She swished it back and forth several more times, demonstrating how the end flicked like a snake’s tongue.
“Yes, ma’am. I imagine that . . . stings quite a bit.”
“You bet it does. Now, go find me five more like that.”
The way she had said “You bet it does” made SpankBoy think that Ms. Stiles had taken a switching in the past, possibly as a girl. He shook the image of her tight bottom, fresh and smooth, being whipped with a switch out of his mind. The barbed cage convinced him that he should focus on his task. He wandered farther down the trail, plucking switches as he found them. He studied each carefully, wondering how it would feel whipped against his flesh. A switch was like a cane but also like a whip. He imagined it would sting like a whip and leave welts like a cane.
Returning to Mrs. Stiles, he reached out his harvest to her, but she indicated that he should kneel in front of her with them.
“You need to prune these and make sure they’re smooth. You won’t want any little pricks on them.”
SpankBoy took the knife and set to work trimming the switches. He concentrated on doing a good job at this new task. When he had one done, he handed it to Ms. Stiles for her approval.
“This is a good job.” She slid her fingers down the shaft of the switch and found it smooth. “Let’s test it. Stick out your left hand.” He did so. “A little farther.” She touched the tip of the switch to his palm, then brought it down hard.
SpankBoy yelped. He was shocked at his own reaction. He took pride in his ability to take punishment. When Ms. Stiles put the switch down, SpankBoy stuck his hand in his mouth and sucked at it like an infant.
“Smarts, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he mumbled with his hand still in his mouth.
“Last chance to run back down the hill and avoid a really sore behind. You’re gonna have trouble licking those sores.”
SpankBoy put his hand down. “I’m here to be punished by you, Ms. Stiles. A proper punishment is supposed to hurt.” And Mistress Vera would do far worse to him if he chickened out.
“I’m not going to go easy on you, you know. I paid good money for your ass, and I intend to whip it raw.”
“That’s your privilege, ma’am.” He returned to work on the other switches as his emotions started swinging between arousal and terror again. “I hope I can take it like a man. But, if I break, you should continue until you are satisfied.” He knew Mistress Vera told clients to keep punishing him until they got the results they wanted. Some wanted tears and were most satisfied when the tears were hard to wring from him. Some wanted the sounds of pain, from grunts to screams. Some were more interested in the visual results on his pale white flesh. Some were not concerned with him at all; they were just working out their aggressions.
SpankBoy enjoyed the novelty of preparing implements to be used on him. It was a submissive thrill he hadn’t had with the plethora of instruments that had been used to spank him before. He hoped his efforts would make the switches more aerodynamic and allow them to strike him with maximum speed.
He couldn’t help glancing at Ms. Stiles’ boots. He loved a lady in boots. Her's were covered with a thin layer of dust from the trail. He imagined cleaning them with his tongue.
As he was finishing up the sixth and final switch, Ms. Stiles noted his interest in her footwear. “Are you looking at my boots?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“So, you’re not just the sort who likes to be spanked, you’re also the sort who’s obsessed with women’s shoes?”
“Boots especially, ma’am. Your's are lovely.” He was breathing heavily. “May I kiss them?” The request was insubordinate. He was here for her pleasure, not his. She hadn’t requested any foot play.
“Sure. Enjoy.” As Ms. Stiles inspected the switches he’d cleaned, SpankBoy shifted his position so he was kneeling properly. His submission had the power of religion to him; he worshipped dominant women. Everything he did was an offering to his goddesses. SpankBoy licked his lips and planted his open mouth on her right toe. He kissed the boot like a lover, with moving lips, sucking and licking.
Ms. Stiles was amused. “What about the other one?”
SpankBoy shifted to the left boot and kissed it with even greater vigor. His penis struggled with the cage, but he accepted the pain as his just punishment for this self-indulgence. At last, SpankBoy sat up, leaving the fronts of both boots shiny and clean.
“Did that give you a stiffy?”
“No, ma’am, I mean, I can’t—”
“You can’t?” She was puzzled.
“You requested that I be caged.” She didn’t understand but the term sounded familiar, like a question she had answered when she made her appointment with Mistress Vera. “May I show you?”
Ms. Stiles nodded. SpankBoy unzipped his fly and displayed the cage. It was made of gleaming metal spirals pointing downward. The cage was small, as was his penis. 'You can’t call that a cock,' Mistress Vera had told him once. 'A cock is a thick and impressive thing that makes a pussy weep. What you have is an insult to pussies.' Ms. Stiles looked closely at the device. She noticed it was sealed with a small lock and she practically gasped at the tiny spikes and the fresh wounds on his penis.
“You are an education, boy.” Ms. Stiles stood. “Let’s get to it.”
She took the switches and led SpankBoy up the hill until they reached a small, well-lit clearing. “Get your clothes off,” she ordered.
SpankBoy stripped quickly, eager to feel the results of his efforts at cleaning the switches.
“You can lean against that tree,” she said. SpankBoy leaned forward and placed his hands on the bark. He could hear Ms. Stiles swishing one switch after another. A moment of silence indicated that she had chosen her first weapon. Another swish laid a thin line of pain across SpankBoy’s bare butt. He gripped the bark and tried to brace himself for the pain to come.
Ms. Stiles did not leave any space between strokes. SpankBoy noticed that the length of the swish increased with each of the early strokes; he realized that she was reaching farther and farther back until she found her fullest swing.
Mistress Vera’s training had been thorough. His first obligation was to hold the requested position and make no effort to evade the punishment. His second was to take the punishment stoically for as long as he could. There was a safeword in place, but SpankBoy had not pulled that emergency cord since he was a novice.
The first switch broke in two, but Ms. Stiles picked up another and continued her assault. She worked her way down his buttocks and onto the back of his legs.
Tears were dripping from SpankBoy’s eyes and his teeth were grinding hard. He had reached the point when the intense pain wiped everything else from his mind. He had a vague awareness of rough bark under his hands, but there was nothing else but the hurt. He had forgotten Ms. Stiles, her shapely bottom, her lovely boots, and the switches she was breaking and replacing.
Reality slowly ebbed back into his mind as silence indicated that his first switching was over. He was quivering with excitement. His pounding pulse slowed as Ms. Stiles stepped next to him to admire her handiwork.
“You’ve got some great marks.” She rubbed his welt-covered rear and he gasped. Inspired by the response, Ms. Stiles gave one cheek a sharp slap. SpankBoy screamed.
“Well, now. That must really hurt.”
SpankBoy struggled to speak. It took three tries to get words to come out. “I’m sorry . . . ma’am. That was a surprise. I’ll try not to yell out if you wish to continue.”
“You’ve had enough. Get your clothes on.”
Dressing after a thorough punishment was another aspect of the experience that SpankBoy both anticipated and feared. His underpants were the worst as they rubbed tightly against his welts. The pants were looser but still stirred the embers on his whipped flesh.
Dressed, SpankBoy followed Ms. Stiles back down to her house.
“Vera is right about the effect of your service. I feel light as a feather. That workout drained all the frustrations out of me.”
“The effect on me is similar, Ms. Stiles. I’d say a hard punishment focuses the mind.” The intense wildfire of pain that raged through his mind left serenity in its wake.
SpankBoy thanked her for her patronage. He asked her to fill out a brief customer satisfaction survey and requested that she put it in a sealed envelope without showing it to him. SpankBoy left Ms. Stiles a few of his business cards in case she had friends who would like to book him. She grinned as she thought about a few women she knew who would love spanking him.
He bit his lip as he got into his car. It would be a long, painful ride back to Mistress Vera’s house. He felt confident that Ms. Stiles had given him a good review and that Mistress Vera would be impressed by the switch marks. She’d be proud of her slave, and that might mean a reward. The cage might come off. He might be allowed to masturbate while Mistress Vera exposed part of her body to him. She may even take hold of his erection and rub it to completion herself. SpankBoy started driving faster.
