We met online some time ago. I advertised my services as a disciplinarian. She said she was a brat that needed to be tamed. We met at a coffee shop to discuss it and she definitely said she had a little bit of a bratty side to her, but really she just needed someone to hold her accountable for behaviors she wanted to correct, and I agreed.

I've punished her pretty regularly with OTK hand spankings, but occasionally I've used my extensive collection of paddles, straps, canes, and rods. She has a safe-word, of course, but she's only ever used it once to stop a session. I'd like to believe I have her limits pretty well internalized.

But my biggest challenge with her was when she came to me and admitted that she had gone out drinking with friends and drove herself home. I told her in no uncertain terms that that was unacceptable and that I was going to have to give her a very severe punishment. I told her I would get back to her as to what my sentence would be.

I let her stew for a bit, and then I designed a fairly severe caning for her. First, she would have a lengthy OTK warm-up spanking (I've learned that with her she can't take severe implements without a warm-up first). Then I would give her sixty strokes with my delrin canes. The first fifty would be given as ten groups of five given quickly. The last ten would be given individually. I have two delrin canes - the less severe one is about the diameter of a pencil and is fairly flexible. I decided the first four groups would be given with that. My more severe one is twice that thick and is fairly stiff. All of the remaining forty would be given with that one.

We met at our usual rendezvous. We always start our sessions with a conversation. It starts light - I let her control that part of the conversation. We go over how her day has gone - completely ignoring the elephant in the room. Eventually, the topic of the hour comes up.

In this case, I told her how serious impaired driving was and how bad a turn her life would take if she had been caught by the police - or even worse had wrecked her car or hurt herself or someone else. She agreed that what she did was wrong and I assured her that I hoped her punishment would dissuade her from making a similar foolish choice in the future.

I told her to stand and kick off her shoes and she did so.

It is my practice to strip her clothes off of her. I am pretty sure that as a grown woman, she finds this process completely mortifying. I start with her shirt - often it's a T-shirt (she doesn't dress up as she knows how this is going to go down anyway). I pull that up from her waist and she raises her hands. I can see her downcast eyes and sometimes I hear just the tiniest whimper as the shirt comes up over her head and her hair spills out. Her breasts come into view, encased in (usually) a simple bra.

I bid her turn around and I undo the clasps on it and it slips off her shoulders. I turn her around and I conspicuously take them in (again, to maximize her embarrassment). I've never asked her size, but I think they're probably D cups. They're just a bit more than a handful and her nipples are quite large. The cool air of the room stiffens them instantly.

Next, I go down to one knee to address her pants. She usually has on a pair of jeans and I unsnap the waist and unzip them and tug them down to her ankles. She helpfully lifts one foot and then the other while I pull them past her feet. I turn away and add them to the growing pile of her clothing and then turn back.

At this point, my eyes are directly in front of her crotch and I'm pretty sure she feels as if my gaze would burn a hole right above the notch of her sex. I reach to the sides of her hips, take the waist of her panties and whisk them right down to her ankles and she steps each foot up to get out of them. Her hairless crotch with the adorable chink pointing the way to her pussy is in full view.

Having gone through the usual procedure to disrobe her, I stood up and took a seat on the edge of the bed. I beckoned her over my lap. As always, her face betrayed her nervousness, but her feet carried her over to my right side and she put herself in place. I patted her bottom twice and without any warning began a speedy fusillade of hard spanks randomly distributed about both her bottom cheeks.

She gave vent to her reaction in a series of exclamations (I have yet to make her cry, but I think she would not let things go that far before she tapped-out) and squirmed a bit. I generally spank very fast - at least two spanks per second, and this was no exception. I went on for a good couple of minutes before stopping for a brief break. She lay over my lap panting. Her bottom was not the same color it was moments ago, and as I patted it, it felt warm to the touch.

The respite was brief before I began again and once again her voice joined the sound of the applause on her posterior. This sequence repeated twice more before I decided her bottom was sufficiently warmed up.

I told her to stand. I grabbed two of the pillows on the bed and held them in a stick in the middle and ordered her to lay over them.

I then told her how this caning was going to proceed. I would give her ten groups of five. For each group, I expected her to stay in position for the entire group. If she failed, then the group would be repeated. But once the group of five was completed, she could move any way she wished - even rub. But she would need to put herself back into place for the next group.

She mumbled her understanding and I started on her left side. I tapped the smaller delrin cane gently on her bottom and she steeled herself for the first group.

I brought the cane back and laid down five strokes not quite one second apart each, starting at the top of her ass-crack and working down to her sit-spots. Each stroke made an angry, meaty snapping sound and was preceded by the faintest whoosh of air.

She did not manage to remain perfectly still, certainly, but she did not move so much as to interrupt proceedings. When the fifth was delivered she gave a shriek and twisted to the right. Her long black hair tossed completely about her face and her hands reached back to her flaming bottom.

She tried for a few moments to get some relief, but I'm fairly confident that there wasn't much to be had. I stood by the bed patiently waiting for her to get back into place. I was content for this punishment to take as long as she wanted to allow it to take.

Eventually, she moved back over the pillows and I walked to the other side of the bed. I tapped her bottom a couple of times and watched it tense up instinctively and then relax.

Five more times, the whooshing sound followed by the snap broke the silence, followed by her voice. This time I worked from the bottom up to the top. And when the fifth was delivered, she heaved herself away again, giving voice to her anguish.

I moved back to the left side again for the next group and waited for her to reset herself. The third group continued the pattern, as did the fourth after that.

At this point, I exchanged the lighter implement for the heavier one. She had placed herself back on top of the pillows and prepared herself. And again, the rod fell on her flaming bottom. The whoosh was a distinctively lower pitch with this one. Even to my ears, it sounded far more malevolent. And the snapping noise too sounded darker.

I can only imagine how it must have seemed to her. Her reaction was proof that it was a far more substantial impact (no pun intended). As she rubbed her bottom she let fly with an expletive, which I never allow. I rebuked her for her language and landed an extra stroke on the back of her thigh for her impudence.

Eventually, as before, she reset herself atop the pillow stack and the fifth sequence was delivered. I was beginning to see a bit less reaction to each as we progressed and began to ratchet up the intensity of my strokes as we went through groups six, seven, eight, and nine.

Before group ten, I announced that this was the last group before the ten individual strokes. That one was the hardest one yet. As she had done through all of the previous groups, she held her place through gritted teeth for all five and then heaved her body to the side and threw her hands behind her.

For the last ten, I instructed her that she was to move her ankles apart. I was going to spread the ten strokes out for the most part but was going to land more than just a couple right on her sit spots, and I intended her exposure to allow some of the impact to get further into her gluteal crease.

The first was given with a slight reduction in intensity compared to the last group of five, just below the top of her ass crack. She reacted but did not move out of place. I gave a good five-second pause before delivering the second, just below the first.

For the third, I moved all the way down to the bottom end of her sit spots and let fly with a solid stroke. She shrieked and did move away, but I allowed it and waited for her to reset. For the next four strokes, I worked my way back upwards.

For the last three, I went back down to her sit-spots again and to maximal intensity. She shrieked for all three but took them all well.

And then it was over. I lay down on the bed next to her (still fully clothed) and comforted her by holding her and rubbing her bottom.

I told her that I expected her to never get into a driver's seat impaired ever again and that if I heard about any such thing, the next time would be far worse.

I have some hope that the impression I made will go a long way toward preventing it.