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This story is fantasy fiction and deals with the spanking of a man who needs to learn a lot of things that he didn't understand in his previous residence.  If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

 Where it's always double drill and no canteen; 
Gunga Din,  Rudyard Kipling 

Strict Place


It was 0517, Tuesday, December 27 and Barrett Stephen Leyland was awakened by his alarm clock.  He slapped the off button and even if there had been a snooze button he would not have dared to use it.  His butt still hurt from the last spanking he had received just few hours before.  He turned to his side to relieve the pressure of his own weight.  He wondered how he could have rolled over onto it and not be awakened.  Reflexively, he reached back to rub the hurt even though he knew it would not help.  He realized that he could hardly recall when his butt did not hurt.  But then he noticed another problem – he had wet the bed; again!  He thought some very naughty words.  Saying them was out of the question as that would lead to a mouth soaping as well as a spanking.  He quickly stripped the bed and rushed downstairs to the laundry room.  He stuffed everything in, including his super hero pj's, added the soap and started the machine.  Leaving the extra work would earn another; an extra spanking.  He rushed back upstairs to shower (can't go to work stinking of piss), shave and dress.  He was all fumble fingers doing his tie.  It took five tries to get it right but it was important to avoid a spanking for being sloppy.  He ran back downstairs hoping that he could have breakfast before rushing off to work.

"What have you been told about running, young man?" boomed the voice.

Barrett Stephen Leyland froze in his tracks.  "That it is very dangerous and that we must not do it, Sir." he said very humbly.  He paused before continuing, for the next part was the hardest.  "Please spank me hard for being disobedient, Sir." he added for he was required to ask to be punished whenever he transgressed.

"Certainly, young man, since you asked so politely.  Strip!" boomed the authoritative voice.  The voice always was booming.  Barrett stripped as quickly as he could carefully placing each garment on the chair as prescribed.  He wished he could just loosen the tie but that was not permitted.  He carefully undid it, for sliding the knot off the end was also an infraction as it caused excess wear.

"I'm sorry I ran down the steps, Sir." he said regretting being caught more than the actual transgression.  He hesitated before he confessed his other crime.  "I'm sorry that I wet the bed last night, Sir."  It was better to say it sooner than later.© YLeeCoyote

"We'll deal with that tonight, young man." was the answer.  The lap was patted and he got into position.  He had trouble understanding how something that looked like his son had when he was but ten years old could be so strong.  But that was just one of many things he did not understand.  He definitely knew that he was about to be spanked for running down the stairs and that it would hurt enough to make him cry like a ten-year-old even though he was fifty.

The left hand and arm fell across his back and he braced himself for the torrent of hard painful SPANKS from the right hand.  He did not have to wait long and his fears were all justified.  Each and every SPANK was hard and painful.  The hand seemed to cover each of his butt checks with each SPANK even though the hand was smaller than his.  He did not dwell on any of this has he was terribly distracted by the pain and his bawling.  Eventually he was taken to the corner where he had to stay, hands on his head, until he stopped crying.

Barrett picked up his clothes and went to the upstairs bathroom to wash his face.  Then he redressed and went back downstairs.  He entered the kitchen and saw that breakfast was no longer out.  "You're too late for breakfast, young man.  Hurry so that you don't miss your bus."  He did as he was told.

The line for the bus was long and the bus was late.  It was already crowded when it got there.  Barrett did not care that there were not any seats for he did not want to sit on the hard plastic seats.  He was unhappy that his ass was pressed up against a handgrip bar and the heavy man next to him kept bumping him and driving him into the bar.  Every jolt hurt because of his morning spanking.  But at least the bus did not get any further behind schedule and he rushed along the last block so that he would not be late for work.

It was a busy day at work.  It was hard to concentrate sitting on his freshly spanked bottom on the hard wooden chair.  He dared not complain for it would surely lead to trouble.  But trouble came anyway when the supervisor came by just before lunchtime.  It seemed that his penmanship was not proper.  He clocked out for lunch and returned to his desk to redo the messy, unsatisfactory papers.  He finished with just enough time to get a candy bar (small and stale) from the vending machine before punching back in.  He thanked the powers that be for their great kindness and the supervisor in particular for keeping this off his record.

The afternoon was uneventful and he was thankful for that.  He was only a little late getting out of work (unpaid overtime because it was his own fault) but the next bus would get him home in time.  Once there he quickly transferred his bedding to the dryer and then went upstairs to change out of his work clothes.  He checked the chores sheet and collected the regular laundry and got the machine washing.  He made his bed and when the afternoon wash was dry, put it away properly.  He was extra careful as he was already due for a spanking because of the bed wetting.

Right after dinner (he was so happy he was able to eat even though it was only dry luncheon meat and stale bread) he was sent to his room to wait for his spanking for bed wetting.  He put his after work clothes away and got ready.  First he brushed his teeth and showered.  In the shower he shaved off his body hair.  If he was a baby who wet the bed, then he was not allowed any hair below the neck.  He hated doing this but the alternative – having them plucked out – was many times worse.  He sat, naked, smooth and clean, on his bed and waited.  He hated the waiting for he thought about the pain that was to come.  He hated hearing the footsteps on the stairs meaning that the waiting was over for then the spanking was at hand.  He waited and suffered.  His glaze was riveted on the spanking chair that seemed to wait patiently and smugly knowing it and the paddle on its seat would soon be used on his naughty bottom.

Barrett heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs.  There was relief that the waiting was over.  There was terrible dread that the waiting was over.  Barrett stood; "I'm sorry.  I promise not to drink anything after supper and to pee-pee before lights outs.  Please don't paddle me, Sir."  Barrett knew it wouldn't do any good but he always tried even though it hurt inside.  There were times he tried not to say it, but he always begged and hated himself more for it.  The lap was patted and he lay down as commanded.  He knew that this would hurt a lot.  He wanted to be brave but he never was.  The paddle struck for the first time sending a shock wave of pain though his body.  It went up to his skull and back down to his butt.  The second cut met the reverberation and Barrett howled as the pain racked his body.  He was crying and then bawling.  He always cried and bawled.  He lost track of the SMACKS very quickly.  He did not lose track of the pain that enveloped him inside and outside.

Then it was over.  Barrett was led to the toilet and told to go pee-pee.  He tried and failed – partly because of the pain;  partly because he had gone a little while before.  They returned to the bedroom.  A diaper was placed on the bed and he lay on it so that it could be pinned on.  It was not necessary to explain – after wetting, three dry nights were required.  Barrett cried himself to sleep.  He was miserable.  He wondered about his sons who were men now.  He realized how miserable they must have been because of his arbitrariness.  His sleep was fitfully as always.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was 0517, Tuesday, December 27 and Barrett Stephen Leyland was awakened by his alarm clock.  He remembered that it was his birthday and how much fun it had been.  He checked the bed and it was dry but then he remembered that he was diapered.  The diaper was wet.  He removed it and put it in the pail and then showered.  Returning to the bedroom, he made his bed and dressed.  Today it only took three tries to get his tie right.  Fortunately there was one more shoe lace in the package to replace to one that snapped.  He must remember to get some more.  He walked down the stairs in time for breakfast.

The pancakes were still on the grill and smelt wonderful.  He said all the proper things and took his place at the table.  Well, almost, for he slipped and knocked the table over.  Milk and juice, coffee and syrup, sugar and butter, knives and forks, plates and spoons suddenly littered the floor.  They worked to clean the mess up.  Things were replaced but the quality was not the same.  The orange juice was now orange drink; the genuine maple syrup was now colored and artificially flavored sugar water; the plates now paper and the utensils now plastic.  But worst of all the pancakes were burnt half to charcoal.

But before he could eat he had to ask for his spanking.  "Please spank me for being careless, Sir." He stripped and got across the lap for a spanking.  He was in pain from the very first spank and crying after the second and bawling after the third.  After the spanking and after he washed up and after he redressed, he was allowed to eat the cold, burnt pancakes.  Then he hurried off to work.

There was a bus-rerouted sign at the stop.  He ran back past his house to the alternate stop only to see his bus go by.  The next one was late and got later as it plodded on the route.  He was late for work.  He would pay at lunch time.

Instead of getting in the service line he went to the platform.  He removed his jacket and trousers and waited for the Supervisor of Discipline.  "Please punish me for being late this morning, Sir." he pleaded.  He removed his underpants and leaned over the punishment horse.  The Supervisor of Discipline gave him ten hard WHACKS with the heavy paddle.  He felt like his butt was broken.  He dressed and hurried over to the service line.  His fellow employees did not even watch any more except for the newest gum-chewing junior trainee in the slutty outfit and the smirking office boy.  The food counter was almost empty.  There was a roll that had fallen from the basket and had been sitting under the heat lamps.  There was some overdone spinach.  He made do with the spinach sandwich.  The excess water from the spinach softened the dried out roll some.

After work he found the house empty.  There were some leftovers in the refrig which he ate cold since using the stove was strictly forbidden.  At least he was able to eat.  After he cleaned up, he turned on the TV.  Only two channels were enabled: 'cartoon' and 'cartoon/baby'.  He could not stand either of them.  Even though the parental lock code was noted on back of the remote, he did not dare to use it.  That crime meant the strap.  He went upstairs and prepared for bed.  He put on his diaper carefully.  Forgetting meant a spanking and an extra week.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was 0517, Tuesday, December 27 and Barrett Stephen Leyland was awakened by his alarm clock.  He remembered that it was his birthday and how much fun it had been when he was a kid – without school and with happy holidays.  He knew that today would not be fun.  He looked closely at the clock/calendar.  The incrementing counter was at 0093; the counter that mattered – the decrementing counter – was at 9938.  That meant 24.7 years to go.  His three months here had hardly made a dent.  He had a long, long time to go.

And what was to follow?  That was unknown.

He thought of the bitter last words he ever heard from his youngest son.  The words he spat out as he left after he turned eighteen.  "May you rot in hell for all of eternity."

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., August 16, 2006

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