Harry had spent many years yearning for the touch of a female hand on his bare bottom!  A shy man, he remembered his boyhood spankings received over the knee of his mother.  She had not spanked him often, quite infrequently in fact, so the memory of being over her knee with his trousers down was clear – and precious!  He had been raised to have a proper respect for the female of the species and he understood and fully accepted her inalienable right and, indeed, duty to take him over her knee and smack his bare bottom whenever she deemed it to be necessary!  He had, of course, eventually, grown up as a well behaved and respectful young man and he was no longer of an age or, indeed, of a size to go over the knee and, frankly, he missed the sting of a good woman’s discipline and the warmth and security he had always enjoyed when, with his bottom still smarting sharply, he had been forgiven with a kiss and a comforting cuddle.

As the years passed he had a number of girlfriends and two wives but, although there had been the occasional bedroom spanking game none of the women in his life had been natural disciplinarians.  None of them had ever taken the initiative and he had always had to put himself over their knee and beg for it!  None of their hearts had ever been in it.  Some had been happy to let him smack their pretty bottoms and, as a healthy male, he had obliged them but what he really wanted was a woman who would take control and punish him in the way he had been punished as a boy.  He yearned to submit! He longed to hear those dread words “Take down your trousers!” but, sadly, he never had.  Harry missed female discipline more and more as the years since his last spanking went by.  He was not fulfilled and, being shy, did not really know how to fill that emptiness in his life.

Then came the Internet!  What a wonderful revelation!  The world, he realised, was full of men and women who shared his devout interest in the smacked bottom.  Exploring the myriad web sites Harry found many different tastes and inclinations some of which, frankly, repelled him but, hey, chacun a son gout, some which amused him but did not entice and some who displayed tastes which exactly reflected his own.  Women, young and old, who proudly announced their interest in disciplining the male!  Amongst these women were those whose preference for leather and pvc clothing, whips and thigh length boots did nothing for Harry; but there were also those who liked to dress as strict school ‘marms’ bearing canes, straps and wooden rules and those who professed to enjoy nothing more than taking a young man’s trousers down and smacking his bottom across their knees.  For a mere £100 or so he could revisit his boyhood.  Harry was entranced!   He pictured in his fevered imagination what it would be like, how it would feel, how she would deal with him.  He wanted it, oh, how he wanted it but he was shy and more than a little embarrassed by his yearning.  Many was the occasion when he had gone as far as making e-mail contact with one or other of these ladies.  Many was the time he had been dismissed as a ‘time waster’.  Many such contacts had ended in him backing away at the last minute.  He was scared!  Not of the sting of a smacked bottom but of facing up to someone and openly admitting his need for fear of ridicule.  It never occurred to him that these women depended on people like him to make their living and would hardly be likely to ridicule him.  They needed him as much as he needed them.  I suppose, when push came to shove, Harry had not yet found just the woman he wanted, a woman with the same ideas about disciplining naughty boys as his own.  Someone who would deal with him just the way he wanted to be dealt with.  Then, on one of his trawls through the net, he found her! 

Hilary lived near enough for the journey to be acceptable yet far enough away to make it unlikely they would meet in the street.  Her fees at £100 per hour were about what he had expected.  She sounded, from her blog, to have a genuine interest in spanking, especially in spanking ‘naughty boys’ and she promised the whole thing, scoldings, ‘corner time’, sound smackings and tender warm forgiveness.  She promised a memorable, realistic session which he would not forget in a hurry.  Harry shivered.  Oh, yes, she sounded right.  He grasped the nettle and drafted an e-mail which he sent before cold feet  could intervene.  Her reply was prompt and warm.  She was friendly and open about her interests.  She seemed to him to be a thoroughly nice lady and with little hesitation he accepted her invitation to telephone her.  The die was cast!  Harry was going to have his bottom smacked!

Harry picked up the phone with trembling fingers and punched in her number.  He heard the ringing tone and came close to panicking! 

“Hello” said a warm female voice  “Hilary here, can I help you?”

“Yes, please” he croaked!

“You sound nervous, dear.  There’s no need?  Is it your first time? Let’s see if I can help, now, tell me what you want?”

Harry was speechless with embarrassment.

Hilary’s voice hardened  “Look, if you are a time waster I’ll put the phone down NOW!”

“No, please don’t!” he whispered.

“Are you shy?”  she giggled warmly.  An experienced professional she sensed he would need her encouragement to overcome his nerves and bring her not only business but fun too!  “Tell me.  Have you been a naughty boy?  Do you need to have your bottom smacked over my knee?”

“YES!” said Harry  “Yes, please!”

And from there on it was easy in fact it was deliciously exciting talking to this friendly woman about his deepest secret desires.  She laughed with him, not at him, urging him to tell her everything he dreamed of.  He enjoyed the excitement of that conversation and Hilary let him ramble on for a while before interrupting him.

“Now, Harry” she said  “I think you’d better come and see Auntie Hilary, don’t you?”

“Yes, please”

“There’s a sensible boy!”  she was already creating the right relationship between strict auntie and naughty nephew.  They discussed and agreed her terms of business, £100 for an hour of her time.  They agreed a time and date then she asked him what he wanted!

“I want it to be real!” he said and went on without embarrassment to say how he dreamed of being scolded, of being told he was to be punished and how he was to be punished.  He wanted to be that naughty boy who knew he was in trouble and what he was in for and who unhappily accepted there was no way out for him!

So it was agreed.  To keep things ‘real’ he would bring his payment in an envelope purporting to contain a letter from his teacher.  From the moment Hilary answered the door to him the relationship would be as he wanted it.

As he said goodbye Harry said, with confidence now, “I look forward to meeting you!”

Hilary laughed amiably.

“I’d not be too sure of that!” she whispered seductively!  “And, by the way, no exercise books down the back of your trousers because they’re coming down!  Bye, bye dear”

…. and so it came to pass that Harry found himself one fine spring morn creeping reluctantly down a leafy suburban street looking for Lilac Cottage.  He was in good time, his appointment with Hilary was for 1030 and now it was barely 1015.  Harry felt distinctly odd!  Of course he knew quite well that he was here at his own wish, that he could turn even now and go home.  Yet he knew with absolute certainty that he could do no such thing.  Harry had that unmistakable, inimitable feeling known so well to small boys awaiting their punishment, it was a mix of dread, regret, anticipation and excitement.  Harry felt all those emotions as he approached the front door of Lilac Cottage and nervously knocked.

Hilary, who had seen her client creep up the garden path, decided to turn the screw ever so slightly by making him wait.  This way he would earn a scolding the moment they met!  He knocked again and earned his scolding.

The door opened and Harry gazed upon the exquisite figure of Hilary in her strict auntie role.  She was tall and slim dressed in a close fitting black skirt and a white blouse which stretched tightly over her bosom showing her curves off to splendid effect.  Her blouse was pinned at the throat with a cameo brooch and her dark hair was pulled back tightly into a severe bun at the nape of her neck.  Apart from a silver bangle on her left wrist and stud earrings she wore no jewellery.  She looked magnificent and Harry trembled at the sight of her.  Flight, of course, was now quite out of the question. 

“Well?” she snapped.

Harry, feeling just as he had wanted to feel, like a ten year old due for a smacked bottom, nervously handed her his envelope.

“You’d better come in and explain why you found it necessary to make such a circus out of knocking on my door” she took his ear and led him into the hallway.  She closed the door and turned to him.

“Well.  I’m waiting?”

Harry was deliciously confused and thought it best to apologise although he was not quite sure what for!

“I’m sorry, miss, I didn’t know whether you had heard.”

She looked at him.  “Are you daring to suggest I kept you waiting.  You impertinent boy!  We’ll see about that!”

“No, miss, I’m sorry!”  he whined so realistically! 

“Sorry, are you?  You will be, you will be my lad! Now, go through there into my sitting room while I take a look at what your teacher has to say” she pointed the way to a comfortable very feminine room and herself went through to what he guessed was her private study.  Harry took a seat and waited.  She was good, he thought, trembling with genuine dread of what was to come, she was so good!

Harry looked up as he heard her footsteps crossing the hallway.  She was coming for him!

“I didn’t invite you to sit down!  Didn’t your mother teach you any manners.  Now, stand up!”

“I’m sorry” he stammered.

“Sorry?  Sorry?  Is that all you can say?”  Now she stood before him holding the pretend letter in her hand.  “Do you know what this letter says?”

“Yes, miss!” he whispered.

“Yes, indeed!  And you know what I said you would get if ever I had another complaint from school?  Don’t you?”

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