Caught Self-Spanking

My knees wobbled. "I...I want it to be like in the drawings," I whimpered, "Every smack as hard as you can, no holding back."

"And...one more thing, Keith," Pamela reminded me.

"And...and....please spank me bare bottom."

Walking towards me, Pamela reached out to hug me. As we embraced she whispered in my ear, "Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this?"

Placing my head in her shoulder, my voice muffled, I told her, "Yes, please turn fantasy into reality."

Pamela gave my bottom a quick pat with her hand, then released me from the hug. "If you are really sure, then hand me the wooden bathbrush. But once you do, there is no turning back," she said with a strict cackle in her voice.

Feeling the weight of the decision, I slowly held the brush out. Pamela took the brush and looked me straight in the eye. "Alright, Keith. This spanking is about to happen. I hope you know you are not going to be having any fun over my knee. Now...slide those shorts off...Bare your bottom."

Trembling, I put my hands along the waistband of my shorts and slid them down. I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement. This was it. The moment I'd dreamed of.

Pamela then took my arm and marched me back to the bedroom, the brush firmly in her other hand. The walk down the hall felt like an eternity, each step faint in my ears.

Pamela's eyes were steely as she lead me into my room. "Remember, Keith," she giggled, her voice laced with a hint of sadism. "This isn't going to be like the gentle taps you gave yourself. This spanking is going to be very hard, and it is going to hurt. This will be no self-spanking."

Pamela sat down on the edge of the bed, her expression filled with determination. She pat her lap, her hand firm and steady. "Come on, Keith, over my knee." The reality of the situation was front and center.

Struggling mightily, I slowly lowered myself over Pamela's knee. Moving me into position, Pamela set the brush beside her on the bed.

Glancing to the nightstand Pamela saw the drawing I had taken out of the drawer prior to going to the living room. With a devilish grin, she scolded, "Your bare bottom is about to be as beet red as this drawing." She then tossed the drawing on the floor, right in front of me. "Stare at that while I paddle your bare bottom," she scolded further. "Isn't that what you do when you spank yourself? You look at these drawings, don't you?"

I could not answer, my face numb. I stared at the drawing, the woman's brush raised, ready to come down on the man's bottom.

Pamela's hand gently squeezed my cheeks. "Ready?" she asked.

With anxious trepidation I anxiously replied, "No...no...please...I can't...I can't."

Pamela's hand paused for a moment, "But Keith, you asked for this. No safeword, remember?"

"I know," I rushingly replied with great regret. "I just...I didn't think it would be this real."

Pamela rubbed the brush across my bare bottom. Her stern voice scolded, "Oh, it is about to get very real, Keith. Now, do you really want me to stop?"

With a solemn nodding of my head left to right, I replied, "No, please. I don't...I...don't really want you to stop. I want you to do it just as I asked you to. Please, don't stop no matter what I say."

Pamela then brought the brush down with no holding back and no warning, "As you wish, Keith."

I yelped as the brush connected with my bare backside, the pain much worse than from any smack I could give myself. My eyes squeezed shut, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out.

Pamela laughed, "I bet that smack was much harder than when you spank yourself, was't it?" Her tone was teasing, but there was an underlying firmness that told him she was enjoying wielding the brush as the smacks began to fall in earnest.

"OUCH OUCH," I yipped out in pain. The smacks were like nothing I'd ever felt before. The self-spankings I'd given myself had been a mere imitation, a shadow of the real thing. My bottom was on fire.

Pamela's arm brought the brush down again and again, each smack resonating through the room, painting my bottom a darker shade of red with every impact.

"Please, it hurts," I cried out, my body squirming in a futile attempt to escape the sting of the brush. But Pamela held me firmly in place, her grip on my waist unyielding.

"I know it does," she replied, her voice authoritative. "But you asked for this, Keith. You wanted the real thing, and that's what you're getting." She brought the brush down again, and again, each smack more punishing than the last.

My cries grew more desperate, as I was lost in the fantasy I asked Pamela to do for real.

The time seemed to crawl, each second feeling like an eternity as I endured the intense pain. I couldn't believe I was actually going through with it, that I actually asked my roommate to spank me so harshly.

Fifteen minutes later, the final smack lands with a deafening crack, sending a searing pain of agony through my body. My bottom was a fiery red from the relentless assault of the wooden brush.

"Alright, Keith," Pamela said. "We're done." She helped me off her lap, and I stood next to her bouncing up and down on my feet.

Looking at her, my eyes watering, I began to dance in place, rubbing my sore cheeks. "Ouch, ouch, ouch," I moaned, the sting from her spanking making it impossible to stay still.

Pamela sternly questioned, "Now wasn't that better than trying to spank yourself?" Her eyes sparkled with mischief, her own excitement noticeable.

"Yes, It was...It was...it was very painful."

"I told you it would be," she smirked, setting the brush down on the bedside table.

"I...I had no idea," I remarked back through the tears.

"That's what you get for living your fantasy," she said, her voice still firm but with a hint of kindness. "Now, go look in the mirror. You know you want to?"

Hobbling over to the full-length mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door, I turned to look at my bottom. It was a canvas of red and purple bruises, a stark contrast to my pale skin. I winced at the constant throb that seemed to pulse from my bottom.

"See?" Pamela said, "This is what you get when you ask for reality instead of a fantasy."

"It's...it's more than I ever thought it would be," I said, shaking my head. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. So...no more spanking yourself, okay? If you want this again, just ask me."

In shock, I replied to her serious comment, "Surely, you wouldn't again...I mean...You would...you...do it again?"

"Of course, Keith. If that's what you truly want, just ask," Pamela said with a wink, "and don't call me Shirley."