Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Angry mom or teacher

I love doing domestic or school role play. To me it's so easy to step into the role of a mother who's just found out her darling son has gotten into trouble at school. Or the teacher who has caught him smoking, or acting up in class, or drinking. Offenses that a old-fashioned authority figure would HAVE to nip in the bud quickly with some discipline, right?

It's also a good excuse to give it to the poor boy HARD. Not "I forgot to do my homework" or, "I was late for school." REAL over-the-top offenses (of course I mean the fantasy version of "real") that must be answered with REAL over-the-knee punishment.

So what's a serious offense vs. one you might still punish someone for, but not as hard? Maybe cheating on a test vs. forgetting to study for a test... cutting school vs. being late for school... bullying someone vs. standing up for oneself in a fight. Stealing... smoking... drinking... having sex with the dog. OK, just kidding about the last one (I hope I never have a sub admit to THAT!).

One man I topped said he had misbehaved by putting gum in the girls' hair at school. I found that one hard to role play, because his character was acting like he didn't understand why that was wrong. He was acting like it was no big deal, whereas in real life a kid who did that would have a lot of very angry girls after him ... yes, maybe that WAS his goal, but still... it wouldn't be someone I would LIKE very much had I encountered him in real life.

I think I like to feel, when playing, that the character I'm topping is still a likable person, even though he's done something wrong and needs learn a lesson. This type of play, however, really lets me let loose. I can yell, slap the man's face when he mouths off, grab his hair, etc. I can also spank as hard as I like, strap as hard as I like or paddle as hard as I like.

It's a very scary type of scene if you're the one getting the punishment. But that's exactly what certain boys need, over and over and over...

8 comments:

Bad_Boy_Davy_Ouch said...

I like you have a passion for maternal strict spankings. The offence does not have to be major as you can give different intensity spankings for the degree of seriousness. But always over the knee should be the focal point. This is what a naughty boy needs for focusing.

Ms. Cassandra (Sandy) Park said...

Yes, I like administering OTK spankings, and like holding the bad boy in place.

So... I see you started a blog a while ago. Are you still writing?

Ms. C

otktommy said...

Glad there are ladies like you out there..I love the domestic situation..bad report card,curfew violation,not doing chores,,,always handled with severe OTK spankings..I've always needed them and probably always will.They keep me in check..Thanks

Ms. Cassandra (Sandy) Park said...

Oh, yes, those behaviors certainly must be nipped in the bud before they get too out of hand. I hope YOU don't do anything like that...

otktommy said...

OW..Love your blog Ms.Cassandra.I'm guilty of some of these things..been a bit lazy lately and have been very lax with chores and a messy room.Think I know what might be needed.

Ms. Cassandra (Sandy) Park said...

well, Tommy, it's time to come report for your spanking, don't you think?

otktommy said...

Yes Maam,i do. It's the one thing that would make me mend my ways.I am located on the west coast about twenty minutes from Disneyland. I was reading more of your blog and i noticed you reside in Bklyn.Do you ever get out this way.. I wish I was reporting to you right now,and standing in front of you while you sat in a chair an scolded me before administering a severe OTK spanking.

markedman said...

"It's a very scary type of scene if you're the one getting the punishment. But that's exactly what certain boys need, over and over and over..."

Truer words were never spoken:

The sun was coming up as we were coming down, sitting in Paddy Boy’s jacked up red GTO parked in front of Nick’s Market, waiting for the Victory Bakery truck to stop buy so that we could rob some breakfast out of the back of the truck.

Mrs. Cole was up too, except she was waiting for the paper to accompany her morning coffee and breakfast. As she looked out the window for the boy who brought her morning paper, she saw two of the neighborhood boys each bring out a handful of baked goods from the back of the truck idling in front of the store on the corner.

A life of crime was definitely not on the agenda for these two neighbor hoods, she chuckled, their smug grins completely unknown to the fact, that they’ve just been caught in the act. What should be on the agenda for this pair is a couple of close encounters with my strap to guide them back onto the path of righteousness and right, she smiled.

They weren’t bad kids per se, the ‘neighbor hoods’ that is, which is how she thought of them. They were more like a throwback to the old Dead End Kids movies from the 1930’s; Angels with dirty faces. Given the parenting skills exhibited to her in the neighborhood, it was something of a surprise to see such a brazen assault on common sense. Perhaps they were not getting enough of 'it'.

‘It’ of course, or rather “Getting It” was in the local parlance, the reason behind those sweet malicious sounds that she occasionally encountered from a nearby window, as she walked home from the bus stop in the evenings. She welcomed the familiar yelps and walloping thwaps that came from a belt meeting bare flesh. They spoke to a neighborhood that would be relatively safe and secure, particularly for a single woman commuting to and from The City at all different hours due to the dictates of her job in publishing.

She had left teaching more than a decade before when the political correctness of the dawning era began to interfere with her ability to control her own class room with a paddle as necessary. While her current employment does not instill the feeling of accomplishment achieved by seeing a class of young men and women successfully prepared to head off to college or begin life as an adult, the pay was certainly better and editing texts still allowed her to impart her knowledge and wisdom of the written word. She also was still able to paddle the occasional errant fanny, as she offered professional disciplinarian skills on the side to those adults who still needed and craved the occasional ministration of corporal skills.

In this little burgh of the city, it seemed that corporal punishment was more the rule than exception, for all crimes great and small, real or imagined. As a true believer in the powers of the paddle and the strap, she thought it could be much worse for these young men and women, as ending up on the wrong of society and the law in life could be a lot more painful.

Mrs. Cole reached her “Enough is Enough point” a few days later following sustained, subsequent bagel heists and what confronted her as she was taking her trash down to the basement of her building. N sooner had she opened the heavy door to the basement, than she was enveloped with the strong sickly sweet scent of marijuana and the sight of Mark, one of the bagel thieves from the other morning, with his hands buried deep below the underwear waistband of one of the local girls, probing between her thighs.

Shrieking "Not in my house!" Mrs. Cole loudly threw the bag of trash to the floor, which more than startled the in-artfully amorous pair.

“You pull your pants up and get out and go home”, she pointed to Cheryl. “Now” Mrs. Cole barked! “And you”, she pointed at Mark, “You stay!”

Cheryl quickly scattered and wobbled from the room before she had pulled her pants completely up, while Mark stood there, pants down to his knees with a rapidly shrinking male member. The room was quiet after the heavy door slammed following Cheryl’s rapid escape. But it wouldn’t stay quiet for long.

“Give me your belt Mark. Give it to me right now if you really know what’s good for you!” Mrs. Cole tersely exclaimed as she held out her open hand expectantly waiting for his belt to fill it.

The smirking bravado of the other morning’s caper in front of the store was nowhere to be found on Mark’s rapidly blushing face. He felt stupid and, foolish, standing there with his pants gathered around his knees looking across at the angry glare of one of the professional women who had moved into the neighborhood about a year ago.

He barely knew her enough to say hello as she walked home from the bus stop past the corner store where he hung out with his friends. Now here he was standing like an idiot with his pants bunched around his knees with her asking for his belt. “Get fucked!” he angrily thought “I’m out of here” and reached down to pull up his jeans and leave. “Look lady, I don’t know you lady, and I don’t owe you and I don’t want to know you” he hissed.

“You hold it right there Mister, you don’t know me, but I certainly know you!” I know your parents would whip your bare-ass silly if they had any idea of where you are and what you were doing down here with that young lady, or how you have been sneaking out to hang out all night with that young punk Steven from around the corner and robbing that bakery truck. I know that you smoke pot and that you are trespassing, when you somehow broke into my basement and could have given all the old people in this building a heart attack if they came down here and found you.

I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you, and I don’t think you are that bad of young man or as tough as you portray yourself to be with that band of street urchins you surround yourself with on the corner. So I’m going to give you a very simple choice this evening. I can either call the police, and your parents and the fellow who owns the store on the corner, or we can take care of this business right here, right now, after you give me your belt.”

“Decisions, decisions. Jesus. Man, who do I get myself into this stuff”, he thought to himself while his eyes darted all around the basement looking for a way to get out of this situation. “Definitely do not need the cops involved in this” he thought. “Damn!” He was hoping to head off to the Navy after his birthday in November to get away from all of this and did not need a record, although some of his friends had albums. “Shit! And if my mom finds out about all this my ass would be grass”, especially now that she recently graduated from The Belt and has taken to using an extension cord to keep order with her older sons.

“Damn!” he thought again as he started unlooping his belt from his jeans, “ I mean like how bad could this be, I mean she’s just a chick, and just a library chick at that. And who knows, she might like spank me just right like Mrs. Graple used to do, and I still jerk off think about being over her knee. ”

“Surrender, sweet surrender”, she thought! Your ass is mine and it will be sore and you will be crying as I make it sore!” No sooner had he straightened up to sheepishly place his belt in her open hand, when her other hand swiftly slapped his face with a loud crack! “When I tell you to do something, you do it when I tell you to, understand?” she coolly hissed. “You leave those pants down and hobble over to that table and lay yourself across it, as you are obviously a little more than over due for a close encounter with The Belt.”

“How bad could this be was pretty bad, the badest he’d had in a long while. I mean OUCH!” Mark didn’t think anything could ever hurt more than being whipped with a folded extension cord, but then again he had never been given a strapping by Mrs. Cole either. She was relentless and way too practiced. He was glad at least that the Co-op building was ancient and that the walls were thick and that most of the residents were seniors, because she had him screaming and hollering like a baby as she lashed into his poor unprotected bottom with a fury who would have never guessed her capable of.

And she would not let up, even as he bagged and pleaded and with her to stop as the tears began welling up in his eyes, but she wouldn’t stop. Sure she started out with very crisp and measured strokes which he kind of liked, in a sick way, while she kept telling him through her gritted teeth that she was “just giving him what he deserved and needed to put his head on straight.”

When it really began to hurt and he kept trying to twist and turn his body away from the swinging leather strap in her hand, she grabbed his wrist and yanked his arm up behind his back so that he couldn’t move away from getting hit with the belt, at least without having his arm broken.

Once she had him pinned down on the table she coiled Marks folded wide black belt tightly around her hand and unleashed a furious fusillade of lashes on his red and bruising bottom that made him gasp loudly. While Mark’s tearful cries and pleas punctuated loud slapping sound of the well landed strap she secretly began enjoying this. All of the tensions of the day released on one a very deserving bare-bottom, “this will do us both some good” she snarled out of the corner of her mouth.

…and it did and continues to do so. For while climbing up on the toilet to examine his very bruised and welted bottom in the bathroom mirror the following, he was reminded of some very valuable lessons: first, never hang out with Steve all night smoking pot and robbing the Victory Bakers truck to feed the munchies; Second, definitely _do not_ break into the basement of Mrs. Cole’s building to get high and cop a feel off of Cheryl – even though she has long since married and has a handful of rugrats; and third and most importantly,_ do not ever_ swear at, or call Mrs. Cole a bitch when she is whipping your ass with a belt because she will turn the belt around in a flash and use the buckle end on you!

That last lesson I remains with me to this day, although I have had to unfortunately relearn it a couple of times. That is, on those occasions when I change out of the pin stripe suit and slip back into the old neighborhood to visit Mrs. Cole when I find that the world is too much with me and I Begin to lose my way.