Suzanna and I were both in our mid-twenties and this was our fourth date.  I’ll admit (perhaps, confess) to thinking the sort of thoughts I had a decade earlier when I was a novice with the ladies because of her influence on my psyche.  It was enough motivation to make sure my pad was like mother would approve of – clean and neat.  Of course, I had a couple of extra touches that Mom might think differently about in my bedside table drawer that would insure a fun and safe time.

The concert in the park was great and had been an absolute delight.  We had dinner in the park restaurant but Suzanna said we should walk a bit and then have dessert a little later.  Of course, I agreed not wanting to risk the good mood we both we in.  After a while we got some ice cream and were sitting and enjoying all.  It was then that the conversation got a little weird.

“So your mother was strict with you, Perry?” she said with a smile.  She said it like she knew the answer already.

“Mother was caring and loving but she had standards that I had to meet.”  It was an evasive sort of answer for I did want to admit all the details.  That question had immediately reminded me of a bull session I had back in college when I was buzzed.  Then I had said “Hell yes!  Mom was strict and busted my ass with her hairbrush so hard that it hurt for days.” to the guys who were also admitting similar things.

Suzanna was not satisfied.  She had that look that mother had when she was grilling me about stuff that I should not have done.  That look had been my downfall many times when I was an adolescent.  But that was ages ago but why was I feeling so very strange right now?  Suzanna certainly was not my mother.  My heart rate had accelerated, I was feeling hot and probably blushing to boot.  Something was surely weird.© YLeeCoyote

“Well, young man, tell me the truth.” she said very sternly just as her hand had dropped down to my crotch.  I was sure that she could tell that I was hardening as well as a mess of other stuff about how I was reacting.

I had to answer truthfully and directly.  “Yes. She was very strict and used her hairbrush to physically express her feelings.”  I could not actually say the simple truth that she spanked me with it.

Suzanna surely must have realized that she had transformed me.  “So, Perry, your mother spanked you good and proper with her hairbrush.”  I nodded.  She knew it for sure now.  Why was this making me feel weird?  Lots of kids get spanked by their moms and their dads.  It was ages ago that it had happened.

“You’re still a naughty boy at times, Perry, aren’t you?” she said calmly and sweetly.  I shuddered exactly like when I was a young teen and mother was getting to the bottom of things.  Both as to what had happened and then to roasting my bottom.

I did not say anything and I don’t think that I even nodded.  “I think we need to continue this in private.  Let’s go.”  With that she pulled me off the bench and started to lead me but thankfully not by my ear.  I followed docilely like I was under some sort of spell.

Suzanna grilled me like I was suspected of murder.  I soon confessed to having failed in several ways to have maintained a batch of stuff.  Naturally, the penalty was to be spanked.  To be spanked – here and how – good and hard – by her.

It was even worse than when mother spanked me.  Mom just pulled down my pants and waited until after I was over her lap to pull down my undies in the back.  Ma’am Suzanna was much more extreme.  I was required to stand still as she stripped me to my birthday suit.  It was horrible as she removed item after item of what I was wearing.  Once I was starkers, she sat on the couch and I was positioned over her lap.

Ma’am started with her hand and spanked very hard for a long time.  I had plenty and thought she was done but that was not the case for that was just the warm up.  She had a big heavy hairbrush which she pounded away with on my poor bottom.  It was terribly effective and soon I was howling.  And then crying like a little boy.

I sure felt like a little boy.  When I stopped crying, I promised to be a good little boy forever and forever.  But the truth was more complex and I simply did not know where my head was at.

But Suzanna knew who she was and who I was for she continued with modifying me.  I was not happy with the changes at this point but I could not resist her in the least.  She got me standing in the bathtub and used the shower hose to get my pubes soaked and then wielded a prep razor to quickly reduce them to stubble.

I was sortta whining as she explained that little boys – like me – don’t have man hair.  At the same time she was doing more rinsing, applying shaving cream and doing a complete job leaving me as bald as a little boy.

A short time later she sent me home with the stern admonition “Perry be a good little boy or else.”

“Yes, Ma’am, I promise.” I replied as I left befuddled.

I was one very confused little boy and could not understand what had happened.  I hoped I would wake up in the morning and laugh as it had been just a dream.

In the morning I found that I was still a confused little boy with an aching bottom but without pubes.  I did not know how long this state would exist and that was troublesome.  A call from Suzanna quickly answered that question.  I discovered that I was helpless to resist her.