Disciplined by Ms. Irene Boss - Forums powered by UBB.threads™

Late last summer I was exhausted from work one Friday evening and began to fantasize about certain mistresses that I would love to session with one day. Of course I then began to surf the internet, and I landed on the web-site of Ms. Irene Boss. Checking her schedule, I was pleasantly surprised to notice that she would be attending the Domcon convention down in Atlanta come October. I immediately decided that now was my chance - that I needed to take the proverbial plunge and see if I could arrange a session with her.
Ms. Boss agreed to see me and I arranged to make the drive – fortunately not too difficult a trip. I had told her during my interview about some fantasies that I have even to this day about being paddled by my gorgeous fourth-grade teacher with whom I was hopelessly in love and I was certain that Ms. Boss would be able to provide just what I needed.
Now driving in Atlanta has never been one of my favorite activities and today would prove to be no exception. After a couple of brushes with death on I285 I finally managed to find the location of the convention, but when I finally arrived my nerves were already more than a bit frayed. I don't believe I'd ever been more nervous in my life that when I finally timidly knocked upon that door.
Now everyone knows that Ms. Boss is an extremely beautiful lady, but when viewing some of her videos I had formed an expectation that she would present a somewhat formidable if not downright menacing presence. I was therefore taken aback by the petite lady in a long dark dress with her long hair pulled back in a clasp who answered the door and beckoned me in with the sweetest of smiles. I felt better almost immediately, although I could not help but notice four rather large wooden paddles prominently displayed on a table in the entrance hall. Observing the fact that I was somewhat ill-at-ease, Ms. Boss suggested that I take a few minutes to compose myself before we discussed the reasons why I had been summoned to her.
It seemed that both my work ethic and my attitude had been becoming more of a problem each day, and that my teachers had come to Ms. Boss to see if she had any ideas on what could be done to improve my comportment. It turned out that Ms. Boss did indeed have some ideas. After a short recitation of some of my past ill-advised behavior, I was advised by Ms. Boss that corporal punishment had been decided upon as the punishment most likely to set me back upon the proper path. Almost before this could sink in I found myself restrained in a position that left my posterior in an extremely vulnerable state. I then began receiving strokes with a small leather paddle that fortunately did not seem likely to cause me too much distress at least so far. However I was warned that under no circumstance was I to mess with any of the knots that were tied in my restraints.
Ms. Boss next paused for a few moments in order to review a list of my transgressions so as to properly be able to adjudicate the extent of my impending punishment and what can I say, I'm just bad to the bone. I began making some pretty good progress on one of the knots, and when Ms. Boss noticed this let us just say that she became EXTREMELY annoyed with me. She hurriedly removed the bindings from my limbs, stood me up on my feet, pulled down my jeans, and proceeded to pull me directly over her lap for a good hand-spanking.
Now I know that this was supposed to be punishment, and I definitely felt it, but I had already been exactly right here in my dreams numerous times before, so I was more than ok with this at least for the time being. Ms. Boss, on the other hand, soon realized that this was not having the desired effect on me at all, and that what I really needed was to be introduced to her 'convent strap'.
Now this strap had been introduced centuries ago to be used by nuns, for nuns, and on nuns, and on whomever else was deemed to be in need of it (by the nuns). At this point the seriousness of my predicament finally began to sink in. My memories of the kinder/gentler Ms. Boss were fast becoming a thing of the past. Once again I was restrained, this time over a soft footstool, and I was forced to absorb stinging blow after stinging blow from this nasty implement right on my bare butt. What to do? The pain was mounting exponentially. No way would I EVER lose face by begging for mercy. Not ever. But after a couple more I’m thinking that maybe losing a little face isn’t really all that bad – after all, who would know? But thankfully Ms. Boss was really more interested in now moving on to a more traditional school room punishment.
I must tell you here that the worst was yet to come. I was actually taken hold of by my left ear and marched over to that same little table in the foyer, bent over it, restrained with my arms behind me to the point that I could not move a muscle, and sternly given a tutorial on each of the four wooden paddles in front of my face as well as a vivid description of what was about to occur. One was a classic Spencer paddle, one had the initials 'MIB' cut out of it so as to make an 'MIB' imprint on some unfortunate behind, another was a fraternity paddle with Greek letters emblazoned upon it, and the last one (Sandy), was the one that was reserved for only the most incorrigible. Solid oak. I got an extremely close look at Sandy and was informed that he would be saved for last.
Ms. Boss was of the opinion that perhaps fifty from each would be a good place to start. I soon felt one of Sandy's pals being rubbed sensuously across my right cheek followed by the words 'Brace yourself' and I knew I was in for it.
Fifty strokes later I was lying in a pool of my own sweat and wishing I were someplace other than in the state of Georgia. Ms. Boss was kind enough to swab my face with a cold wash-cloth, and for a brief moment I thought that maybe she was feeling a bit sorry for me. But alas the relief was to be short-lived. All too soon would come another fifty and then even another fifty from each of Sandy's friends. Ms. Boss was in no mood to waste time, and there was just barely enough of an interval between each stroke for her to announce the count before the next one arrived. My poor butt was absolutely on fire, and I believe at this point I desperately started trying to blurt out some sort of apology to see if I could somehow defuse this situation, but it was just too late.
Fortunately for me however, or so I thought, Ms. Boss next decided that a little change-of-pace might be in order. She had been kind enough to pack one of her canes for this trip. Now to some there might be more pleasant ways to spend a Saturday afternoon than by being caned by Irene Boss, but at this point I was so relieved at having somehow by-passed Sandy that I really didn't care. I should be able to handle a little caning after what I'd just been through.
It is amazing how these harmless-looking implements can bite into one's flesh. I was positioned next to a mirror so that I could observe Ms. Boss as she began precisely delivering my strokes. She was down almost to my level and I was amazed at how effortless her swing was - almost a flick of the wrist, followed by a 'whoosh' followed by a 'crack' and then followed by me trying not to scream.
I was pretty much beyond being able to count at this point, so Ms. Boss counted the strokes for me - 25 on the left cheek, 25 on the right cheek. I would later notice what a tight little pattern they had been placed in.
Somehow I made it through this, and I must say that at this point I was clearly ready to promise Ms. Boss that I was a changed man - or basically anything else that she might have wanted me to promise. She was also kind enough to apply some first-aid to my poor tattered posterior at this time, along with some soothing words which I appreciated, and I was allowed to shower my sweat-stained body and to dress.
We then chatted for a bit (she is quite the Steelers fan) and I was feeling really good and about ready to take my leave when she said oh so sweetly 'But wait, we don't want to forget about Sandy do we?' ' Now I have to admit that I had not been overly enthusiastic about Sandy in the first place, and I couldn't help but start a little bit of whining now about how I thought we were done, and I asked if this were absolutely necessary and assured her that Sandy would be fine and would surely get over it, but Ms. Boss was very firm and said we always should follow through on what we say we will do. Fifty more!
ARGHHHHHH!!!!!! What followed was I believe the longest 50 seconds that I hope I will ever have to endure. Ms. Boss can be so kind - I was allowed to keep my jeans on for these (THANK YOU) although I did have to transfer my wallet from the rear up to the front pocket. Still, Sandy lived up to his/her billing and Ms. Boss's affection for him was clearly evident in her enthusiastic delivery. I do believe that each one of these was harder than the one before, culminating in number fifty which I could still feel a week later.
When it was finally over I think I tried to speak and all that came out was just a gasp. But it did finally end, and soon thereafter Ms. Boss and I went down to the convention floor where I meandered through some of the exhibits and sat in Ms. Boss's booth for a while and even tried to help out a little bit. I finally did have to depart though, and after a nice big hug I was gone. I was hoping to get a ways down the road towards home, but a certain part of my anatomy was throbbing and even seemed to be getting even worse. I decided that some relief was in order in the form of some quality time on my stomach on a nice soft bed with a cold beer in my hand and a football game on the tube, so I opted to find a room for the night. Boy did I sleep.
All in all it was a long trip but it was a wonderful trip - therapeutic for me in many ways. Ms. Boss can provide a powerful means of stress-relief if you can just live through it.
I do highly recommend it. It feels so good when it's over!

Regards to all……..DD

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