“Get to my room, now!”

Martin, hanging his head with the embarrassment of being caught, bent down to reach for his jeans.

“Oh no you don’t!  Just leave them there.”

Turning, he started hobbling in the direction of Tandy’s bedroom, pants around his ankles. Behind him, he could hear the click of her heels on the hardwood floor as she followed.

“Now you tell me, little man,” she continued as they preceded down the narrow hallway, “just what you think you were doing in that bathroom. I have warned you, time and again, about touching yourself without permission.”

“I’m sorry, Miss Tandy, I promise I won’t do it again.”

As he turned into Tandy’s bedroom, he could see that the new wooden hairbrush and well-used riding crop were already placed in the center of the bed.

“You know what to do. Get in there.”

He shuffled over to the bed as best he could, then stood with his hands to his side as Tandy moved around him to sit on the edge of the bed, her red skirt riding up to stretch taut across the top of her thighs. He couldn’t help himself. At the sight of her perfect legs, the womanly spoon of her lap, he felt his prick swelling. Tandy noticed and laughed, slowly moving her head head back and forth.

“Don’t even think about it, Martin. Here, put this on, because I am not touching that thing.”

She handed him a thick rubber band, pointedly looking away from his groin area. As he started winding and rewinding it around the base of his cock, Tandy ran her hands across her lap a few times and shifted on the mattress, as if preparing herself.  “I’m so disgusted with you, I might make you wear that rubberband to the restaurant later,” she said, tossing her long blonde hair.  He knew he was going to get spanked and that he was not going to cum.

“Three spankings for you today, Martin, three! One with the hand, one with the rod, and one with the brush. Now get over my lap.”

The rubber band tightly in place, Martin complied, his rigid but useless organ sliding between the softness of Tandy’s thighs.

Tandy rubbed his bottom and cooed, “Such a tender little bottom.  Why, oh, why can’t you behave?”

Staring at the carpet beneath him, hearing her deep intake of breath, feeling her body tense and flex as she raised her arm, he braced himself.

“Have you been a bad boy?”

“Yes, Miss Tandy, I have been a bad boy.”

Then the sharp sting of her hand was upon him.