In Roger’s Home

by Eileen

“Geez! This guy must be a certified OCD case,” Josey murmured to herself. It was her first time in Roger’s home and she felt a bit uncomfortable as she looked around. Every room was nicely furnished in a quiet, traditional manner and, supported by the weekly visit of a housekeeper, was kept immaculately clean. The apartment had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and showed Roger’s interest in interior decoration and his attention to detail. Well, she reminded herself, she wasn’t exactly a slob, but… “Geez! He’s a real perfectionist!”

Josey had known Roger ever since her older brother, Michael, had started grade school with him. They had all grown up in the small, middleclass neighborhood known as Aspen Heights. Michael had finished graduate school and moved away to follow his dreams in journalism.

Josey was now preparing to start her academic career at a university that was a two-hour drive from the home of her parents. Both her father and mother were concerned about her leaving until they learned that Roger, a close friend of the family, had recently earned his doctorate, and was a new instructor at the university. Her parents were thrilled to learn he lived in the community, and had immediately consulted with him and it was quickly decided that Josey would share Roger’s apartment and he would look after her. Because her parents had known Roger since he was quite young, they trusted him implicitly. And although he rarely displayed much humor, Roger did smile somewhat when Josey’s father handed him the wooden hairbrush that had been used on Josey until she was thirteen saying, “Well, Roger, you’re in charge now; and you may need this!” Josey’s cheeks had flushed scarlet with embarrassment.

Josey sighed, her small 5’ 3” frame fatigued, and she set down her suitcases in the foyer. So for now this was her new home. Her parents were relieved knowing that although their “baby” was leaving home, she would be under the care and supervision of an older, responsible friend of the family. And even though Josey understood their feelings, she felt a little insulted. Geez! She was a young adult now. The fact that her father had made a joke of giving the wooden hairbrush to Roger, as if anointing him to be her new disciplinarian, was almost unbearable.

However, everything went well until Josey left some books, pens, highlighters and an empty soda can on the kitchen table one afternoon shortly after school had started. Roger evidently thought this was a big deal.
His cool bluish-grey eyes had narrowed when he brought her things to the door of her room. Roger adjusted his glasses and used his hand to rake through his thick auburn hair, a gesture he repeated many times daily. “There is a desk in your bedroom, and that is where your books belong. I have placed the aluminum can in the recycle bin in the garage.”

Josey squirmed, unable to think of a single word to say. She couldn’t look anywhere near the direction of his 6 foot frame. She directed the gaze of her clear blue eyes down at the carpet, her shoulder-length blond hair draping forward. Geez! She should have at least done something with the soda can.

Roger sounded so stern. He was eight years older, but he was still only twenty-six. He wasn’t her father, for cripes sakes. Still, she would be more careful in the future. The thought of him putting her soda can in the recycle bin made her fidget with shame.

For the most part, Josey and Roger got along well. She learned that it was easier, less stressful, if she visited in her friends’ homes for a study group or socializing. When Josey brought her friends to the apartment, Roger seemed stiff; and she sometimes felt he was supervising them.

Once, Roger went so far as to interrupt her, and suggest an alternative snack for her friends. “Josey, why not offer your guests pretzels, orange slices and cider rather than freezer pizza rolls?” he asked as he removed the box of frozen food from her hand and returned it to the freezer. It was an easy matter, with Roger’s height, to reach the large bag of pretzels on the top shelf in the pantry; and then he directed Josey to slice some oranges and pour cider. There was no discussion. Roger simply made the decision. And as the months passed, Josey noticed Roger make more decisions, small things at first; then he began showing a more noticeable authority over her in a number of situations.

Josey tiptoed into the apartment at 10 p.m. and locked the door as quietly as possible. It was much later than the time she usually returned, and Roger would probably be reading in his bedroom or asleep by now. She didn’t want to disturb him; no, she was afraid to disturb Roger. Josey had an itchy feeling that he may be upset with the fact she had come home so late on a week night.

Cripes! She was a big girl; she had the right to go to a movie with her friends and come in late. Her mind was busy manufacturing her defiant justification when all of sudden Roger appeared in the hall outside her bedroom.

He was definitely not ready for bed. He was still wearing his work clothes including his dark slacks, pale blue dress shirt and striped tie. Josey stared at Roger. Why, she wondered uneasily, did he have the sleeves of his work shirt rolled up? Never mind that! Why, in heaven’s name, did he have his black leather belt folded over, and in the tight grip of his left hand? What is this?
“Oh, hi, Roger. Geez, you scared me…coming out of nowhere like that. What’s up?” asked Josey.

“Why don’t you tell me, young lady? Why don’t you tell me what’s up, Josey?” inquired Roger. He stood firmly in front of her, and the look on his face confirmed that he was quite serious.

“I don’t understand, Roger,” said Josey. “May I please get past you and into my bedroom? It’s late and I need to get to bed.”

“Yes, Josey, it is late. It’s past 10 p.m. Because you were not home by your regular time, 8 p.m., and because you left your cell phone behind, I was unable to check on your safety. I was concerned about your wellbeing at this time of night. Were you nowhere near a telephone, Josey?” Roger maintained his stance and did not step aside for her. Slowly he took Josey’s backpack and keys from her hands and placed them on the dining room table. He then quietly guided her into the living room.

“Please sit down, Josey. I think we need a serious discussion about keeping late hours and mutual consideration for each other,” said Roger. He sat in his favorite leather armchair; Josey had sat at the end of the sofa near the bookcase. She had an uneasy feeling, like waiting to see the dentist, a fear of the unknown.

“Yeah, Roger, I’m kind of tired, but we can talk. Hey! If you’re upset because I didn’t call to say I’d be out late, I’m sorry. Time just got away from me. I didn’t realize it was that late. I’ll be sure to call if it happens again.” Crap! She was pleading as if her life depended upon Roger accepting her apology. He was an older roommate, not her father. But sometimes he acted like her father. Like when he insisted she eat breakfast, brush her teeth at night; and what about when he asked her to pick up her bedroom?

“Yes, Josey. I know you have the best intentions to be a responsible roommate, but you often need reminders in that endeavor. Would that be an accurate statement, young lady?” Roger sat back in his chair, legs crossed, and his arm across his lap still holding that damn belt. He adjusted his glasses, ran his hand through his hair, and looked directly at Josey. “Answer me Josey; is it a fair statement that you frequently need reminders to maintain a conscientious, dependable relationship in your role as a roommate?”

Josey was astonished at Roger’s demeanor. This was more than the prying, nagging, perfectionist man she knew; this was a stern, intimidating Roger. She noticed for the first time the steel-grey color in the blue of his eyes, and he still grasped the belt in his left hand.

“I-I’m sorry, Roger. I j-just don’t know what to say. I guess it is true that I need reminders from time to time for things like picking up my room, unloading the

dishwasher, you know. So, yes, I guess you could say that I need reminders to maintain a relationship as a responsible roommate. And, again, I’m sorry. I promise to call you if I am out past 8 p.m. again. Ok?” Josey tried to force a smile, stood and started walking toward the hall when Roger spoke.

“I did not excuse you, Josey. This conversation is not over. Come back in the living room please.” His voice was calm and exacting .

Josey stopped, turned around and walked slowly back into the room.

“Come over here in front of me, please.” Josey stood motionless, looking down, a few feet in front of Roger. “Staying out late without notifying me to ensure your safety is punishable; it can be handled easily. The obvious fact that you need a reminder to maintain courtesy and accountability to me is another matter. It will take longer to manage.”

Josey stood still, her throat dry.

“You are going to be spanked this evening with 6 strokes of the belt across your bare bottom. That is not negotiable. I believe your parents would find this an appropriate punishment. Or would you prefer that I suspend your spanking until such time as I have discussed it with your parents?”

“No, sir, please. You don’t have to tell my parents about this.” And while she remained in place, Josey subconsciously, slowly crossed her arms behind her as if to protect her threatened bottom.

“But please, Roger….please don’t spank me with your belt. I know I was out late and it was irresponsible not to call you, but please,” Josey begged as tears started to well in her eyes. “I don’t think I could take that…and on my bare bottom, oh, please, no, sir. Pleeeaaasssee.”

“Quiet, girl,” was all he said in an unyielding tone. “I will take care of your punishment, and then we will discuss the reminders to help you maintain accountability and respect in this home.”

Josey’s head fell slightly forward in defeat; and she tried to hold back the tears that were threatening to wash down her cheeks.

Roger reached over for a low leather foot stool just on the other side of his chair. He placed the stool directly in front of the leather chair and looked at Josey.

“Josey, I want you to remove your skirt and kneel on the stool facing the chair. You are to bend forward and rest your head on the chair and then clasp your hands behind your head. Do you understand, Josey?”
“T-take off my skirt, sir? Oh, please, Roger,” Josey pleaded. “Please don’t make me remove my skirt…I just couldn’t. Please don’t ask me to do that. I promise I will never stay out late again, not ever, I p-promise.”

“Be still, Josey.” Roger’s eyes narrowed, the grey in them becoming more prominent. “Will you conduct yourself appropriately and accept your punishment as an accountable young woman, or do I need to make a telephone call and discuss the situation with your father? Tell me, Josey, which will it be?”

“Yes, but, Roger, please…don’t make me take off my skirt. Oh please, please, please….” Josey was nearly frantic with fear and continued to beg, feeling like a shameless child. She felt helpless at the thought of disrobing and exposing herself in only her panties for a spanking with his belt.

“Young lady, I have nearly lost all my patience. If you are a sensible young woman, you will stop this ineffective demonstration and behave in a more mature manner. Once more, Josey, do as I say. Remove your skirt and kneel on the stool facing the chair. Bend forward and rest your head on the chair, hands behind your head. Do it now, Josey,” exclaimed Roger in calm, even tone.

“Y-yes sir.” Josey unbuttoned her favorite denim skirt and slipped it down to her ankles; she slowly stepped out of the garment and placed it on the couch. Carefully she bent her knees and stationed herself on the stool while she lay forward over the chair. She then reached back and clasped her hands behind her head. Her breath was shallow, her heart beat racing. Although the position was not necessarily uncomfortable for her, Josey felt the shame and helplessness of her bottom being positioned in such a manner.

“Very good, Josey. Now, I am going to lower your panties down to your knees and we can start your punishment.”

“Oh, God, no! Please don’t do that….please, sir. I beg you, sir, please don’t lower my panties. Pleeeeaasee,” Josey pleaded once again, nearly horrified.

“Quiet, Josey!” Roger said in a stern voice, to which there could be no practical response.

Josey released a small whimper as she felt Roger’s hands delicately lower her panties to fully expose her buttocks and upper thighs. The air in the room was cool, and Josey felt strange and overwhelmingly vulnerable as it whispered softly around her upturned, bare cheeks. And for a moment time seemed to stop; and Josey knew that Roger was looking at her shapely, naked behind. She felt the intensity of his gaze upon her trembling bottom; and her facial cheeks reddened with embarrassment and humiliation. Josey wanted to cover herself, but she dared not move. The anticipation was both terrifying and stimulating, not unlike the exhilaration one feels slowly moving to the edge of a high cliff and peering down below.

“I want you to hold your position firmly, girl. Do not move. I will now administer 6 strokes of the belt.” And with that, Roger stepped to the right side of Josey, raised his arm and brought the belt down with great force on her quivering buttocks.

“Aaaaaggghhh!” Josey gasped in shock as much as in pain from the belt against her bottom.

Whaaapp! Again the belt landed making that sickening sound as it met Josey’s flesh; and again she cried out. “Owwwwww, ohhhh pleassssee! Please noooo more!”

Whap!! Whap!!

“Aaaaagghh!, Owwwwweee,” she screamed in pain and reached back to try and protect her bottom. Roger stepped forward and, taking her wrist, firmly placed her hand again behind her head.

“Hold your position, young lady. We are almost finished.” he said.  Josey stayed in the prone posture, yet with the force of each strike she rocked forward a bit, but never away from the reach of the strap. Josey squealed loudly as again he raised the belt; and for the fifth time it made its mark on her tender flesh. An ugly, one-inch wide, red stripe with faint lines at the edges clearly identified where the leather had struck.

Whapp!!! The final blow was even more painful than the others. “Owwwwwwww, oh, pleeeaaaseee!  No more, sir.  Plllleeeeaaassseeee.”  Josey cried out in submission and pain, her bottom turning a deep crimson where the belt had left testimony to its execution.

“Stay still, young lady.  We are finished. Be still and experience that burning sting as part of your punishment.”  Josey sobbed profusely into the chair’s cushion. Roger walked across the room and sat on the couch, clearly making himself comfortable as he observed Josey’s pain and embarrassment, while closely studying the evidence of his implement.

Josey’s humiliation was complete; she could feel Roger’s gaze almost as keenly as she felt his strap. “Please, please sir,” she begged desperately, “let me get up. Please. I promise to be really good from now on; I can change, sir.”

“Be still.” was Roger’s single, firm response. After about 15 minutes, Roger stepped over and purposefully raised Josey’s panties. Carefully he took her hands and helped her up, as she moaned with a pain she could not comfort, off the stool and up to her feet. Josey’s puffy, tear-streaked face was an illustration of shame and surrender; and with her face still pale, the redness of her cheeks shone even deeper. She gently reached back and, feeling the heat, tried to sooth her burning bottom.

“I’m sorry, Roger,” she sobbed.

“I know, dear. Please get dressed and then stand in front of me. I don’t think you want to sit on the couch at this time.” A faint, almost gentle smile lit his features. “Come stand before me, please, so we can complete this process. Then you can go to bed.”

“Yes, sir”. Josey slipped on her skirt and walked somewhat stiffly, attempting to protect her swollen bottom from any more pressure, and stood in front of Roger as he sat in his chair. He took a couple of tissues from a nearby box and giving them to Josey, he instructed her to wipe her face.

“Now, Josey, I have administered the punishment for your transgression this evening. There still remains the issue of reminders for you as we discussed earlier. Those reminders will begin this Saturday evening at 8 pm. At that time, Josey, you will present yourself in this room, as we are right now, with the exception that you will be in your pajamas and ready for bed…teeth brushed, face washed. I will take you over my lap, lower your pajama bottoms and panties down to your knees, and spank you soundly with my hand. It will be a thorough and painful spanking, Josey, make no mistake. This maintenance spanking will serve as your reminder and will be administered each Saturday evening, on a regular basis, and more frequently if I see a need. Do I make myself clear, young lady?” Roger sat back and met the gaze of Josey’s pretty, still tearful, blue eyes. He adjusted his glasses while still holding the belt.

“Yes, sir. If you say so, Roger,” Josey sniffled. “If you think a spanking every Saturday night is what I need to be more responsible and accountable, I guess that’s the way it will be. But please don’t spank me with your belt again,” Josey’s voice lowered to almost a whisper. “And…sir…does my spanking really have to be on the…on my…bare bottom, sir? It really did hurt badly enough without…”

Sitting forward in his chair, Roger looked directly into Josey’s eyes and interrupted her, “Look at me, Josey. Josey, your punishment is not meant to be merely painful. As your lack of responsibility created anxiety and loss of sleep, psychological and physiological aspects that affected me, so must your punishment be physically distressing and create emotional apprehension to be beneficial. I firmly believe that anticipating thorough, weekly spankings on your bare bottom, as well as a taste of the strap when indicated, will provide all the stimulation necessary to motivate you to become more responsible. If I find that this plan is ineffective, additional spankings can be added.

“Yes, sir, but please, Roger, please don’t tell my parents; I wanted so much for my parents to think I was mature and responsible. I guess I failed on both counts,” she said, starting to gently sob again.

“No, Josey, you have not failed. I have no doubt that, with the plan I have in place for you, improvement can be anticipated very soon. If you respond as I expect, I will not have a conversation with your parents. If you find it difficult to comply with my rules and your Saturday evening spanking, I will need to use the belt again, Josey.”

“Yes, sir,” Josey whispered softly.

“Very well then, child. I trust you now know how things are done in my home.”

“Yes, sir. May I be excused now? May I please go to bed?”

“Of course, Josey. Get ready for bed and I will come tuck you in shortly.”

“Yes, sir.” Josey walked away, and turning slightly, unable to suppress her adoration, quickly snatched another glimpse of her disciplinarian as she left the room.

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