“I warned you, didn’t I!  Why is it that you can’t seem to get yourself up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom like all the other bois??”   I have once again found his bet sopping in the morning.  This was the last straw. At times I think he does it just to infuriate me.  Grabbing him by the wrist, I drag him into my bedroom.  Standing him in front of me, I strip every piece of clothing off him, wet pj bottoms and Underoos and all.   “If you think I am going to allow you to get away with wetting your bed night after night, you are sadly mistaken little boy.  You will learn – if I have to beat your defiance out of you ‘til you are bruised and welted, then I will.”   My hand goes up, and comes down on his bare bottom with a crack that rings through the air.  He flinches at the sharp stinging; a cry escapes from his lips.  Another and another spank comes down on his burning butt cheeks, each more painful then the previous.  Then with the next spanking, he feels his bladder give way.  The warm fluid feels soothing at first, but then….   “OH MY GOD!!!  I can’t believe you just did that!! You pissed on my lap?? Really?  Think you are being funny?? Well, I will teach you a lesson you will never, EVER forget funny boy!!”   With me at my boiling point, I stand him up, leaving him frozen in fear, standing there, urine still trickling down his legs, his tushie deep red and throbbing from the recent spankings, not knowing what to do.  I go in the other room, and come back with a pair of pink plastic pants.   “Come on little gurl, step in your piddling pants.”   With the plastic pants in place, I continue his spanking.  The pants were wet and hot and magnified the pain of the punishment exponentially, as well as his wails.   This was his initiation to this kind of spankings in the future.  From there on out, when ever he was bad, he was told to get his pink plastic pants and prepare for a good spanking.     And that is how the […]