The first time she had seen Mikes place Janie had looked at the kitchen bench and had evil wicked thoughts about being bent over it and being spanked. In the past few months since she moved in, he had taken her over his knee, in the lounge room, in the bedroom, bathroom and even the patio, but the kitchen had been off limits. She always wondered why that was.

"Do you know why I have not taken you in-hand in the kitchen?" It seemed like he was reading her thoughts again.

"No Mike"

"Well this is your domain and I didn't want to see you disrespected in it. However, seeing as you have disrespected me, I feel it is only fair to spank you on the very bench that you prepare meals for me on, fair enough?" His explanation seemed to make sense, but if she agreed, she knew that this would be no ordinary spanking.

"Yes Mike," she knew that she would just have to take what ever he dished out ... after all, isn't that what I'd pushed for? He leaned over and opened the drawer next to her, pulling out a long flat solid wood spatula.

"This is what my Nonna used for spaghetti sauces; I've always wondered what it would sound like on human flesh," he was kneading her right cheek with his left hand, pinching the flesh and making it very warm.

She sunk deeper and deeper into a hypnotic state as he played with the flesh on her cheeks. Calmly she stayed put as he had instructed. The spatula was laid on the bench next to her so she could see it. Pat, pat, pat ... the rhythm of his hand on her bottom started slowly and brought her to a deeper hypnotic state. Pat, Pat, PAT, Pat, Pat, PAT, pat, pat, PAT .... Each third one seemed to come down harder on her right cheek, continuing until she could take no more... the third stroke got harder and harder until all of them seemed to be the same ... SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK! She could take no more and her knees began to jiggle, making her bum wobble in the process.

His hand lay on the small of her back pushing her ass up to meet his hand as he punctuated every word. "I SMACK! ...told SMACK! ...you SMACK! ...to SMACK! ...stay SMACK! ...put SMACK! ...and SMACK! ...not SMACK! ...MOVE! SMACK!" She began to whimper her right cheek now blazing red-hot. It was not long until the same rhythm started on the left cheek ... Pat, Pat, PAT, Pat, Pat, PAT, pat, pat, PAT!; each third one getting stronger - only this time it did not take as much to make her knees jiggle. Janie knew what was coming ... Smack! Smack! SMACK! SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK, SMACK!

By the time Mike had warmed up, both cheeks were red hot and blazing. He wanted so much to use the spatula,
"Brat, what are you going to do next time I say ‘tea?'"

"Go and make one?" her voice broke slightly as she held back the tears welling inside her.

"Of course you won't! But then if I do this you might remember who the boss is!" He picked up the spatula and Janie stiffened on the bench. His hand immediately shot to the nape of her neck and twisted her long hair in his fist. Her bottom stuck up as her belly pushed into the now warm bench. She tried to pull against him - but like a bridled horse, there was no escape. His grip was too tight and she knew that to fight it would only mean more swats. The first one came down on her right cheek, SLAP!; she caught her breath - it stung so much, not like his hand at all!

The next one came down on the same cheek SLAP! And the next SLAP! And the next SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!SWAT! SWAT! SWAT! Janie shifted weight from leg to leg, his hand still holding her tightly in place, her cries muffled by her gritted teeth. Mike lay the tool down and Janie relaxed a little, his hand smoothed over the now-very-welted skin,
"Hmmm interesting ... I think I have seen this before somewhere?" He seemed to be in a world of his own now - the discipline was secondary to his memories ... Memories of his Nonna cooking with the spatula. Nonno coming in from the smoke house to find her stirring one of her famous Napoli sauces... smells of his youth flooded him, as he ran his fingers over the familiar welts... He was hiding in amongst the grapes, Nonno hadn't seen him as he walked right under him ... the glass doors provided a perfect view, as Nonno took Nonna and bent her over the kitchen bench ....

Janie knew not to move, even though he had stopped, he was not finished. Mike picked up the spatula again and pushed her down on the bench hard. The swatting started furiously, SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! She jiggled, and shifted weight from leg to leg, her cries now loud yelps of pain, coming from deep with in her ... He continued swatting SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! "Do you want more, I know you do ..." it was as though she had no say in the conversation that he was having ... "here it is the big spatula just for my little brat!" Memories of his Nonno, spanking his Nonna on the kitchen bench mixed with what he was doing as he brought Janie to the peak, SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Janie yelled out a final guttural moaning cry that echoed through the kitchen, the cry of a woman released from pain,
"Oh, Oh, OH, OH, OH ...MY ...FUCK ...OHHHHH! AHHHHHHH!!!!" she collapsed onto the floor and Mike placed the spatula back on the bench, scooping her up in his arms and holding her like a baby, he sat on the nearest chair and cradled her, gently placing her very raw bottom on his lap as she cried, and cried and cried...

It seemed the spatula had had a long and illustrious tradition with in his family - and the kitchen, well that was the perfect setting for a good hard spanking!