Mission, Christmas Tree:

Mark knew when he signed up that espionage missions do not take a break for the holidays. The world was full of ‘Red’ bad guys and sometimes in the case of the retired KGB agent had flowing long blond hair and even at middle age their bottom’s were shapely and noteworthy of his attention. Mark viewed the small patch of ten almost picture perfect Frazier Christmas trees in the wooded area. It was what he had been looking for all day, but right now he had other worries. He had not seen or heard from his the CTU team who had dropped him off almost two hours ago by helicopter in the rural snow-bound countryside of winter Russia. Mark set off on his mission while in contact with his mom, Marilyn Semones heading up the recon team. The former math teacher had shown in the past a willingness to put the mission’s safety ahead of her son the agent in the field. therefore she was highly trusted Moscow. Mark was not sure where the pre-arranged pick up spot was located and her tracking were never mirrored by command.

Mark knew from reconnaissance to take the two trees in the middle, although he knew it was the large capsule under that the spot he was to take and spend the rest of the daylight hours trying to find his team and the safe how near Moscow. He spent some time trying to decide which of the smaller trees were the best of the lot, and then got his axe out to chop down the two he had picked. He was bent over the first of the trees clearing the snow away from its base, when he became aware of someone else now almost standing beside him. Before he had a chance to stand up he felt a something hard smash into the back of his head and he lost conscious. Just mini-seconds before that he felt a rope sliding over his head, he knew that was not good.

When Mark woke up, he knew some time had passed as the sun was setting, and within a very short time it would be very dark. That was not the worst of his immediate concern. He found his hands and legs were tied to a sled that was being pulled slowly down a trail he was not familiar with by a person who knew the area much better than he did. His torso was also tied down, preventing any chance he had of rolling off the sled.

He yelled out. “Hey, what are you doing? Why am I tied to the sled. Let me go, I can stand up now.”

There was no response from the person pulling the sled, except for the two large dogs that had been accompanying the person. The dogs bounded back toward him and it was obvious by their snarling and threatening gestures, that he was in some sort of trouble. Exactly how much trouble he would not find out until he was able to talk to whomever was pulling the sled.

He saw the small cabin come in to his view about thirty minutes later. He had been told this area on the mountain was deserted for many years, so the cabin was a complete surprise. The sled stopped moving and the person disappeared in to the cabin. Soon Mark could see smoke coming from the chimney, something that at least told him he may have a chance to get warm, as the air outside was now getting cold.

He yelled again. “Hey, whoever you are. Are you going to leave me out here to freeze to death? Let me loose. Please, just untie me and we can talk this out.” He was starting to worry exactly what the person would do as he was completely at their mercy.

He saw the door open and the person came near his feet. “No noise. No talk.” That was the only words he heard said before the person raised up his snow pants and long underwear to jab a needle into a vein in his leg.

Mark passed out within a few minutes, but not quite before he felt his feet being set free. He struggled to kick at the person, but they easily avoided his clumsily kick and stood back until he had fallen more under control of the whatever drug they had administered. He did hear the person say one thing before he passed out completely. “You no worry. You not freeze.”

Mark had no idea of how long he was asleep, but a glance out one of the two windows in the cabin told him it was now completely dark outside. There were two small lanterns shining in opposite corners, giving him just enough light to make things out. He found he had been completely stripped of any clothing and his hands and feet were bound, except this time he was tied to a heavy duty chair that had him positioned so his upper body was sitting up on about a forty-five degree angle. He tried to move his arms and legs, but any movement was limited to about three inches in any direction. He saw a shadow over by the stove area now apparently cooking something that at least smelled good. Mark found the sheet that covered his body up to his shoulders did keep him fairly warm, and the food smell made him hungry, but the worry about his personal safety was now his main concern.

Mark spoke again, this time trying to keep his voice and tone under control. “Who are you? What do you want from me? You have taken my wallet, my watch and anything else I had when I was out cold, so what do you want?”

The person turned toward him and for the first time Mark could tell whoever it was, the person was a middle age female with a Russian accent and spoke poor English. It was obvious to him the lady, if he could call someone like her a lady, was not interested in make-up or a hair style out of the latest magazines. She came closer and Mark was pleased in her appearance. She had long flowing golden blond hair and the most mouthwatering bottom at her age in her blue jeans that Mark had ever seen. The playboy style agent much like James Bond wanted to reach out and spank it like he had seen 007 do in the spy movie, Goldfinger. Now he wanted to just reach out and spank it.

My name is Charlotta and I am a KGB Agent. She spoke in a terse alto voice. “Don’t want your money, watch, or anything to do with cheap axe. It no good up here. that Vladimir, her boyfriend blabbed to save his ass at CTU about my insurance policy. This is something and keep me from disappearing off the face of the earth. You need not worry about your friends. I know where they will start looking for you at daylight. You no worried, they will find you alive. Now time you answer questions.”

Mark nodded. He now knew her name and a Russian Agent, but he was in no position to argue. “What is it you want to know?”

“Why you dig up my Christmas trees? They are Frazier Furs and quite valuable in Moscow. The capsule under the snow is mine and you were going to steal it.”

Mark gulped as Charlotta’s round bottom was bent over in front of him which caused his joy to rise in his pants at the pictorial sight. throwing caution to the wind he spanked her blue jean-clad butt HARD!

Charlotta grabbed her bottom, then turned her attention to the naughty spy-boy. She clenched the brown hair on his head and pulled hard with her hand making a fist. “One should not spank. Did not your parents teach you good manners? Never spank, it is bad.”

To say Charlotta smiled was almost true, except he did not know if it was a smile or something else too sinister to think about. “Of course you will pay for trying to steal the capsule. Right now we eat, then you pay.” the blond rubbed her bottom where Mark had spanked her. then she brushed her long blond hair out of her face and went toward the stove and put whatever she had been making into a large bowl. Picking up a small wooden spoon she came near him. It was obvious she was going to feed him.

Mark grimaced, wondering what ever she could have cooked up. “What is that?”

The Russian spy grabbed his hair again and indicated for him to open his mouth as the spoon full of stuff was already up by his mouth. “No talk. Eat now, We talk later.”

It was the twenty third of December very close to Christmas. Marilyn Semones like most mom’s the bond to her son strengthened and her heart brightened at this time of year. Mark’s safety became her most important, although it secret objective as she sat in front of her computer and manipulated satellites, drones and gathered intel.

It all had started at J’s a restaurant with checkered tablecloths and distinctive red roof like Pizza hut had in the seventies. I remember it well because my former algebra teacher came up to the table where I was eating with Mark and said hello. I remember it well I was wearing my short white tennis skirt with my legs crossed that were lightly kicking up beside the table. Well, the sight confounded Marty and he blurted out. “You are looking fine.” Poor boy, he was tongue tied. That was his way of launching into a new career for me not an algebra teacher, but as an analyst tracking my son the spy on his missions along with other assignments. All was well until Christmas Time rolled around and I had a brain fart!

So, here I was at the Christmas Party on the afternoon on the twenty third of December waiting for retribution from Marty who had recently arrived aboard his private plane at the spy school secretly hidden in the Savannah Lakes Resort and the modern strand bridge that went Savannah. The CTU Director and our art benefactor had not left the confines of the Head’s office. When suddenly, I heard such a clatter and I got up to see what was the matter. The door opened and the art collector who had used his some of his prized pieces to found a state of the art spy school. a working organization and my former student had hired me to run logistics for his operations. I must admit it felt kind of funny to be working for my former student. I had taught him algebra in high school just a few years ago. Hard times called for desperate measures, so when Marty made me an offer I couldn’t refuse our roles reversed and he became my boss. For security purposes only I knew his real identity.

He had made a fortune as a buyer and seller of rare art. now I was about to have my bottom bared for my endangerment of the team. It beat getting fired, although I still would get beat! the renown art collector had been my student I capriciously ignored his direct order and he was mad at me. Feeling more like a student than an adult I entered the Head’s office where unknown to me awaited my comeuppance. The moment of truth had arrived. I squirmed nervously as I sat in the chair in front of his desk. as I looked around everything from Warhol to Rembrandt to Picasso Art, all which ringed the room. As I was soon to find out being an adult wouldn’t make any difference in my current situation. After a brief discussion with my boss stared at her me in disbelief as I looked for relief, yet to my horror found none. I wished I had treated the art collector with a little more respect. I had gone against his wishes.

Marty opened his briefcase and retrieved a ruler length red painted long wood paddle. Actually it had been mine before the schools abolished corporal punishment and I let them auction off one of the tools of my trade. It was my opinion discipline in the classroom suffered after I could no longer paddle students. The school had raised money with an auction and the art collector must have Bought it. Why had he taken it out, I wondered? Given the party going on in the outer office, I wondered if he wanted me to autograph the paddle that had lit up his butt!. My eyes went wide with surprise and disbelief as I saw the long wood Radford red painted paddle as the art collector pointed at me. My goodness, he planned use it on my backside!

Surely Marty couldn’t be serious about using my school paddle on me!” I know I must have looked frantic as I pleaded for a reprieve, but none was forthcoming.

Me, the former teacher known as Ms. Semones was about to be paddled. Thirty Six or not I had breached mission security and disobeyed chain of command while carrying out my duties as a senior analyst. My still firm at thirty six years-old bottom trembled under my white tennis skirt as I was lectured like a naughty girl at Christmas by Santa.

Marty sat and guided me toward his lap. “There is a benefit to you being paddled. Being my former teacher saved you once and you did not appreciate my efforts. Therefore, Ms. Semones I will deal with your deeds in the manner the spy school has prescribed for acts of belligerence.”

I soon found myself bent over Marty’s lap. I felt my short white tennis skirt rise above my bottom. My taunt round white bottom clad in my white panties which were now on display.

I shuddered and felt goose bumps developing on my skin under my tennis panties. Next, I felt my boss’s hand slide under the elastic bands holding everything in place and scrape the top of my butt crack. Marty, the man of the mountain tugged my pantyhose and her brief flowered white cotton tennis panties down off my bottom and down my legs.

There I was, Ms. Marilyn Semones with my bare bottom in the air as I wiggled and kicked my legs and even waved my hands about in front. I started to display a strong burst of independence by pushing myself up and off her Marty’s lap even though I knew in my heart that it would only make my spanking with my own red painted long wood paddle worse.

Marty, my former student now in his authoritarian capacity as my boss pushed me down and grabbed one of my wrist, trapping it in my lower back. “Just a minute, you hold it right where you are, Ms. Semones. Where do you think you are going? If you continue to struggle, I guarantee this will be much worse then what I have planned.”

“Okay, I will stay down. Please don’t make this worse.”

Crack! The paddle landed and the former math teacher was stunned as the wood met bare skin and sunk into her offered rear that trembled in abject fear.

Before I had have been Ms. Semones the teacher, but now I just moaned in growing anguish as the burn in my bottom began to grow exponentially. I bit the back of my hand to keep from squealing. The last thing I wanted was for my cries to be heard in the adjacent outer office intersecting hallways outside the Head’s office.

Marty who had founded the spy school used a flick of his wrist to have the paddle do its job, letting his senior analyst know this was serious business. He did not appreciate being called to the spy school to spank a an employee who had gone rogue. he told me since I was unable to follow the established protocol he would roger me after my spanking with the red painted long wood paddle. After she had delivered around two dozen with the paddle, I began to wish I had not paddle his bent over my desk butt, so hard, but he made me real mad when I decided to count notebooks to help Marty and his was incomplete. All that being said my ongoing paddling had not yet broken me. I saw in my former algebra student’s eyes that was about to change. Still the art lover had not heard a feminine squeal nor seen me shed a tear of contrition that would acknowledge my act of disobedience that had endangered the mission. Marty continued the paddling now concentrating on my upper thighs and lower butt cheeks that were already red. The additional smacks make the area appear light bright red lollipops.

The paddle swats were firm and focused as I tried to remain stoic. SPANK! WHACK! SPANK! SWAT! Yelps replaced my surreal moans while the occasional tear was replaced with full fledged waterworks.

The combination of the wood stinging paddle plus the multiplier effect of series of spanks equated in a rain of tears as my rear was scorched. I began to realize that without the baby fat on my bottom I had inadequate protection from the deep tissue bonfire that burned in my butt. Bright red with dots of fiery agitated blisters best described the current state of this former teacher’s rear. If the other teacher could have seen me in my current paddled condition perhaps they would have felt sorry for my poor flame Kist bottom and dear me!