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This story is fantasy fiction and deals with the spanking of a man who needs to learn a lot of things that he didn't understand in his previous existence.  This a continuation of Part 1 which must be read first.  The story contains scenes of spanking.  If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.


Strict Place – 2/2

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

Barrett Stephen Leyland was obsessed with the decrementing counter on his personal clock/calender which he was issued when he arrived for his new life.  When he started it was set at 10,000 days (27.4 years) and every time the thousands dropped he gave a quiet cheer (a loud one would surely have earned a spanking) for that meant his time was past another tenth.  Eventually it reached and past 1,000.  Then his mind set changed and each drop of the hundreds got his quiet little cheer as he saw the end approaching.© Y Lee Coyote

It was 0517, Tuesday, December 27 and Barrett Stephen Leyland was awakened by his alarm clock.  He slapped the off button and even if there had been a snooze button he would not have dared to use it.  He looked closely at the clock/calendar.  The incrementing counter was at 9735.  The counter that mattered – the decrementing counter – was at 0365.  Just another year to go in this dreadful place was his first happy thought in more than a quarter century.

That, however, was a particularly bad day.  His having to deal with wet sheets and shower made him miss breakfast.  The bus was late also so he was late for work.  Spanked at lunch time assured a terrible lunch scraped from the corners of the serving pans and then again back home spanked for wetting.  But still it was only a year to go he consoled himself.

That lunch time spanking was something new however.  Management had changed and the new enforcer had been a Singapore prison officer who relished administering severe judicial canings.  Leyland was laying on the table with his bare butt jutting out.  With a flourish to show how flexible his judicial cane was, the former officer then delivered six precise cuts.  Leyland could not help but to howl from the excruciating pain.  Then he was the showcase specimen with his welted bottom for all to see with his pants and undies at his ankles.  He was in such agony so that he no longer cared that his balls were also on display especially as that had happened so many times before.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was 0517, Tuesday, December 27 and Barrett Stephen Leyland was awakened by his alarm clock.  He slapped the off button and even if there had been a snooze button he would not have dared to use it.  He looked closely at the clock/calendar.  The incrementing counter was at 9900.  The counter that mattered – the decrementing counter – was at 0100.  Just another hundred days to go.  He did not dare to openly rejoice.

Then the disaster – he knocked the device off the undersize shelf and it crashed to the floor – and broke.  The voice thundered its disapproval and before he could truly comprehend what had happened the voice continued “You will pay for the repair, careless boy.”

He did not need to be reminded to ask “Please spank me hard for breaking my clock, Sir.”  This time he had a new fault to confess as he was required to do and he said automatically and rolled prone.  Immediately his ass was set ablaze with a score of cuts from a heavy tawse.  With that delay and moving slow there was hardly anything left for his merger breakfast.

At work or more precisely at lunch break, for doing personal business at work was a spankable offence, he did some searches and learnt about the repair facility.  By arranging to work an extra hour for two days he would be allowed to leave an hour early another day.

Of course, without his alarm clock he overslept and got his butt beaten for it.  He schlepped the busted clock-calendar to work and then took it to the repair shop.  The line was huge.  And moved slowly.  The shop closed when he was next in line to enter the mobbed establishment.  The oh so important task had failed.

Again after working late, he took the alarm to the shop early and the assistant who took it said “maybe five weeks.”  It was seven weeks before he was notified it was ready.  Again he used the early pickup tactic and received the precious clock back.  The assistant boasted that it was not just repaired but rebuilt “Exactly like new.”  He did not understand the true significance of that.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was 0517, Tuesday, December 27 and Barrett Stephen Leyland was awakened by his alarm clock.  He remembered that it was his birthday and how much fun it had been when he was a kid – without school and with happy holidays.  He knew that today would not be fun.  He looked closely at the clock/calendar.  The incrementing counter was at 0001; the counter that mattered – the decrementing counter – was at 9999.

That meant 27.4 years to go.  He was back at the beginning for there wasn’t any way to reset the clock.  He had a long, long time to go.  He laid there crying at the realization when the covers were pulled back and the tawse crashed into his butt two score times.

“Deal with the wet sheets, shower and come to breakfast.” was the command.  He knew that there wouldn’t be any breakfast and he would be late for work which meant lunch would be replaced with a trashing once again.

Barrett Stephen Leyland hadn’t any doubts about where he was.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was 0517, Tuesday, December 27 and Barrett Stephen Leyland was awakened by his alarm clock.  He remembered that it was his birthday and how much fun it had been when he was a kid – without school and with happy holidays.  He knew that today would not be fun.  He looked closely at the clock/calendar.  The incrementing counter was at 10,000; the counter that mattered – the decrementing counter – was at 0000.

He could hardly believe it – the counter had, at long last, reached zero.  His time was over.  He wanted to go “YIPPEE!” but the best he could do was to think it after so many decades of suppression.  The bed was dry and after his shower he found better fitting clothes.  He had actually a proper breakfast for the first time in ages.

He reported to the administrative center.  An apathetic clerk scanned his embedded ID chip and gave him a chit specifying where to go.  He found the place after walking down three broken long escalators covered with litter.

His ID was checked and he was stripped and shrink wrapped and stacked vertically with a mess of others in some sort of container.  Others were added and eventually the hatch was sealed and the container was hauled away.

It was brutally cold when the now stinking container was opened.  Each unit was unwrapped.  The group was herded into a building which provided some protection from the harsh Siberian conditions.  There they learnt that they had been ‘sent to the mines’ literally and each man was fitted with a cock cage.  “You are now miners for the realm.  You have been caged so that you will put all your energy into your work and not waste it by pleasuring yourselves.  Say goodbye to the sun for you shall remain below until you are released.  Now to the elevator.  RUN!”

As Leyland ran, he heard the crack of a whip.  A moment later he gave a howl of pain as he felt the bite of a whip for the first time.  Once below they were herded by guards with whips to their quarters.  He had his first feeding of slave chow.  Leyland was awakened by a loud alarm and started to learn mining to the tune of a whip.

By the end of the first shift he learnt that the whip hurt the back far much more than the tawse and cane hurt the butt.  Slaving shifts alternated with sleep/feeding shifts.  He began to forget what a day was.

Barrett Stephen Leyland wished he had broken his clock again.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. December 8, 2025

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Last updated: December 8, 2025