“Now,” I continued. “You’re here to learn a lesson. So where do you learn lessons?”

He looked at me quizzically. “Um, school?” he muttered.

“Very good!” I replied. “And what do you wear at school?”

Again he looked at me, confused about where this was going. “I, ah, guess, um, a school uniform?”

“That’s right!” I enthused. “And that’s what you're going to wear – a school uniform. Shall we get you dressed in it now?”

Embarrassed about being naked in front of me he meekly nodded.

“Very good!” I praised. “Let me show you your uniform.”

I went to the wardrobe and took out what he would be required to wear. His eyes widened as I put it on the bed for him. There was a pair little girl’s knickers, with rows of frills across the bottom and leg holes, a white lacy vest, a white blouse, a pair of knee length pelerine socks and a very short schoolgirl’s bottle green bib-fronted dress.

I put the ensemble down on the bed and took a step back behind him.

“Put them on!” I commanded.

He stood motionless, as if transfixed by what I’d laid out for him.

Unbeknownst to him I’d picked up one of my spanking paddles from the side. I took a step back and then lunged into him, swatting his naked bottom with my paddle just like I was executing a perfect forehand on the tennis court.

He gasped. I wasn’t sure if it was the shock or the pain that elicited that reaction, but I didn’t really care.

He bent double, his face planted on the bed where his new uniform was. Unfortunately for him that meant that his bottom was exposed to my further attention. I gave him three more very hard spanks with my paddle before he collapsed on his knees, his face conveniently resting on the frilly panties he was about to be put into.

“I see you’re crying” I sniggered. “Only little girls cry after only a few swats of my spanking paddle. If I’d had any doubts about how you should be treated you’ve just removed them. And don’t get your knickers wet with your tears. Do you know what happens to little girls who wet their knickers?”

He looked at me, scarcely believing the situation he was in. "Little girls who wet their knickers get put back into nappies, don't they?" I teased. "Is that what you want? To be put back into nappies?"

The poor man was struggling to speak through his sobs. I gave him three more hard spanks with my paddle before he somewhat regained his composure. He struggled to his feet, his bottom bright red.

“Please, Miss, please!” he begged. “I’ve learned my lesson. I’ll be good. I’ll be more respectful. I’ll do anything. Please don’t continue with this. I can’t wear these girly things. And I don't want to wear nappies. Please, Miss!”

Of course I had no intention of letting him off so easily. I took the frilly knickers off the bed and held them out for him. “Step into these knickers!” I commanded. Beaten and thoroughly humiliated he did as I ordered. I pulled the knickers up his legs and into place over his fiery red bottom.

Next I took the lacy vest and ordered him to raise his arms so that I could put it on him. He meekly complied.

“Tuck your vest into your knickers!” I barked. Again he meekly complied.

“Now put your socks on. And make sure the pattern is straight.”

He stood before me in his vest, knickers and socks, looking for all the world like a little girl in her underwear. Before he knew what was happening I got my phone out and took a photo of him.

“Please, Miss,” he begged, “please don’t let anyone see me like this!”

“Well,” I replied, “that depends on you. If you behave for the rest of your therapy session then there’ll be no need for me to share these photos. But if you don’t…” I let my words hang in the air for full effect. He hung his head, obviously beaten. I knew I had him where I wanted him.

“So,” I asked, “do you want to continue your therapy session in just your girly underwear? Or would you like to put your blouse and dress on?”

One of the things I enjoy most is seeing a man accept his defeat, and submit to whatever is coming. And I saw that look of defeat in his eyes as he asked if he could put on his blouse and dress.

“Good girl!” I praised. “Let me help you get them on.”

When he was dressed I told him “I’m afraid your dress is a bit short, so when you bend over, or if you're not careful, then everyone will see your knickers. But that’s why little girls like you wear such pretty knickers, isn’t it?”

He just hung his head in shame.