tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33113468669047361942024-02-08T07:11:13.902-08:00Tales of Spanking and Sexual ActsHere there be stories of spanking, mystery, discovery, spanking, sexy accents, college, magic, spanking, the arts, and spanking.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-50954707846312514582012-10-30T19:51:00.002-07:002013-09-14T14:19:34.200-07:00Backfire: Halloween Metafiction Special<i>This was meant to be a lighthearted halloween mind-bender using the characters from Backfire. It...um...kind of ran away with itself...</i><br />
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Neither of the girls had expected the party to be quite like this. Sure, it had been made clear that illicit substances would be present, and neither of them had a problem with that (Sara was a habitual pot smoker. April just liked to party, whatever that entailed by local customs), but this was a step beyond what either of them were used to. <i>So</i>, April thought as she looked around at the bearded, strangely dressed young men and women, <i>this is what actual hippies look like. Wow, its just like on TV!</i> The novelty was a pleasant distraction for April, but in the back of her mind she was still dreading the end of their girls’ night out. She kept giving Sara nervous glances when she thought she wasn’t looking.</div>
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Sara kept her cool smile on; with her long, straight hair and inexpensive clothing, she fit in with this crowd much better than April. A couple of people smiled and waved Sara over to them.</div>
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“I’m gonna’ go talk to Matty,” Sara said to her roommate, her voice taking on that subtly domineering tone that April had grown accustomed to, “don’t get yourself in more trouble than you’re already in.”</div>
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A shiver of fear went down April’s spine, even as a naughty tingle rose from her crotch. She met Sara’s eyes, which - as always these days - seemed to take her in and engulf her. April nodded obediently. Sara smiled and gave April’s miniskirted bottom a stealthy pinch, making her whisper a quiet “ow!” before turning away to talk to Matty. </div>
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April stared after her for a moment, wondering how and why she had let her life get like this. If her parents knew half of what had been going on, she’d never be able to look either of them in the face again. She watched Sara talk to Matty for a moment, until Sara looked back over her shoulder and gave April a perfectly innocent smile. A smile that said nothing unusual to the rest of the room, but reminded April that tonight was going to be a hairbrush night, and not a short one either.</div>
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Fortunately, there were plenty of distractions, and April was resolved to take her mind off the cruel fate of her helpless buttocks while she still had that luxury. She met Lindsey at the makeshift bar and traded sorority gossip while helping herself to a rum and coke. The two of them giggled and gossiped away until Nancy showed up, and they went into the back room to play beer pong. After gracefully losing, the now very lightheaded April found herself introduced to a trio of hippies. She chatted energetically, positioning herself as best she could in her drunken state to show off her outrageously curvy figure; she had no intentions of betraying her boyfriend, but one of the hippies was really cute, which made her body language mostly involuntary.</div>
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“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She paused to hiccup. “I have to walk home tonight.”</div>
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“Do’ worry, hon,” the bearded fellow reassured her as he carefully - almost reverently - fished the bits of dried fungus out of the plastic bag, “nothing bad happens from this.”</div>
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“Yeah,” his fellow backed him up, “this isn’t just the usual magic mushroom. Its sacred to the Plains Indians.”</div>
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April raised her blonde eyebrows. “Really?”</div>
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“Yeah,” said the first hippy, “it lets you connect to the spirits, opens your mind to the real world behind the universe. The shamans and medicine men say they use it to talk to God.”</div>
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April still wasn’t convinced that this was the best time and place to be experimenting with strange drugs, no matter their religious value. Unfortunately, she had always been sensitive to peer pressure, especially when it came from sexy boys. After rewarding her benefactor with an alluring smile, she accepted the fragment and bit off one end.</div>
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She felt the same, after swallowing the fungus. A bit drunker, perhaps, as if she hadn’t noticed how strong her intoxication was until now, but still no worse for wear. The boys congratulated her, nibbling their own dried fungus as they did. Funny…why couldn’t she hear what they were saying? It was like their mouths didn’t emit any sound. In fact, nothing was making sound. Her ears seemed to have switched themselves off.</div>
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She lay back against the wall they were sitting by, staring, wide-eyed, into the next room. She caught a glimpse of Sara at the bar, and suddenly, impossibly, she heard Sara’s voice from across the silent, crowded party, even if the words she said didn’t make sense. Her vision was blurring at the edges, her body growing weightless…</div>
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…April was in an unfamiliar room. Piles of clumsily-folded clothes (boy’s clothes, she observed) were scattered across a futon couch. On the wall by the door hung a variety of abstract sketches in cheap frames, a pre-revolution Iranian flag, and a preserved tarantula in a display case. Outside the window, snow descended on a rural street.</div>
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She blinked, quite deliberately. She knew there had to be a reason she was in this place, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember how she had arrived. Wasn’t there a party she was going to with Sara tonight? Or was that last night now? She tried to remember, but it was like tossing her mind against a solid fog. <i>Holy mushrooms. The Plains Indians used them to talk to the spirits.</i> Who had told her that? Well, they must not have worked, because she didn’t recall talking to any stupid ghosts.</div>
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Something bumped its nose against her ankle. Startling a bit, April looked down to see a stripey gray cat rubbing up on her leg. Was this her spirit animal? She guessed that shouldn’t be a surprise; she had a cat of her own after all, even if she hadn’t seen it since winter vacation. It was a different color, sure, but who said her spirit cat had to look anything like Nutmeg? The cat looked up at her with an inquiring expression. April transferred the mushroom slice to her left hand and bent down to let it sniff her fingertip. “Hello, kitty,” she said softly.</div>
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“What???” a male voice spoke up behind her, startling her, “Who’s there???”</div>
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<i>Right, of course. When you’re in a new place, you look around before picking up the cat. Everyone knows that. Mushrooms let you talk to gods.</i> She turned to face the voice. A bunkbed was nestled in the back of the small bedroom, and sitting on the unmade bottom bunk was a young man around April’s age. Fair skin, brown hair, maybe kind of cute if he had a shave. On the bed beside him was a half-open Gateway laptop. His expression was angry. “What the hell are you doing in my room?”</div>
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April’s lips opened soundlessly as she tried to answer. Should she apologize and leave? No, she’d still be in someone else’s house with no idea how to find her way home. What was she supposed to say?</div>
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“S-sorry,” she managed to squeak, “I…I don’t know where I…is the party still going on?”</div>
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The boy looked startled. For a moment, he seemed downright stupefied. Slowly, he raised a dark brown eyebrow. “Party?” He asked, his voice more subdued, “What are you talking about?”</div>
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“Well,” April took a step back toward the futon, not keeping eye contact, “I was at a party with my friend Sara…do you know Sara?…and I just…I don’t know how I got here, but I’m sorry for coming in without asking.”</div>
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As she spoke, his expression grew less defensive and more surprised. When she mentioned Sara, his eyes widened. There was a long, awkward moment after she finished. April was about to apologize again and ask for directions when he spoke.</div>
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“Oh no,” he whispered, “No, this can‘t possibly...”</div>
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His jaw went slack as the realization hit. Was he hallucinating? Dreaming? How could this possibly be happening? She looked exactly how he had imagined, wearing one of the expensive blouse and miniskirt combos that the richer girls at his college had worn. <i>No, it couldn’t be, it just couldn’t.</i></div>
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“Um…” he said, wondering what his next question would have to be if she said yes, “…is your name April?”</div>
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The girl nodded, her eyes widening a little, vulnerable. He felt his heart accelerate. Her eyes got so large and blue when she felt nervous or embarrassed. He thought it was sexy, in the “cute and innocent” way, which was exactly why he had made them that way. He counted backward from ten, then ran through the alphabet from Z to V. If he was dreaming, it was an awfully lucid dream. The girl stood there nervously, in obvious discomfort. He had to tell her something, but would the truth be the best option?</div>
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“Um. Well.” </div>
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He stopped to close his laptop. It really would not do for her to see what he was writing.</div>
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“I‘m not sure how to say this, but…uh…”</div>
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<i>This is your last chance. You can make up a lie, that would probably be the best-</i></div>
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“…well, I guess from you’re perspective, I’m sort of like…”</div>
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<i>NO DO NOT USE THAT WORD.</i></div>
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He changed his wording at the last second “…your creator?”</div>
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He had meant it as an explanation, but the way it came out definitely had a question mark at the end. Silence. He was about to offer her a seat, but she sat down on the futon before he could open his mouth. She looked as bewildered as he probably did.</div>
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“You mean,” she looked at him very intently, a mixture between skepticism, fear, and awe, “you mean you’re, like…God?”</div>
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<i>DAMNIT.</i></div>
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“No,” he said quickly, raising both hands in a “no” kind of way, “Not like a God. Just…” <i>Just the creator and constant omnipotent manipulator of your entire universe. Just the being responsible for thinking you into existence.</i> “…okay, maybe sort of like a God, but I’m not all-knowing or powerful” <i>just powerful enough to completely remake your world on a whim</i> “or anything. I…basically I’m just a kid living in a world a lot like yours, and I made you up.”</div>
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She gave a nervous, unbelieving chuckle. Her laugh was musical, lighting a masculine fire in his blood. That sound was the guiltiest pleasure he had ever enjoyed. “What do you mean?” she asked crinkling her dirty blonde eyebrows at him.</div>
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He bought himself some time by standing up and very deliberately unwrinkling his shorts. This was going to be a hard pill to swallow. It was hard for him to even say it.</div>
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“Okay, well, I’m a writer. I write fiction, or what I thought was fiction.” He paused, asking himself again why he was telling her this. Unfortunately, April’s wasn’t a face he could lie to, though it might damn them both. “You‘re a character from one of my stories.”</div>
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He scanned April’s face for any signs of…well, anything. It was unreadable. Queeny jumped up on the futon and put her nose up to April’s thigh. April ignored the cat. He started feeling sick to his stomach. He knew where this line of questioning would go. He knew that she couldn’t learn the truth, and he knew that he didn’t have it in him to lie.</div>
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“Oh…huh.”</div>
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She looked down at her lap for a moment, trying to let it sink in. He watched her reach over and stroke Queeny’s head, her eyes lost in contemplation. He felt like he was about to throw up.</div>
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“Am I the main character?”</div>
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He looked away. “Yes.”</div>
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“Is…is my world real? Like, are the people I know actually…?”</div>
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“I don’t know.” That was something he hadn’t thought of, actually. If April was a self-aware entity, did that mean that her entire fictional world was full of self-aware entities? If she was only sentient because of the mental energy he expended in simulating her mind, though, that would mean that only a few of the main characters - the ones he’d really put himself into - were alive. He thought of a girl living an entire lifetime in a world of holograms, being raised by a simulation of a loving family who didn’t actually have souls, and it was one of the most heartbreaking thoughts he had ever had. <i>And what about when I’m not thinking about her? Is she “asleep” when I’m not in her head? Does she DIE every time I delete a new draft and start again? What about Sara, or Kevin, or any of the others? How many of them are real?</i></div>
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She chewed her lip in that completely adorable way she often did. “You don’t know? Didn’t you make them?”</div>
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A slow breath escaped between his teeth. “Yes. Sort of. I don’t have everything fleshed out, necessarily,” <i>I spent more time thinking about your ass than the rest of that universe combined</i> “I just assumed that your world was mostly like mine and made up a few specific characters.” He shrugged in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “I dunno, maybe its all real outside of my head. You seem to be, right now at least.”</div>
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“So,” she said slowly, trying to wrap her mind around it, “you’ve been…writing me…since I was born?”</div>
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<i>Fuck.</i> “No. I only made up a little about your childhood. Just that your parents were wealthy, and that you were an only child. I guess I imagined them having kind of Germanic sounding names, like Martin or Ella?”</div>
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April nodded. “Those are my parents.”</div>
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<i>Interesting. Were those always your parents, or did I just now do that retroactively? How much of you is there, really? </i></div>
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He hoped he could change the subject, but she was too fast for him. “So wait…does that mean I’m the most important person in the world-err-in my world, I mean?”</div>
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He couldn’t tell if she was hopeful, or afraid. Probably the latter. He didn’t think he could conceive of a realistic character who wouldn’t be frightened by that, and that meant she must be frightened. “I don’t know. If I actually did invent your world when I made it up, then yes, that would…I suppose…make you the center of it.” He was about to offer up the possibility that maybe he didn’t invent her world, but instead was simply being informed about its events through some kind of prophecy, but he only had to think about that for a fraction of a second before it lost its plausibility. Her body was shaped just like a girl he had failed to seduce once in school. She and her friends watched Dexter religiously because it was his favorite show. He had definitely created this. </div>
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He answered very slowly, thinking about every word. “If we’re basing importance off of…” he paused, struggling for the right word. His vocabulary always failed him when he most needed it, “…causation, then yes, the rest of your world exists to tell your story.” He was careful to keep eye contact, so she knew this next part was genuine. “That‘s not to say that other people in your world are necessarily worth more or less, just that you‘re…um…” damnit, it was much easier to express these concepts in writing than in conversation “…well, I…you know what I mean, right?”</div>
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April did not seem to know what he meant. On second thoughts, neither did he.</div>
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Her hand stroked the cat again, absentmindedly. Her eyes were far away, almost vacant. He realized that this wasn’t as easy for her as it would be for some people; he hadn’t designed her to be intelligent or quick-witted.</div>
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“So,” she said, her blue eyes coming a little ways back into focus on his, “if everything is just to tell my story…what is the story about? What am I supposed to do?”</div>
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He bit his lip. April stared at him, bewilderment turning to impatience, and trepidation. Beneath her soft, fair-skinned face, a brain was waiting to process information. He put a hand to his stomach, trying not to be sick. She was waiting.</div>
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“Okay,” he said, “basically…”</div>
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He sat beside the crying girl, staring at his hands in dismay. What could he say to her? What could he do for her? Instinct told him that she needed a hug, but that would be the worst thing he could do. He kept his body a respectful two feet away from hers, and made absolute sure not to glance below her neck, even by accident.</div>
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“I made you enjoy it,” he said so quietly it was almost a whisper. “I made sure you didn’t suffer.” That wasn’t entirely true, though. The first chapter had consisted of nothing but misfortune and humiliation for her. The sorority scene in chapter three had also been completely unpleasant. Even if that wasn’t the case, though, it would barely have helped.</div>
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The more painful bits of the last fifteen minute's worth of conversation replayed in his head.<i> “Why did I never have a baby brother?”</i> she had asked. <i>To make you more spoiled and self-centered, so that Sara would have more to punish you for.</i> <i>“Why did you make me want a baby brother if you knew I couldn’t get one, and the story doesn’t even show my family?” Because I imagined caring as one of your redeeming qualities, and I always put a bit of thought into what makes my characters tick even if it isn’t apparent to the reader. “Its all just your stupid fantasy?” No, I put it up on the internet for a bunch of other people to jerk off to as well.</i> The interview had lasted until she finally did what she had been threatening and broke down into tears. He felt a sharp sting at the corner of his own eyes as he watched her.</div>
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“Y-you said…” she struggled between sobs, “…you said you made me like a…” she wiped her nose, only for more saltwater to drip down it, “…a real girl, who you know? So I’m not…not just a…a…”</div>
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“You’re not her,” he said somberly, sitting with his hands in front of him, “she’s not you. Her name was Katie. I knew her in college.” He didn’t tell her the rest of that story, which would have gone something like;<i> she was smarter, more confident, and more emotionally mature than you. I just used her body and gave it a weak, spoiled, co-dependent personality named April so that it could get spanked more often. </i></div>
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She shook her tangled blonde head, her tears continuing. He wondered if the holocaust had happened in her world, or smallpox, or malaria. Considering that she lived in a twenty-first century United States very much like his own, her world probably had the same history. If April and the other main characters weren’t the only sentient beings in their universe, he had condemned hundreds of millions - no, billions - of people to death.</div>
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“I’m sorry,” he said for the hundredth time, looking down at her huddled, shaking body, “I didn’t know. I just never knew.”</div>
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Queeny was still perched on the edge of the couch, wondering why nobody was petting her. She had tried sniffing at the half-eaten mushroom slice that April dropped, but he quickly snatched it away; there was no telling what that could do. Minutes flowed into one another. He wondered how long it would be until his brother came home, and what he would have to say if April was still around. Not that this was a significant problem at all, compared to the others on his mind.</div>
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“I’ll change things,” he said. “Once I send you back, I’ll make it different. You won’t remember this conversation.”</div>
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She looked up hopefully, her normally beautiful face blotchy with tears. He did his best to look confident.</div>
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“You‘ll be smart, and powerful, and happy. So will everyone else. No one will get hurt or disappoint themselves or anything.”</div>
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Of course, that would only work if the act of writing itself was what caused time to pass in her world, rather than him imagining it. He would never be able to stop his own imagination. Not to mention that rewriting her character might just kill April and replace her with another consciousness with the same name. It was the most comforting lie he could think of.</div>
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“Send me back,” she whispered, “make me forget. Please.”</div>
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He stumbled to his feet and hurried over to his laptop. Hopefully this would work…</div>
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…</div>
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The young man sat on his bed, alone but for the cat. His brother came in, said hello, and left. The young man barely noticed him. He was thinking.</div>
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<i>I’ve written science fiction. Horror. I’ve had entire civilizations destroyed. I’ve turned people into tormented ghosts and marauding vampires. I gave terminal brain damage to ten thousand people when the cyborgs poisoned the Washington DC water supply. I’ve created a entire world where people’s souls are eaten by demonic piranhas after they die. </i>And even without his own devised horrors, how many holocausts had he unleashed in the invisible backstories? How many genocides? How many epidemics? How many deaths?</div>
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He let his chin sink into his hands. He ignored the bangs that hung in his eyes. They were insubstantial. It was the other side of his skull that had unsolvable problems.</div>
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<i>What if its not just me? What if every writer creates worlds with people? What if every person with an imagination and two minutes of free time does?</i></div>
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Then another thought, so chilling it multiplied all the rest.</div>
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<i>What about writers who write about writers?</i></div>
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No, he was just overthinking it now. There had to be limits to how far things could scale, in one direction if not both. There had to be a Real world that the others branched off from. There just had to be.</div>
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Suddenly, he was looking at a small object lying on the nightstand by the futon. A half-eaten slice of mushroom. April must have left it.</div>
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No. No, this wasn’t right. There was no reason to do this. He didn’t need to, he really didn’t.</div>
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The mushroom sat there.</div>
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<i>What about writers who write about writers?</i></div>
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He felt cold and clammy as he picked up the little pinch of dried fungus and held it before his mouth. It smelled musty, with an undertone of something he couldn’t name. One side of it still showed the marks of April’s teeth, reminding him that even if she was back home, she was still real.</div>
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He gulped, sucked in a deep breath, and bit.</div>
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The walls fell away. The ceiling vanished. The bed turned to smoke, and he was falling, falling, tumbling through the blackness. But he wasn’t really falling. There was no gravity, he was floating in place. The darkness was as thick as blood, but he pushed through it. He had to see, had to find out.</div>
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And then he heard the screams. He turned around, and saw it.</div>
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A head, a face the size of a galaxy, the darkness flowed from its pores like sweat. A face that filled the sky, a face that filled all the skies, a head he couldn’t even see. A million, bloodshot eyes stared into the darkness, and in each eye a spinning world. Fire flashed, an eye blinked, and there were screams. Quadrillions of deaths in every one of a million eyes. Mouths ingested universes. Worlds died, to make room for more worlds, which died. The face sang and basked in the music of the endless screams.</div>
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…</div>
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A young man lay on the floor of his bedroom. A laptop sat on the bunk above him. A cat sniffed at his shivering face, but he didn't notice. He shuddered, his mouth barely managing to twitch open.</div>
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“Azatho…”</div>
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S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-44052396576316929892012-01-04T15:52:00.000-08:002012-01-04T15:53:33.564-08:00In Hot WaterThe other girls were already chatting and gossiping by the time they entered the locker room. Most of them were bleached blonde, expensively clothed upperclasswomen who failed to so much as notice Mamta Amani as she filed in after them. Mamta wondered again if this was the wrong sport for her. She had swam at her old school, but her old school had been a whole let less cliquish and a whole lot more ethnically diverse, and the swim team here seemed to be the “popular girl” sport.<br /><br />“So,” said one of the blondes as Mamta picked out a locker and began undoing her jacket, “I just decided who my favorite actor is.”<br /><br />Mamta looked up at her teammate, hoping this was a conversation she could get in on.<br /><br />“Oh?” Asked another blonde. “Who?”<br /><br />The first one moved her slim body in a way that indicated Mamta. “Tim <span style="font-style: italic;">Curry</span>.”<br /><br />It actually took Mamta a few seconds to get it, while the girls around her were chortling away. Was that really the best they could do? Really? She felt like she should be offended or something, but that was too stupid to even count. She sucked a slow breath into her petite mouth and thought for a moment.<br /><br />“I liked him in It,” Mamta offered slowly, wondering if perhaps this could be salvaged, “and the voice acting in cartoons.”<br /><br />“That’s very interesting, darling,” said Blonde #2, making eye contact with Mamta for a fraction of a second before turning back to her friend. “Anyway, I SO can‘t wait to see the second part of New Moon!”<br /><br />“I KNOW! I’m rereading the whole series just to get ready!”<br /><br />Mamta looked around for a sympathetic face, but every head was pointed away. Classes would start in two weeks’ time. Were they also going to be like this?<br /><br />Well, socializing wasn’t the reason she was here anyway. Mamta pulled off her shirt and skirt and began digging her swimsuit out of her backpack. To do this, she had to bend over the bench that her pack was resting on, with her back to Blonde #1.<br /><br />“Heh,” Mamta heard a chuckle, “here‘s a fun fact about swimming. If you‘re tall and slim, you go through the water faster. If you‘re short and have…um, what‘s the civilized term…very generous hindquarters, then you just might be out of luck.”<br /><br />“WHAT?” Blonde #2 looked up in shock, “Are you calling me fa-”<br /><br />She saw what her friend was smirking at, and her expression changed.<br /><br />“Oh. Hahahahahaha!”<br /><br />Mamta’s eyes widened indignantly, and she quickly sat down. Her peers continued to titter.<br /><br />“Oh god, its actually spilling over the side of the bench! Too much pilaf, huh? Lot of carbs in all that rice!”<br /><br />She felt a sting at the corners of her eyes. What had she done to invite this? How could she make it stop?<br /><br />“Check out her back,” said #2 as she pulled off her bra, proudly exposing a pair of breasts that made Mamta’s flat chest all the more depressing, “I’ll bet you can see her blowhole! MAN THE HARPOONS!”<br /><br />She just barely prevented herself from making a sound. She couldn’t let herself give them that satisfaction. Mamta awkwardly slid out of her undergarments and - still sitting on the bench, worked on her swimsuit. She really didn’t think she was overweight. Her stomach was actually very slim, her breasts were small, and she had a very smooth, almost cherubic Indian face that was absent of chubby cheeks or neck fat. The only thing about her that wasn’t thin was her bottom, but that made up for everything else. For a petite woman, Mamta had quite expansive hips, and each of them supported a soft, head-sized globe that pointed straight out behind her. It really didn’t match her frame at all.<br /><br />“Speaking of ginormous asses,” said #2, “I can’t believe Cheryl is on Team Jacob. What a stupid whore.”<br /><br />As they slipped back into their Twilight discussion, Mamta took the opportunity to stand up and quickly pull her suit the rest of the way on. She stole a glance at the mirror. Her tan, bright-eyed face stared morosely back at her. That suit didn’t cover nearly enough of her derriere; her cheeks were almost bulging out at the bottom. Unfortunately, it was the closest fit she could find.<br /><br />…<br /><br />Coach Bartelli was an overweight, mustached man with an all too apparent coat of black body hair. “Welcome back,” his voice echoed across the pool as he glared up at this year’s girls’ swimming team. “Great to see all your young, idealistic faces, however long they last. Welcome to swimming. Obviously.”<br /><br />The girls lined up by the pool, as was customary. Bartelli frowned at them.<br /><br />“So, warmups. So that you don‘t pull your muscles, drop off the team, get fed up with sports, and grow up to be a bunch of inanimate lard sacks like me. Jumping jacks! Make like you‘re being electrocuted!”<br /><br />Mamta went through the stretches and exercises, carefully avoiding looking at the other girls. Fortunately, she was soon given something much more pleasant to look at in the form of the lifeguard, who strode out of the office. Like the rest of the team, Mamta had already met Andy. Andy was a freshman at the community college across the street. Tan, rugged, with smooth muscles that clung to his tall frame like a tight jacket. When Mamta had visited the pool before, Andy’s topless presence at the side of the pool had kept her attention, and probably that of most of the other ladies present. It took a good deal of concentration to remain focused on her situps.<br /><br />“Alright,” said the coach when they had done their last butterflies, “before we actually get in the water, I need to tell you about our new disciplinary policy. The school can‘t afford to pay me - or any other poor shmuck - to hold detention anymore. So if you screw up, you get treated to the brand new ‘on the spot disciplinary procedures.’ In case any of you didn‘t read the lovingly typed and printed twelve-page activities booklet that I spent days writing for you - and I‘m guessing that‘s all of you - here‘s what that entails. If I say-”<br /><br />Mamta had no intention of screwing up, and she had skimmed the lovingly typed and printed twelve-page booklet. She knew she should really pay attention anyway, but just then Andy the lifeguard bent over to check a loose rivet in the diving board, pointing one of the roundest, tightest rear ends Mamta had ever seen in a bathing suit right at her. By the time she realized that she wasn’t listening, the coach had finished his speech.<br /><br />“Time to get in the water now,” Coach Bartelli said, gesturing halfheartedly at the pool. “Don’t worry; if you drown, the school is completely liable.”<br /><br />The cold water bit at her dark, tan skin as she slipped into the water. The coach instructed them to start with one lap each of crawl, breaststroke, and butterfly stroke, just to “make sure no retards accidentally slipped through the tryouts.” Mamta, as always did well on the breastroke, as her large thigh muscles propelled her quickly. When it came time to do crawl, she had to spend more effort to keep up with her teammates. Butterfly, which was an all but new technique to her and had little to do with leg movements, saw her coming in last.<br /><br />“Great,” Bartelli congratulated them as he stared at the floor, “real impressive. Now, for this part we’re going to need to pull the cord down the middle of the pool. Um…” He looked at Mamta, who had caught his attention by being last, “whatsyername, Mexican girl. Go help Andy set it up.”<br /><br />Mamta’s face blushed scarlet under her tan, as peals of blonde laughter rang in her ears. She climbed out of the pool, not making eye contact with anyone as she walked, dripping, around the pool toward the coiled rope.<br /><br />“How’s it going?” Andy asked as he walked up beside her.<br /><br />“Oh…” she giggled nervously as she felt his body heat on her wet skin, “…um…I’m having a good day so far.”<br /><br />He grinned, making her heart accelerate. “So far.”<br /><br />She raised an eyebrow at him. He just chuckled and shook his head. She felt herself blushing again.<br /><br />“So,” he said as he hauled the biggest coil of rope to the edge of the pool and put it down, “what have you heard about on-the-spot-discipline?”<br /><br />“Um…” she blushed again, “I think I know the important parts.”<br /><br />She bent down to tie the rope to its hook, and immediately felt a hard slap across the underside of her wet bottom, making her gasp and almost fall into the pool. She looked up at him in shock, one small hand darting to the injured part of her rump.<br /><br />“Mmm,” he murmured before she could say anything, “we’ll see if it worked.”<br /><br />He chuckled and walked away with the other end of the rope, leaving her with her hand on her butt and nothing left to do. She stared after him for a second, not sure she could believe he had just done that. Then, unsure of what to do about it, she dived into the pool and swam back to her teammates, reaching them just as Andy finished tying it up.<br /><br />“Circuit time,” said the coach, “crawl edition. Swim up the right side, go under the rope, swim back on the left, repeat. Keep track of your laps, ‘cause hell if I’m going to be bothered. Ten minutes, go.”<br /><br />For some minutes, they swam (“I said crawl, dammit! Oh, yeah, that’s right, keep snickering at me…”) furiously back and forth, slipping under the rope at each end. Mamta felt herself getting tired. Damn, she really had let herself go over the summer. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath, cursing herself and most of the people she had to interact with these days, at the far end of the pool. As she was panting, she suddenly felt a rough hand grab and squeeze the underside of her left buttock where it was poking out from under her suit. Mamta squealed and nearly lost her grip on the edge of the pool.<br /><br />“Is that a handprint, senorita?” The voice of Blonde #1 came from right by Mamta’s ear. “Does your mommy still spank you for hogging all the rice pudding?”<br /><br />Mamta looked furiously over her shoulder. Everyone else was swimming. Coach Bartelli was staring at his corpulent belly and miserably shaking his head.<br /><br />Blonde #1’s face was right in the middle of her vision, grinning with perfect, white teeth. At that moment, something snapped.<br /><br />A high pitched scream echoed across the pool as a palm smacked across Blonde #1’s face, jarring her head to the side and sending her golden hair flopping wetly around behind her. Everyone stopped swimming and turned around. Andy was staring intently from his perch on the lifeguard tower. Bartelli was peering across the pool with a somewhat bovine expression.<br /><br />“This,” Bartelli finally said, “is going to be a really long school year.”<br /><br />Blonde #1 treaded water away from Mamta turning around to make sure everyone could see the pink handprint on her face. “She hit me!” the girl exclaimed as if everyone didn’t already know, “She actually hit me!”<br /><br />Bartelli’s mustached face disappeared into his hands. Mamta felt her heartbeat echo in her skull. The girls all looked at each other. Over on the side of the pool, Andy was staring at Mamta with an almost dumbfounded expression.<br /><br />“Everyone, get over here,” Bartelli finally said. The girls swam back to him. He looked at Mamta with hard eyes.<br /><br />“Did you hit whatsername?” he demanded sternly.<br /><br />Mamta looked down at the water. She felt her hair drooping limply against her back.<br /><br />“Yes,” she said quietly. Blonde #1 was about to indignantly clarify what her name was, but Bartelli cut her off.<br /><br />“Is there a reason you hit whatsername?”<br /><br />Mamta looked up at him. No one had seen the other girl grab her ass under the water. If Mamta accused her, she would just deny it, and her friends would all back her up. She glanced nervously across the pool at Andy. He was still watching the developments with great interest, leaning forward at his post so he could hear better.<br /><br />“She was teasing me,” Mamta said, hopelessly.<br /><br />Bartelli sighed and looked back at the blonde. “Whatsyername, is it true you were teasing the Latina?”<br /><br />“I was just asking her if she was alright!” the blonde insisted vehemently, “And my name is-”<br /><br />“Did anyone else see what was going on before she slapped her?” He gestured limply at each of the two girls as he spoke their pronouns. No one said anything.<br /><br />“Alright,” groaned Bartelli, rolling his eyes at the high ceiling, “everyone, get out of the water.”<br /><br />As the eleven dripping girls climbed out of the water, Mamta felt her body vibrating, a sense of impending danger coursing through her with the adrenaline. Bartelli motioned for Andy to come over to the bench at the head of the pool. Andy complied, his chiseled face starting to look a bit excited, as if he were looking forward to something.<br /><br />“In the pool,” said Bartelli, “on-the-spot discipline is the duty of the lifeguard. Figures. Girl who slapped the other girl, come over here.”<br /><br />The blonde and her friend were grinning from ear to ear. The other girls were watching intently, their expressions falling somewhere on the spectrum of sympathy to cruel excitement. Mamta felt her insides sink as Andy walked over to the bench. Her eyes widened when Bartelli opened the box of swimming equipment and fished out a clear, lexan paddle, and grabbed a plastic folding chair with his other hand.<br /><br />“Watch this, girls,” Bartelli demanded as he turned his fat, glowering face to the rest of the team, “nobody wants this repeated too many times, or they’ll call a staff meeting and yell at us and I’ll probably miss my reruns.” He handed the paddle to Andy, who took it a little too eagerly, before setting down and unfolding the chair so that its back faced the team. “Ten strokes. Let’s get this over with.”<br /><br />The terror was rising in her. Mamta looked at Andy. His alluring musculature was a double edged sword, in that it would allow him to swing that paddle viciously hard and fast if he wanted to, and unless she had misdiagnosed the lust in his eyes, he would want to. He had been waiting for this. Hoping for this. She then looked back at her teammates. The blondes were whispering excitedly to each other.<br /><br />Moaning softly under her breath, Mamta approached the chair and - following the coach’s instructions - bent over it, sticking her oversized bottom up into the air and at the rest of the room. A few droplets of water hung for a moment to the naked undersides of her melon-sized buttocks before dripping down to the floor.<br /><br />“Um…” Bartelli seemed suddenly very distracted as he beheld her offered rear, “..wow…uh…ten strokes Andy. Start now.”<br /><br />Mamta closed her eyes and sucked in her breath, gripping the edge of the chair’s seat with her hands as she felt thirteen pairs of eyes feast on her shamefully exposed buns. She felt a hormonal heat in the skin of her back and thighs as Andy came close to her, his body heat touching her skin and causing involuntary reactions. She gripped the seat tighter, digging in her nails.<br /><br />Andy lost no time. He held the paddle just behind Mamta’s prominent buttocks and straightened it out, making sure that its flat, transparent surface was perfectly opposed to her thickest curves. Then he raised it up, and brought it flying down into her flesh, making her soft bottom splash and spread out under the force. The first crack of the paddle reverberated across the room, echoing dramatically.<br /><br />“OOWWW!!!”<br /><br />Mamta’s fingers gripped tighter at the chair. Her body shivered. Her skintight bathing suit offered little in the way of protection, and its wetness actually served to amplify the force. The sting was immediate, powerful, and fiery.<br /><br />As the girls watched with wide-eyed enthrallment, Andy lined up the battle again, this time positioning it a little lower, over the part of her bottom that was hanging out. When it connected this time, it bit into wet, naked skin.<br /><br />“AHH!!!”<br /><br />Her cry of pain was almost a loud moan. The paddle lick sent ripples of movement down her muscular thighs and caused her to bounce a little on her toes. Her bottom and thighs were pretty tight for their size, but the paddle was still enough to make the former jiggle and bounce.<br /><br />The third paddle lick was exactly like the second, leaving another layer of pink across her half-naked sit spots and making her large rear end bounce as if it were on springs. The fourth was higher, at the rounded tops of her cheeks, and compressed the flesh in a different direction. After every lick, she cried out and shook her legs, trying desperately to distract her body from the pain. Some of the girls were starting to look a little horrified, involuntarily grabbing their own swimsuit-clad bottoms as they realized that they too might someday be subjected to this treatment. Bartelli’s eyes were almost bugging out of his skull.<br /><br />The tenth crack of the paddle was like a bucket of gasoline tossed on a forest fire; a sudden spike in the burning pain that then disappeared into the rest of the inferno. Fire! Her ass was on fire! After the tenth stroke Mamta rose to her feet and seized her abused fanny with both hands, breathing deeply and stamping her feet in a frenzied spank-dance. The two, rounded bits of bottom that stuck out from under her suit had been turned from light brown to a sunburned pink.<br /><br />“Ow! Ow! Ah!”<br /><br />Andy stood back, trying to suppress a satisfied smirk, and put the paddle back away. Bartelli stood in place for a full ten seconds, mouth hanging a little bit open.<br /><br />“Um…” he said when he managed to remember where he was, “…yes, so, don‘t do that again. Ass you can see - as, I mean as you can see - I…uh…I‘m not putting up with any…uh…shenanigans.”<br /><br />Mamta turned her soft, delicate face over her shoulder to look at her teammates with dewy eyes. A few of them looked really sorry for her. The blondes and their handful of cronies were grinning, though a couple of them looked as if they thought this was a little too much.<br /><br />“We’ve still got fifteen minutes,” said Bartelli, covertly adjusting his swimsuit to make sure that nothing was visibly poking out, “and I don’t want you to suffer any less than I did in high school. Frogstroke, come on!”<br /><br />They quickly returned to the pool. Mamta avoided making eye contact with anyone as she walked gingerly back to the water. She winced when she bent her hips to jump back in. The cool water felt good on her paddled bum, especially when she took a second to pull her bottoms out to let some water under the fabric, but the leg motions for the frog stroke - which she was normally very good at - were painful. She got off to a slow start, feeling the burn with every stroke. She broke the surface once to see Blonde #1 beside her, smirking toothily. She did her best to ignore it and keep swimming. It was a long, painful, uncomfortable quarter hour.<br /><br />Finally, the timer rang, and Bartelli motioned for everyone to get out. “Same time tomorrow,” he said, still looking a little distant and distracted, “shower and dry off and go home. I don‘t want to see any of your smug, youthful, all-your-life-ahead-of-you little faces until tomorrow.” He then turned away and whispered a little mumble that sounded almost like “that…ass…”<br /><br />They filed off into the locker room, Mamta making sure to keep at the back, one hand still clutching her stinging hindquarters as she went. From across the pool, she saw Andy sitting at his post, still watching her. She felt a little flutter of excitement and nervousness in her tummy.<br /><br />As they entered the locker room, various conversations began to start up around the room. Mamta over to her locker and started pulling off her suit. Her bottom stung and burned deeply as she pulled at the waistline. She leaned forward a bit to help get it down, when a blonde voice (yes, even her voice was blonde) sang out from behind her.<br /><br />“Rotundo ass is all pretty pink! I guess your mommy isn’t the only one who spanks you!”<br /><br />The other blonde swooped in beside her friend. “That’s what you get for slapping me, you little bitch! He should have given you twice that many.”<br /><br />“Don‘t worry, Ash,” said Blonde #2, “he did it really hard. Look at how she’s wincing!”<br /><br />“Mmm, good point. I wonder if I should say hello to that lifeguard after practice. I’m sure he knows which girls deserve his respect; he obviously knows which ones don’t!” She leaned over and delivered a hard slap to Mamta’s ample rear, making the girl squeak in pain and almost lose her balance. Several girls laughed.<br /><br />Growling in frustration in rage, Mamta pulled her swimsuit back up and marched back the way she came. She was not going to put up with this. She’d wait in the hall that connected the locker rooms to the pool until the other girls had all gone. She didn’t care how long it took. Mamta stood in a corner in the damp hall and closed her eyes, struggling for happy memories to fill her mind with and drown out the sounds of showers and gossip and vapid giggles from the next room.<br /><br />Finally, the last of the showers turned off, and she heard her beloved peers finish their exit. Breathing deeply, Mamta went back into the locker room, shed her ill-fitting suit, and turned on a shower. It was a struggle to find the right temperature; at first, the hot water stung her pinkened buns and made her wince and hiss with pain. Then it was too cold, and she danced involuntarily out of the water’s reach. Finally, she managed to hit a happy-ish medium that was warm but not hot, and stood under it.<br /><br />As the warm water came down on her face and gently cascaded down her smooth body, she closed her eyes and let her mind wander. The sting in her butt seemed to have crept through her torso, and was now causing a tantalizing little prickle in her womanhood. She whined softly to herself as she wrung out her hair, bringing her left hand downward and pushing at the front of her vulva. A lusty tingle rewarded her touch as she found her mind’s eye rest itself on Andy. The way he looked and smiled at her, the way he shamelessly flirted with her earlier in the practice. Warm water coated her skin, giving her a sense of isolation and privacy. Slowly, she crept her hand further down her front…<br /><br />A strong, masculine arm wrapped itself around her middle, pulling her naked body against a wall of hard, hot muscle. She started to yelp as her soft bottom was pressed painfully against a male body, but another hand clamped itself over her mouth. She tried to struggle, but his arms were like iron bars under a layer of rugged skin. She kicked her legs in a futile attempt to flee as he dragged her out of the shower and toward one of the benches. As he half-carried her across the room, she managed to turn her head up and catch a glimpse of her attacker’s face. Andy’s dark eyes were full of intense determination, his face showing exertion as he steered her to their destination. Mamta felt her heart go crazy.<br /><br />With a strained grunt, he sat down on the changing bench and pulled the half-struggling Mamta over his lap. His trunks were tight around his crotch, and she felt something iron-hard pushing into her belly through them. Knowing what was coming, she gritted her teeth and clutched the tile floor. Andy pushed her torso a little further over his knees, putting her ponderous, glistening-wet cheeks right over the edge of his lap, so that they pointed at the ceiling. He admired their bounce for just a second, and then started the spanking.<br /><br />His hand was like sandpaper against her pink, paddled buttocks, rasping and burning her flesh with each loud, wet slap. The sound as his palm connected with her wet, rosy cheeks was like a firecracker echoing in the enclosed locker room, and the pain exploded and sparked in the wake of each smack. Left sit spot, right sit spot, left, right, left right…he spanked her harder and faster than she had ever experienced.<br /><br />“Ahh! Ohga…I…ahhhh!”<br /><br />Her voice got higher and higher pitched as she futiley begged and wriggled, but she was careful not to be too loud. The forest fire in her bottom was back, and with a vengeance! She couldn’t yelp fast enough to keep up with the spanks, couldn’t wriggle in any way that would diffuse the pain. She was helpless, bound in place, as her bottom just hurt more, and more, and more…<br /><br />Andy’s arm had to be getting tired, and his palm was certainly in pain, but he had the willpower to ignore these obstacles. He spanked on and on, faster than the second hand of the clock, exploding volley after volley of fireworks against her bouncing fanny. Her sit spots were red, red like ripe strawberries or lustrous tomatoes, and the rest of her bottom ranged from something just shy of that to hot pink as the layers of sore handprints piled on top of each other. He kept his left arm pressed hard on her back, and his right rising and falling, until the juiciest parts of her ample rear were a shade that bordered on purple and she was almost on the brink of tears. Then, before she lost control and started screaming loud enough to be heard outside of the room, he stopped. She kept writhing and panting over his lap, her abused bottom completely dried off.<br /><br />“Andy…” she begged, her voice barely a whisper, “Now, right now!”<br /><br />“Of course,” he whispered back, playing with her wet, black hair. His voice was low and gravelly. “Over the bench.”<br /><br />Mamta stumbled to her feet and bent over the end of the bench, sticking her red and pink ass up at her paramour. Andy lost no time in scrambling around behind her and - having ditched his trunks at some point - sliding his impressive length of rock-hard penis into its eager socket. Mamta gasped as he pumped his hips into her spanked ass, pushing down on her back and forcing her chest against the bench as he pumped in and out. The sex was fast, furious. Mamta reached around behind her, grabbing his taut bottom and pushing and slapping it to make him work harder. Andy grabbed a handful of hair from the back of her scalp and pulled, making her look up at the ceiling and gasp, as he thrusted deeper and deeper into her slick vagina.<br /><br />Andy didn’t seem to notice when she had her first orgasm; even as she lolled her head back and clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet, he didn’t lose speed. Her second climax was stronger, building on the afterglow of the first, as she rose on a wave of pleasure above the agony in her bottom, riding the ocean of pain on a soaring raft of orgasmic ecstasy. She was almost ready for a third orgasm when Andy stopped, his body shuddering, and she felt a spasmodic twitch inside of her as his penis erupted.<br /><br />The two of them lay, panting, on the changing bench, his penis slowly retracting from her as it shrank back into flaccidity. The bench under her crotch was wet with her emissions; they’d have to clean it off thoroughly before they left. Slowly, her boyfriend of three months brought a hand back to her head and slowly massaged at her neck and chin. She moaned weakly, enjoying his touch.<br /><br />“You,” Andy said huskily between deep pants, “are completely insane.”<br /><br />Mamta giggled. “Didn‘t we plan it together?”<br /><br />“I didn’t think you were going to do it on the first day of the damned schoolyear,” he said, almost indignantly, “and I really didn’t think you were going to physically assault one of your teammates.”<br /><br />“Those girls are bitches,” Mamta said bitterly, “if it weren’t for you, they’d have kept me off the team.”<br /><br />He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I know. They‘re just jealous of you. Your intelligence, your sophistication, your looks. Heh, one of them tried to flirt with me after practice.”<br /><br />Mamta purred at his compliments. They always did wonders for her self-confidence.<br /><br />“But…slapping them across the face? Even if they’re bullies, that’s kinda…”<br /><br />Mamta grinned mischievously. “I know. She totally deserved it, but I shouldn’t have done that.” Silently, Mamta really did enjoy the irony of her current situation. She could do whatever she wanted to those horrible girls during swim practice, and she’d be rewarded for it with the kind of sexy, public paddlings she had fantasized about for years. But yeah, slapping someone in the face was kind of not okay; she’d be more subtle in her mischief from now on.<br /><br />“Oooh,” she murmured, changing the subject, “my ass is on fire.”<br /><br />Andy chuckled, straightening up to massage her big butt with both hands. “Mmhmm,” he hummed unsympathetically.<br /><br />Mamta closed her eyes and enjoyed the attention her nude Adonis of a boyfriend was applying to her ravaged rear. She had met Andy a few weeks after her family moved to town. They had been sure to keep their relationship a secret, as Mamta wasn’t sure what would give her parents a worse heart attack; the fact that she had lost her virginity before getting married, or the fact that she had lost it to a non-Hindu. It was fortunate that she was eighteen, so she could get The Pill without them being informed.<br /><br />“You should get back to the pool,” she mentioned after a pleasant minute.<br /><br />“There’s still a few minutes until the open swim, and I doubt Bartelli cares where I went. Mmm, you’re so beautiful.” His hands moved up to her back and began massaging that as well.<br /><br />“You too,” she whispered back.<br /><br />Just then, the door to the locker room flew open, and both the young lovers looked up with a start. Coach Bartelli was standing in the doorway, mouth hanging open under his thick moustache.<br /><br />“WHAT THE FUCK AM I LOOKING AT????”S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-45429488684404632822011-07-10T22:02:00.000-07:002011-07-10T22:22:36.911-07:00Paddling Team (chapter three)Alex ignored several social calls that weekend. Partly because he had allowed his classwork to sneak up on him, and now had quite a bit of reading to do. Mostly because if he went to a party in his current state, people would be sure to ask him what he was carrying that cushion around for, and he would really rather not answer those questions. By Sunday night, he had gotten several Facebook messages asking what was up. He answered them cordially, explaining he was busy with school stuff.<br /><br />In reality, he spent most of his “study time” staring blankly at the text, as thoughts of Jill, Diane, and his paddling predicament ran through his head. He hadn’t been able to sit down at all Friday evening after his encounter with Coach Johnston. By Sunday afternoon he was still tender, and there were some faint - but visible - round bruises on the undersides of his buttocks. Every time he felt them ache when he tried to sit down, or glimpsed his backside in the bathroom mirror, he was mentally brought back to Diane’s office, and reminded of her ultimatum. It made his blood boil with outrage, and his stomach churn with trepidation. He had tried to think a way out of this, but the truth was that, at least for the time being, there wasn’t much he could do that wouldn’t put his ass in even more danger than it was currently. He remembered the big paddle in Diane’s office, and shuddered. Beginning on Saturday, he had started following the coach’s diet and exercise instructions. Most of it was pretty common-sensical, and in all honesty was stuff he had promised himself to start doing six months ago. More vegetables and fish, less white bread, no candy or soft drinks, jog and visit the weight room each day. Her weightlifting regime was a slightly more intensive, scientifically backed version of the one he had already been trying, with emphasis on abs, pecs, and arm muscles. The biggest difference was that she had added three sets each of squats and lunges to his routine.<br /><br />Come Sunday night, Alex opened Jill‘s Facebook page and stared at it. There was so much about Jill that defied Alex’s understanding. What did she mean when she said she liked him as a bottom? She wasn’t a sadistic bitch like Diane, that was for sure. In fact, outside of practice, she came across as the exact opposite. Alex still had trouble reconciling the paddle-wielding punisher from tryouts with the mild mannered - if unusually tall - Cupcake Girl. Her profile picture showed her making that bashful grin that made her face look even rounder and frecklier than it normally did. Every time he saw that smile, Alex felt something spark a little in his chest. So hard to describe his feelings. Diane had said that she had never been so enthusiastic with the paddle until he showed up. Did that mean that she liked him? <span style="font-style: italic;">Liked </span>him liked him?<br /><br />After some reluctance, he sent her a message. “Hey, how’s it going? Well, its about to go way the hell better, because I’ve decided to give the team one more shot. Johnston said to do a makeup session with you sometime this week. You free tomorrow after 6?”<br /><br />It would have to be tomorrow. Even if the bruises on his ass weren’t completely healed by then, doing it any later in the week would mean he’d still be smarting for Thursday’s practice. Alex felt his stomach sink as he realized he would probably be bringing that stupid cushion to class almost every day this week. That night, as the previous two, Alex fell asleep reliving his suffering at Jill and Diane’s forceful hands. As time passed, the pain of the experiences played less and less of a part in his memory, and he began to focus more on the feeling of their soft legs under his body, and that nameless, pins-and-needles sensation that came from a pair of eyes watching one’s vulnerable body. Even the beating with Diane’s hairbrush had a sensual element, as his agonized struggles had ground him against her lap. Lying on his side in bed, he helplessly played his fingers up and down along his turgid shaft, wondering what was wrong with himself until he came. Then he wondered what was wrong with himself while he cleaned up.<br /><br />The next morning, he read Jill’s response before leaving his room. “Awesome! Can you come to my room at 6:30? I‘m in Kafton Hall #302.” Alex rolled his eyes.<span style="font-style: italic;"> Right. Today is Labor Day. There was no need to put it off until six. Now I have all day to look forward to this.</span><br /><br />He replied that that would be just fine.<br /><br />…<br /><br />After ten hours of trying to study, trying to exercise, trying to socialize, and trying to do various other things to take his mind off what was to come, Alex changed into some fresh clothes and made his way to Kaftan Hall. He waited in front of room 302. There was a<span style="font-style: italic;"> Spongebob Squarepants</span> poster on the door, and a doormat with a big pink heart lying in front of it.<br /><br />He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and taking inventory of himself. He reminded himself that in all likelihood, Jill was going to usher him in, chat for a bit, give him the same treatment he had endured at their last practice, and then send him home. Painful and humiliating, but until he could figure out a way to defeat Diane that was unavoidable. <span style="font-style: italic;">What am I so afraid of?</span> Spongebob seemed to be taunting him.<br /><br />He rapped his knuckles against the door. There was a very quiet, very sickly pause. Then the door opened, and he smelled baking chocolate.<br /><br />“Hey! Come on in!”<br /><br />Jill was wearing a black halter-top and a pair of denim hotpants that left the vast majority of her long legs exposed. Alex was about to ask her if she was sure this was a good time (she wasn’t exactly dressed like he had expected), but she opened the door and ushered him inside.<br /><br />“Hey. Nice place,” he followed her into the living room and looked around, “I‘m a real<span style="font-style: italic;"> My Little Pony</span> fan myself.”<br /><br />“What? Oh…” Jill looked down and blushed as Alex gestured at the plush animal lying in the bedroom door. “Sorry, its kinda jumbled in here.”<br /><br />Her room wasn’t terribly messy. Less organized than most girls’ rooms, perhaps, but definitely not as bad as Alex’s. He would be much more ashamed of the Storybell toy than the state of the room. But then, he wasn’t Jill.<br /><br />“S‘alright,” Alex said as she showed him to a seat by the coffee table, “I guess you‘ve never been in a boys’ dorm.”<br /><br />Jill looked at him as if trying to make sure she had heard right. Alex quickly realized the implications of what he had just said, meaning it was his turn to blush.<br /><br />“At least…um…not one that was…um…messy.” <span style="font-style: italic;">God fucking damn it.</span><br /><br />Jill giggled and shook her head. Alex decided he had best change the subject.<br /><br />“Single room?”<br /><br />“Nah, my roommate has choir practice. She doesn’t get back until ten.” Jill’s face suddenly lit up. “Ooh! Hang on!”<br /><br />She swiveled around and darted into the kitchenette, leaving Alex with a view of her exposed back. When she turned back around, she was holding a baking tin.<br /><br />“I made those brownies you told me about. Here, try one.”<br /><br />He took one of the corner pieces. <span style="font-style: italic;">Mmm, fudge.</span> Jill watched his reactions as he chewed. His hazel eyes narrowed as he savored the taste. She decided that little mustache he was starting to grow looked really cute when he ate.<br /><br />“Wow. You put something extra in these.”<br /><br />“Mmhmm.”<br /><br />“What was it?”<br /><br />“I’m not telling,” she said playfully, twiddling with her hair.<br /><br />Alex gave her a mostly-joking glare of frustration. “Hey, I‘m the one who sent you this!”<br /><br />“And I’m the one who baked them.”<br /><br />He showed his disapproval by boycotting the rest of the brownies (it took all of his self control, and he just barely succeeded). After helping herself to a second one, Jill put them away. Alex’s eyes ventured in her direction when she bent over to slide them into the fridge. Tall as she was, she had to bend over quite far to do this, which meant her rather plump rear end was sticking straight out at him. Her denim short-shorts barely covered it.<br /><br />“So,” she said after wiping the last couple of crumbs from her mouth, “have you got your uniform?”<br /><br />Damn, here it came already. Alex tried to keep a poker face.<br /><br />“It hasn‘t arrived yet. I was late getting my measurements in.”<br /><br />“That’s okay,” she said as she sat on the couch across from him, “I forgot my paddle at the gym. We‘re going to have to sort of add-lib this.”<br /><br />Alex raised an eyebrow. “Without your paddle?” He hoped that this meant she’d be sticking with her palm.<br /><br />“There’s alternatives.”<br /><br />That didn’t sound good.<br /><br />Jill sat a little straighter on the coach. “If you’re ready, go ahead and strip down to your underwear. That should be close enough.”<br /><br />Alex nodded. He had been expecting this. He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his slacks, stepping out of his sandals as he did so. He stood in front of Jill in his boxer-briefs, tan, moderately hairy legs on display.<br /><br />“Alright!” Jill smiled gleefully. She patted her naked thigh a few times, making the skin ripple. “Come to mamma.”<br /><br />Alex gave her a very deep, serious look, his brown eyes conveying a sense of deepest pain. “My mother died two months ago.”<br /><br />“Oh…” Jill looked horrified. “Oh god,” she put her hand in front of her face, “I’m so sorry, pl-”<br /><br />“Haha, gotcha.”<br /><br />Jill stared at him in disbelief for a second, mouth hanging open. Then, jaw clenched in mock-fury, she jumped to her feet and grabbed Alex by the ear, startling him as she dragged him toward the couch.<br /><br />“You little jerk!” She scolded, yanking him behind her halter-exposed back, “You are going to be so sorry for that!” Her angry voice was convincing enough, but Alex could see the mirth in her smile when she sat down on the couch and pulled him over her lap. The little jean things she was wearing today left much more thigh exposed than her uniform bottoms; pretty much everything under Alex was skin.<br /><br />“You’re lucky I’m even giving you a warmup after that!”<br /><br />“Nah, we both know its because you just love me that mu-OW!”<br /><br />Jill got immediately into the spanking, thrusting her forearm roughly into his back and smacking him hard. His musculature immediately tensed up in response to her first couple of slaps; he had only been going to the gym for a week and a half, but already there was a taughtness to his stomach and chest that hadn’t existed before. Jill probably appreciated the sensation, but she certainly didn’t show it; as far as Alex was concerned, it was all pain.<br /><br />“Ow! Hey, whatever happened t-AH!-to starting-OW!-light?”<br /><br />“Your mother!” Jill growled as she delivered slap after stinging slap across the underside of his boxer-clad rear, hitting the same spot just under both buttocks with each smack. “Your poor, dead mother happened to it!”<br /><br />Alex shuddered and gasped as her hand visited the undersides of both cheeks - hitting both with every single spank - until he was actually starting to squirm and vibrate his legs a little. She just kept smacking that same, sensitive spot, making that junction of buttocks and thighs feel like someone was focusing a magnifying glass onto it. Jill was already spanking full force, and they definitely were nowhere near thirty.<br /><br />Finally, she stopped. Alex exhaled slowly, his lower butt feeling like it had had nettles pressed against it. Jill reduced the pressure on his back for a moment, letting him shift his weight a little over her thighs. This kind of spanking created a very different kind of pain. Alex decided that Jill was way, way too knowledgeable about her favorite sport.<br /><br />“Okay,” she said, petting his back like a cat as she let her right hand rest, “<span style="font-style: italic;">now </span>we’re going to start the warmup.”<br /><br />Alex’s head snapped around. She was grinning in a cruel manner that one wouldn’t have thought her capable of.<br /><br />“Wait, what???”<br /><br />“You heard me,” she fingered a strand of her platinum hair as her smirk broadened, “that was for making me feel bad. We still have to do the makeup session, and that starts with a warmup.”<br /><br />Alex was about to argue, but then remembered Diane’s warning about bruises. After last week’s hairbrush torture, Alex had to admit he was impressed by how minor the bruising had been, and that was almost certainly owed to the hand spanking she had given him first. What Jill had done so far only covered one small part of the area she was going to paddle, and he did not want the rest of it covered in bruises when he arrived at the gym this Thursday.<br /><br />Jill smiled sweetly at him. Alex narrowed his eyes. <span style="font-style: italic;">Oh that sneaky, underhanded…</span><br /><br />Growling, Alex laid himself back against the couch and didn’t look at Jill. He heard her chuckle victoriously before she adjusted him over her legs, pushing him forward a little more so that his butt was sticking higher up across her thigh.<br /><br />“Ready,” she patted her hand against the fullest part of his round buttocks, tickling him a little, “set…”<br /><br />Thirty slaps, fifteen across either cheek, followed in the same manner as last time. Since it was the two of them alone rather than in a gym full of other pairs, he had a much easier time concentrating on what was happening to him. She started a little harder than he remembered, her hand circling around his rump as it rose and fell with increasing speed. When she happened to smack toward the lower middle, where she had already spanked him, he hissed through his teeth and fidgeted. Quickly, the sharp burn was being spread across his ass, complimenting the preexisting pain and making his flesh more sensitive to the coming slaps. When the thirtieth cupped palm clapped against his left flank, he was just about ready to start yelping.<br /><br />“Nice,” she said, resting a hand on his seat and gently squeezing one side after the other, “all warmed up. Get up!”<br /><br />She gave him a few quick slaps, which made him hurry to his feet. Alex was about to put a hand to his rear, but a sharp look from Jill made him decide against it; apparently, she was going to follow all the rules. What bothered Alex even more, once he realized it, was the manner in which his boxer-briefs were being stretched tighter than they normally fit. Jill had to have noticed the large mass straining itself against his underwear, especially now that he was standing right in front of her. He considered trying to cover himself, but decided there was no way of doing that that wouldn’t be conspicuous.<br /><br />“There‘s a spatula on my kitchen counter,” Jill informed him, her eyes for some reason not level with his, “can you get it?”<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A spatula? What, is she going to paddle me with that?</span> Alex chuckled at the thought; he couldn’t imagine that hurting too much.<span style="font-style: italic;"> Well, I’m not about to complain. </span>Jill watched him retreat into the kitchenette, bottom working under his underwear with each step. When he returned with the Teflon spatula, she took him back across her lap.<br /><br />“Did Johnston tell you about timed paddling?” Jill asked as he tried to arrange himself in a position that minimized the conflict between his arousal and her legs.<br /><br />“I‘m guessing you set a timer and hit me until it beeps?”<br /><br />“Its not <span style="font-style: italic;">hitting</span>. But yeah. First round was one minute.” He heard her fumbling with her iPhone. She then bent down to put it on the couch cushion in front of his head, mashing her chest into the back of his head as she did so.<br /><br />“Oops, sorry about that! Anyway, press start when I tell you.”<br /><br />She pressed the blade of the spatula against the meatiest part of his tush, bending the handle against his flesh. His muscles tensed up again.<br /><br />“Keep your butt relaxed; it won’t hurt as much. Okay, ready…go!”<br /><br />Alex was half a second late in hitting the button, and was already hearing the spatula whistle through the air by the time the countdown started.<br /><br />SNAP!<br /><br />Oh. Oh, that stung alright. <span style="font-style: italic;">Okay, maybe spatulas aren’t such a silly thing to…</span><br /><br />SNAP!<br /><br />Jill’s meaty arm lifted itself halfway to shoulder length, letting her wrist do most of the work as she whipped the long-handled kitchenware through the air, the flexible blade fanning her face as it whistled into Alex’s bum.<br /><br />SNAP!<br /><br />“Gaaah!” Alex followed his exclamation with a sharp intake of breath, a tremor passing up to his shoulders and neck and down to his ankles. Jill saw fit to put her left arm back in the pinning position as she increased the speed of the paddling. Soon, the snaps were falling almost every time the iPhone ticked off a second.<br /><br />Alex hissed through his teeth and grimaced as each burning firecracker exploded against his underwear. It wasn’t as bad as the lexan paddle, and certainly nothing like the varnished blade of Diane’s wooden hairbrush, but what it lacked in force, it made up in snappiness. It was a very hot, very shallow sting, short-lived, but surprisingly intense.<br /><br />SNAP!<br /><br />SNAP!<br /><br />SNAP!<br /><br />Finally, just as Alex was about to lose his composure, the timer rang. Jill let him get up, and - with an approving nod of her head - gave him permission to rub. This he did, his back facing her.<br /><br />“Hmm,” he heard her muse.<br /><br />“Hmm?” He asked back, kneading his flesh. The sting was intense, but fortunately it was already starting to subside.<br /><br />“The spatula is really light,” she explained, “I’m not sure this is really working.”<br /><br />“Trust me, its working.”<br /><br />Jill just shook her head. Alex’s reaction to her sixty second paddling was not up to her standard, and she knew it wasn’t for want of trying.<br /><br />“Not really. I know you felt it a little, but its not the same as the paddle.”<br /><br />She wore a musing expression for a second. Alex was about to reassure her that she was doing just fine as it was when she cut him off.<br /><br />“Hey,” she said, “so, this might sound just a little weird, but maybe if you…took your underwear down…that could make up for it?”<br /><br />Alex laughed and started to make a witty comeback, but then he met her eyes.<br /><br />“You’re serious?”<br /><br />She nodded, a little of her easy blush showing itself in her face. “The spatula just isn’t that strong. Diane’s going to want us used to more intensity for this week.”<br /><br />Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’re <span style="font-style: italic;">serious</span>.”<br /><br />Jill blushed even redder and shrugged her exposed shoulders. “We’re both grown ups.”<br /><br />There was a long, silent pause, as Jill sat on the couch and Alex stood in front of her, eyes locked carefully onto each others’. Jill looked a little nervous, as if she might have said something she shouldn’t. Alex looked like he was trying to solve a complex math equation.<br /><br />Then, he - very slowly - approached her again. Hooking his fingers under the waistband of his boxer-briefs, he pulled them down toward his thighs. Jill watched him. Nerves began eating away at Alex as he, with increasing slowness, took down his underwear. Anxiety had punctured his arousal. By the time his underwear worked their way past his crotch, his penis was mostly flaccid; just swollen enough to hang an inch or so further out then it would limp. Alex didn’t know if this was a good thing or not; did he want to hide his arousal, or did he want to come across as the kind of person who was frequently erect? Which one was “right” in this situation? Alex had been naked (well, okay, <span style="font-style: italic;">mostly </span>naked) in a woman’s presence before, but never in a fully clothed woman’s presence. This was different, and unnatural.<br /><br />“Okay,” said Jill, “bend back over.”<br /><br />Something about those words sent a tingle down his spine. He felt his dick start to expand again as he climbed back onto the couch and lowered his now half-naked body onto Jill. Her thighs were soft and warm against him. As Alex laid himself back across the couch, Jill set the timer again.<br /><br />“Two minutes,” she said, “think you‘re ready?”<br /><br />Alex shook his head. “I…I really don’t know.”<br /><br />Jill nodded sympathetically, understanding what he meant by that and probably feeling the same way. Then she said “Let’s find out!” and picked the spatula back up.<br /><br />Alex’s bottom was already somewhat pink, especially across the lower surfaces. Jill had already made up her mind, however, that she wanted it bright, shiny red. She gently rubbed the spatula against the pink part, where the curve of his buttocks was most prominent. He shivered again over her thighs.<br /><br />The bite of the spatula on naked skin was a whole different kind of sting. It felt like it was catching his skin and trying to tear it away. Such a high, sharp sting, like a hornet.<br /><br />“Ow!”<br /><br />The spatula made its tell tall whistle, followed by another loud snap.<br /><br />“OW!!!”<br /><br />The blade left a most amusing red rectangle wherever it landed, patchworking Alex’s target with scarlet squares. Evening things out would be a challenge, but Jill had always been good at coloring within the lines. Alex’s legs were kicking a little, his body going from a subtle wriggle to a series of actual, involuntary jerks.<br /><br />Whistle. Snap. Pain. Repeat.<br /><br />“Don’t be such a baby!” Jill scolded playfully as she tried to hold him down, all the while getting as many smacks in as she could with the spatula without sacrificing force, “remember, I can penalize you for breaking position!”<br /><br />Alex’s body kept jerking itself away from the fiery lash, its gyrations and bouncing grinding him obscenely into her legs. His fists clenched and unclenched. He started to raise his body, but she pushed it back down and held it while administering a quick series of extra hard smacks, making him howl. His dignity was crumbling. The stimulation of her supply thighs grinded into his crotch was growing.<br /><br />Suddenly, the paddling stopped. Alex blinked his tearful eyes. There was still nearly a minute to go…<br /><br />“Lift up,” jill commanded, smacking her palm against the side of his hip.<br /><br />Unsure of what was going on, Alex did as he was told, lifting his waist above her legs. As he did so, he felt the head of his now throbbing cock slide across her thigh, standing straight down now that it had room.<br /><br />“Back down!” She accompanied her words with an unkindly hard flick of the spatula, landing each half of the crimson rectangle on a different side of his crack.<br /><br />“AAAAGH!!!” Alex quickly collapsed back onto his belly, and immediately felt Jill’s thighs close, like a pair of pincers, around his penis. He was about to comment on this when she tensed her thighs, tightening the vice and making him gasp.<br /><br />“Just getting that out of the way,” she explained, “it was poking me.”<br /><br />Whistle. Snap. “AAAH!!!”<br /><br />His body cobra’d and jackknifed over her lap as she renewed the spanking at full strength. Alex was crushed between sensations. Burning agony when the spatula landed, muscular exertion when he jerked away from it, and then intense, sexual stimulation as that pulled his dick against her imprisoning thighs. She kept spanking him, bringing the spatula down more and more on his sit spots, which she had already thoroughly reddened with her hand. Alex raised and lowered his hips in symphony with the licks, so that he was thrusting in and out of her luscious thighs, his penis jabbing painfully into the sofa cushion with each push. He started breathing deeply, his yelps of pain interrupting a moan. His bottom was bouncing up and down as he fucked her lap, encouraging her to hit it harder, spatula colliding with it as it lifted to increase the force. Alex couldn’t believe it, but he felt like he was about to-<br /><br />The timer rang, and Jill stopped. Alex straightened up, and - on a single impulse - they grabbed each other around the shoulders and kissed. Alex felt like he was floating over the pain as he somehow ignored it, focusing all of his awareness on Jill; her naked back under his hands, her hair falling around his neck, her lips and tongue as they fenced and sucked and pulled at his own. Jill grabbed at his shoulders, seeming to compliment their width and texture with her attention. Alex’s own hands ventured under the strap of her top, acquainting themselves with parts of her milky skin that he had long been wanting to touch. Alex didn’t have time to be anxious, or uncertain, or to think any other such distracting thoughts. The only things he was aware of were pain, lust, and Jill.<br /><br />Jill abruptly pulled her face away, pushing him back. Alex had only a brief moment to be disappointed, however, before she opened her legs, stood upright (nearly spilling him onto the floor), and ripped off her hotpants, revealing a muff of blonde hair between her Amazonian thighs. Then, she grabbed Alex and wrestled him onto the floor, ignoring his squawk of pain when his tormented buttocks hit the carpet. She squatted over his head, pushing her sopping vulva into his face. As his tongue started to sample her labia, she leaned over and pinned his thighs under her hands, relishing his pain as she forced his ass against the floor, before lowering her lips onto the head of his boner. Alex wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her vagina closer into his mouth as her smell overwhelmed his nostrils and her fluids soaked his face. His entire world became her blonde vagina, his smouldering ass, and the torturous sucking at the tip of his cock. He grabbed at her body, fondling her stomach and back and then grabbing and squeezing her big buttocks, all the while spelling his name around her clitoral hood with his tongue. Jill gasped and moaned appreciatively, taking his circumcised head into the back of her mouth and running her tongue up and down his shaft, her hands stroking at its base and fondling his balls. He was too long for her to fit most of him in her mouth, so she locked one hand around the base, pistoning it up and down to meet her own lips, her tongue circling the tip and then running itself along the underside. When Alex suddenly pulled his tongue away from her clitoris and forced it all the way into her vagina, she whimpered. When he began curling it against her G-spot, she moaned. As he worked, he let one hand squeeze her left buttock, while the other delivered a hard slap to its twin. Jill responded by thrusting her bottom outward, inviting another smack as Alex readjusted his face under her pussy, his moustache tickling her clitoris and labia as he pushed his tongue back inside of her. He felt himself trying to cum, but he forced his body to hold out. He tried to shut out the wizardry she was performing on his cock, to put every scrap of himself into penetrating her with his tongue, fingering her clit, grabbing her thighs, smacking her ass. He kept squeezing more of her pungent, female lubricant onto his face, racing to outrun his own need until finally it caught up with him, and he pulled his face out of her before he could suffocate as an explosion of pleasure rocked his body, pouring from his crotch into every extremity of his body. The two collapsed, panting, onto the floor.<br /><br />“Nutmeg,” Jill whispered.<br /><br />“Huh?” Alex craned his head to look down at her.<br /><br />“In the brownies. I added nutmeg.”<br /><br />“Ah, right,” he panted a few more times, “I knew it was either that or,” he panted again, “cinnamon.”<br /><br />They made eye contact, Alex’s hazel eyes looking into Jill’s crystal blue ones. They started laughing. Alex flipped himself around so he was lying face to face with Jill. They put their arms around each other and kissed. The taste was odd, but neither of them cared all that much.<br /><br />“Shower?” Jill suggested.<br /><br />“Good idea.”<br /><br />They cleaned themselves off in the shower, hot water flowing over both their bodies as they helped each other scrub and wipe themselves clean. Alex yelped when the hot water touched his ass, making Jill giggle. He kept that part of himself out of the shower as they washed. Alex made a point of sampling both of Jill’s big breasts, tasting and teasing her nipples until she made him stop, fearing things would get out of hand too quickly. It was he, however, who had to pull her hand away from his glisteningly wet penis, as it was still tender and aching from its last assignment. The two dried themselves off and retreated to Jill’s bed, treating themselves to another fudge nutmeg brownie each on the way.<br /><br />“I told you paddling’s a great sport,” Jill gloated.<br /><br />“I told you your mind was in the gutter,” Alex gloated back.<br /><br />“Oh, whatever. You’ve been checking me out since our first day in class.”<br /><br />“I’m a victim of society; I just do as my peers expect of me.”<br /><br />“Shut up.”<br /><br />“Kay.”<br /><br />They kissed again, Alex fondling her shoulders and squeezing her right bosom in the process. When she nuzzled her chin back over the crook of his shoulder, she suddenly saw something that made her face light up.<br /><br />“OH!!!”<br /><br />She got out of bed, giving Alex a fantastic view as she danced across the room, pulling something out from under the nightstand.<br /><br />“HERE’S where I left that paddle!”<br /><br />She turned back toward him on the bed, grinning evilly, tapping the lexan blade against her palm. Alex’s eyes widened.<br /><br />“Oh you wouldn’t…”<br /><br />“Why not?” She asked sweetly, seating herself beside him.<br /><br />“Oh you bitch!”<br /><br />He grabbed her right nipple and twisted it, making Jill squeal in pain and startle back, grabbing her hurting breast and shooting to her feet. Growling, she threw herself back at Alex, tackling him. They wrestled for nearly a minute, Alex fighting dirty, until Jill managed to get his arms locked under his body and herself seated on his naked back. She grabbed the APA paddle and swung full force at his round, red bottom.<br /><br />CRACK!!!<br /><br />Alex roared in anguish. Jill smiled.<br /><br />“I don’t have my phone, so let’s count to thirty.”<br /><br />…<br /><br />At 10:30 PM, Jill’s roommate came home.<br /><br />“Hello?”<br /><br />No answer.<br /><br />After grabbing a brownie (<span style="font-style: italic;">mmm, nutmeg</span>), she peeked her head into the bedroom. The light was off, but she could see Jill lying, asleep, in bed. There was a boyishly handsome and equally asleep male face visible over her shoulder, the body connected to it spooned around hers. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the saw that the blankets didn’t cover all the way to their necks, and that his hand was on her breast. Jill was clutching, as always, her My Little Pony plushy as she slept.<br /><br />Jill’s roommate smiled, perhaps a bit jealously. She noticed the lexan paddle lying discarded on the floor by the bed.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Okay,</span> she decided,<span style="font-style: italic;"> that does it. I’m joining that team next semester.</span>S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-50056007997983255902011-07-02T14:51:00.000-07:002011-07-02T23:13:03.034-07:00Paddling Team (chapter two)The student activities offices were like a maze. In the six or seven visits Alex had made to them since that fateful Thursday afternoon, he had learned three things:<br /><br />1. There were a ton of new extracurriculars that had just been introduced in the last year or two, and none of them were really that organized.<br /><br />2. Either no one else felt like switching out of a team, or - if someone did - that information was lost somewhere on a buried database in one obscure office computer out of a dozen.<br /><br />And<br /><br />3. The activities offices were all on the fifth floor, and the elevator was broken, so he had to walk all the way up and down each time.<br /><br />The staircase wasn’t the only thing that had been giving his muscles a challenge. To maximize his chances of getting onto another team - any other team - Alex had been going to the weight room religiously. According to the book he had borrowed on the subject, the routine he was following should make him visibly bulkier within two months. Hopefully, his athletic capabilities would increase much faster. The following Monday, he met Jill after Classics and told her his situation. She was, predictably, rather taken aback.<br /><br />“You thought it was rowing?”<br /><br />Alex looked at the floor. “Yes…”<br /><br />“Even when we met at the gym?”<br /><br />He felt his face turning red. “Yes…”<br /><br />Jill shook her head. “Dunno how you managed that. Well, now that you‘re in, are you staying?”<br /><br />Alex had to stop himself before he said something impolite. “Not if there‘s any way I can help it.”<br /><br />Jill’s face fell. “Are you sure? I really like working with you. I think you could be a great bottom.”<br /><br />Alex decided that that was the most unwelcome compliment he had received since his uncle had told him he’d make a good garbage man. The look he gave Jill contained an equal amount of outrage and disbelief.<br /><br />“I‘m totally serious!” she repeated, “You‘re great to work with. With a little more practice-”<br /><br />“-I’m not getting any more practice than I have to.”<br /><br />Jill recoiled a bit. Alex realized that he had allowed his voice to get defensive. Damn, he hadn’t meant to sound that angry.<br /><br />“I mean…” he said quickly, “working with you was cool” (actually, it was boilingly hot for some parts of him, but whatever) “its nothing personal. Just…this really isn’t the team I wanted to join.”<br /><br />Jill looked a little relieved, but still a bit disappointed. “I know the activities director,” she said, reluctantly, “maybe if I talk to him you‘ll have an easier time.”<br /><br />Alex smiled appreciatively. They had left the building now, and were in the sun. He really had a winning smile, when he wasn‘t looking antsy. Jill felt herself softening to his plight. “If you would do that, I’d really appreciate it.”<br /><br />“Sure. I hope you at least come to the next practice though; give it one more chance.”<br /><br />No. “Maybe. Anyway, I‘ll link you to that brownie recipe. Thanks a whole bunch for this!”<br /><br />“Heh. Welcome.”<br /><br />When they went their separate ways, Alex found himself staring after her again. Did she like him? As in, like him like him? Unfortunately, Alex had always been a remarkably poor judge of these things, and he knew it. He was fond of Jill, and didn’t want to ruin their friendship. He decided it best to wait until he got a clearer sign, rather than risk misreading her and making their relationship even more awkward than it already was with all this paddling insanity. In the meantime, it was time to find a different sport.<br /><br />…<br /><br />Alex did not make the next practice, as it turned out. Earlier that day, he had gotten a Facebook message from Jill telling him that the activities director would be in this afternoon, and that he should go in to the office before practice. Alex conveniently procrastinated in the early afternoon, and found himself forced to skip paddling in lieu of round 7 of bureaucratic arm twisting. Only slightly less painful, but hopefully this time he would actually get somewhere. After hiking up to the fifth floor and waiting in line, Alex found the director a reasonable man. He was told to fill out a form at the academic office and come back the following day, and he would be put in the next open slot on either the boating or the rock climbing teams. Awesome.<br /><br />The next day, he had just ascended the staircase - completed form in hand - when someone called to him from behind.<br /><br />“Good afternoon, Alex.”<br /><br />He turned to see Coach Johnston standing in the hall. She was wearing her usual gym clothes, with a jacket over it. She looked businesslike.<br /><br />“Afternoon,” he said, bashfully. He hadn’t seen Diane since last week’s paddling session, and had been rather hoping he wouldn’t again.<br /><br />“Have you got a minute?” she asked, “there’s something I’d like to discuss with you. In my office.”<br /><br />She led him to the hardwood door whose plaque bore her name. Damnit, I’ll bet Jill told her I was switching out. Here comes another speech trying to convince me to keep my ass where Jill can beat it. On the topic of asses, he was working hard to keep his eyes off Diane’s as he followed her into her office. Diane Johnston was a thick, solidly-built African American woman, with a muscular ghetto booty under those tight gym shorts to rival anything on MTV. Alex knew it was frowned upon to oggle one‘s own educators, and Diane’s dominant aura made him feel all the more immature for it.<br /><br />“I noticed,” she said as she sat down in front of her hardwood desk, “that you weren‘t at yesterday‘s practice.”<br /><br />“Yes, I’m swi-”<br /><br />“You have also not emailed me with your measurements so I can order your uniform.”<br /><br />Her eyes bored into him as she sat in her seat, looking up at him like a judge addressing a defendant. Apparently, she wasn’t going to offer him a seat. After looking away from her piercing eyes for a second, Alex tried again.<br /><br />“I‘m not staying on the team. I just got the form to-”<br /><br />“I know,” she interrupted him again, sounding much less than amused, “the director told me. I don‘t think you understand the situation.”<br /><br />Alex felt the air pressure in the room increase. How exactly was she making him feel so guilty? He found himself acting like a naughty child having to answer to his mother for stealing a cookie, rather than a slightly offbeat young adult trying to make a completely reasonable adjustment.<br /><br />Before he could think of anything to say, Diane got up from her chair, and - with a lightning quick motion - grabbed him by the shirt collar. Gasping in surprise, Alex tried to pull away, but a quick wraparound from her other, muscular arm put him in a chokehold. Before he even knew what was going on, she had yanked him forward, off of his feet, and was holding him over her chair. Squeezing his neck to silence his protests, she quickly planted her left foot on the chair and pushed him down over her thigh.<br /><br />“WHAT THE FU-”<br /><br />She leaned her considerable weight into his back, sandwiching him between her arm and the perfect platform of her leg, and delivered a loud, dramatic slap to his bent-over hindquarters. Alex gasped as the first spank landed. He tried to struggle, but found that his arms were both crossed behind his back, and Diane was holding them against his torso with an inescapable strength. Diane also coached the women’s wrestling and judo clubs; he was totally helpless.<br /><br />As he struggled, completely disbelieving of what was happening, Diane moved her right arm like a piston, crashing her palm into his upturned buttocks harder than Alex could have possibly been ready for. Each hard smack was like being hit by a palm-shaped hammer, jarring his flesh before the sting could even begin. He was wearing sweatpants, which had to have been making a difference, but the pain of each slap was still enough to make him yelp. Why couldn’t he have chosen blue jeans today?<br /><br />“Ow! What the! Help!”<br /><br />“No one’s gonna’ help you,” Diane said, voice strained with determination, as she held the struggling boy over her knee and spanked him much harder and faster than what she would want her team to do, “team penalties are given in my office every month. Everyone‘s used to the noise.”<br /><br />It took her less than half a second to lift her arm to shoulder length and rocket it back down again, making for two, merciless spanks every time the second hand ticked. Alex writhed his body from side to side, trying to jump or kick with his legs, but her right ankle came around with a practiced motion and pinned his left one behind it, so that three of his limbs were now helpless.<br /><br />“You and I are going to talk,” she repeated as she drove her hand again and again against the seat of his pants, “and while we do, you are going to do everything I say! Do you understand?”<br /><br />SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!<br /><br />Alex tried to argue, but the spanking just increased in intensity. Dear god, how much harder could this woman hit? Diane’s large, dark face just stared at him haughtily from atop her mountain of flesh and muscle, eyes pitiless, as her hand continued its barrage.<br /><br />Alex was stunned. His eyes were watering. His backside was burning. He thought about screaming for help, but what was left of his masculine pride kept him from that. He kept struggling, growling. She kept spanking.<br /><br />SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK-<br /><br />Soon, Alex was bouncing over her implacable thigh, body jerking involuntarily to the beat of her rock-hard palm. She was striking his bottom in a circle, hand straying from the top of his hemispheres down to his upper thighs, moving like a machine. Finally, the pain was too much, and he gave in.<br /><br />“Okay! I’ll listen! Please, stop!”<br /><br />He shouted louder than he had to, hoping someone would come to his rescue. True to Diane’s assurance, no one did.<br /><br />Diane pulled him up off her knee and put him back in a standing position. Instantly, both hands went to the back of his pants, where he tightly gripped his stinging backside and bounced and the balls of his feet. Diane stepped over to the door, placing herself between him and the escape, as she watched his dance of pain.<br /><br />“Take off your pants.”<br /><br />Alex, hands still clutching his hot rump, stared at her in renewed disbelief.<br /><br />“Are you fucking crazy?”<br /><br />She smiled cruelly, her full lips seeming almost hungry. “After what just happened, you‘d be crazy not to do what I say. I want you in your undies. Ten seconds, or you go back over my knee.”<br /><br />Ten. Nine.<br /><br />He stared at her in openmouthed disbelief. This was a crime! A scandal! He could have her job for this!<br /><br />Eight. Seven.<br /><br />He could call for help, couldn’t he? In a crystal moment, he suddenly realized why no one objected to Diane’s disciplinary policy. The thick walls. The big, hardwood doors. Jesus Christ, this building is soundproof! It made sense, really. The chemistry labs were just one floor down.<br /><br />Six. Five.<br /><br />“We can talk!” He insisted frantically, “We don’t need this!” Her face didn’t change.<br /><br />Four. Three.<br /><br />Closing his eyes, almost sniffling with pain and humiliation, Alex looked down at the floor and - slowly, deliberately - undid his belt. He let his pants slide to the floor, revealing tan, well-toned thighs with a fine layer of reddish brown body hair, crowned by a pair of plaid boxers.<br /><br />“There we go,” said Diane with a victorious smirk, “come over here.”<br /><br />She took him by the arm and, using her other hand, pulled the office chair behind her by the door. Sitting heavily in the chair, she pulled him down over her lap, using both arms to easily overpower him. Diane wasn’t as tall as Jill (well, no one was as tall as Jill), but she was more stockily built, and probably at least as heavy.<br /><br />“What are you doing?!” Alex demanded, looking up at the smirking coach. From his current vantage point, her face was framed above a very pronounced chest that jutted out from her rippling body like a solid, meaty shelf. Was he starting to get hard again? Oh god, please tell me I’m not getting hard right now.<br /><br />“I’m teaching you a little lesson,” she said, maneuvering the helpless young man over her lap, “and I’m going to explain why you can’t quit the team.”<br /><br />Once again, she forced his hands across his back and held them down with her left forearm, leaning in so hard he knew he could feel that enormous chest against his back. Her right leg came up, scissoring above his thighs and holding his legs down against the armless office chair. He marveled at the thickness and weight of her thigh, and how it felt so strong and yet so soft against his own, naked skin. That thought was quickly driven from his head when she grabbed the waistband of his briefs and yanked them down to where her thigh crossed his, baring his bottom.<br /><br />“What the-!”<br /><br />She cut him off by giving him a hard slap on the naked bottom, reigniting the sting from her last spanking. She left her palm on the crown of his left buttock, pressing down to remind him what it could still do. He had never felt so physically violated. Worse than even her hand on his naked ass was the feeling of his cock against her smooth, nylon gym shorts, as it hung down the inside of her left thigh.<br /><br />“Listen up,” Diane said firmly, “I‘ve got a situation to deal with. And you‘re not going anywhere until you‘ve heard what I‘ve got to say.”<br /><br />Alex panted and tried to struggle against her body, but it was useless. Did he just hear her chuckle?<br /><br />“Paddling is a new intramural sport. We‘ve only been on campus for three years, and I promised myself that I‘m going to bring this team to nationals this spring.”<br /><br />Her left leg, over which Alex was secured, was incredibly thick. It was like lying down on a platform of warm, springy flesh. His proximity to her female skin was having the same effect on him that Jill’s had the other week…only this time, his penis was completely exposed. She could probably feel it starting to harden against the inside of her thigh. If she flipped him over, she would see it. Alex prayed to every god he had ever heard of that he would open his eyes and find himself safe in bed, or that he would spontaneously die. Either one would work here.<br /><br />“Jill is one of my best girls. Better than Courtney. Better than anyone else I‘ve had on the team. If there‘s anyone in this school who can win us that medal, its her. But she needs to stay motivated.”<br /><br />Here, Diane took her hand off of Alex’s ass so she could inspect it. If Alex’s chest and arms were in as good a shape as his lower body, she would have had a much harder time wrestling him down. His smooth, rounded leg muscles flowed into each other like a blown-glass sculpture, coming together and swelling into a pair of almost perfectly rounded cheeks. Bent over as he was, his bottom stuck up at the ceiling in a consummate dome, each buttock a thick, bouncy half-circle. Diane thought that Alex definitely had a back porch to be proud of, especially for a white boy. His lightly tanned skin had started to redden after her spanking, making her eager to learn how it would look after a little more mistreatment. She laid her fingertips on the crown of his cheeks, pressing down a bit against their springy tissues.<br /><br />“I‘ve tried pairing Jill with every bottom on the team,” she went on, “she does better with the boys, which makes it hard for me. It is almost impossible to find men who are willing to bottom. The APA wants each team to have a fifty-fifty mixture of bottoms, but at every meet I‘ve been to there were hardly any boys. The more I have, the more generous the judges are likely to be. And then there‘s Jill.”<br /><br />Squeezing her right thigh down into his legs, she began spanking him again, just as hard. She didn’t have quite as much room to swing her arm in this position, but with his buttocks held so perfectly in place between her arm and her thigh, her aim was perfect. Alex hissed in pain as the first volley of hard slaps came down on his shamefully naked bottom, loud, wet slaps reverberating around the room as the agony grew.<br /><br />“I have never,” Diane lectured as she spanked his bouncing domes, “seen Jill put as much of herself into the game as she did last Friday. From the first day I had her in the gym, I could see she had potential. I‘ve tried matching her up with all the boys and half the girls on the team, but until you came along, I wasn‘t tapping all of it.”<br /><br />She began spanking faster, her cupped palm reaching a machinegun rapidity as Alex’s buns turned from pink, to sunset, to fire engine red. The pain was already at least as bad as it had been after his first paddling from Jill, and Diane showed no sign of slowing down. She didn’t even break pace as she continued to speak.<br /><br />“With you as her bottom, I can finally get Jill to be the top I know she can be. She’s the one who’s going to make my team work. And I‘m not letting you ruin our chances at nationals because you’re too chicken to get your little booty smacked!”<br /><br />Alex’s eyes were watering. His body wasn’t under his control anymore, writhing like a fish out of water in vein effort to get his “little booty” out of Diane’s line of fire. The smacks came down twice - no, three times per second, like a hail of incendiary shells setting a defenseless city on fire. Alex could hardly think coherently. How many times had she hit him? A hundred? A hundred and fifty? And still no signs of slowing down!<br /><br />One minute after she had started the spanking, Alex was barking and yelping. One minute after that, his face was damp. How much pain could someone possibly feel? How much blazing holocaust could she possibly pour into his ass before she ran out of steam? He could barely feel it, but his penis was completely erect, his endocrine system choosing to respond to her female pheromones over his own pain receptors; it was standing at an uncomfortable angle against the length of her thigh.<br /><br />After two and a half minutes and what had to be several hundred slaps of merciless, bare-bottomed spanking, Diane’s arm stopped descending. Alex was trembling, jaws clenched as he struggled to hold in the sobs. His body was covered in sweat. His buttocks, which Diane had just removed her hand from, felt like a nest of yellow jackets had been convinced it was their mortal enemy. “Red” didn’t even do it justice. Not five minutes after seeing it in its naked glory, Diane had turned her new favorite booty the color of an overripe tomato. She had trouble suppressing a grin. Reluctantly, she removed her leg and forearm from his body.<br /><br />“Stand up. And don‘t you dare rub your butt!”<br /><br />Alex extricated himself from her thigh, wobbling shakily to his feet. He quickly moved one hand in front of his crotch, while the other darted toward - no, he stopped himself just in time. His ass was demanding attention, its nerve endings screaming for him to do something. It took every ounce of determination to keep his hand a few inches away from it. Alex looked at Diane through leaking eyes, filled with fear and caution. Diane like the way his large, hazel eyes widened when he was in pain. Like Bambi. It made her want to hug him and make him feel better, perhaps in a motherly fashion, perhaps in certain other ways. She could definitely understand Jill’s affinity for this innocent young male. Unfortunately, the nature of Diane’s job prevented her from acting on these natural impulses. She sighed to herself; coaching this team could be such a clit tease.<br /><br />“Stand in the corner, facing the wall. Leave your pants and undies down. Hands on your head.”<br /><br />Alex did his best to keep his privates covered as he baby-stepped (his ankles were still bound by his semi-discarded clothing) over to the corner. His erection had gone down a ways due to the burning pain, but it was still at half-mast. In most situations, Alex took pride in the fact that his penis took both hands to cover at a profile. Right now, he was nothing but mortified at the possibility of Diane seeing its state. He started crying again, not from the pain so much as frustration and embarrassment, as he faced the corner and put his hands on his chestnut hair. How could she possibly get away with this? The more he thought about it though, the more likely it seemed that she could. Punitive spankings sounded like a logical enough punishment for misbehavior in this sick “sport,” and he was still technically on the team. He doubted that she was permitted to take his clothes off, but unless he ran out into the hall half-naked right now, it would be her word against his. That conniving bitch; she knew exactly how illegal this was, and she knew exactly why and how she would never have to face the consequences. Though he had his back to her, he could just imagine that big, white grin.<br /><br />Diane wasn’t actually grinning as she joted something down on the legal pad on her desk, but she was smiling. Every few seconds, she looked up at her miserable captive, chuckling at the dichotomy between his fashionably clothed upper half and his naked, reddened lower one. She could see his arms tremble as he stopped himself from rubbing his ass. The pain must have been excruciating…okay, now she was grinning.<br /><br />After a minute or two, Diane tore off the legal sheet and put it on her desk. “I’ve written up a nutrition and exercise routine,” she said, “paddling is a spectator sport, and I want all my team members looking their best. I expect to see the results in six weeks; I can tell if you aren‘t following it.”<br /><br />Alex hung his head even lower. He was trying to think of a way she could be defeated, but nothing came to mind. It was like being trapped in some barbaric, third world dictatorship in the middle of an American private college.<br /><br />“Turn around.”<br /><br />Alex slowly turned, keeping both hands in front of his (now thankfully flaccid) crotch. He felt a bit releived that his naked, crimson ass was no longer on display, but having to make eye contact with Diane made him even more uncomfortable. Her jacket was now hanging on a hook on the wall, leaving her in just a wife beater and gym shorts. Even in his agonized state, her figure -as curvy and voluptuous as it was powerful - was hard to ignore.<br /><br />“Before I send you home,” she explained, a look Alex didn’t at all like in her dark eyes, “there‘s one more thing we have to take care of.”<br /><br />She opened her desk drawer and reached for an object inside. Oh god, Alex panicked, what now?<br /><br />“I’m pretty sure you’re not going to quit the team,” she went on, “if you do, you will soon find yourself right back here in my office, and what happened today will seem like a gentle massage. Understand?”<br /><br />Gritting his teeth, willing to do anything to get him out of here faster, Alex nodded.<br /><br />“Very good. But you also skipped practice yesterday. I explained in the email I sent out that skipping has consequences.”<br /><br />She pulled out the object from the drawer. It was a glossy, hardwood hairbrush, classically oval shaped and at least an inch thick. It gleamed in the fluorescent lighting like a surgical tool, the mottled, blonde wood appearing smooth and well varnished.<br /><br />Alex’s mouth fell open. No. No, there was no way.<br /><br />“Bend back over,” she tapped her thighs with the back of the brush, “skipping practice is thirty licks. If you try to fight or argue, you get thirty more.”<br /><br />Alex’s outrage was immeasurable. That sadistic bitch was really enjoying this, wasn’t she? The mirth in her eyes, that subtle curl at the edges of her mouth that she was trying to hide. Never before had Alex truly felt like he was helpless, at someone else’s mercy. For some reason, he felt his manhood starting to repressurize. Why is this happening to me? What the hell is my problem?<br /><br />She tapped the hairbrush against her thigh again. “Thirty-five licks. In ten seconds it‘ll be forty.”<br /><br />As Alex baby-stepped back across the room, his foreboding mixed with morbid curiosity. A hairbrush. A wooden hairbrush, like in some old movie. How much was this going to hurt? What would the back of the brush feel like as it touched his sensitive cheeks? His stomach was churning. His mind was locked up. His face was the very picture of fear and emasculation. Alex wasn’t even sure what he was feeling as he laid down across Diane Johnston’s ample thighs. His cock was starting to pump itself back up; it was lying straight across her legs, so that the hills and valley of her lap could be felt along its length under her nylon shorts. Last week, he had been worried about Jill noticing his reaction, and that had been through his trousers. There was no way in hell Diane wouldn’t feel that. He wished he was back home. He wished he had gone to Washington State. He wished that he had enlisted and been sent over to Afghanistan. He wished he was feeling anything besides those plump, female thighs cushioning his hips.<br /><br />Diane rested her hand on his back and gently ran the blade of the hairbrush across his buns. He shivered; it was cold, and so unforgivingly hard. She tapped it against the center of each buttock, making him wince.<br /><br />WAP!!!!<br /><br />The pain was like acid, burning acid. His left buttcheek felt like it had been skinned open and bleeding. His arms, head, and legs flew up in the air, his body vibrating in an attempt to diffuse the force.<br /><br />WACK!!!<br /><br />His right flank was dipped in the lava too. The hairbrush spanks came down about once every second and a half, as Diane leisurely redefined his concept of pain.<br /><br />SPLAT!!!!<br /><br />CRACK!!<br /><br />CRACK!!!<br /><br />CRACK!!<br /><br />She rubbed the blade of the hairbrush in a circle around his ass. His mouth was gasping like a fish. His fingers and toes curling and uncurling. When Diane resumed the spanking, it was twice as fast, and significantly harder.<br /><br />CRACK!!! CRACK!!! CRACK!!!<br /><br />She leaned into him harder, squishing his torso, his prick, and her lap together into a sandwich of human flesh. She swung the hairbrush faster, catching him right on the underside of each crimson bubble, making his tight buttocks rebound after each lick. Diane felt the line of stiffness crossing her legs; she decided to hammer it a little deeper into her skin, so she increased the force. Alex howled.<br /><br />At fifteen, she increased the pace again, moving her arm as fast as she had during the hand spanking. Alex’s naked buns were turning dark crimson, with round, purplish marks on the lower sit spots above his thighs where the hairbrush had fallen most often. His butt was starting to swell. At twenty-five, Alex had lost his ability to control himself; he was crying like a baby, no longer able to speak. Diane stopped to rest the heavy, wooden brush against his undoubtedly tender crowns. She prodded at him a little with her finger; making him jump; ohh, that bottom was putting out some heat alright!<br /><br />Diane delivered the last ten a bit more slowly, making sure each blow landed squarely in the center of the opposite cheek. At thirty five she put down the brush, massaging her right bicep a little. Alex remained lying over her lap, crying softly, his sit-upon a rainbow of reds and purples. With a self-satisfied smirk, she noted that his erection was gone.<br /><br />“Are you going to bring that form to the office?” Diane asked sweetly.<br /><br />Alex shook his disheveled head. Diane patted him affectionately on the butt and picked up the form from the floor where he’d dropped it. He didn’t react when he heard her rip it in half.<br /><br />“Good boy. There’s a bathroom in the back of my office; go there until you’re ready to leave.”<br /><br />…<br /><br />Alex took a few minutes to wash his face and straighten his hair in the back bathroom. While he was in there, he dared to take a look at his rump in the mirror; dark red, with two purple circles right where he‘d have to put his weight when he sat down. Even the lightest touch to his sit spots burned like a hot coal. He tried splashing cold water on them, but that just made him numb.<br /><br />After stuffing some soft tissue paper into the back of his boxers, he was able to pull up his pants and underwear and walk - wincing with each step - back to the door. Before he left the bathroom, however, he noticed something hanging on the back wall. It was a long, hardwood paddle, the kind you’d expect from some fraternity hazing stunt, with two rows of holes drilled down its length. It was well over a foot long, and hung on the wall like a trophy. Looking at it, he remembered Diane’s warning about what would happen if he defied her again. He trembled. She wanted me to see that thing. That’s why she sent me back here.<br /><br />As he left her office, Diane looked up from her desk.<br /><br />“Don’t forget to take your cushion to classes; you’ll need it for the next few days. I tucked your diet and exercise program into your pocket.”<br /><br />Alex stopped and looked at her. She was sitting behind her desk, working away at something on her computer. Like any staff member having a normal day at the office.<br /><br />“I also emailed jill and told her to expect a visit from you. I expect you to make up this week’s session with her before next Thursday. I‘m going to be in touch with her.”<br /><br />Alex reached into his pocket; the paper was there all right. She must have slipped it into his pocket while she was using the hairbrush.<br /><br />“Email me your measurements. See you next week.”S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-76742724865818912472011-06-28T08:38:00.000-07:002011-06-28T08:41:31.964-07:00Paddling Team (chapter one)Alex wasn’t known for being punctual, but this afternoon he made sure he was at the gym five minutes early. Today was the last day of tryouts, which meant he had to make damn sure he was on top of his game. For the millionth time, he cursed himself for procrastinating this long; now that time was running out, he was dangerously low on options…and the ones that were left didn‘t exactly play to his strengths. Sadly, aside from hiking and bike-riding he wasn’t too much of an athlete. He just hoped to god that he was enough of one to make the team.<br /><br />The nineteen year old college freshman had gotten himself into a bit of a pickle. Due to his impressive grades and exemplary citizenship in high school, the institution was willing to waive 75% of his tuition…on two conditions. The first was that he maintain a Grade Point Average of 3.5 or higher; no problem, he was going for a history major. The second was that he participate in at least two official extracurricular clubs or activities per semester, one of which had to be a competitive, intramural event. This shouldn’t have been a problem either, had he not listened to the drunken frat boys who assured him that there were always plenty of open slots and that he shouldn’t hurry. <span style="font-style: italic;">Note to self: avoid the Greek scene from now on.</span><br /><br />“Alex?” A female voice came from behind him. “Hi!”<br /><br />Alex turned to see Jill striding up to the gym. Jill’s was a very distinctive appearance. She was the tallest woman Alex had ever met, her 6’2’’ frame giving her four inches over himself, along with almost everyone else. Hell, she was probably one of the tallest people he had met. With her blue eyes and long, platinum blonde hair, Alex thought she looked like a Valkyrie out of some Norse opera. The first thing he had said to her, when they met in Classics last week, was “Hello, I’m Alex. Wow, you’re really tall.” Jill had blushed and shaken her head at him, but she didn’t seem to take it in a bad way. She had continued sitting next to him, and usually provided conversation on the way out of the building.<br /><br />“Oh, hey there!” Alex replied as she came up to the door. “Here for paddling tryouts?”<br /><br />She shook her head. “I’m already on the team. Its, like, my favorite sport.”<br /><br />She smiled broadly. Jill had this wide, full-cheeked grin and freckled, girlish face that looked almost out of place on her stature. Alex smiled back. “I used to be pretty good back in middle school,” he said, recalling his sea-kayak trips around Pudget Sound, “but…uh…its kinda been awhile.”<br /><br />“Oh, don‘t worry, I‘m sure you‘ll do fine.” She sounded like she meant it, which honestly confused Alex a bit; his arms were not exactly bulging. “You want to work together?”<br /><br />Alex raised an eyebrow. “Together? They don’t have the new people together for tryouts?”<br /><br />“What?” Jill gave him an incredulous stare. “Is that really how they do it in Washington? You can get really hurt if the top isn‘t experienced.”<br /><br />Alex had never heard the word “top” used in association with paddling. Granted, it was several years since he’d touched a rowboat, but he could have sworn the two positions were “front” and “back.” Maybe it was an east coast thing.<br /><br />“I guess I‘m just a super badass then,” Alex shrugged.<br /><br />Jill chuckled, looking at Alex in what almost seemed an appraising manner. “I guess we’ll see.”<br /><br />“So,” Alex said, deciding to change the subject before he made himself look too ignorant, “how‘d the cupcakes turn out?”<br /><br />Jill’s eyes lit up. “Oh, they were great! I made that mocha frosting you told me about, and…here, I took a picture!”<br /><br />She eagerly fished out her cell phone and showed him the cupcake platter she had been planning earlier that week. They talked about baking until the rest of the team started to arrive, at which point Jill started introducing Alex around. Strangely, almost all of them were girls. For a moment, Alex was afraid he had accidentally showed up for women’s tryouts, but there were a couple other guys. Finally, the gym door opened, and they filed in.<br /><br />“Locker rooms are that way,” Jill pointed when Alex tried to follow her. Alex was confused.<br /><br />“We‘re not changing up at the lake?”<br /><br />“Lake?” Jill looked at him blankly. “Why would we go there?”<br /><br />…<br /><br />The men’s locker room was nearly empty - just Alex and two other guys, both of them upperclassmen. In it had been a hamper containing a number of one-size-fits-all uniforms that looked nothing like the wet suit Alex had worn in middle school. A white muscle shirt with a black number “05” on the front, a pair of skintight white polyester shorts that Alex felt embarrassed just looking at, and slippers. The hell? He had asked one of the older guys about the uniforms, to which he replied “what about them?”<br /><br />No wet suits, and no lake. Were they just going to be paddling across the gymnasium swimming pool or something?<br /><br />Alex looked at himself in the mirror before following the others out into the gym. The muscle shirt hung loosely around his torso, displaying his none-too-great arms and upper chest. The swimming trunks (or whatever they were supposed to be) were the exact opposite, squeezing his hips and upper thighs like a constrictor snake. Turning around, he saw a shamefully prominent bulge at the front; damn, it hadn’t looked so noticeable from above! The other two boys had the same problem with their own uniform bottoms, but they seemed nonchalant about it. Alex decided he should try and act the same, but it wasn’t easy. He just hoped he could avoid paying too much attention to the girls…<br /><br />After trying in vain to adjust the front of his trunks, Alex gave himself one last look in the mirror. A tan-skinned (from his Mexican half) and reddish-brown haired (from his Irish half) young man, broad shouldered and on the tall side, was framed half-nakedly against the wall of lockers. His arms and legs were on the thicker side, and there was a bit of a pectoral bulge over the low collar of the shirt, but his torso could still hold a lot more muscle mass than it currently did; overall, he was a lot fitter below the waistline than above it, which did little for rowing a boat. The bits of white cloth and polyester didn’t look right on him - like he was too small for the shirt and too big for the trunks - and the bright white was too vivid against his complexion.<br /><br />He shook his head. There were just too many things about this practice that didn’t add up.<br /><br />…<br /><br />Everyone paired up as soon as they entered the gym. Most of the girls were coupled with another of their kind, aside from the two who had snapped up Alex’s peers. It didn’t take him long to spot Jill, on account of her being almost half a head taller than the next biggest person. She smiled encouragingly as they crossed the room toward each other.<br /><br />“It looks good on you!” She insisted.<br /><br />Alex snorted. “I guess you‘re more into baking than fashion.”<br /><br />She gasped in mock offense. “Oh, shut up!”<br /><br />However ambivalent Alex was about his own uniform, there was no denying that Jill looked absolutely stunning in hers. Her shirt and trunks were pale gray rather than white, and fit her just tightly enough to show off her strong, buxom figure without squeezing too tight. As his eyes fell over her tall, well-highlighted body, Alex felt his trunks getting tighter; he carefully reminded himself to stop checking out his teammates and get back to worrying about tryouts.<br /><br />Judging by the presence of Jill’s name emblazoned in black letters next to the number 09, this suit had been fitted for her. Hopefully, Alex would be granted the same privilege when he made the team. Well, if I make the team.<br /><br />“What’s with the different uniform colors?” Alex asked as he peered around the room.<br /><br />Jill gave him that incredulous look again, like she couldn‘t believe he didn‘t know this. “Gray is top, white is bottom.”<br /><br />Alex raised an eyebrow. There had only been one hamper in the men’s locker room, and it had been full of white uniforms. The women, from what he could see, were divided pretty evenly between white and gray. While Alex didn’t especially care which side of the canoe he sat in, he couldn’t help but feel just a little discriminated against. Maybe the coach is some crazy feminist or something, and she wants the girls to steer? The more he thought about it, the less likely that seemed.<br /><br />“Here she comes,” Jill whispered as the door opened again, “ready to blow Coach Johnston away?”<br /><br />“I’ll blow out every candle on her cake,” replied Alex in the most ridiculously macho whisper he could produce.<br /><br />Jill laughed, shaking her head and putting a hand over her eyes. “That sounded so dirty.”<br /><br />“Well you sound like you’ve got your mind in the gutter.”<br /><br />She rolled her eyes with a bit of a blush. Jill seemed to blush as easily as she smiled.<br /><br />Coach Diane Johnston turned out to be an African American woman, big boned and thickly built, with heavyset features and an impressive musculature that showed through her full gym suit. Alex guessed her age at a very fit and athletic forty.<br /><br />“Good morning,” her voice was deep and throaty, “welcome, newcomers, and welcome back team. I was very glad to learn how many new faces there would be for this year‘s women‘s paddling team, and I‘m even gladder to see you all for myself. As some of you know, this is only the third year we‘ve had a team, and I hope with this many of you we can finally go all the way to nationals.”<br /><br />Alex did a double take. Did she just say women’s paddling team? He could have sworn she said that. He quickly looked around at the other two guys; they looked kind of nervous and jumpy, but they hadn’t left the room. And there was a hamper of uniforms in the men’s locker room, wasn’t there? Alex felt the uncomfortable, visceral sensation that comes with not knowing if you’ve just made a major screw-up.<br /><br />“Most of you know that we compete in three separate events,” Coach Johnston went on, pacing in front of her lined-up protégés, “timed, endurance, and skit paddling. Every pair is expected to participate in at least two of those events, but as your coach, I‘ll appreciate it if you try for all three. There are some different skillsets involved in each one - especially the skits, which take a little drama acting - but when you‘ve gotten yourself into the right headspace, you‘ll find they can all be mastered.”<br /><br />Alex wasn’t sure he understood three consecutive words that she was saying. All this talk of acting skits and headspace, and still not a drop of water in sight? The writhing in his stomach got worse when Johnston walked past him. The more he watched her, the more Alex realized what an impressive figure of a woman Diane was. Her very dark complexion and classic, African lips worked a strange kind of chemistry with her domineering voice and body language, reminding Alex again of just how tightly his trunks fit him. Great, Alex thought as he tried to get ahold of himself, my arms are skinny, I look like a dork in this suit, and now if I‘m not careful I‘m going to burst out of these goddamned hotpants things in front of the whole bridge club, or whatever the hell this is.<br /><br />Alex was grateful when Diane clapped her hands sharply and told them to start doing warmups. After however many stretches, pushups, jumping jacks, and situps, Diane told them all to pair back up, each veteran team member making sure that there were no free neophytes before picking another of their own. Jill happily took Alex by the arm and led him to the right side of the gym, where the other newbie teams were concentrated. Leaning against the bleachers were a number of armless folding chairs, and before them was a large, white box. Diane positioned herself by these before speaking again.<br /><br />“Since some of you haven‘t done this before, I‘m going to demonstrate before you start. Everyone watch me very carefully, especially prospective tops. If you don‘t pay attention, you could end up hurting your bottom, and then its off the team.” She looked much more serious as she said this bit, looking back and forth to make eye contact with every single student. Despite apparently being a “bottom,” Alex recoiled a bit from her stare.<br /><br />“Courtney, come here.”<br /><br />A big, slightly chubby girl in a gray uniform reading “01: Courtney” came forward. She was only around average height, but with a very thick, heavy figure; a stocky mixture of muscle and pudge. She was cute, in an unconventional way: Greek features, big bust, and - most apparently from where Alex was standing - what had to be the largest rear end in proportion to the rest of her body that Alex had ever seen. Despite having a fitted uniform, her gray trunks were tight in the back, making each mighty bounce and wobble only too visible as she walked. Alex mentally slapped himself again and looked back up. He noticed Jill watching him coyly out of the corner of her eye. It was now his turn to blush.<br /><br />“Courtney Aniksos is your team captain. Courtney’s normally a top, but as captain she’s going to play the bottom for me.”<br /><br />Courtney grinned and curtsied. A few people laughed.<br /><br />“Since this is our first practice of the term, we‘re going to spend most of today doing counting exercises. Courtney, set up a chair.”<br /><br />Courtney grinned sheepishly and looked at the floor. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, before taking one of the folding chairs from the wall and opening it facing the others.<br /><br />“Ma‘am,” the coach repeated meaningfully, looking into everyone’s eyes again, “from the moment you start the routine, bottoms must address their tops as ‘ma’am’ unless they’re told to do something else. That’s going to be very important for skits, so you’d better get into the habit now.”<br /><br />As Diane seated herself on the chair, Alex turned his utterly bewildered face up at Jill.<br /><br />“What the hell is this?” He whispered.<br /><br />“Shush,” Jill shushed him, looking surprised at his interruption, “this is important, watch!”<br /><br />Before Alex’s disbelieving eyes, the older woman gave Courtney a cross look and urgently patted her thigh. “Bend over.” Still grinning sheepishly, Courtney leaned over Diane’s lap and planted her hands on the floor, so that she was arched over the coach’s thighs. With a bit of help from Diane, she was soon positioned so that her oversized bottom was resting right over the center of the coach’s lap, its immense, tightly-clothed underside open to Diane’s right.<br /><br />“Over-The-Knee is the standard position used in American Paddling Association meets. OTK is comfortable for the bottom and gives the top plenty of room to work. If the bottoms can‘t hold still, their tops can restrain them by resting their left arms on the lower back, like this, and leaning in. As you can see, I don’t lean too hard; I want to hold Courtney down, not crush her.”<br /><br />Leaning over her “bottom,” Diane’s face was held closer to her audience, giving her powerful body an almost predatory silhouette. Courtney was taking deep breaths, as if preparing herself for something strenuous. Diane waved her free right arm a few times to warm it up.<br /><br />“For longer exercises, we‘ll use a safe word, but to start we‘re just going to do a thirty count warmup and a ten count paddling. For warmups, you cup your hand just a little, and bring it down while flicking your wrist, like your arm is made of leather.”<br /><br />And then, before Alex could convince himself that this was really happening, Diane brought her slightly-cupped right hand down against Courtney’s upturned buttocks.<br /><br />Snap!<br /><br />Courtney jerked a little and let out a soft “ooh…” Alex’s eyes snapped open wide. He looked around at the others. Everyone else was either watching closely, with a mystified excitement or apprehension, or (in the case of the veterans), tapping their toes waiting for the demonstration to be over. <span style="font-style: italic;">Paddling team</span>, Alex thought,<span style="font-style: italic;"> paddling team</span>. On the website there was a boating team, and there was a paddling team.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Damnit, I thought it was a typo!</span><br /><br />“Remember, the warmup starts out light, just hard enough to sting. Each slap should be just slightly harder than the one before. For beginners, its good technique to switch cheeks every time you slap. Like so.”<br /><br />Snap! The other side of Courtney’s bulging ass was paid a visit by Coach Diane Johnston’s palm. Courtney’s body shivered again as each ample bottom cheek shook and jiggled under her gray trunks. Alex felt his eyes gluing themselves to Courtney’s besieged backside as its owner gasped. The way Diane made it shake was hypnotic.<br /><br />“Count your strokes,” Diane advised, “if you have trouble doing that, count out loud. Start with two seconds between strokes - one Mississippi, two Mississippi - and speed up after fifteen. Remember,” she slapped Courtney’s bottom again, “each stroke is just a little harder than the last!”<br /><br />Her hand came down again on the opposite cheek, and then - almost exactly two seconds later - revisited its twin. Courtney’s trembling and gasps made it clear that these were getting more painful. Five…six…seven…<br /><br />Alex looked up at Jill. She looked excited, and impatient. Oh god. He was a bottom wasn‘t he? It really was a women‘s paddling team; only women could do the paddling! For Alex, everything seemed to slow down into a waterlogged dream-time. His brain was locked in disbelief. His heart was racing. His eyes were captivated. The only sensation in his body was a growing discomfort down below, as his penis fought to stand up against his tight shorts; he tried to avert his gaze from Courtney’s bouncing ass and Diane’s domineering face, but they wouldn’t obey.<br /><br />At fifteen, Diane doubled her speed, striking the captain’s big ass every second. Courtney was writhing now, gasping sharply after each loud slap set her immense buttocks dancing. The spanking grew harder, as did the resulting vibrations, and soon Courtney was kicking her legs a little and wincing painfully. The younger girls present all pressed in, eager to see the details of their captain’s chastisement. Some gray-garbed applicants looked excited. Their white-clad counterparts did not. When the thirtieth smack landed, Diane left her hand on Courtney’s quivering, oversized ass and addressed her.<br /><br />“Fetch me a paddle and get back in position. No rubbing!”<br /><br />While Diane explained that rubbing or grasping one’s own hindquarters was not permitted during the exercises, Courtney opened the box and took out a big, plastic spanking paddle. It was rectangular, about twelve inches long, and had “American Paddling Association” printed on the blade. Her face hardly betraying the sting she must have felt, Courtney handed the paddle to Diane and climbed obediently back over her lap.<br /><br />“I want you to count these,” she commanded her victim. Courtney nodded reluctantly. Before Alex’s still-widening eyes, Diane raised the paddle and brought it down right on the very center of Courtney’s fat bottom.<br /><br />“ONE!”<br /><br />Courtney’s entire body buckled under the paddle as her massive tush shook like two scoops of jello in a tight, gray wrapping. She was still grimacing with pain from the first stroke when the clear plastic cut into her bottom again, sending the flesh splashing away from the part that it flattened in a great wave. The instant the paddle cracked into her ass, Alex felt the tension in his shorts skyrocket. He tried to stand at an angle that made the bulge less visible, as the coach raised her arm again.<br /><br />“TWO!”<br /><br />Diane delivered each paddle lick as soon as Courtney was finished counting the previous one. After five, she stopped for a moment and gently fondled her student’s ass with her left hand, taking her weight momentarily off of Courtney’s back.<br /><br />“This is why the warm up is important. If I swing like this without getting the blood flowing, I could bruise her for weeks.”<br /><br />She emphasized this point by making the sixth stroke the hardest so far. Alex’s eyes were glued to the scene as the demonstration came to its end. He had actually lost the sensation in most of his body by the time Diane lifted the paddle after the tenth stroke and told Courtney she could rub now. Jumping to her feet, the team captain quickly enjoyed her new privilege.<br /><br />“Owww…” she muttered, giving her mentor a look of half-serious reproach as she furiously kneaded her own behind. There was some deliberate drama in the way she conducted herself, but the pain was clearly genuine. Alex winced. Jill looked frighteningly peppy.<br /><br />Diane stood up and placed the paddle back in the box. “Set up the chairs in a line. New people on this side, veterans over there. There’s enough chairs and paddles for everyone. I’ll be walking past to help you out.”<br /><br />Courtney hotfooted it back to her partner, hands still clutching her hindquarters. Before Alex knew it, Jill had unfolded a chair toward the end of the line, and was beckoning him toward it. She was already holding a standard issue APA paddle.<br /><br />“Come on,” said Jill, smiling coyly as she pushed some platinum blonde bangs out of her eyes, “you‘ve got some birthday candles to blow out.”<br /><br />Alex stammered. Around them, other duos were getting themselves into position. One of the veterans was already positioning someone over her knee.<br /><br />“Um…”<br /><br />Jill raised an eyebrow. “Are you feeling alright?”<br /><br />For a moment, Alex was stuck staring into Jill’s concerned face, trying to articulate the many, many problems he had with this situation. Her large, blue eyes were waiting.<br /><br />“I…um…I think I may have come to the wrong practice.”<br /><br />“What?” She gave him a funny look. “You told me you did this in junior high!” She thought for a moment. “Do you mean you thought it was coed? I know, there should really be a boys’ team, but the board of-”<br /><br />“No,” he said sharply, making her recoil a bit, “I didn‘t think that.” He felt momentarily bad about interrupting her, but the fact that she was about to gleefully beat him with a paddle made Alex less concerned about cordiality. Alex just hoped she didn’t notice that his penis was doing its best to rip his shorts out of its way; watching the demonstration had effected him in a way he wasn‘t comfortable with watching someone in pain effecting him. “I…”<br /><br />As he looked up into Jill’s curious, blue eyes, he thought carefully. If he explained his mistake, it was doubtful that he would be able to switch into a different team in time for the scholarship cut. While he could probably stall for a few days by visiting the office and making appointments with whatever Dean was in charge of this stuff, that would mean a LOT of hours dealing with the bureaucracy and an even metric fuckton of frustration and headaches. He could tell Coach Johnston his problem and hope she would let him stay on the team without participating until he could switch into something else, but something told him Diane would not appreciate that. And really, it was his own fault he was in this situation. He hadn’t bothered reading the description of this so-called “sport” before signing up for it, and he hadn’t bothered getting his extracurricular taken care of back when everyone else was doing it. Did he really want to start off his college career by throwing his stupid mistakes at other people?<br /><br />“I…”<br /><br />Jill looked like she was starting to worry about his health.<br /><br />“…I didn’t think they were <span style="font-style: italic;">birthday </span>candles. I was expecting more of an anniversary cake.”<br /><br />For a moment, Jill stared at him in open mouthed disbelief. Then, with a most unladylike snort, she doubled over and started chuckling into her palm.<br /><br />“I don’t even…” she said between chuckles, her platinum hair rippling around her head, “oh, I‘m going to make you sorry!”<br /><br />Still giggling and shaking her head, the brobdignagian blonde seated herself in the folding chair, put the paddle down on the floor, and pointed at her lap. “Bend over, goofball.”<br /><br />Alex stared at her thighs like a political idealist at the guillotine. Was he really going to be…beaten…paddled…oh, enough beating around the bush…spanked by one of his fellow students? By the cupcake girl? Unfortunately, “yes” was the only answer that wouldn’t put his life plans in jeopardy.<br /><br />Trying not to betray his shame and trepidation, Alex stood to Jill’s right and awkwardly lowered himself over her thighs. He hesitated before putting a hand on her exposed knee (her shorts stopped just above them); she nodded encouragingly, so he put down his hand on her skin to support himself. Just before lying down, he stealthily pulled out his waistband so that his dick could uncoil itself and rest along his belly. Damn, the head was poking out from his waistband, wasn’t it? Praying to every god he had ever heard of that Jill wouldn’t feel that, he put his hands on the floor and let his body rest on her lap. I hope all this blood rushing to my head will drain some out of my cock. After a few seconds, Alex was mortified to learn that it wouldn’t.<br /><br />“Alright you bad little boy,” Jill chimed as she shifted him over her thighs into just the right position, “I hope you‘re ready for this.”<br /><br />“Don‘t worry, I want that cake too.”<br /><br />“Oh please…”<br /><br />She pushed him a little bit further forward, so that the mysterious protrusion wasn’t digging into her thigh as much. The ill-fitting trunks held Alex’s nates high above his thighs, forming a prominent dome that pointed at the ceiling. His legs and butt really were better toned than the rest of him; Jill had caught occasional glimpses of this in Classics class, but this was the best look she had gotten. She caught herself humming a bit under her breath, and hoped Alex didn’t notice. For his part, Alex felt himself being ground against Jill’s thick lap, her soft skin and the taught musculature beneath very perceptible under the thin fabric. His erection wasn’t going away - being mashed against her legs just seemed to stimulate it. Alex winced. Getting a boner during a presentation in class or something was an acceptable hardship that came with growing up male, but in this situation? Much more unfortunate.<br /><br />“You comfy?” Jill asked as she rested a firm hand on his back.<br /><br />“As close as I‘m going to get,” he replied, holding his head a little higher to minimize the dizziness. He was becoming aware that his buttocks were currently the highest part of his body, making them just embarrassingly conspicuous. And vulnerable. A strange shiver whose nature Alex couldn’t quite grasp ran through his flesh.<br /><br />“Alright!” She said excitedly, “Warm up time!”<br /><br />The first, forceful handprint appeared on Alex’s right butt, sending a wet, smacking sound into the air. He jumped a little in place; he hadn’t been expecting it yet. The burn took a second to start, but once it did his first impulse was to reach back and grab his mistreated cheek.<br /><br />“Hey, that‘s not allowed!” Jill intercepted his hand and gripped his wrist, startling him with her strength. “Hands stay on the floor until I say.”<br /><br />She released his hand, leaning more strongly on his back to remind him who was in charge. As she leaned in, Alex felt a faint glimmer of warmth on his back, which he knew was body heat from her overhanging chest. His face burned as he replaced his hand on the hard floor, but his manhood grew stiffer against her meaty lap.<br /><br />He was more ready for the next slap, which imparted its sting on his left cheek, and for the third which came again on the right. After that, Jill started spanking harder, and the two Mississippi’s that Alex was counting in his head started being cut off as her pace increased.<br /><br />“Hey, you‘re speeding up!” He protested, looking back over his shoulder to see her smiling over his helpless body.<br /><br />“Oh, that‘s just my technique. Diane has the new tops start with doubling speed after fifteen, but once you‘ve learned that you can do all kinds of things.”<br /><br />She then slapped him three times, very fast, in a row, presumably to make up for the interruption. Alex almost grunted out loud - it was really starting to hurt!<br /><br />Ten…eleven…twelve…by fifteen, she wasn’t even waiting a second between wristy slaps. Alex grimaced as he felt his body starting to involuntarily cringe away from her hand, grinding him forward into her lap. The thin, soft fabric of their uniform bottoms tickled him as he rolled over it, and the topography of her thighs created an uneven surface that created a kind of massage. If it weren’t for the pain in his ass, the sensation might have even been pleasurable. Seventeen…eighteen…Alex thought she must have been using her full strength now, and Jill was every bit as strong as you’d expect a towering Viking lass to be. He felt her weight crushing him against her thighs as she leaned on her left arm, locking him in place as her right arm swung harder and faster, each burning palm falling on the ones before.<br /><br />“Awww,” she said as she slapped him twice, very hard, right in the center of his sit spot, “didn‘t - SLAP - you say - SMACK - you‘ve been - SMACK - doing this - WAP since middle school?”<br /><br />Alex tried to think of a snappy answer, but the merciless smacking and growing pain interfered with his thoughts. By the time she reached thirty, he had lost count; it was all he could do not to cry out or start struggling like a baby.<br /><br />“I’ll bet your all warmed up,” Jill said, teasing the undersides of his buttcheeks with a gentle fingertip, “now we do some paddlin‘. You ready?”<br /><br />She leaned over toward his head, causing her thighs to shift under him, which made him twitch electrically. He felt her soft, blonde hair falling lightly on his upper back, and just a trace of breast grazing him further down.<br /><br />“Um…yeah, ” he shifted his hands around, trying to get his confused body back under his control, “paddle. Like we‘re going up the Mississippi.”<br /><br />Jill didn’t catch the bitterness or wishful thinking in that last sentence. She just affectionately ruffled his hair and leaned over further (ooh, yes) to grab the paddle from the floor (oh no…). He had an obstructed, over-the-shoulder view of the transparent, acrylic blade being lined up behind him before he felt it press against his stinging buns. The flat of the paddle pushing against his beaten cheeks felt good, for a moment; the pressure helped keep the sting away. An instant later, however, the pressure was gone, and Jill was lifting the American Paddling Association Standard Issue up to shoulder height.<br /><br />“Playtime’s over,” she half said, half sang as she pushed her considerable weight back onto her left arm, holding him down, “hope you‘re nice and warm back there!”<br /><br />Alex reflexively tensed his buttocks when he heard the paddle whoosh through the air. When its unbreakable surface impacted his taught flesh, he was immediately sorry he had done that.<br /><br />CRACK!!!<br /><br />Alex immediately raised his body like a cobra, legs twitching with the force of the impact. He heard Jill announce “one!” and barely had time to register the second whoosh before a second CRACK landed. The spanking had been painful, but being beaten with something hard and flat on top of already burning flesh?<br /><br />The third crack came quickly afterward, flattening his buttocks against his hips and forcing those down into Jill’s thighs, crushing his manhood against her thinly-garbed legs more strongly than ever. He felt a shock of stimulation, but it was drowned out by the pain from the other side as she landed another paddle lick, and then another. Alex looked over his shoulder, then around the gym; everyone was busy with their own exercises. Thank god at least no one was watching him like this…<br /><br />“How are you two doing?” Coach Johnston’s voice came from behind him.<br /><br />“Great!” Jill exclaimed, mercifully giving her right arm a rest as she looked up at her mentor. “Alex is as a great bottom.” She took her left hand off his back to give that part of his body a playful swat, making him gasp and tighten up. Even a light smack was like pouring gasoline on the raging fire. His eyes felt watery.<br /><br />“Hmmhmm,” he heard Diane chuckle, “careful you don‘t overdo it. Pace yourself more; give him another second after each lick.”<br /><br />“Right. I’m sorry, I know this; its been all summer, and I’m out of practice.”<br /><br />“Don’t worry,” Alex saw Diane flash a brilliantly white smile at Jill, “everyone is. You‘re one of the bests on my team, you‘ll do fine.”<br /><br />“Thanks.” Jill did her cute, easy blush again.<br /><br />Alex was about to report on how he was doing, but, at a motion from Diane, Jill raised the paddle again and brought it down for the seventh stroke.<br /><br />“OW!!!” He finally lost it, shouting in pain at the unexpected, full-force lick. Jill giggled. Diane glared at him disapprovingly for a second, making him turn his burning face back to the floor, before speaking to Jill again.<br /><br />“Give it a moment now. One…two…eight!”<br /><br />CRACK!!!<br /><br />Alex shut his eyes, not wanting to know if the pitiless, older woman was still standing beside his upturned bum, watching it head on as Jill introduced it to the paddle for the ninth and tenth times. His elbows were trembling. His eyelashes felt wet. His underside felt crushed and winded, and his backside was a holocaust of fiery pain.<br /><br />“Get up and rub.”<br /><br />Alex awkwardly pried himself out of Jill’s lap and put both hands on his ass. The skintight fabric was holding in the heat, further irritating his inflamed skin with its pressure. It was only a moment before he looked down and noticed that the waistband of his shorts wasn’t quite touching his belly in the very front. He turned his side to jill, praying she hadn’t noticed. How the hell could he still be erect? Perhaps more to the point, why?<br /><br />“How did I do?” Jill asked excitedly as she stood up.<br /><br />“Ahhh…” he continued to ruefully rub his ass, turning so that his front was facing the wall, “…great. Best top I‘ve ever had.”<br /><br />“Awww. Think we can paddle up the Mississippi?”<br /><br />More like the Amazon.<br /><br />“Yeah. And back. In..ow…in an evening.”<br /><br />Alex was relieved that they were given fifteen minutes to recover before the next exercise. He was much less please, however, at the end of that period, when Diane marched in front of her lined up team and announced that it was time for “thirty-lick technique paddling.” No practical demonstration this time; she just explained what had to be done and set them back to work. Once again, Alex found himself across Jill’s ample lap, this time for an unbearable thirty swats from the acrylic paddle. He thought his bottom has been on fire before; now, it was almost numb. On the bright side, his boner at least was starting to lose its enthusiasm. On the dark side, Jill was doing the exact opposite. Toward the end of the exercise, Diane reappeared to watch Jill beat his helpless ass and tell him to keep up the good work. Goddamnit, why did she have to sound so smug when she commented on the mistreatment his lewdly presented butt was enduring?<br /><br />For the final ten strokes, Jill stood up and put her foot on the chair, making Alex bend over her thigh so she could paddle him over her knee. When she was done, he veritably flew to his feet, stamping his feet and furiously kneading his ass, almost crying with embarrassment. Thank god Diane wasn’t watching at the moment, and everyone else was occupied.<br /><br />“That’s it for this afternoon,” Diane announced, “I’m happy to say all the newcomers have made the team; you’ll get an email asking for your measurements so we can order fitting uniforms. Bottoms, you’ll each find a cushion in the locker rooms that you can bring to classes with you while your booties are still stinging. I’ll see you all next week!”<br /><br />…<br /><br />Alex avoided the other two guys in the locker room. He retreated into one of the shower cubicals and inspected his hindquarters in the mirror. Pink. His skin was bright pink and swollen, with lines battered into the flesh where the edge of the paddle had left its impression. Most embarrassingly, he thought he could make out a number of large, reddish handprints, like some personalized cattle brand, spread out across the rounded undersides of his burning nether cheeks. The shower water stung his beaten ass when he turned on the cold, and burned it when he turned on the hot. He had to grit his teeth and suck in his breath as he quickly went through the shower. Getting dressed again was no fun either; it was all he could do to avoid yelping when he pulled his jeans back up.<br /><br />As he hurried out of the gym, he thought frantically about how to get out of this. Will they let me switch out before next practice? It’s the early season, people are still adding and dropping activities, right? I swear to god the next time someone tells me the deadlines aren’t important…<br /><br />On his way out the door, Jill appeared beside him.<br /><br />“Hey, do you feel like dinner?” She asked, playing a bit with a strand of light blonde hair as she gave him a sideways look.<br /><br />“Maybe tomorrow. I…uh…have homework.” He avoided making eye contact; he was too humiliated to meet Jill’s gaze after what she had just done to him.<br /><br />“Oh. Okay.” If he had been looking her in the face, he would have seen her disappointment. “I‘ll Facebook you.”<br /><br />Jill joined up with Courtney and some of the other girls and headed off in a different direction. Alex power walked back to his dorm, looking around to make sure there was no one looking so he could rub his bottom from time to time. Before he rounded the corner away from the gym, however, he looked back over his shoulder. Jill was walking away with some of the other girls, her tall, broad-shouldered silhouette, trailing platinum hair, and rather large, fleshy bottom bouncing as she stepped. As he watched her retreat, a number of conflicting sensations were felt in Alex’s body. He saw her innocent, girlish smile in his mind’s eye, and then felt the sting of her palm against his ass as she held him down and teased him. For a moment, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was thinking.<br /><br />He rounded the corner and shook her out of his mind. When he got home, he was going to spend the afternoon on his laptop, trying to determine how and if he could switch out of this so-called “sport” before next week’s butt burning session. After that, he would try and get some sleep. On his stomach.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-60390402074084696922010-08-18T15:45:00.000-07:002011-05-07T17:41:46.072-07:00Backfire 3<span>Getting dressed up for tonight was a big job. So much so, in fact, that April had come home after class, wolfed down a quick dinner, threw her dishes in the sink, and then gone straight to the wardrobe.<br /><br />“Are you sure I shouldn‘t put up my hair?”<br /><br />From his seat in the living room, Kevin looked in the bathroom door. April, still wet from the shower, was holding out a strand of her dishwater blonde hair and looking at him inquiringly. Kevin chuckled.<br /><br />“You know I like it down,” he repeated, “but if you think it’s not classy enough for Hell Night, I won’t pretend to know better.”<br /><br />April scowled at him the way women often do when their boyfriends know what they are expected to say but refuse to do so. Kevin had called April’s cell phone a few minutes ago asking if he could come over. Deciding that she needed someone to help her make these important decisions, and that Sara was most likely not going to be home in time, she had said yes. Since he’d walked in the door, she’d had him sitting on the couch answering questions about her wardrobe as she bustled between the bedroom and the bathroom.<br /><br />Kevin was rather amused by all this. He had tried rushing a fraternity last year, but quickly decided that the Greek scene was silly. Some people really got into it, though, and he had become increasingly aware that his girlfriend was one of these. Not that he minded sitting back and watching her shower and dress; a half-naked April was a delight to see under any circumstances, and being wet and in a hurry made her even easier on the eye.<br /><br />April took out her comb and began to straighten her hair. Doing this meant putting down the bath towel and facing the mirror, which turned her back toward Kevin. As they nearly always did when he faced her from this angle, Kevin’s eyes went to her (currently naked and glistening) bottom. April was a short girl, but she was wide in the shoulder and wider in the hip, and the latter supported two of the most enviable buttocks on campus. It was one of the first things he had noticed about April when they met in class two months ago, and - despite her prominent chest and baby face - it was the first thing most men noticed about her. And, for the last four weeks, this backside had been the subject of considerable drama. If you don’t know the details, go back and read chapters one and two.<br /><br />Finishing her hair, April went back to drying herself and - when this too was completed - putting on a fresh bra and panties. The conversation was limited to occasional questions and comments back and forth, with Kevin’s amusement gradually turning into annoyance. Was a sorority initiation really worth as much effort as a meeting with the President?<br /><br />“I look fat in this, don’t I?”<br /><br />Kevin rolled his eyes as she stepped out in her black cocktail dress. “Fat” was a touchy adjective in this case. Kevin’s 6’2’’ frame was rock hard and slender, honed by over a decade of sports enthusiasm. Running her hands over Kevin’s chocolaty brown skin and feeling the springy musculature of his pecs and abs was one of April’s favorite indoor pastimes, but her boyfriend’s magazine cover physique also made her somewhat insecure. April had been a few pounds overweight since she was a child. When she hit puberty, most of this adipose tissue had migrated to her breasts and buttocks, but there were still love handles and just a bit of a belly.<br /><br />“Ape, you asked me that when we went to the club last week. Nothing’s changed.”<br /><br />April pouted. “That’s not a straight answer.”<br /><br />April was remembering why men were no good for this sort of thing. They just had no idea of when a girl looks good.<br /><br />Kevin sighed again. “You look hot. Not fat.”<br /><br />“Are you sure my tummy doesn’t stick out?”<br /><br />Here, Kevin was at an impasse. The fact was, April’s stomach did curve outward just a bit, and that skintight black dress made it a bit more noticeable. It also made the rest of her anatomy more noticeable - which was a more than worthwhile tradeoff in Kevin’s opinion - but if he had to answer her question honestly, she wouldn’t like the answer. Goddamnit, April wasn’t normally this fussy with her clothes. <span style="font-style: italic;">She’s just being a pain.</span><br /><br />Kevin got up from the bed and walked over beside April. She looked up at him, still impatient. He put a gentle hand on her side and said “Babe, you’re way too worried about this.”<br /><br />April opened her mouth to retort, but this turned into a surprised squeal as Kevin grabbed her around the midsection and pulled her back toward the bed. Before she could even ask him what he was doing, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, and April was lying across his lap.<br /><br />“No, Kev, I don‘t have time! I need to finish-”<br /><br />SLAP!!!<br /><br />April’s complaints were cut off by a sharp “ooh!” as Kevin’s big hand cut into her right butt. The pain was sharp, hot, and immediate, and made her twitch her arms and legs.<br /><br />“We can do this later tonight! Right no - OW! Not so hard!”<br /><br />“I‘m helping you take your mind off things.”<br /><br />As Kevin said this, he pushed his left forearm down across her black-clad back and began flicking his wrist harder as he brought his right arm up and down, landing his open palm against the underside of her buns in a series of sharp snaps. With her panties and cocktail dress on, April’s buttocks were well lifted above her thighs, making those sensitive, lower surfaces much easier to hit. The prominent mound shook and bounced with each slap; Kevin could just imagine the redness that must be spreading underneath. Normally, Kevin got April naked before he spanked her, so he could watch the splash and jiggle of her voluptuous flesh as he transferred energy into it. He missed that tonight, but the movements of the tight dress teased his imagination about the pain that was being suffered below.<br /><br />“Ow! Ow! Please, not so-AHH!”<br /><br />Kevin suddenly stepped up the pace, dribbling her big bottom as quickly as his basketball skills allowed. April felt her butt heating up and burning much more quickly than it usually did; her dress was holding in all the heat. Only thirty seconds or so in, and she already felt like the skin was coming off of her ass!<br /><br />In what now seemed like a magical, far off time, April had been able to hang out in Kevin’s room to avoid the blistering punishments that her roommate was always finding excuses to dish out. That was before Kevin, too, had been shown the delights of spanking her poor butt until she couldn’t sit down. Nowadays, April’s buns weren’t safe anywhere. On one hand, Kevin’s spankings were usually a prelude to sex, of which April was fond. On the other, unlike Sara - who needed a reason to punish her unfortunate roommate - Kevin was prone to putting her over his knee without warning, just because he happened to feel like it. It was a tough decision, but April still found herself tending to spend more time in Kevin’s room than her own. At least Kevin didn’t use that awful hairbrush!<br /><br />As Kevin continued the spanking at a lively pace. April’s gyrations and twitching ground her against his lap, which was answered by a hardening below. April could feel Kevin’s growing erection through the thin material of her dress. That jerk!<br /><br />Kevin finally stopped the smacking, leaving his palm resting firmly on April’s tortured backside. She felt his fingers squeezing and kneading, as he enjoyed the heat her bottom was giving off. The pain extended beyond the skin he was fondling, through her ample buttocks and into the other side of her, where it stopped being pain and became simple heat. April was panting, her privates feeling very empty and in need of attention. She let Kevin rub a little of the sting out of her tush as she moaned softly. She wished she could be properly angry at Kevin for humiliating her like this, but her libido kept her hands helplessly tied in this matter. Such were the frustrations of love.<br /><br />“Feel better now?” Kevin asked.<br /><br />“No! <span style="font-style: italic;">Asshole!</span>”<br /><br />Kevin patted her bottom a couple of times before letting her up. Immediately, April put one hand on the seat of her dress and the other under it, clutching at her abused cheeks with both as she bounced a little on the heels of her feet. Her carefully brushed hair was disheveled, and her face was flushed. As she stood up, she felt her panties clinging wetly to her crotch. Ugh, not now!<br /><br />“You’ve got ten minutes,” Kevin said, checking his watch.<br /><br />Not looking at or speaking to Kevin, April redid her hair and put on some makeup. She was really regretting her tight choice of dress now; every step pulled the fabric against her butt cheeks, making them sting. And now she was all horny too! Kevin was such an insensitive prick sometimes.<br /><br />“You had better not be asleep when I get back!” April ranted as she powdered her nose, giving Kevin a furious scowl over her shoulder.<br /><br />“You’d better come straight to my room after your thing,” he replied, a mirthful smile on his face.<br /><br />“Jerk.”<br /><br />Finished at last, she looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She looked…well, she thought she looked decent enough. Like a young woman who could be taken seriously, even if she had to suck in her stomach a little bit. Not like a nervous girl who had just been spanked like a little kid and was now too hot and bothered to think clearly. Hopefully.<br /><br />“See ya later, baby doll.”<br /><br />She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips as they left the room.<br /><br />“Fuck you.”<br /><br />Kevin laughed as he went back to his single room and April trotted off to Sigma Phi Kappa house.<br /><br />…<br /><br />Lady GaGa was playing from someone’s iPod as the SPK sisters and pledges sat around the living room, chatting and cracking open a few cheap beers as they waited for everyone to arrive. Well, most of them were sitting. April had politely refused a seat.<br /><br />“Think you’re ready for tonight?”<br /><br />Courtney was sitting on the couch to April’s left, a Budweiser in her hand.<br /><br />“I feel like I‘ve been ready for a month,” April replied to her Big Sister, leaning against the backrest of the couch in what she thought was a sophisticated and elegant pose, “I want to live here next year.”<br /><br />Courtney chuckled. “Nervous at all?”<br /><br />“Nope.”<br /><br />For a moment, Courtney’s face wore a strange expression, a sort of “oh, if only you knew” look that made April’s already jumpy nerves twitch. April ran through everything in her head. She had memorized the Sigma Phi Kappa pledge and motto, of course. Likewise for the sisterhood’s history and foundational members. There would probably be some silly hazing thing (like a drinking game, or a “tell us your raunchy secrets” interview), but April wasn’t averse to getting drunk or talking about naughty things, especially when she had the former to help the latter along. Courtney was probably just trying to make sure her pledge was taking this seriously, and April was resolved to not disappoint her.<br /><br />Despite her laid back, easygoing attitude, Courtney was a rather intimidating presence. A senior girl, she stood four inches taller than April and was probably the most solidly-built woman April had ever met. Big boned and very stocky, Courtney’s shoulders and hips were even wider than April’s, and that was saying something. She was quite a muscular girl, but she also had fifteen extra pounds of chub; in short, her body was a taller, more tank-like version of April’s. This all contrasted with her soft-featured Greek face, with its beaky nose, wide, brown eyes, and easy smile. If it weren’t for her big smile and rather silly demeanor, Courtney would probably cow a lot of people with her appearance.<br /><br />“Good girl,” said Courtney, “Only the strong survive at SPK, but I think you‘re gonna’ make it.”<br /><br />April and the other pledges giggled. The senior girls just smiled. There was a momentary, rather awkward, silence. Finally, someone said, “Can we put on <span style="font-style: italic;">Bad Romance</span>?” And the conversation turned cheerfully back to the subject of Lady GaGa until the last of the pledges arrived.<br /><br />“Pledges, after me,” said Sandra, the SPK Mistress of Ceremonies as she waved for them to follow her up the stairs. April and the other five underclasswomen quickly trotted after her.<br /><br />“Be a good girl now,” said Courtney, waving a melodramatic goodbye as April left. She then threw a playful swat at April’s retreating bottom.<br /><br />“Ow!”<br /><br />April startled forward, a hand reflexively going back to rub the bulging rear of her tight cocktail dress. Around the living room, a few eyebrows rose. That didn’t look like it should have hurt. Face turning as red as her secretly burning tush, April looked at the floor as she hurried up the stairs, avoiding putting her hand back to her bum until she was sure she was out of sight.<br /><br />There were a number of small bedrooms on the top floor, as well as a bathroom. At the end of the hall was a staircase leading up to the large loft, where - or so April had been told - the secret rituals of SPK were conducted amidst pomp and ceremony. Tonight, each of the doors had a pledge’s name taped to it.<br /><br />“Each of you will open the door bearing your name. Inside, you will find the garments in which you must be robed for the final initiation, and a scarf to tie around your eyes. You must don these vestments, and then await your Big Sisters in silence.”<br /><br />April had heard the sisters use this kind of language before, during the earlier ceremonies. Kevin was always making fun of the Greek scene for this, claiming it was over the top pretentiousness, but April thought it was kind of cool…if slightly eerie. On the other hand, she was a little disappointed that she wouldn’t get to show off her dress for the next while; hopefully, she’d be allowed to change back into it for the after-party.<br /><br />Smiling encouragingly (if nervously) at each other, the six underclasswomen went into their respective rooms. What April found inside the small bedroom was…not what she had been expecting.<br /><br />Lying neatly on the bed was what looked like some kind of gauzy, pink tutu, like a six year old who wanted to be a ballerina might bully her mother into buying. Next to it lay a light gray bikini-top and a pair of similarly colored thong panties, both apparently in April’s size. A pair of slippers sat on the floor by the bed, and hanging from the headboard was a black, polyester blindfold.<br /><br />April stared in disbelief. She considered turning back to the door and asking Sandra for an explanation, but quickly decided that that would not be good for her initiation status. Reluctantly, she started untying the dress that she had wasted so much effort on. It looked like this was probably going to be a “tell your raunchy secrets” kind of event. She stole a quick look at her hindquarters in the mirror as the dress came off; damnit, they still had red handprints all over them! Feeling like she wanted to crawl under a rock, April just hoped that the pink tutu would disguise most of the redness.<br /><br />…<br /><br />Courtney watched impatiently as Sandra led the pledges up into the loft. Candles burned on the shelves that lined the dark, wooden walls. Twenty-one girls in flowing, black robes stood around the raised stage in the center of the room, as six others were escorted in. Five of the pledges wore white cloaks, similar to those of the older sisters except in color. The exception, of course, was April. Courtney felt a grin spread across her broad, Mediterranean face as she wondered excitedly how her little sister would react once the blindfolds came off; Courtney certainly recalled how scared and embarrassed she herself had been when she was the unlucky pledge three years earlier. Not fun to be there yourself, but - as she had learned - tremendously fun to watch it happen to someone else. And this semester’s would be even more engaging for Courtney. <span style="font-style: italic;">Tonight’s the night,</span> Courtney mused. <span style="font-style: italic;">It’s happened before. Has to happen.</span><br /><br />One of the other Big Sisters turned to her and whispered “Think you‘re up for this?”<br /><br />Courtney’s grin broadened as whispered back. “Watch me.”<br /><br />The other girl giggled behind her hand. “I‘m a little preoccupied watching something else right now.”<br /><br />Courtney nodded. “I think we all are.”<br /><br />She was at least mostly right. Many pairs of eyes were trained enviously on April, and the way in which that ridiculous pink thing barely contained her ample anatomy. Her belly and love handles weren’t flattered by the see-through dress, but her big breasts and even bigger buttocks were done wonders by the skimpy, gray underwear.<br /><br />Up on the stage, Sandra commanded the pledges to recite the SPK motto in turn, tapping each one lightly on the head with a certain long, wooden object to let them know who was up next. Satisfactory performances all around. Next came the oaths themselves, naturally. Again, no hesitation or reluctance. April was shivering a little, her flesh rippling visibly; it was chilly in the loft, and she was the only one who wasn’t wearing a nice, warm robe. Courtney found it adorable; April was just such a cute, wide-eyed little girl. <span style="font-style: italic;">Ooh, here it comes…</span><br /><br />“Remove your blindfolds.”<br /><br />April had been expecting to see her pledge mates dressed in the same manner as herself when she finally pulled off the band. When it turned out that all their eyes were on her, she felt like she had been dropped in a pool of ice water; such was her shock and exposure, she almost forgot to keep her stomach sucked in. <span style="font-style: italic;">Is this a mistake? This has to be a mistake. Oh god, did I do something wrong? Is this a punishment?</span> Worst of all, <span style="font-style: italic;">Did I not make the cut?</span><br /><br />“Attention,” said Sandra, a smirk just barely managing to creep through her professional calm, “before we proceed, an explanation is in order.” She motioned to Courtney. “Sister Aniksos, stand with me.”<br /><br />Courtney joined Sandra on the stage, her heavy silhouette dwarfing the Mistress of Ceremonies’. She managed to keep herself from smirking or winking at April as Sandra continued.<br /><br />“As you’ve been told since your first night as pledges, the road of Sigma Phi Kappa is a difficult one. To walk it, you must be tested, mentally and physically.” As she said that last word, she held up the thing she had been prodding at them with, revealing it to be a large, wooden paddle, eighteen inches long including the handle, with the letters “SPK” cut out of the blade.<br /><br />The pledges’ eyes all widened. April felt the bottom drop out of her stomach when she saw the paddle and - more quickly than the other girls, due to her recent life experiences - realized its purpose. This had to be a prank, she told herself hurriedly. Hazing wasn’t allowed on campus. They couldn’t actually expect her to…<br /><br />“Five years ago, our chapter was investigated by the university when one of our pledges - her name will not be spoken - betrayed the sanctity of our sisterhood by telling the campus police about our test of physical resolve. Since that day, we have had to change our practices. It was decided that - instead of risking our secrecy by subjecting every pledge to the test - only one of you will bear the burden for her sisters. You have endured everything together thus far; what one of you faces, all of you face. If one of you fails, it is because her sisters have failed to give her proper support.”<br /><br />She held the paddle out in front of her.<br /><br />“The pledge to be tested is chosen by lot. The paddling - one lick for every new sister - will be administered by the chosen’s Big. Sister. Take the Tester of Endurance and call forth your pledge.”<br /><br />Courtney took the paddle from Sandra’s hand and turned to April, smiling with mock-invitingness. “Come over here, Ape.”<br /><br />April froze. Her face was like a helpless rodent’s when it realizes it’s backed into a corner. Courtney was tapping the paddle against her palm, impatient. The other pledges looked a mixture of relieved, concerned, and intrigued. Everyone was staring at April. In her pink gauze with the entire sorority watching and waiting for her mortification, April had never in her entire life felt this exposed. She looked from Courtney’s eyes to Sandra’s to the pledges’. Everything was hinging on her. If she didn’t take the paddling, she wouldn’t get in, and her peers would hate her for making one of them take the licks instead.<br /><br />Slowly, breathing deeply, April stepped onto the stage and stood in front of Courtney. As Sandra backed off the stage, Courtney pointed at April’s feet. “Face the back wall and grab your knees.”<br /><br />Courtney’s eyes were full of mirth, and she was smiling. April looked ready to faint. Moving very, very slowly, she turned her back to the watching sorority and - gritting her teeth - bent over and grabbed her knees. Courtney, standing a bit behind April and to her left, used her free hand to grab the hem of the pink tutu and flip it up over her back. When April’s mostly-naked butt was exposed, whispering and giggling erupted all around the room.<br /><br />“April,” Courtney asked, slowly. “Have you rushed another sorority tonight?”<br /><br />April squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could block her ears against the chorus of chuckles.<br /><br />“He did a good job,” she continued when April didn’t answer, “it is a <span style="font-style: italic;">he</span>, right?”<br /><br />More laughter. April didn’t think she had ever blushed this hard.<br /><br />“Can you give him my number?” someone in the peanut gallery asked. Uproarious laughter.<br /><br />“Settle down!” Sandra finally cut in. She tried to sound stern, but in truth she was suppressing a giggle herself. April’s bottom was standing there, facing them, with red handprints all over it. Amusing though it was, Sandra did feel sorry for the pledge; tonight was seemingly not her lucky night.<br /><br />Courtney licked her lips as she lined up the SPK paddle with April’s outstretched bum. “Get ready,” she said as she pressed the wood into her soft flesh, pushing April’s weight forward into her knees a bit, “here‘s one!”<br /><br />She raised the paddle above her shoulder and brought it down with a twist of her hips, letting the Tester woosh around her body and SPLAT into April’s bottom with incredible force.<br /><br />“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!”<br /><br />April’s body shot up into a stand, raising herself up on her toes as she grabbed her ass in both hands. As the other girls chuckled nervously, she began beating her feet against the floor in a kind of dance.<br /><br />“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!”<br /><br />Courtney looked at Sandra and shook her head in mock-disappointment. Sandra put a hand on April’s shoulder.<br /><br />“Stay in position. If you do that again, Sister Aniksos will have to repeat the stroke.”<br /><br />“You don‘t want me to hurt my arms, do you?” Courtney asked sweetly.<br /><br />April looked back over her shoulder. Her five pledge classmates looked nervous. If they were interpreting Sandra correctly, their own entry into Sigma Phi Kappa was hinging on April’s ability to take this. She had to do this. For herself, and for them. But good god, the pain in her already stinging bottom was more than she could have ever imagined coming from a single blow from anything - and she still had five left! Memories of her first punishment spanking from Sara came to mind. April recalled the fire that wouldn’t go out, the agony that left her helplessly sobbing on the carpet for fifteen minutes and unable to sit down for days. Was she going to end up that way again, this time in front of her entire peer group?<br /><br />Her mind reeling with mortification and shame, April bent back over (grimacing as she had to stretch her injured gluteal muscles) and grabbed her legs again.<br /><br />“Good girl. You know this hurts me much more than it hurts you.”<br /><br />The room erupted in chuckles. Courtney was a funny girl - it was an endearing quality in her Big Sister - but April had never been the butt (hahaha, get it?) of her jokes before.<br /><br />“Ready?”<br /><br />Before she had time to reply, she heard the paddle whistle through the air again, and another explosion of pain tore through her lower body. April reflexively tried to straighten, but she kept her fingers locked around her knees. She sucked in a long, harsh breath through her teeth as the agony in her situpon grew and flamed as her nerves got over the shock.<br /><br />“Much better!” Courtney congratulated her, giving her bottom a little pat with her palm., “You‘re good at this. Ready for three?”<br /><br />April started to shake her head no, but was interrupted by the third paddle stroke biting into her ass.<br /><br />“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”<br /><br />April screamed. She couldn’t help it. Tears started to flow. She was bending and unbending her knees in a futile effort to diffuse the energy, her bottom dancing up and down like a piston in front of her audience, its mane of pink gauze fluttering. A chorus of laughs ensued, and intensified when Courtney put a hand under April’s lower buttocks (ow, did she have to squeeze that hard?) and held them in place until April was done bouncing. April felt her fingernails cutting into the skin of her knees. And she was only halfway done…<br /><br />Mercifully, Courtney waited a bit longer before delivering the fourth dramatic blow to April’s sacrificial hindquarters, pulling the paddle quickly away so she could see as much of the bounce and jiggle as possible. She had been curious to see those chubby buns out in the open since she and April had first been assigned to each other. Sure, there was a thong, but it covered so small a percentage of April’s expansive target that it didn’t bother her a bit. On a further note, Courtney was more than a little curious about April’s initial redness. She had mentioned a boyfriend before (at length, actually). Courtney decided that she would have to learn more about their relationship dynamics in the near future, in the name of science of course.<br /><br />The fifth lick was like the fourth, April somehow managing to stay bent over even as she yelled in anguish and trembled like a leaf in the wind. Courtney waited about twenty seconds before reaching up and, making sure she was putting as much into the last stroke as she could…<br /><br />“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”<br /><br />April stood up so abruptly that she nearly fell over backwards. The SPK sisters got to see the flesh explode in a great, rippling shockwave around the wooden paddle for just a split second before April’s hands flew to her buttocks and grasped them tightly as she wailed and stamped her feet.<br /><br />“We‘re gonna have to do that one over,” said Courtney. Her voice was sorrowful, but her eyes betrayed her (fortunately, April was looking in a different direction).<br /><br />“Repeat the final stroke,” Sandra agreed.<br /><br />“No!” April squealed, having forgotten herself entirely., “I can’t! I can’t do it! I ca-”<br /><br />Courtney put a big hand on April’s back and pushed her back into position. “Not hard.”<br /><br />April squeezed the tears out of her eyes. She felt the flesh of her behind bruising, she knew it. She would have thought she was bleeding if she hadn’t had a chance to feel back there. Somehow, she managed to raise a part of her consciousness above the infernal pain and think clearly. That part of her consciousness decided that rushing SPK was still worth it, and commanded her fingers to grab, fumblingly, onto her knees).<br /><br />SPLAT!<br /><br />She let go of her knees again, came close to straightening up, but managed to bob back down before she could get herself into any more trouble. For an awful, pain-blinded moment, April wasn’t sure if they would count this one or not. Then, she felt Courtney and Sandra pull her upright and Courtney wrap her in a bear hug against her thick, soft body.<br /><br />“Welcome home, honey.”<br /><br />April sniffled as she squeezed Courtney’s midsection. Once she pulled away, April stood dazedly in the middle of the room as her pledge mates ran up and chatted at her excitedly. She had forgotten about sucking in her belly; her pudginess was out for all to see. Her carefully styled hair was all over the place, a few strands sticking to her face. Her ample bottom glowed red even through the pink fabric.<br /><br />Once this had ended and the afterparty was underway, April quickly popped into the bathroom and lifted her tutu with her back to the mirror. Livid red weals ran across her fiery cheeks. The letters “SPK” were highlighted in white in several places on the swollen crowns of her buttocks, like a cattle brand. As April grimaced, she heard a knock at the bathroom door.<br /><br />“Hurry up,” said Courtney’s voice, “the pledges serve the refreshments.”<br /><br />Moaning, April fixed her hair as best she could and quickly splashed some cold water on her ass (ow!) before putting the tutu back and walking tenderly out. The other pledges had already changed back into their civilian clothes. April was about to go back upstairs to do the same when Courtney grabbed her arm.<br /><br />“Keg‘s in the kitchen, snacks are on the table. Would you be a doll now and get Sandra and I a couple of beers?”<br /><br />April nodded reluctantly and turned around toward the kitchen. The sisters cheered and catcalled as the scantily clad new member walked by. As she passed one of the couches, another SPK sister grabbed the hem of her tutu and lifted it.<br /><br />“Damn, Court, do you play baseball?”<br /><br />April blushed as she tried to pull out of the older girl’s grasp, but she held on tight.<br /><br />“Big target,” said another girl sitting next to her, “hard to miss.” And she gave April a hard slap under the lifted tutu. April jumped into the air and yelped, yanking the hem of the tutu down a few inches and causing much laughter and applause around the room.<br /><br />“Go get your big her beer now,” said the first girl, letting go of the tutu, “and fetch some carrot sticks while you’re at it.” She gave April’s bottom a couple of pats (ow!) over the tutu and let her go, averting her eyes from the room full of amused grins.<br /><br />It was half an hour until April was given a minute to change back into her cocktail dress, and by that time she had endured countless jokes and comments and not a few painful slaps to her shamefully exposed and ruby-red bottom. She almost couldn’t bear to pull the dress past her hips; even after loosening it as much as she could and running her sizzling cheeks under more cold water (she could swear she heard the hiss of steam when the water touched her ass), it was still an agonizing process. Once she was dressed again, she found that every step caused pain as the dress was stretched against her rear. Generally speaking, April was proud of her big butt (it was one of the places where she didn’t want to lose weight), but right now she would gladly trade it in to make the back of her dress less tight. April drank and socialized and tried to laugh off her pain and embarrassment, but her sisters were gleefully aware of the fact that she wasn’t walking more than she had to and not sitting down at all. The beer helped reduce the pain, but when she was ready to go home two hours later it was still a less than comfortable walk.<br /><br />…<br /><br />When April got back to her room, the sound of the TV told her that Sara was home. The smell of marijuana told her that Sara had been doing some deep thinking.<br /><br />“Good evening,” said Sara as April came in. Her dark red hair was hanging loose and wavy around her shoulders, and there was a smile on her face.<br /><br />“Hi,” April replied quickly on her way to the bedroom. Sara kept watching the screen as April passed, raising her eyes only after she had gone by. Her expression was quizzical, as if she was trying to make a difficult decision. Her smile continued, but it was very soft.<br /><br />April’s first action once she had the bedroom door closed behind her was to ditch the cocktail dress, breathing a sigh of relief once the pressure was off. She pulled off her panties as well, grimacing as the waistband constricted her inflamed cheeks on their way down. She looked at her ass once more in the bedroom mirror. The welts had mostly gone down, but there was still a dark, unhealthy redness that bordered on maroon, covering her entire derriere. It looked like a couple spots were starting to bruise.<br /><br />She was tempted to just lie down on her bed and fall asleep, as the evening had left her incredibly drained. Unfortunately, she remembered that she was expecting an email from Professor Johnston the PE teacher about getting that personal weight trainer. Groaning, gingerly rubbing her posterior, April put on her loosest, lightest short skirt and went back to the living room where her laptop was stationed.<br /><br />Sara was sitting in the same position, looking even more pensive than before. The smile had been replaced with a poker face.<br /><br />“How was initiation?” Sara asked as April stood at the desk behind Sara’s back.<br /><br />“Huh? Oh…um…it was great! It was like, a bit party, and everything was really wild.”<br /><br />“That sounds really nice.” Sara turned back toward April and smiled encouragingly. “And now you’re a sister.”<br /><br />“I know, right? Finally!”<br /><br />Sara waited for a few moments. Then, “we lost the tennis game ten to six.”<br /><br />“Oh,” April said distractedly as she logged onto gmail, “that sucks.”<br /><br />Sara sighed and turned back to the TV. She kept thinking as April typed away, now seeming a little more sure of whatever idea she was considering. The room was silent until April logged off and started back toward the bedroom.<br /><br />“It was your turn to do the dishes,” Sara said as April walked by.<br /><br />April froze in her tracks. Her heart sank halfway down her midsection as she remembered throwing her dishes on top of the others that afternoon before starting on her wardrobe.<br /><br />“Shit! I’ll do it now.”<br /><br />“Too late,” said Sara as April trotted toward the kitchen, “I already did.”<br /><br />April’s heart sank the rest of the way. No. Not now. Not after everything else…<br /><br />Sara switched off the TV with the remote and turned toward April. “It seemed like you were going to make it two whole weeks without needing this. So much for that.” She patted her thigh.<br /><br />“No, please! Not tonight! Please!”<br /><br />Sara shook her head, her mouth forming the cruel smile that April had become all too familiar with in recent months. “I’ve never let you put it off before. What makes tonight any different?”<br /><br />April looked from her waiting roommate to the bedroom to the door. Then, she started crying.<br /><br />“April?” Sara got up from the couch and walked up to her. April never seemed exactly thrilled when Sara announced it was punishment time, but this was a bit more extreme. “April, are you alright?”<br /><br />“No!” barked April between sniffles, “I’m not!” And, with her self-control and sense of propriety eroded away by a combination of beer and tonight’s taxing events, she tearfully told Sara everything.<br /><br />“Kevin spanks you?” Sara interrupted when she got to that part.<br /><br />“Y-yes. Ever since you let him watch you bitch!”<br /><br />“Hmm,” Sara chewed her lip, “yes, that would fit.” There was a subtle look of triumph in her green eyes, as if something she was hypothesizing had just been confirmed.<br /><br />April’s wet eyes narrowed in confusion. “Never mind,” Sara waved her on, “keep telling me.”<br /><br />April knew she wasn’t supposed to talk about Sigma Phi Kappa’s secret rituals, but her filter had been paddled out of commission. Sara seemed taken aback by the reports.<br /><br />“Do you mind if I see?”<br /><br />April turned around and lifted the back of her skirt, leaving her swollen, multicolored rump completely naked before Sara. She looked at Sara’s face over her shoulder, hoping for sympathy. It was there for a moment, but then the poker face returned. There was something a little different about Sara tonight.<br /><br />“Ouch.”<br /><br />“So,” April said as she let go of her skirt and wiped her eyes, “can you please, please not spank me for the dishes? I’ll do them for a month.”<br /><br />She screwed up her round face and gave Sara a look of utmost sorrow with her wide, blue eyes. Sara shook her head.<br /><br />“If I let it go this time, it sets a bad precedent.”<br /><br />April opened her mouth to argue, but Sara continued.<br /><br />“But, if you don’t make a fuss, I’ll do it very, very lightly; it‘ll barely even hurt. And afterward I’ll get you some ice.”<br /><br />April shook her head no. Sara raised her voice a little and said, sternly, “if it doesn‘t happen tonight, then it‘ll happen tomorrow, and I‘ll use the brush. It‘ll be the hardest butt-beating you‘ve ever gotten, including your initiation.”<br /><br />April stared at her for a moment. Would Sara really make good on that threat? She didn’t doubt her ability to do so (her first punishment spanking from Sara had left her bawling like an infant, and that had been with just her hand), but <span style="font-style: italic;">would </span>she really? Just over the dishes? April decided, reluctantly, that she had better avoid finding out.<br /><br />“Do you promise to be really gentle?”<br /><br />“I promise to be gentle.”<br /><br />That would have to be good enough. April stalked over to the couch and waited for Sara to sit back down, but Sara surprised her by saying “let’s sit on my bed.” April followed her into the bedroom, where Sara sat down and guided her compliant counterpart over her lap. April was wearing nothing besides a bra and skirt, so her soft midsection was lying directly on Sara’s exposed thigh (Sara was still wearing her gym shorts). With a soft grunt, April positioned herself so that she was lying along the side of the bed, with her hips raised over Sara’s lap. Sara flipped up her skirt, revealing her beaten backside once more.<br /><br />“Your big must have really given it to you,” Sara said, tracing her index fingernail very gently across April’s hindquarters, “I can see the paddle marks. Heh, are those letters?”<br /><br />April nodded, blushing for the millionth time that night as Sara’s tickling fingernails outlined a faded “SPK” on the middle of her right buttock. Her touch stung a little, but it also tickled. April tried not to make any sounds. A moment later, she felt Sara’s palm rest itself very lightly against the side of her rounded bum, and Sara started rubbing her without applying any pressure.<br /><br />“You know,” Sara said slowly as she rubbed April’s cheeks, “I never thought I‘d find myself here.”<br /><br />“At school?” April asked sarcastically, breathing in at the relief the gentle rubbing was bringing but wary of what might follow.<br /><br />Sara chuckled. “With your naked ass in my face.”<br /><br />April wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Sara rubbed her fanny in a wide circle before lifting her hand and giving a firm pat to her left flank, making it jiggle and vibrate just a tiny bit. April grimaced at the burning sting.<br /><br />“I‘ve been thinking about our living situation. There‘s a lot that doesn‘t make sense about it, but might.”<br /><br />She rubbed another circle, going the other way, before patting the same cheek a little harder. April sucked in a pained breath.<br /><br />“Why do you think I spank you?”<br /><br />She gave a very light slap to the underside of each cheek as she asked, making April whimper and roll back and forth over Sara’s lap.<br /><br />“I dunno,” April said despondently, “because you’re mean?”<br /><br />“Hmm.” She gently tickled April’s buttocks with her nails again, right over the undersides where she had slapped. “That‘s probably part of it. Did I seem like a mean person before the thing with Stan?”<br /><br />April twitched as she tickled a very sensitive spot on the crease of her left buttock and her fleshy thigh. “I dunno, not really.”<br /><br />“Right, I didn’t think I was.”<br /><br />SLAP!<br /><br />April reared up into a cobra-like position as Sara delivered the first real spank to the center of her lower bum, making both maroon cheeks bounce and splash away from her hand.<br /><br />“OW!!!”<br /><br />April made as if to get up, but Sara put a firm hand on her back and slowly, as if making a wordless argument, pushed her front back onto the bed. As if to atone for her last smack, she began an even gentler rubbing of April’s inflamed bottom with her other hand.<br /><br />“Any ideas about why I do this to you?”<br /><br />April looked over her shoulder for clues. Sara’s face said nothing. April shrugged.<br /><br />“I‘ve been psychoanalyzing myself lately,” Sara went on, “I never thought there‘d be so much I didn‘t know.”<br /><br />A few firmer pats, not as hard as the last slap, but painful, fell in a ring around April’s bum.<br /><br />“You have such a great ass.”<br /><br />SLAP!<br /><br />April spasmed and yelped, then looked back over her shoulder in disbelief. Had she really just said that? Sara was smiling in an odd way.<br /><br />“Really. I love how it jiggles when I smack it. Like that!”<br /><br />Two hard smacks landed on the centers of each cheek, reignited some of the fire that was smouldering under the surface. April kicked her legs as the pain resurged, hot and fierce. Fortunately, Sara followed up with another gentle rubdown.<br /><br />“Its so funny. Its like playing with jell-o. I don’t blame Kevin for picking it up from me; I’ll bet he gets really turned on when he spanks you, doesn’t he?”<br /><br />April was aghast. There were so many things running through her mind right now she wasn’t even sure how to begin processing it. Despite having had her bare bottom over Sara’s knees many times before, she suddenly felt very naked and exposed, and totally out of the comfort zone she had been forced to build.<br /><br />“Doesn’t he?”<br /><br />Sara pinched April’s tush hard, making her thrash again. April quickly nodded yes.<br /><br />“Heh. I thought so.”<br /><br />Sara very gently rubbed the place where she had pinched before getting friskier again. Pat. Pat. Rub. SMACK!<br /><br />“I have another question for you,” Sara began another very long and conciliatory rubbing and tickling period, “why are we still roommates?”<br /><br />April shrugged, not daring to look Sara in the face.<br /><br />“You could switch rooms any time you wanted. If you were really upset at me, you could report me to the Dean; I always leave plenty of physical evidence.” She chuckled her as she traced the fading white handprint she had left over the deep redness of April’s posterior. “I would be expelled. And probably arrested.”<br /><br />April wanted to crawl under a rock. Sara’s tickling fingertips began to creep toward the center of her ass, running up and down along the sides of her crack. It was very sensitive in there, and not nearly as spanked, so the tickling was stronger and less painful. April almost giggled despite herself.<br /><br />“But for some reason, you don’t.”<br /><br />Suddenly the tickling was gone, and ten full-fledged spanks landed without warning on April’s fat behind. Each one was like a firecracker, fueled by the pain of the one before. Her bottom was roasting in its own heat, and Sara was languidly stoking it back into a full inferno. She had to concentrate on holding April down for a few moments until her kicking and struggling ended before she could start rubbing the burn back out again. There was a long, silent stretch as Sara carefully fondled and caressed April’s much-abused flesh. April was hoping the dialogue was over for good. But she knew she was still vulnerable, until-<br /><br />April felt something cool, smooth, and hard rest against her left butt. She recognized it immediately.<br /><br />“NO!” She tried to bolt upright, but Sara was expecting it and held her clumsily down. “NOT THE HAIRBRUSH! YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T USE THE HAIRBRUSH!”<br /><br />Sara removed the brush and waited for April to settle down. Then she said “ten. Just ten with the brush, not very hard. Then I’ll get the ice. I promise.”<br /><br />April looked hard and desperately into her disciplinarian’s face. Sara looked so confident, so much in her element. April met her gaze very carefully. After about ten seconds, she slowly nodded yes, and lowered her head back into position.<br /><br />The plastic hairbrush moved up and down her cheek, its weight resting on the inside of her crack, its bristles tickling the inside of the opposite buttock and making April suppress another giggle.<br /><br />“Behave yourself now, and I‘ll make it feel better. Otherwise, I‘ll spank you every day for a week. Hard.”<br /><br />And with that, the hairbrush vanished from April’s crack before returning - at a much greater velocity - to her left sit spot. April yelled and lurched, but Sara kept her down while the hairbrush repeated its forceful kiss on the opposite cheek. Three seconds later, another splat, exactly on top of the second one. The fourth came faster, and again on the same side. April’s right cheek felt like it would burst open at the next spank, but the next one landed on the left. Sara increased the speed of the paddling, thoroughly enjoying the sight of April’s fat ass - already so bruised and welted - wobbling madly as she punished it hard and fast. After the ninth stroke, she waited for a moment before bringing it down at full force on the center of her bum, making both cheeks bounce aside and making April screech over the loud, fleshy CRACK! of the hairbrush. Then she was done.<br /><br />Sara replaced the hairbrush on her bedside table and began petting April’s dark blonde hair. April was sobbing again; not too hard, but clearly in a lot of pain. Sara stroked the back of her head like a kitten and massaged her back while April made occasional attempts to rub her backside, but gave up when her hand hurt more than helping.<br /><br />“There’s a tray of ice cubes in the freezer,” Sara said when the sobbing had ended, “bring ’em over.”<br /><br />Sniffing the last of the tears and snot back into her nose, April got up and (after discarding the skirt, as even it was now painful to wear) walked delicately out of the room, Sara eyeing her mottled red and purple fanny as she stepped. When she returned with the ice, Sara pulled her back over her lap. April gasped when Sara gently touched an ice cube to the lower middle of her left cheek, where the bruising was worst. She wriggled and breathed loudly as the melting ice was brought, slowly and gently, around the extensive surface of her rear, leaving a trail of instant relief that slowly melted back into pain in its wake.<br /><br />“Feel good?” Sara asked as she spread the ice over both of April’s immense hemispheres. April nodded, her body trembling as icemelt trickled down the valley toward her anus. Noticing April’s strong reaction, Sara moved the ice cube itself down toward the crevice, making April kick a little as the freezing object pushed against some sensitive skin.<br /><br />Sara chuckled. “No kicking.” She gave April a light spank with her free hand that convinced her to try to keep still.<br /><br />When Sara was done cooling that area, she moved down to the sit spots, quickly melting an entire ice cube over those purple, lower chubs and starting on another. As she worked at her lower buns, she leaned a little further over and peeked between her legs.<br /><br />“That didn‘t all come from the ice, did it?” Sara whispered knowingly, mischievously. April groaned in embarrassment and started to close her thighs, but Sara put her hand in between.<br /><br />“Let me see.”<br /><br />April felt a finger trace around the perimeter of her clean-shaven vagina, pulling itself away across her skin to spread the warm fluids before returning. Sara ventured a little deeper toward the middle, and April shuddered involuntarily across her lap.<br /><br />“That’s pretty naughty of you, April,” Sara said as she continued applying the ice with one hand and venturing into April’s damp folds with the other, “but it explains a lot.”<br /><br />Suddenly, Sara touched the ice to April’s open vulva, making her jump an inch off her lap. Sara laughed heartily and moved her probing arm upward to press down hard on April’s back. With her roommate securely pinned, she started tracing around her vagina again, first with her cool fingertips, and then with the freezing ice. The mix of sensations dazed April. She couldn’t think clearly at all, and she had no idea how she was supposed to react.<br /><br />“You’re such a sexy little girl. And so submissive. I bet you’ve been making me mad on purpose, haven’t you?”<br /><br />April didn’t answer. She honestly didn’t know the answer. Avoiding the question, she just let herself slide back into a world of pure sensation as Sara’s fingers stopped playing around and made their way into her waiting tunnel. The horniness she had left over from Kevin’s spanking had resurfaced. This was a moment of weakness, and Sara was taking full advantage of it.<br /><br />April’s moans took on a different tune when Sara’s fingering was accompanied by the tip of an ice cube being pressed against her back door. April looked back around at her leering companion and started to protest, but Sara gave her a look that shut her up. Gasping, bouncing hilariously around to deal with the cold, April shut her eyes and was introduced to a strange new feeling as Sara slowly, rhythmically pushed the ice cube into her anus, while she fingered and probed her vagina with her other hand.<br /><br />“That’s right, keep bouncing,” Sara said as April’s bobbing lower body created friction around her fingers and helped the ice cube work its way into her ass, “pretend like I‘m a couple of guys. Or something.”<br /><br />April was barely hearing her. She couldn’t stand the freezing inside of her sensitive innards, the burning heat that was coming back in her bottom cheeks, the gyrating invasion of her female orifice…she needed it to stop, to continue, to…<br /><br />With a loud moan, April’s body seized up. Sara kept pushing in and out of both openings without breaking pace, pushing her roommate over the edge and all the way down into the soil at the bottom of the canyon. Finally, when April started shivering in real pain, she removed the ice cube and used both hands to gently fondle her bottom. April lay across her knees, twitching, as she recovered from the strangest, most painful orgasm of her young life.<br /><br />“You’ll sleep in my bed tonight,” said Sara.<br /><br />April turned over on her side and let Sara spoon her in her taller, muscular body. Sara’s pubic hair was scratching her sore ass, but April knew better than to make an issue of it. As Sara’s hand reached over her body and started pulling off her bra, April remembered that she had promised Kevin she would see him again tonight, and realized that he wouldn’t be happy with her negligence. She whimpered in dread at what the morning would bring.<br /><br />But for now, she fell into a contented sleep.</span>S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-16974596015681568562010-01-07T00:07:00.000-08:002010-08-18T10:00:59.761-07:00Backfire 2<span style="font-style: italic;">I decided to alternate sexes when throwing a new spanker at April. That means chapter 3 is going to have another woman, and 4 will have another man.<br /><br />And yes, Crazy Dave is someone I actually went to college with.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">...</span><br /></span><br /><br />The four of them were sitting in Sara and April’s room. It was the first time all four of them had been together for an extended period, so it was a nice bonding experience. Sara and Stan were sitting next to each other on the couch. Sara was a tall, redheaded tennis champ with a slim, athletic figure. Stan was an equally athletic young man with brown hair, bright green eyes, and a tan. Seated opposite them on a chair was Kevin, with April sitting contentedly in his lap. April was her roommate’s opposite; a short, full-figured, slightly chubby girl with dirty blonde hair that she wore in curls. Kevin was a tall, broad-shouldered African American boy with a distinctive, soft smile.<br /><br />“And that’s why they call him Crazy Dave,” finished Stan.<br /><br />“Wow,” said Kevin, shaking his head in disbelief, “I heard a little bit about him before, but that…that‘s just crazy.”<br /><br />April rolled her eyes. She was the only one in the room who didn’t know Crazy Dave, and this topic of discussion was boring her.<br /><br />“I just got assigned my Big,” she said, leaning back into Kevin’s chest, “did I tell you?”<br /><br />Everyone exhaled softly.<br /><br />“Yeah,” said Kevin, “I think you mentioned it once or twice.”<br /><br />“Mmhmm. I’m so excited! Sigma Phi Kappa is such a great sorority!”<br /><br />She danced a little in place, grinding her ass into Kevin’s crotch. This had the effect of reducing his annoyance with her. The other two were less satisfied, though. In particular, Sara was biting her tongue. If April didn’t stop hogging the conversation and talking about herself nonstop, she might be in for a reprimand later on.<br /><br />Sara and April had been friends since freshman year. A month and a half ago, their roommate relationship had taken an unconventional new direction. Specifically, Sara spanked April. It started when Sara began dating Stan, who April had had a crush on. April didn’t take that too well; she was prone to occasional petulant moods and immature behavior, and the fit she threw over Sara and Stan was nothing short of ridiculous. When all else failed, Sara solved the problem by wrestling her to the ground, ripping off her panties, and giving her the spanking of a lifetime until she was crying like a baby and couldn’t sit comfortably for days. That was Sara’s first (and most severe) disciplinary action toward her roommate, but it was far from the last. Since that day, any selfish or unruly behavior on April’s part had been handled with a session over Sara’s knee. Bare bottom, hand, and-if she had really pissed Sara off-a hard plastic hairbrush. It happened pretty often, at least once a week and usually more often than that. That was one of many reasons why April was glad to have found Kevin; the more time she spent in his dorm, the fewer opportunities Sara had to punish her.<br /><br />Sara looked at the clock. The pizza should arrive in about ten minutes.<br /><br />“Hungry?” Stan asked her.<br /><br />“Just a little.”<br /><br />“Mmm.”<br /><br />He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her against his body. She murmured softly and played with his hair. Sara missed being able to spank April as often as she could find an excuse. She had been dating Kevin for three weeks now, and was hardly ever around. Sara was happy for her. Kevin was an exceptional catch, and it was good that she had gotten over Stan and found a hotie of her own. But on the other hand, Sara had developed a fondness for spanking her roommate’s wide, jiggly bubble butt. Sure, she had great fun giving it to Stan (her latent dominant inclinations were a big part of what attracted him in the first place, and she didn‘t disappoint), but his ass just wasn’t the eminently spankable cushion that April’s was.<br /><br />Oblivious to their annoyance, April blabbered on about her new Big Sister for a minute or two until she had to go to the bathroom. Excusing herself, she got out of Kevin’s lap and stalked into the bathroom. All three of the others covertly watched her massive, protruding buttcheeks wobble under her shorts as she went.<br /><br />“That girl,” said Kevin, smiling and leaning back in the chair, “that girl.”<br /><br />“She‘s way too into the sorority thing,” said Sara, “I‘m kind of impatient for pledging to be over.”<br /><br />“Then she‘ll brag about being in,” said Stan, shaking his head a little.<br /><br />“Hmm,” said Sara, “maybe she needs a spanking.”<br /><br />Stan blushed and turned his eyes away when Sara uttered the S word. Kevin’s eyes widened a bit as he looked at her curiously.<br /><br />“A spanking? What?”<br /><br />“Spanking,” she repeated, “you know, smacking her butt until she learns when to shut up.”<br /><br />Stan’s face was burning scarlet despite his tan. He was more than aware of Sara and April’s domestic arrangement, and didn’t feel comfortable having it discussed around others. After all, it might lead the conversation in the direction of Sara’s other flagellatory pastimes, which he’d rather the guys not know about. Kevin, however, wasn‘t changing the subject.<br /><br />“Okay,” he said, half-grinning, “you wanna’ bend her over and spank her, you go right ahead.”<br /><br />“I think I will.”<br /><br />Kevin waited for her to laugh. When she didn’t, his eyes widened a little further.<br /><br />“Wait…you‘re SERIOUS?”<br /><br />“Yep,” said Sara, “I spank April all the time. Isn‘t that right, Stan?”<br /><br />She reached around behind Stan’s neck and petted the crook of his chin. Silently cursing his sweetheart, he managed to stammer “yeah. I saw it once.”<br /><br />Kevin was understandably shocked. He was the first to admit his girlfriend could be a bit childish from time to time, but spanking her? She was a twenty year old woman! As her boyfriend, he felt like he should speak up in her defense, call Sara a pervert or a sadist or something like that. But on the other hand, the image of April getting spanked had a peculiar reaction in his mind. Kevin adored April’s bum. Even with her huge, spherical breasts and soft, creamy, dark blonde hair, it was her best feature. When they were intimate, he always loved fondling, squeezing, and lightly slapping it, and the way it jiggled and rippled when they were going at it doggy-style was nothing short of hypnotic. Now that the idea of April’s naked ass getting spanked by her roommate was in his head, it wouldn’t easily go away.<br /><br />“But…” Kevin stammered, “…that‘s like…abuse.”<br /><br />Sara shrugged. “She hasn't called the cops on me yet. And she does behave better afterwards. For awhile, anyway. Here, I‘ll show you.”<br /><br />The bathroom door was opening. When April came back out, Sara stood up.<br /><br />“April,” she said seriously, “there‘s something we need to discuss.”<br /><br />April looked from Kevin to Sara to Stan, her round face wearing a blank expression. “Huh?”<br /><br />“You've been going on and on about rushing SPK. Nonstop. For weeks. Everybody‘s told you they get the point already, but you still keep derailing our conversations to talk about yourself.”<br /><br />“Okay, sorry, I‘ll stop.”<br /><br />“You said that a week ago. Your promise isn‘t enough.”<br /><br />Kevin watched the proceedings in dazed disbelief. This was a joke, right? Sara was just messing with his mind. She had to be. But then why did Stan look like he wanted to crawl under the bed and hide?<br /><br />“Um…” April began to look very timid. “Sara,” she stepped closer and leaned in to whisper, “there‘s people over.”<br /><br />Sara shook her head. “Everyone here‘s seen your ass at least once. I‘m not going to wait and let you spend the night at Kevin‘s until I forget about it.”<br /><br />April looked mortified. Sara had to suppress a grin. Why the hell was she doing this? For some reason, the prospect of disciplining her unwilling roommate in front of two attractive men gave her an incredible naughty thrill. She hadn’t actually been intending to do it when she raised the subject. But when April came back in the room, her body just took over. Sara thought about dropping it and sitting back down as if nothing had happened, but it was too late to back down now.<br /><br />April had a total deer-in-the-headlights look. She was positively mortified.<br /><br />“Here,” Kevin said, starting to stand up, “baby, let‘s go to my room.”<br /><br />Sara had to think quickly to salvage this situation. Still not sure what exactly had gotten into her, she managed to come up with a response.<br /><br />“If you let me do it now, I‘ll use my hand on your panties. If you make me wait, you‘ll get the hairbrush. Bare-assed.”<br /><br />April looked almost ready to cry. Stan was sitting very quietly, not saying a word. As for Kevin…well, he wasn’t at all sure what to do.<br /><br />“April?” He asked.<br /><br />April looked desperately around the room, her light blue eyes getting panicked. There was no way out. Either get spanked in front of both their boyfriends right now, or condemn herself to a complete butt-blistering after hours. What the hell was Sara doing? Over the course of the last couple months, she had turned into a complete sadistic bitch, but this was a step beyond even that.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Well</span>, April thought, <span style="font-style: italic;">Sara can spank really hard with her hand, but its not as bad as what she can do with that goddamned brush</span>. They all <span style="font-style: italic;">had </span>seen her naked ass before, hadn’t they? I mean, Kevin loved playing with her ass; he might even enjoy watching this. And Stan…well, this would be nothing new for him. Anything to avoid that hairbrush.<br /><br />“Okay,” April said timidly, looking at the floor, “you can spank me now.”<br /><br />“What? April, are you s-”<br /><br />She cut her boyfriend off. “Yeah yeah, I‘m sure.”<br /><br />April was blushing even redder than Stan. She looked adorable when she was embarrassed, with her cute, round face screwed up and framed by her dark blonde curls. Grinning evilly, Sara sat down on the couch and patted her thigh. Reluctantly, April dragged her feet over to the couch and, shutting her eyes, laid down over Sara’s lap. Stan got out of the way, making room for April’s legs as she stretched herself across the length of the couch, her enormous bottom raised over Sara’s thighs. April had extremely wide hips for her height, which supported a pair of huge, hemispherical buttocks that now jutted lewdly into the air. If April gained any more weight, she’d be actually fat. As it was, though, she was right at the sweet spot where most of her few extra pounds were carried in her breasts and backside, and just accentuated her voluptuousness.<br /><br />Sara patted her roommate’s bottom, admiring how it looked in those shorts.<br /><br />“Aren‘t we forgetting something?”<br /><br />Groaning, April stood back up and unbuttoned the front of her khaki shorts. Blushing anew, she put her thumbs under the hem and pulled them down, revealing nothing but a lacy black thong underneath. Sara gave an extra-wide smirk before putting a hand on her roommate’s shoulder and gently pulling her back over her lap.<br /><br />“I…um…” Kevin knew he should leave. He shouldn’t be watching this. He got up to go, but April gave him a pleading look out of the corner of her eye. Right. She’d want his moral support. Biting his lip, Kevin sat back down in the chair, hoping no once could see the outline of his growing erection inside his pants. He felt terrible for enjoying this scene, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do. He shot a resentful look at Stan, but was surprised to see that Stan was already averting his eyes. Well, at least he was a gentleman.<br /><br />SLAP!<br /><br />The sound of hand striking flesh brought Kevin’s eyes back to his girlfriend’s chastisement. April’s right buttock had just been slapped heartily, and was bouncing and jiggling from the force. A second later, Sara had raised her hand again and was swinging it into April’s left cheek.<br /><br />SPLAT!<br /><br />Her other buttock now trembled in place. It was a bad day to wear a thong; that thin stripe of cloth wasn’t remotely protecting April’s skin. April grimaced and wriggled a little after each smack, but kept bracing herself for the next. She knew it was about to get much worse.<br /><br />SMACK!<br /><br />Sara alternated cheeks, letting her hand fall about once every second. Kevin was sure it hurt; an Amazon like Sara could pack quite a slap. But it didn’t seem to be that bad...<br /><br />After five smacks to each of April’s wobbling cheeks, all that changed.<br /><br />Sara suddenly sped up, raising and contracting her arm seemingly as fast as she could. At least two strokes per second, and considerably harder. Sara clenched her jaw and leaned in on April’s back with her left hand to hold her down. This was a necessary precaution, as April had started really writhing and struggling.<br /><br />“Sara! Ow! No no, I-OW!”<br /><br />Kevin was transfixed. April’s butt was like a pair of full, fatty moons, whose pale white surfaces were being quickly turned strawberry red. Sara’s hand rose and fell too fast to let the jiggling from the last blow subside by the time the next slap came crashing down. The result was a voluptuous, perpetually bouncing pair of reddening mounds.<br /><br />“Will you stop babbling about your sorority?”<br /><br />SMACK! SLAP! SPLAT! SLAP!<br /><br />“OW! OW! Yes, I‘ll stop! I‘LL STO-OW!!!”<br /><br />Sara gritted her teeth and leaned in hard with her left arm, holding April securely down. Her right hand was a blur, getting in as many spanks as she possibly could. She abandoned her pattern of alternating cheeks, instead going for a more random assault on April’s fat behind. She gave each swelling, wobbling cheek anywhere from one to seven smacks before attacking the other one, spreading the fire unpredictably into her good friend’s ample, shapely seat. Each palm fell right on the thickest, fleshiest part of each buttock, right where April would have to apply pressure if she wanted to sit down. This was to ensure maximum pain, and maximum jiggle.<br /><br />“You also haven‘t been doing your chores,” Sara scolded, not breaking pace as her hand continued to demolish April’s tush, “I told you to get paper towels yesterday, I got them last time. You still haven‘t done it!”<br /><br />SMACK! WAP! SMACK! SPLAT! SPLAT! SMACK! SLAP! The sound of each slap faded into the ones before and after it, the sound of April’s spanking reaching a machinegun rapidity. April couldn’t answer Sara’s accusation; all she could do was hump her body and flail her limbs and cry out for her to stop.<br /><br />“AAAAHH! STOP! PLEASE! PLEASE!!!”<br /><br />The smacks kept falling at the same pace for well over a minute. Sara’s arm was getting pretty tired by now, so she slowed down, reverting to the one smack per second pace that she had used at the beginning. Each time her hand made contact with April’s big, burning cheeks, she stopped and grabbed her for a moment, groping and feeling at the swollen flesh that she had brought such pain too. Finally, the last two strokes came on either cheek, and Sara took her hand off April’s back.<br /><br />“All done.”<br /><br />April was sniffling a little, her eyes starting to get dewy. Her huge butt had two, cherry-red circles on the lower middle part of each cheek, fading away to light pink boundaries on the centers and at the creases of her thighs. As she stood up, Sara raised a hand to gently rub her roommate’s ass, dragging her fingers in a circle across the roasted meat.<br /><br />“Have we learned our lesson?”<br /><br />April nodded fervently, both her hands going to her blistered backside. As she rubbed her reddened flesh, she sent more ripples through it, keeping her audience’s attention. When she bent down to pull up her shorts, Sara couldn’t resist giving another hard slap to her outstretched bum, sending an awesome bounce through her flesh and making April yelp and stumble away from the couch before pulling them gingerly back up.<br /><br />“Well,” said Stan, “I think the pizza’s here by now.”<br /><br />“Th-that‘s okay,” said Kevin, “I um, I‘ve got pasta in the fridge. Babe, you want to come with me?”<br /><br />“Ow…yes.” April took Kevin by the hand and let him lead her out of the room. “I‘m…I‘m not really hungry anymore.”<br /><br />As they went through the door, Kevin looked back at Sara and Stan.<br /><br />“Well…I‘ll catch you two tonight. Dexter at nine?”<br /><br />Sara nodded. “Season finale.”<br /><br />“Right. Um…see ya.”<br /><br />He gave one last awkward glance at Sara before closing the door behind them.<br /><br />When the other two were gone, Stan turned to Sara and stared in disbelief.<br /><br />“I can‘t believe you just did that.”<br /><br />Sara grinned teasingly.<br /><br />“I guess we‘re both learning things about me.”<br /><br />He shook his head.<br /><br />“You‘re crazy.”<br /><br />“Mmhmm. You want a turn?”<br /><br />“Was that a question?”<br /><br />“Get the brush.”<br /><br />---<br /><br />After watching the escapades, Kevin had a rocklike boner to deal with, and April needed some cheering up. Fortunately, both problems were easily solvable.<br /><br />“Oh yeah! Harder!”<br /><br />Kevin thrusted his hips forward again, losing himself in the feeling of April’s tight vaginal walls as they constricted around his shaft to the hilt. Despite her wide hips, April’s female passageway was extremely tight. Sometimes, he almost had trouble getting it in. This afternoon though, her throbbing, heavily-lubricated vagina pulled him in eagerly.<br /><br />“MMMM…!”<br /><br />He pulled most of his eight and a half inches back out before thrusting again, his penis sliding exuberantly against her slick, hot membranes. There was a satisfying slap when his hips smacked against her hot, well-spanked bottom.<br /><br />“YES! LIKE THAT!”<br /><br />Chuckling adoringly at her reactions, Kevin grabbed her short, blonde hair in one hand and teased her massive, hanging breasts with the other. She was on all fours on his bed, with his tall, dark body encapsulating her from behind. She loved it when Kevin took her in this position. It was like being inside of a muscular, heaving castle of man, and having it inside her.<br /><br />Kevin leaned his head in and nibbled at the crook of her neck, letting her damp hair fill his face. Leaving one hand on her big, squishy breasts, he slipped the other one further below her, feeling his way across her deliciously soft belly and toward her soaked clitoris. He found it, open and waiting for his fingers, and stroked it rhythmically while his penis ground against it from the other side. He was coordinated enough to keep up the thrust as he maneuvered his hands, flexing his big, meaty ass forward and backward against hers.<br /><br />“Oh god! Yes! That’s it that’s it that’s it!!! AAAHHHHH!”<br /><br />Her body trembled in convulsive bliss as his hands and cock worked together to push her over the edge. He squeezed and pinched her left nipple as she came, making her gasp abruptly in the middle of her orgasmic moans. Kevin loved her tits. Despite their impressive size and roundness, they weren’t at all saggy. All firm and bouncy, like rubber balls. And the feeling of her huge, fat ass against his crotch…he just didn’t think there was a word in English to describe that.<br /><br />He pounded his hard, muscular body into her soft, curvy one until the pressure and friction got too much, and he felt her vagina squeezing his cargo loose. He thrusted deeper, each reentry sending a stronger spasm of pleasure through his cock and into his abdomen.<br /><br />“Ohhh…Owww….AHHHH…!”<br /><br />He grabbed each of her breasts and squeezed them tightly as his body reared up, hips pushing forward as he poured himself into her. April squealed and wiggled her hips in delight against his tight, muscular flesh as his warm semen spilled into her canal, filling her up. Breathing deeply, body glistening with sweat, Kevin pulled his wet, glistening cock out of her, watching with a sense of accomplishment as the first few drops of his seed came spilling out in its wake.<br /><br />“Oh god,” whimpered April, collapsing forward onto her belly, “Kev, that was…ohmigod, I came twice that time.”<br /><br />Kevin laid down on top of her, letting his still hard and throbbing penis rest between her buttocks and laying his hard, muscular torso against her back.<br /><br />“Twice? I only heard one.”<br /><br />She nodded insistently. “The second time my throat was dry.”<br /><br />He chuckled and played with her hair, kissing and nibbling on one of her earlobes. Despite being much taller than her, he found a way to lay his body over hers that allowed all the important parts to touch. Kevin was also well aware of her hot, throbbing buttocks under his cock and lower belly. The heat they gave off in the aftermath of her hard spanking was a new sensation for him, and one that he was quickly coming to love.<br /><br />Kevin thought he had solved a few mysteries about their sex lives. Normally, April had a very high sex drive, and was just about always ready for a little fun. But from time to time, she was mysteriously unwilling to take her pants off. She’d be as eager as ever to satisfy him with her hands and mouth, but for some reason would not let him reciprocate for anywhere from a few hours to a couple of days. Now he was pretty sure it was because she had just been disciplined by Sara, and didn’t want Kevin to see her candy-red ass. Well, the secret was out now. Despite his innate sense of chivalry, Kevin found himself wondering if April would be spanked again in the near future. There was no doubting that they were both more enthusiastic in the sack after he had witnessed today’s chastisement; he had never managed to give her multiple orgasms before.<br /><br />They spent the late afternoon cuddling, listening to music, and talking. Kevin was glad when April didn’t mention her sorority a single time. Apparently, Sara was right; maybe April really did need her butt warmed up when she got annoying.<br /><br />They were just starting to get curious with each other’s bodies again when Kevin happened to look at the clock.<br /><br />“Woah!”<br /><br />“Baby, you missed your study group!”<br /><br />“Mmm?” April rolled over on her back and looked demurely up at him, “Yeah, I know.”<br /><br />“What? But…April, you missed Monday too.”<br /><br />April shrugged, smiling cutely. “Oopsie.”<br /><br />Kevin sat up, looking at his girlfriend. Seeing his upset face, she went on the defensive.<br /><br />“What‘s the problem? It isn't, like, I‘m going to fail my classes or anything.”<br /><br />“I thought you joined that one ‘cause you needed help in chem?”<br /><br />She shrugged. “So? I‘m doing okay this semester.”<br /><br />“I thought that was because you joined the group?”<br /><br />She rolled her big, blue eyes. “Ugh. Let‘s talk about something else.”<br /><br />She moved her body closer to him and wrapped around his front, wrapping her arms around his waist and pushing her face against his rounded pecs. Kevin stayed propped up on one arm, looking down at the top of her blonde head.<br /><br />“Babe, you can‘t keep doing that.”<br /><br />“Why not?”<br /><br />She reached around his body and tickled his buttocks. Kevin had a round, West African backside, as tight and muscley as the rest of his body. April was almost as fond of Kevin’s ass as he was of hers, and loved pinching and tickling it when he wasn’t expecting it. This time, though, Kevin didn’t respond by pulling her hair or grabbing her big tits or any of his usual antics. Instead, he was thinking.<br /><br />April squeezed his left butt cheek, murmuring approvingly at the resilient texture and mass. Slowly, she lifted her head to his raised side and ran her tongue along the side of his stomach, tickling and tingling his skin as it went over the contours of each abdominal muscle. She was trying to get him to forget about her negligence, but he had trouble doing that. The truth was, April really <span style="font-style: italic;">did </span>benefit from those study sessions. She had told him at length about how much trouble she had had in her science classes before she joined the group. She had also mentioned that in the last week or so, her grades had begun slipping again. Kevin knew April could get lazy if she didn’t have someone reminding her of her priorities. Usually, that was easy to do. But this time she wasn’t listening.<br /><br />As she cooed and rubbed her face in his tummy, Kevin came to a decision.<br /><br />“April,” he sat up, ignoring her protests as he pulled his body out of her reach, “you‘re going to the next session.”<br /><br />“Okay. Gee, what‘s the big deal?”<br /><br />“You said that last time, babe.”<br /><br />“Whatever. I will.”<br /><br />Kevin shook his head.<br /><br />“I don‘t think you mean that.”<br /><br />She shrugged and reached for his crotch. Her hand never made it there.<br /><br />Like liquid steel, Kevin sat up and planted his feet on the floor. April looked shocked at this sudden movement, but not nearly as much as when he grabbed her by the torso and hoisted her forward over his lap.<br /><br />“Hey!” April squealed, “Kev, what are you doing?”<br /><br />Kevin didn’t answer. Instead, he used one big, strong hand to push April’s back down, making her lie across his thighs. He felt her soft, lower belly rub against his semi-erect penis as she tried in vain to get up; the feeling was electric. However, that wasn’t the point here. Keeping her pinned over his muscular legs, Kevin lowered his other hand to her wide, frantically jiggling buttocks and let them rest on the left cheek. He marveled for the thousandth time at April’s fat, perfectly round and pronounced booty. The redness from Sara’s earlier mistreatment was long gone, leaving it pale white and begging for more color. And she was acting like a lazy little kid. It was a combination that worked to Kevin’s satisfaction.<br /><br />“Kev, this isn‘t funny! Just let me-”<br /><br />SLAP!<br /><br />“OW!”<br /><br />Kevin’s hard hand blasted into April’s bottom, burning a pale pink handprint against her white flesh.<br /><br />“Ow! That hurt! Are you crazy? Stop-”<br /><br />SLAP!<br /><br />April’s other cheek was spanked, making her squeak and struggle harder. For a moment, Kevin considered stopping. She was a grown woman…wasn’t this abuse? On the other hand, she clearly didn’t much object to Sara’s frequent attentions…and the images Sara had burned into his mind earlier that day had had a profound effect on him. April was a girl who got spanked. Now that he knew that, it subtly changed his perception of her. It just made too much sense.<br /><br />SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!<br /><br />“OW! OOH! OW!”<br /><br />She kicked her chubby legs frantically, her hips scissoring back and forth along his thighs. Fortunately, Kevin knew how to deal with this. He had been disciplined in this manner himself during his childhood, and he remembered what his father had done when he put up too much of a fight. Grabbing his struggling girlfriend by the waist and leaning his great bulk down on her, he pulled one leg out from under her and, using an arm, held her thighs down as he put it over her.<br /><br />“Did Sara put you up to this?! That fucking bitch! No, let me go, you can‘t do this, I‘ll call the cops! I‘ll-”<br /><br />Kevin now had one dark, well-toned leg over her fleshy thighs and one under her naked waist.putting his left hand on her back again, he returned his attention to her behind. It was cupped against his restraining thigh, its enormous, soft mass sticking teasingly up in the air. It kept wobbling and jiggling as she struggled to get away, making it even harder for Kevin to keep his eyes off those creamy mounds. He lost no time in getting back to work.<br /><br />SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!<br /><br />Kevin’s hands were much bigger than Sara, and he was stronger as well. Every time his palm exploded against her helpless cheeks, April felt like she had sat on hot coals. One of the things she had been physically attracted to in Kevin was his strong hands…she was regretting that now.<br /><br />SLAP! WHACK! SMACK! SMACK!<br /><br />Each impact was loud, jarring, and elicited an anguished yelp from April. Kevin was entranced by the feeling of her vibrating flesh under his descending palm, leaving his hand on her ass for a second after each smack to grope and fondle it. But he didn’t go too slow.<br /><br />SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!<br /><br />Unlike Sara, Kevin didn’t alternate cheeks. He just let his hand burn one stinging rump cheek on and on for ten to fifteen slaps before changing, quickly bringing the other buttock to the same level of redness as its twin. As the spanking went on, April mewling and struggling helplessly against his legs, he began to lecture.<br /><br />“Babe, you know you have to go to these things.”<br /><br />His language was tender, though his voice was strict. As he talked, his hand kept beating away at her flesh without breaking pace. He was a basketball player; talking and dribbling at the same time was easy for him.<br /><br />“Ow! You‘re a fucking psycho, let me-OW!”<br /><br />He smacked her extra hard, his splayed, inflexible fingers landing on both cheeks at once. April’s ass was already much redder than it had been at the end of Sara’s punishment, with lines of sore crimson outlining the shape of Kevin’s hand.<br /><br />“I want to make sure you do good.”<br /><br />SMACK! SMACK!<br /><br />April couldn’t speak coherently anymore; anytime she tried to open her mouth, the impact of Kevin’s hand forced her to cry out instead. She couldn’t believe this! It was bad enough that Sara had appointed herself disciplinarian, but now Kevin too? And yet…<br /><br />And yet, being spanked by Kevin was different. Kevin’s strength and overpowering masculinity was something April loved about him. She liked feeling how much bigger and stronger than her he was when he carried her over his shoulder or took her forcefully from behind. She had thought about being spanked for pleasure before; she had even been willing to subject herself to it, when she was still chasing Stan. The pain was fiery and intense, but she could feel her body reacting to it in ways that didn’t make sense. Her tummy was tingling the way it did when he kissed her or nibbled at her neck. Below the searing pain of his chastisement, she thought she felt…aroused?<br /><br />As April took in the feeling of his smooth thighs beneath her and his now rock-hard cock pushing against her belly, she stopped struggling as much. She wasn’t going to just give up and let him beat her ass with ease, but her heart was no longer completely in her escape attempts. And really, she should be going to her study groups, and this would certainly remind her to attend the next one. Maybe this would actually be helpful, in some weird way?<br /><br />As April’s screams and cries lowered to a series of whimpers and soft “oh!”’s, Kevin decided to pick up the pace. On one hand, he knew his arm was stronger than Sara’s, and that April’s bum was already well reddened. On the other, he hadn’t been spanking as fast as Sara did, and he wanted to give that a try. Having gotten his fill of fondling, he stopped resting his hand between strokes, doubling his pace without decreasing the force.<br /><br />SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!!!!<br /><br />April’s body twitched and slithered every which way between his clamped legs, her writhing pressing his penis irregularly into the bed sheets on which he sat. Oh god, this felt great! He thought he had worshipped his girlfriend’s magnificent rump every way that a guy could, but this was something else. The bouncing and shivering of her rear flesh grew more exaggerated as he spanked her faster, captivating his senses of sight and touch as her dismayed cries massaged his hearing. Haha, he imagined trying to explain this situation to someone else. <span style="font-style: italic;">“Yo Kev, what‘s up?” “Giving my girlfriend a spanking.” "Kay, later bro."</span> It was really a pretty ridiculous situation.<br /><br />It didn’t seem ridiculous for poor April, though. The pain in her hindquarters had passed the breaking point into numbness, and he was now starting back at the beginning in bringing the agony back into her abused cheeks. The vibrations from his smacks made it all the way through her body, reaching her lush, wimpering lips and quickly tearing eyes. This colossus of manhood had taken control of her, and was having his way. She felt a warm wetness between her upper thighs as she wriggled reflexively under his abuse. <span style="font-style: italic;">Yes. Spank me. I’ve been naughty. Come on, whip my butt, make me sorry!</span> She tried to shake these thoughts out of her head, but it was like trying to deny an emotion. Despite her best efforts, she felt her bottom push itself up against his thigh, trying to stick itself further out into harm’s way.<br /><br />SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!<br /><br />“Ow! Oooh! Ahhh... Ow!”<br /><br />The pain had broken through the numbness again, setting her rear once again on fire. The pain went all the way through her waist to her crotch, where it took the form of pleasure. She felt her thighs and Kevin’s under her get wetter as the spanking continued. <span style="font-style: italic;">Stop now, that’s enough, I’m ready for you!</span> But the smacks kept coming down. The act of spanking April, and her reactions to it, had captivated Kevin in a kind of trance.<br /><br />Twenty smacks later, he finally stopped. April’s ass was like a ripe cranberry, burned all the way across its considerable surface by Kevin‘s right hand. His hand stung from the seventy or eighty hard slaps he had delivered. April was wriggling and gasping like a fish out of water; Kevin had spanked her as hard as Sara’s worst. But she wasn’t angry at him. He had purged those resistant feelings out of her. She was just…ready.<br /><br />“I love you, baby,” said Kevin, lifting his thigh off of hers.<br /><br />April sniffed, blinking two more tears out of her eyes.<br /><br />“Mmmm…oh god Kev,” she shakily pushed herself up with her arms and turned her tear-stained face to his, “fuck me. Right now!”<br /><br />Grabbing her around the waist, he pushed her down on her back, relishing her yelp as he put her weight on her ravaged arse, and climbed over her. Helped by one of his hands and one of hers, he forced his cock into her own very wet vagina, penetrating her female center for the second time that day.<br /><br />He spared no energy in working himself in and out of her as he grabbed her peach-sized tits and kissed her parched lips. April was torn between pain and pleasure as he pounded his engine of delight into her tight, eager vagina while pressing his great weight down on her tortured bum. She thrashed in pain and tried to take the weight off her roasted ass, but he wouldn't let her. He kept pumping down through her body and onto her sit spots, compressing agony and pleasure into one, nameless sensation. She gasped. Panted. Cried. Moaned. Waves of orgasmic energy crackled through her body like lightning, temporary banishing the pain as they painted a flush in her cheeks that almost rivaled the one in her bottom. By the time she felt his warm fluids explode inside of her, she had lost track of how many times she had came.<br /><br />Kevin pulled out of her, letting her sore vagina recover from its heavy burden. After they had both rested a bit, he bent wordlessly over her parted legs and used his tongue to ease her aching privates. April flipped over on her stomach, taking the weight off her crimson ass and offering it too for Kevin’s ministrations. For ten minutes, he worked his tongue in and around her vagina and over and under her sizzling ass cheeks, bringing her to a mild orgasm once more by the time he was done.<br /><br />“You‘ll go to your group on Monday?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“Do you know what‘ll happen if you don‘t?”<br /><br />“Uh…yeah.”<br /><br />Kevin nodded, pulling her against him and gently rubbing her very sore ass. As they lay there together, Kevin’s phone rang.<br /><br />“Yo, its Stan. You guys coming up for Dexter?”<br /><br />Kevin looked at April. She was already falling asleep. Come to think of it, so was he.<br /><br />“Nah,” he said, “we‘re tired.”<br /><br />“Mmkay. Catch you tomorrow.”<br /><br />…<br /><br />Back in Sara’s room, Stan put the phone back on the bedside table.<br /><br />“He says they‘re tired.”<br /><br />Sara smirked.<br /><br />“Oh shit, does that mean we’re playing the game again?”<br /><br />“Ten whenever someone dies. Fifteen when he jokes about it at work.”<br /><br />“Goddamnit.”<br /><br />Stan lay over Sara’s lap, putting his already red and sore ass at her mercy. Goddamn Kevin and April. They had no idea…S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-60325240908569868302009-12-13T16:10:00.000-08:002009-12-13T17:27:46.294-08:00Finals and Something ElseI've had pretty much no time or energy for writing this last month. Its been crunch time as far as schoolwork is concerned, with the fall semester coming to a close. I'm sorry to make another non-story post so soon after the last one, but I just wanted to make sure you knew that this blog is still alive. There WILL be several new stories by January.<br /><br />This brings me to a question I have for y'all. The name of this blog is spanking AND sexual acts. How do you feel about stories that don't necessarily include spanking? The reason I ask is because there's an acquaintance of mine (with an imagination possibly even dirtier than my own) who has some stories of his own I'd like to host here. A lot of them involve spanking, but some are just plain old kinky sex. No matter what, the VAST majority of the stories on this blog will be about spanking, but what do you say to the occasional vanilla erotic story?<br /><br />While we're on the note of reader feedback, do you guys have any requests? I've still got Vessels ch. 4 and another (shorter and less complex) serial in the works, but I could always use inspiration. What kind of stories do you guys like to see? Is there a subgenre I've thus far neglected? Is there a particular story of mine you'd like to see another similar to? Do you have an idea for a kinky scene or character you'd like me to use at some point?<br /><br />Well, I'll be getting back to work now. Looking forward to hearing your input regarding any of the questions asked above, or anything else at all for that matter.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-40709769921939161772009-11-04T10:38:00.000-08:002010-08-18T09:18:49.525-07:00Backfire<span style="font-style: italic;">This story was originally intended as a rather silly one-off short, but ended up starting a serial. The idea of this series is that it follows an X+1 progression; in each chapter, one new spanker is added to the roster, and our sub gets it from all of her previous spankers as well. Her life is going to be painful.</span><br /><br />...<br /><br />“Stan? You mean Stan Geller?”<br /><br />April nodded, closing her eyes dreamily. “Yesss. God, I‘ve been trying to get him to notice me since winter break, but he, like, just keeps being there.”<br /><br />They were sitting on the couch in their dorm room, chatting during a commercial break in <span style="font-style: italic;">Dexter</span>. Sara was a tall, athletic redhead; she ran track, played tennis, the works. April, who currently wore a slightly downtrodden expression, was a short blonde girl with a softer, curvier figure. The two had been friends since they started college together last year.<br /><br />Sara listened curiously to her roommate’s plight. Sara and April were part of the same weekly study group, which Stan had joined late last semester. Sara had known Stan before that (she was friends with an ex-girlfriend of his), but April had not.<br /><br />“He <span style="font-style: italic;">is </span>cute,” Sara agreed, “and he knows how to cook. I…guess he‘s not a bad choice.”<br /><br />April gave Sara a curious look.<br /><br />“You guess?”<br /><br />Sara flashed her a “well, if you REALLY want to know” smile. April looked on impatiently.<br /><br />“Well…” Sara said, not sure if she should really be spilling the beans, “Jen told me that part of the reason they broke up was…um…spanking.”<br /><br />April raised an eyebrow.<br /><br />“What do you mean? Spanking?”<br /><br />“She told me Stan was, y’know, into it. Like, as a sex thing. He kept wanting to do it, she didn’t.”<br /><br />April looked shocked. She knew that kinkiness wasn’t all that uncommon, especially among their offbeat circle of friends. But Stan? Hitting a girl? That image just wasn’t something she could get her mind around.<br /><br />Sara smiled again. “So yeah. That‘s the story.”<br /><br />“Huh.”<br /><br />April seemed to be thinking. Sara found this somewhat amusing.<br /><br />“Still want to date Stan?”<br /><br />“Spanking? Wow, um…I think…yeah, I could see myself there, I guess. Like, sure, even if he‘s sort of freaky, he‘s still the same guy, right?”<br /><br />Sara shrugged. “I‘m not the one to ask.”<br /><br />April frowned thoughtfully, evaluating this new information.<br /><br />Sara shook her head. Whine, whine, whine. Sometimes, when April got into these moods, it seemed like that was all she could do. April was far from unattractive. Sara even envied her, when they went to parties and it seemed like all the guys had their eyes glued to April’s chest and butt. April did have quite a butt, Sara had to admit. Big, round, and jiggly as a mound of jell-o. Haha, maybe Stan really should give April a try. The mental image of April’s fat ass getting a good tanning was awfully funny. Sara thought it would actually be kind of cool if that happened…Stan would certainly get a kick out of it, at least.<br /><br />The show came back on, and they watched Dexter kill people for the next fifteen minutes. Or at least, Sara did. April wouldn’t shut her damned mouth.<br /><br />“Like, you think he‘d want to do that with any girl, or was it, like, just Jenn? Like, I…”<br /><br />Sara rolled her eyes. Even without that bum of hers, maybe April could use an occasional spanking just to make her shut up. Once they got through the show, April got up and turned off the TV, wiping some dirty blonde locks out of her face as she stood. Sara watched April’s fat, wobbling buttcheeks shake under her panties as she walked. Sara’s eyes narrowed in thought. You know…<br /><br />“You think I should get some new outfits? Like, these shorts are cute, but-”<br /><br />“April,” said Sara, “shut up. I have an idea.” Even if April didn’t like the idea, which she probably wouldn’t, maybe she would at least listen to the first part of that.<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />Sara giggled, pushing some red bangs out of her eyes. “If Stan sees you get a spanking, I bet he‘ll want in on the fun.”<br /><br />“WHAT???”<br /><br />April stopped being whiny long enough to chuckle along with her.<br /><br />Shaking her head, hardly able to believe she was actually suggesting this, Sara told April her idea. When the two were done laughing and making jokes about it, April thought about it seriously.<br /><br />“Oh god, that would be…I don‘t even know, just crazy! Its like something you‘d hear about from a friend‘s friend.”<br /><br />Sara shrugged. “We <span style="font-style: italic;">are </span>in college.”<br /><br />There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the occasional giggle.<br /><br />“Okay, but like, seriously. Do you think that would actually work?”<br /><br />Sara shrugged. “I know I‘d notice. Especially if I had a fetish.”<br /><br />“Yeah but…oh god, its crazy!”<br /><br />“It was just a passing thought.”<br /><br />More silence. Then.<br /><br />“Do you REALLY think it would-”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />April blushed deeply, grinning an embarrassed, yet unconsciously sultry grin.<br /><br />“Well…yeah…I guess we <span style="font-style: italic;">are </span>in college.”<br /><br />…<br /><br />“You‘re not going to do it hard, are you?” Asked April as she waddled along beside Sara. Okay, waddled might not be the best word, but close enough; April wasn’t that out of shape, but she did have a couple of pounds here and there that weren’t strictly necessary. It helped fill out her figure.<br /><br />“Its got to be convincing,” Sara answered.<br /><br />“But…”<br /><br />“If you‘re that nervous about it, you shouldn't be after Stan.”<br /><br />April blushed again. “Okay, you‘re right.”<br /><br />They reached the common room/kitchen in the dormitory basement and said hi to the others. This was the meeting place for their study group.<br /><br />“Hey Stan,” said April sweetly.<br /><br />“Heya,” Stan replied with a friendly nod of his head. Stan was a tall, dark-haired boy, with an athletic figure and very striking green eyes. He had brought donuts tonight…it was always something. You know, thought Sara, he is a pretty sweet guy, even if he’s got secrets. He would be good for April. Hell, she decided, he’d be good for most girls, as long as they didn’t mind his bedroom eccentricities. She was really going to be doing her roommate a favor tonight.<br /><br />An hour and a half later, people started saying goodnight and going back to their rooms. As Stan began to put his books away, Sara said “Stan, I think you left your coffee cup here last week. Isn't that it in the kitchen?”<br /><br />“Did I? Huh, thanks.” Stan went into the little kitchenette, giving the common room an extra minute to empty. In a few moments, it was just the three of them in there. Perfect.<br /><br />April looked at her nervously. Sara grinned and nodded. April blushed and nodded back. Showtime.<br /><br />“APRIL!” Sara shouted, dropping her bookbag to the ground, “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”<br /><br />“Wuh…um…“ April coward a few steps back and stammered, “…it’s a calculator.”<br /><br />Sara huffed. “Oh, a calculator. That‘s MY calculator! What the hell is it doing in your backpack?”<br /><br />Sara shouted loudly enough to be heard in the kitchen, but not quite enough to wake people up in the surrounding rooms. At least she hoped not.<br /><br />“I…um…mine was out of juice, and I didn‘t think-”<br /><br />“Yeah, you didn‘t think. What else is new? I NEEDED THAT IN CLASS TODAY YOU LITTLE BITCH! I had to share with someone else for the quiz. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”<br /><br />Stan’s head appeared around the corner of the kitchen entrance. His eyes were wide. He had never seen Sara act like this before. It was completely out of character. She decided they had better get on with it before he excused himself.<br /><br />“Obviously not!” Sara growled. In a flash, she reached out and grabbed April by the hair, making her wince and “ow!” as she yanked her back toward the couch. April, gritting her teeth against the pain, winked at her. Sara decided not to risk winking back; it would be too easy for Stan to notice.<br /><br />“Ow! Ow! Sorry! Ow-let go! Here, we can talk about this in our room!”<br /><br />“No.” Said Sara, “No talking. I‘m not interested in your excuses. We‘ll sort this out right now!”<br /><br />Sara sat down, sideways, on one arm of the couch and pulled April down over her lap, letting go of her hair and grabbing her around the torso. April wriggled and begged to be released, feet kicking a few inches above the carpet. They made quite a sight in this position. Sara was a tall, almost Amazonian figure, just shy of six feet tall, body slender and toned, and she wore a very convincing expression of rage. April was about the right relative height to be Sara’s daughter, and acted the part with her struggling and half-coherent begging to be released. The fact that April had enough tits and ass to fill out a girl twice her stature only made the picture prettier. Sara risked a quick, sideways glance at the kitchen door. Stan was still standing there, completely motionless, mouth starting to hang open.<br /><br />“Sara, please, not in pu-”<br /><br />SLAP!<br /><br />Sara brought her right hand down hard against the seat of April’s skirt. April was wearing a miniskirt and thong tonight, just as they had agreed. As a result, part of Sara’s hand fell under the cloth line and hit naked thigh.<br /><br />“OW!”<br /><br />April’s reaction (which included even more bucking and kicking) was genuine. She had not expected one slap to sting that much. It dawned on her, to her dread, that Sara was probably one of the strongest, most athletic girls she knew, and that, for the sake of verisimilitude, she would not be holding back much. She shouldn’t have agreed to this! But it was too late to back down now…<br /><br />SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!<br /><br />“I told you to ASK ME before taking my things!” Sara pressed down with her left forearms as she swung her right in a wide, meteoric arc, slapping April’s bum with as much drama as she could muster. “DIDN’T I?”<br /><br />“Ow! Ow! Yes, I‘m sorry! I-WHAT THE??”<br /><br />Sara had grabbed April’s miniskirt and flicked it up over her backside, pinning it against April’s back with her other arm. In their position, April’s ass was pointed straight at Stan, and that thong covered maybe five percent of it (the thong did its best, but seriously, there was a lot of ground to cover). Her round, chubby, perky cheeks jiggled lewdly into the open air, requiring severe punishment for their immodesty.<br /><br />Sara brought back her arm and gave her roommate the hardest slap yet, catching her right in the center of the right cheek and making it bounce and wobble around beautifully. That one left an angry, pink handprint across April’s virtually naked buttock.<br /><br />“YEOW!!!”<br /><br />SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!<br /><br />“We agreed not to use each other‘s things without asking!”<br /><br />SLAP! SLAP! Aprils’ massive bottom was now lightly pink all the way across.<br /><br />“DIDN’T WE?”<br /><br />April’s answer was cut short by a truly fierce volley of slaps that exploded into the lower, fleshy undersides of both cheeks, right at the crease where they tucked back in to her thighs. Her butt wasn’t done jiggling from the last smack when the next three landed, keeping it dancing and wobbling constantly for the entire spanking. April’s rear really was perfect for spanking. Sara was actually wondering why she hadn’t thought to do this before.<br /><br />As April kicked and mewled, Sara finished her off with another dozen slaps to each big, reddened cheek. Then, without releasing her unfortunate roommate, she reached into her bag and pulled out her secret weapon.<br /><br />Sara’s parents were of the old fashioned, spare-the-rod variety. As a result, she had been corporally punished pretty often as a kid, all the way up until eighth grade. She knew, therefore, exactly how to hold a struggling girl down to keep her in place until the punishment was over. She knew also that a proper spanking began with a parent’s hand, and ended with an even two dozen with a hairbrush. There were two reasons why she hadn’t mentioned this part of her plan to April. One was that she wasn’t sure it was worth mentioning; when spankings were given, a hairbrush was used. That’s just how its done, at least in Sara‘s household growing up. Part and parcel of any convincing punishment, right? The other was that...well…April wasn’t going to win any Emmis for acting. She had exceeded Sara’s expectations so far tonight, but her performance probably wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny, and Stan was very likely to scrutinize. If she wasn’t expecting the hairbrush, her reactions would be much more genuine.<br /><br />Sara stole another covert glance at Stan as she pulled out the plastic, flat-backed hairbrush and held it aloft. His eyes were as wide as saucers. He wasn’t excusing himself. In fact, he darted back around the corner to avoid notice as she glanced in that direction; he wasn't going anywhere, and who could blame him?<br /><br />“What are you doing!?!?”<br /><br />April was looking up over her shoulder and staring, terrified, at the hairbrush. Her eyes were full of indignation, confusion, and not a bit of trepidation. Sara shrugged a little and gave her a look that said “well, we agreed it would have to be a real spanking. Anyway, there‘s no backing out now without ruining everything, so I guess you‘ll have to grin and bear it.” April moaned and shut her eyes, falling weakly back into place over her friend’s lap, gritting her teeth against what was to come. Sara pressed the back of the hairbrush against April’s angry, red buttocks, pushing those thick cushions of flesh down against the hips. Her left hand crept further down April’s back, grabbing the hem of her thong and pulling it upward into her crack, resulting in a painful wedgie that left even more bottom exposed for the brush.<br /><br />The first CRACK! of the hairbrush came with a twirling flick of Sara’s hand, and crashed like flat, plastic shockwave into the swell of her left butt. April’s cheek flattened and pancaked out under the force of the brush, then bounced and jiggled madly back outward when she raised it again. For a second, April didn’t seem to react to the blow. Then, when her nerves did their job…<br /><br />“AUUGH! OW! NO!”<br /><br />She kicked her legs wildly and tried to push herself off of Sara’s lap. She almost succeeded too; Sara had to lean forward and press her full weight onto April’s lap to keep her in position. Despite this awkward pose, she managed to raise her hand to around shoulder level again, and brought the brush down in a series of blind, clumsily-aimed stokes.<br /><br />SNAP! CRACK! CRACK! SNAP! WACK!<br /><br />As April howled, Sara managed to raise herself back into an upright, sitting position while keeping April pinned with her left arm. April’s ass was red from crowns to crease, with a handful of deeper, ugly crimson splotches where the hairbrush had left its calling card. Now that she could aim and swing properly again, Sara wasted no time in applying fast, even strokes to her victim’s behind, making sure every last centimeter of the brush bit deeply into the flesh with each landing. She swung without any sign of tiring, putting those tennis muscles to good use. She wasn’t using nearly her full strength, but she still went hard enough to make sure there was real pain and distress in April’s yelps.<br /><br />CRACK! “You.” CRACK! “Will.” CRACK! “Ask.” CRACK! “Next.” CRACK! “TIME!”<br /><br />She sped up for the final dozen, her arm becoming a blur as she paddled as fast (though still not as hard) as she could, landing the blows in a circle around April’s protruding target. April was sniffling now, eyes starting to get damp and bleary under her blonde bangs. Her body was still bucking and trembling as hard as ever, but Sara had this pinning thing down now. There was absolutely nothing April could do as Sara landed the last ten strokes in the space of four seconds.<br /><br />“Well now,” said Sara, dropping the hairbrush back into her bag, “have we learned our lesson?”<br /><br />She put her hand back on April’s buttocks and gently massaged them, kneading the shiny, red hot flesh with her fingers. April’s backside was the color of red construction paper, with the lower sit spots being a darker, tomato shade.<br /><br />“Y-yes!” April gasped, sniffling in pain, “I‘ll never do it again!”<br /><br />Sara smiled. “Good.”<br /><br />She patted her bottom a couple times with her hand, putting just the slightest jiggle back into it, before letting April back up. April’s hands raced to her backside, clutching it tightly as she bounced on the balls of her feet. She glared at Sara angrily, her eyes on the brink of tears. Sara smiled sweetly back as she got back to her feet. As they left the room together, she stole a final glance at the kitchen door. No sign of Stan. He was probably hiding in the kitchen taking care of himself after the show.<br /><br />As they returned to their room, April glared at Sara.<br /><br />“You didn't tell me about the brush!”<br /><br />Sara shrugged. “You didn‘t ask. Its not that bad; my mom used a wooden one when I was a kid. Now THAT would have hurt.”<br /><br />“You could have just stuck with your hand!”<br /><br />“Not really,” said Sara as she opened their door, “if I really wanted to spank someone, I‘d use a brush. You told me you wanted to make it look real.”<br /><br />April shook her blonde head, wiping her blotchy face again. “You‘re still a bitch!”<br /><br />Sara nodded. “Fair enough.”<br /><br />To atone for her overzealousness, Sara got a cold beer out of their fridge and rolled it over April’s sizzling ass, providing some relief. As she did this, the topic of conversation turned back to their objective for the night.<br /><br />“Did he seem like he was interested?”<br /><br />“Oh yeah. You should have seen his face. He couldn't take his eyes off you. Or part of you, anyway.”<br /><br />“Really?”<br /><br />“Really. He‘s not going to think about anything else for a week.”<br /><br />April seemed satisfied by this answer. Soon, they were giggling and making jokes about the silliness of the whole situation, and April finally got up and creamed Sara with a couch cushion, showing that she wasn’t angry anymore. After a thoroughly gratuitous scene of the two half-naked girls jumping around and having a pillow fight, they got ready for bed. April would have to sleep on her stomach tonight, but she could hardly wait to run into Stan again now. As for Sara…she looked forward to being able to watch TV<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>in peace.<br /><br />…<br /><br />The next day, Sara answered a knock at the door. It was Stan.<br /><br />“Hey,” she said, “what‘s up?” She grinned conspiratorially before adding “Did you find your coffee cup?”<br /><br />“Hahaha,” he laughed nervously, “no, actually, it was weird. I found it in the sink in my room, where I thought I had left it.”<br /><br />“Huh,” said Sara, “guess someone else’ looked like yours. Anyway, April’s in the shower right now. If you wait a couple minutes, she’ll be out soon.”<br /><br />Stan smiled. He really did have a charming smile, Sara thought.<br /><br />“Actually,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you.”<br /><br />Sara raised her eyebrows a bit. What the hell?<br /><br />“Um…”<br /><br />She really wasn’t sure what was going on here.<br /><br />“…okay. What‘s up?”<br /><br />“Well,” he said, “I got two tickets for the Modest Mouse concert next week, and I only need one of them. I thought maybe you could help me avoid wasting the second one.”<br /><br />WHAT????<br /><br />“I…um…”<br /><br />It was now Sara’s turn to stammer.<br /><br />“I dunno, I‘ll have to think about it. Here, maybe April would want-”<br /><br />He shook his head. “No offense to April, but I think I’d rather take you.”<br /><br />Slowly, comprehension dawned as Sara recounted her conversation with Jen. She had told her that Stan was into spanking. But she had never clarified who he wanted on the receiving end.<br /><br />He smiled that winning smile again.<br /><br />“Um…”<br /><br />“I can make dinner afterward. You liked my brisket, right?”<br /><br />…<br /><br />“YOU BACKSTABBING BITCH!!!!”<br /><br />“I tried to get him to ask you for fifteen minutes. I’m not exaggerating, you were drying yourself by the time he left.”<br /><br />“HOW COULD YOU FUCKING DO THAT? I TRUSTED YOU!”<br /><br />Sara shook her head helplessly. “I told you what I knew. I was joking when I suggested that, you‘re the one who wanted to go through with it.”<br /><br />April was screaming at Sara from across the room. Sara had spent the last two days trying to get Stan interested in April, but he seemed to have fallen hopelessly in love. And, while she felt terrible admitting it, Sara had begun to reciprocate. Stan had this witty, underdog charm about him that made her want to just bring him home and make him hers. No one could accuse her of not trying to fix April’s chances with him, but it became more of an uphill battle every time they saw each other. And honestly, all the boys wanted April. Sara wasn’t used to being first choice, and it felt damned good.<br /><br />“I‘LL BET YOU LIKED IT, DIDN‘T YOU!?!? YOU‘RE A FUCKING LESBIAN!”<br /><br />“Well…” Sara said slowly, “if you didn‘t like it, you probably won‘t last longer than Jen did.”<br /><br />“FUCK YOU!!!”<br /><br />Sara sighed. She knew she couldn’t blame April for being upset, but seriously, she was acting like it was all Sara’s fault. She wasn’t going to be able to watch TV in peace for a month, was she? No, probably not.<br /><br />“Alright,” said Sara, “when he knocks on the door, you can answer. I‘ll pretend I have a headache. If you can-”<br /><br />“I‘m telling your mom about the weed!”<br /><br />Sara’s jaw dropped.<br /><br />“April, stop being ridiculous.”<br /><br />April did not stop. Instead, she picked up the phonebook.<br /><br />“April…Are you even thinking?”<br /><br />April was flipping through the pages. Wow. Sara was used to her occasional, petulant moods, but this was a side of her friend that she had never seen before. Sara had never suspected that April could be such a spoiled brat. I mean, the signs were all there, but she had never bothered to put them together, and now that April was in a situation where the full extent of it showed Sara was just shocked.<br /><br />“My mom‘ll take me home if she finds out about that! April, this is actually serious stuff. You know what, let‘s do what I said before; when he comes in, we‘ll sit down and tell him everything.”<br /><br />“Shut up!”<br /><br />Sara had already suggested that several times. April was no more amenable to it now than she was before. Desperate, she stood up and tried to pull the book out of April’s hands.<br /><br />“Let go!”<br /><br />“I can‘t let you do this! Its not fair.”<br /><br />“Its not fair you stole Stan you cunt!”<br /><br />“What the…stole him? You‘re making it sound like he was obsessed with you before!”<br /><br />“GIVE IT BACK YOU BITCH, GIVE IT BACK!!!”<br /><br />April slapped Sara across the face.<br /><br />For a very long second, silence rang across the room. Sara stared at April in shock, raising a hand to rub her face where she had been hit. April looked smug, giving her a “now you know what it feels like” glare.<br /><br />More silence.<br /><br />Then, Sara grabbed April by the scruff of the neck and dragged her into the middle of the room.<br /><br />“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!!”<br /><br />“Do you promise to be rational?”<br /><br />“FUCK YOU!!! LEMEGO!!!”<br /><br />She punched Sara in the stomach, winding her and nearly making her let go. Sara growled and wrestled her struggling roommate down, throwing her against the floor and sitting down on her back. April was struggling for real, but she had crossed too many lines. Sara was determined.<br /><br />Pinning April under her body, Sara reached forward and tore her panties down, leaving her luscious, bratty bottom exposed.<br /><br />“WHAT THE FU-"<br /><br />Sara turned up the music in her head and started the spanking.<br /><br />“OW! OW! OOOWWW!!!!”<br /><br />At this angle, she had much more room to swing than last time, and she wasn’t pulling any punches. Her last spanking had been hard and fierce, but she hadn’t nearly used her full strength. This time, though, she had a very real lesson to teach.<br /><br />“Owww! I’m sorry, please stop! No! No! I won’t call your mom, I won’t call the cops, I won’t, ow! Ow! OW!”<br /><br />Two days worth of anxiety, frustration, and annoyance were pouring through Sara’s arm and into April’s ass. Her hand fell much faster than the clicks of the second hand of the clock mounted on their wall, and each smack landed with every bit as much force as her body could provide. She was spanking from the torso, all the muscles in her upper body clenched for a unified purpose.<br /><br />A minute later, April was blubbering incoherently, her words not making even the slightest amount of sense. A minute after that, she was screaming and crying like a six-month-old baby, tears cascading down her cheeks and wetting the carpet beneath her blonde head. Sara’s palm felt like she had pressed it down against a hotplate, and her arm was aching something fierce. But she didn’t stop. April’s bum was at least as dark a red as it had been after the paddling a few nights ago. Swollen to a size even more generous than its natural volume, April’s round, cheeky ass was dancing like the entire cast of <span style="font-style: italic;">Rocky Horror</span> under Sara’s clublike hand, a madly jiggling, trembling mass of dark red and purple flesh, its entire self consumed with indescribable, searing pain.<br /><br />After five uninterrupted minutes of this, Sara finally got up. Her arm hurt more than it ever had since she broke it nine years ago. Her hand was completely numb. She couldn’t begin to imagine how April’s bottom must feel, and in all honesty, I can’t think of words to describe it. April’s blistered, bruising cheeks were completely red from top to bottom, leaning toward a darker shade on the swollen, fatty undersides. She was still crying, hands twitching involuntarily between her face and her devastated ass as she writhed and squirmed on the floor.<br /><br />There was a knock at the door. Fixing her hair, Sara went to answer it.<br /><br />“Ready to g-woah!”<br /><br />Stan’s eyes widened as he noticed April lying helplessly on the floor, trying to clutch her smoldering rump with trembling hands, and heard her anguished sobs. Sara could tell he was getting excited again.<br /><br />Sara shook her head. “She borrowed my calculator again. Let’s hit that concert.”<br /><br />She put her hand in his and led him out of the room, ignoring April's anguished sobbing. It occurred to her that it was April's turn to do the dishes tonight; she decided a dose of the hairbrush would await her if she didn't.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-62268302432460667982009-10-28T07:12:00.000-07:002009-10-28T07:13:38.904-07:00Still HereHey there. I'm sorry its been so long; real life has been banging at my door this last couple of weeks.<br /><br />I'm just posting this to let you know that I've not forgotten this blog, and that I'll have something new to post within the week. Thank you for your patience.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-59981247481309946232009-10-18T18:08:00.000-07:002010-10-12T01:27:49.118-07:00Short: Product Testing<em>This is the first time I've written an M/F scenario, so I'm sure there's room for improvement. In particular, I'm afraid I was a little too descriptive.<br /></em><br />...<br /><br />Robert Kinsley looked at the three boxes that sat on the desk. It was about time; the new models had been due nearly a week ago. Robert was a punctual man, and liked to keep things orderly. His clean shaven face, short, well-groomed hair, neatly pressed black suit jacket and tie spoke for him in this regard.<br /><br />“I‘m sorry again for the delay, Mr. Kinsley,” said the clerk, “but here they are. Serial numbers HB22, HB23, and BB05 fresh out of the workshop.”<br /><br />Robert nodded curtly. “I trust preparations for mass production have been made?” He had a subtle British accent that matched his trim appearance like tea and biscuits.<br /><br />The clerk nodded, holding up his clipboard. “As always. They‘re just waiting for our approval.”<br /><br />Robert looked at the three boxes with their serial numbers again. He had been the head manager of Product Testing for several years now, and was well used to the procedure. Time to make or break these new prototypes.<br /><br />“Understood. Bring in the subjects.”<br /><br />Robert stood behind the desk, waiting patiently. Under the wrapping, he was a tall, athletic thirty-year-old with a deceptively slender frame. There was a cushy, armless office chair beside him, but he chose not to sit down just yet; he would be using that in a bit. In a few minutes, the clerk came back in, followed by three nervous-looking young women, wearing only loose-fitting T-shirts, panties, and socks. These were the guinea pigs.<br /><br />One of the new arrivals was Rose, a black woman of twenty-eight. She was the tallest of the three, with a flowing, big-boned figure. Her hair was cut just above her shoulders, framing a smooth-featured face with green eyes, full lips, and milk-chocolatey brown skin. She was strong-looking, with a robust frame and wide, womanly hips, but she also looked the most anxious. Robert couldn’t blame her; this was her first day on the job. He made a point of smiling at her reassuringly; she tried to smile back, but quickly looked away again.<br /><br />The second woman was Jolene, a cute white girl with nineteen years to her name. Jolene was the shortest of the three, but made up for it with a bit of…“plumpness” would be the word. She wasn’t anywhere near fat, but she did have a slightly convex belly and cute love-handles that gave some shape to her T-shirt. Elbow-length, light brown hair fell past her shoulders, running along the sides of a rather prominent chest. She smiled at Robert cheerily, eyes moving between him and the three boxes on the desk. “Do your worst” was what her expression said.<br /><br />Last was Anna. She was a year or two older than Jolene, but she looked younger; her dainty, smooth-skinned features and wide, dewy brown eyes were those of a teenager. Her body, on the other hand…Anna was a textbook example of the hourglass figure. Large, spherical breasts pushed out against her shirt, giving way to a sweeping, slender torso that widened dramatically into some of the widest, curviest hips Robert had ever seen. Below her (very full) pink panties, her legs were thick, fleshy, and toned. She had darker skin, suggesting a Latin heritage (according to her bio, her family was from Argentina). She gave a shy, somewhat timid smile as Robert‘s eyes met hers.<br /><br />“I trust you‘re all prepared,” said Robert, stepping around the desk. It wasn’t a question.<br /><br />Rose nodded slowly. “I think so.”<br /><br />Jolene smirked. “Oh Rob you big softy! Its not like it‘ll be any worse than last time.” She rubbed her backside in painful recollection. “Ready when you are.”<br /><br />Anna smiled her timid smile again. “I‘m good to go, I guess.”<br /><br />Robert gave a calculating glance at Jolene. My, but wasn’t someone cocky this morning?<br /><br />The clerk came over to the desk and helped Robert open the boxes. The first one contained a small, flat-backed wooden hairbrush, just the right size to be kept in a pocket or purse. Robert picked it up and turned it over in his hand, letting his experienced fingers sample the wood. Maplewood, he thought. He placed it down on the desk, where three pairs of female eyes focused on it.<br /><br />“That looks like its gonna‘ hurt,” said Rose, turning anxiously to her companions.<br /><br />Anna nodded, her soft, hazel eyes widening a little. “I wish I could say something helpful,” she said quietly, “But yeah, you‘re right.”<br /><br />“Personal care maple hairbrush, HB22,” said the clerk, ignoring the trepidation of the women, “four inch blade, one half of an inch thick.”<br /><br />“Good varnish,” remarked Robert as he opened the second box, “but small. Hopefully it can stand up to wear and tear.”<br /><br />The clerk chuckled. “Well, that‘s where you come in.”<br /><br />The second box contained another hairbrush. This one was significantly bigger, with a thick and quite heavy oval-shaped blade. The back of this brush was slightly rounded, almost like the outside surface of a flat spoon. It looked good, mostly, but its handle tapered a little too thin before it met the blade; Robert wondered if this would prove a problem.<br /><br />“HB23 is the classic hickory brush. Same handle as the other models, but five inch blade with a varying thickness of one and a half inches at the center to one inch at the edges.” As the clerk spoke, Robert felt the back of it and flicked his wrist a little, seeing how it felt in the air. HB23 was noticeably heavier than 22, and had a more forceful swing.<br /><br />“That,” said Rose, her eyes wide, “that‘s not…who would buy something like that?” She was clearly having second thoughts about this.<br /><br />“I think I would.”<br /><br />The other two stared at Jolene.<br /><br />“What? My hair gets tangly when I wake up.”<br /><br />Jolene was keeping up her façade of bold nonchalance, but it was obvious she was a little more intimidated by the second hairbrush than she was letting on. Otherwise, her eyes wouldn’t keep going back to it as they did.<br /><br />“The last one is a bath brush?” Robert asked as he opened the final box.<br /><br />“Ayup. Maplewood again, water treated. This one‘s a long-handled model, got an eight inch hilt with another six inches of blade. The bristles are soft nylon; no risk of scratches. Blade is just over an inch thick.”<br /><br />The guinea pigs were silent for a moment as Robert handled this one.<br /><br />“Well,” said Rose, looking from one of her fellows to the other, “it can‘t be as bad as the big hairbrush, right?”<br /><br />Anna shook her head. “Don‘t count on it.”<br /><br />“Its got a long handle,” said Jolene slowly, “a wider arc means more momentum. God, I hope I don‘t get that one.”<br /><br />Anna glared at her.<br /><br />“You‘d rather I got that one?” She subconsiously put a hand to her bottom.<br /><br />“Yeah, actually. I would.”<br /><br />The other two women glared at Jolene, but they really couldn’t blame her that much. After all, they were all thinking the same thing; <i>please not the bath brush for me</i>.<br /><br />Meanwhile, Robert had put down BB05 and was dragging his office chair out from behind the desk. Seating himself comfortably in it, he addressed the test subjects.<br /><br />“I have a decision to make. Ladies, turn around please.”<br /><br />Rose looked back at the other two to ask if this was normal, but they were already turning around and presenting their panty-clad assets to the scrutiny of the two men.<br /><br />“Miss Jackson, turn around.”<br /><br />Robert’s voice was patient, but slightly stern. He was giving Rose a piercing look. Slowly, keeping her eyes trained distrustingly on him, she turned around.<br /><br />“Which is for which?” Asked the clerk.<br /><br />Robert thought carefully. Rose had a derriere of the kind black women are known for; lush, thick, and quite substantial, jutting out behind her rounded hips like half of a pear. On one hand, probably quite durable and cushioning. On the other…this was only her first day on the job. Jolene was shorter than Rose, but her hips were just as wide, and the baby fat that was visible elsewhere on her body was even more abundant here. She had a round, very soft looking bottom, each cheek like a heavy water balloon. Both Rose and Jolene, however, were put to shame by Anna. She had some of the widest, most feminine hips Robert had ever seen, and her ass stuck out. It was as if her body had gathered together all the fat it didn’t need and stuffed it tightly into those two jutting, bulging cheeks. Her panties were woefully insufficient to contain them, their shelf-like mass being left mostly exposed.<br /><br />After looking from rump to rump for a moment, deciding what should go where, he turned back to the clerk. “I think we can proceed.”<br /><br />The clerk nodded, writing something on his notepad. “Okay girls, you can turn back around.”<br /><br />They did so, all with baited breath. Rose in particular looked almost ready to faint. The other two seemed slightly less mortified (they had had experience, after all), but they were still anxious to hear the first pronouncement.<br /><br />“HB22 will be tested on Miss Rose Jackson,” said Robert. “Rose, please come here.”<br /><br />Rose let out a long, deep breath. On one hand, she was going to get what looked like the smallest and least menacing brush of the three. That was a relief. On the other, she had been hoping to see at least one of the other girls go first, so that she could have some idea of what to expect. It was thus with great uncertainty (and no small amount of looking back over her shoulder at the other two) that she advanced to where Robert Kinsley was sitting.<br /><br />“Don‘t be nervous, sister, you got off easy,” said Jolene, “just be glad it wasn‘t the bath brush.”<br /><br />Anna nodded. She and Jolene looked at each other briefly, both wondering frantically who would get which of the remaining instruments of agony. Their attention was soon brought back to Rose’ ordeal by the sound of Robert’s voice.<br /><br />“You‘ve read the routine, I hope?”<br /><br />Rose nodded fearfully, staring pleadingly at Robert. She was hoping he would have mercy on her, go easy on her, something like that. He gave no sign of having noticed her trepidation.<br /><br />“Then you know that our tests are conducted on the bare skin. Take off your underwear.”<br /><br />Her face sunk. Even through the dark brown of her skin, there was an obvious blush in her cheeks as she reluctantly lowered her hands to her hips and worked the panties down. In a moment, they fell to her ankles, leaving a bushy landing strip of black pubic hair visible between the tops of her luscious thighs. She was afraid that Robert would leave her standing like that for a long time, to take in the sight of her naked vagina, but fortunately he waited for only a second before patting his thigh, signaling her to bend over his knees.<br /><br />Robert placed a hand on her lower back and helped ease Rose down into position (she resisted for a moment, but soon gave in and allowed him to position her as he wished). Her hands were touching the carpet on one side of the armless chair, her feet planted on the other, which placed her ass right across Robert Kinsley’s lap. It was truly a marvelous ass; each cheek just perfectly high and large enough to be grabbed or squeezed by a male hand. Robert didn’t grab or squeeze it, though. Instead, he rested one hand on the small of her back and let the other rest, very lightly, on her left buttock.<br /><br />“Warm ups consist of twenty slaps with my open palm,” said Robert, “this will precede the implement testing.”<br /><br />“Uh…do you have to?” Asked Rose, looking desperately up at her captor, full, African lips almost trembling, “I mean, you could just give me my fifty with the brush and-”<br /><br />The clerk winced. The other two women shook their heads knowingly.<br /><br />“Believe me, Miss Jackson, the warm up is for your benefit, not mine. Without desensitizing the tissues and amplifying the blood flow beforehand, the hairbrush could do serious damage.”<br /><br />“Okay…just don‘t be too hard, alright?”<br /><br />He shook his head. “I‘m sorry, but this department is responsible for quality assurance. You‘ll receive the full treatment; that‘s why you‘re here.”<br /><br />In truth, he was indeed letting her off light. Rose was a big, athletic woman, with quite a well-padded seat, all qualities that spoke to her endurance. Normally, he would have selected her for one of the heavier brushes. The only reason she was getting the smallest one was because it was her first time. He wasn’t making any more allowances for her than that.<br /><br />“Are you ready, Miss Jackson?”<br /><br />She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded yes (what else could she do at this point?). Across the room, the other two girls watched carefully.<br /><br />Robert raised his hand to shoulder height and brought it down with a wristy flick against her left buttock. Rose let out a little “mm!” when it hit, but actually it wasn’t nearly as hard as she had expected. Just a sharp little snap against her ass, making her left cheek jiggle and bounce for a second. The next slap was very much like it, and landed on the opposite cheek. Rose let herself relax. Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.<br /><br />Robert alternated cheeks, spanking Rose with a steady, not-too-fast not-too-slow drumbeat. That fleshy mountain of a bottom jiggled and swayed, each cheek wobbling playfully under his palm. Rose’s body was actually squirming a tiny bit on its own, making itself more comfortable; she wasn’t disliking this at all!<br /><br />After twenty fleshy smacks, he let his hand rest once again on her warm flank. He waited for perhaps fifteen seconds, studying the subtle, pinkish flush that had built up under her rich, brown skin.<br /><br />“Can I get up now?” She asked.<br /><br />Robert chuckled. It was a nice, comforting chuckle, really, but it carried some rather fearful connotations in her mind.<br /><br />“Stay in position, Miss Jackson. We haven‘t even started the test!”<br /><br />“Okay,” she said, trying to keep her body relaxed. There was a low, burning sting in her buttocks, but it wasn’t anywhere near unmanageable. Honestly, she almost thought she enjoyed it! Her peace of mind ended when she felt the cold wood being rubbed softly against her flesh, and realized how much harder than Robert’s hand it was.<br /><br />“Um…wait…no, I think I-”<br /><br />SPLAT!<br /><br />“Owwwww!!!!”<br /><br />The hairbrush has nothing like Robert’s hand. It felt like an honest-to-god weapon, and one covered in fire ants at that! Immediately, she tried to push herself up off Robert’s lap, but he pressed his left hand down into her back and held her fast.<br /><br />SPLAT!<br /><br />She hadn’t finished recovering from the shock of the first hit when the second bit her other cheek. She tried to say something, but the third stroke interrupted her by forcing another “Yeow!!!” to take its place.<br /><br />Robert applied the hairbrush to Rose’s backside with the same cadence and swishing, wrist-snapping motions that he had used with his hand…only now he was employing much more of his strength. With each crack, one of her large buttocks would flatten under the brush before wobbling and jiggling around to shake off the force. She started to really struggle, scissoring her legs and twitching her torso like a snake, but Robert’s grip was inescapable.<br /><br />“The test lasts for fifty swats, Miss Jackson,” he said sternly, arm still rising and falling about once every two seconds, “that means you will…stay…in…place.”<br /><br />The last three words were each accompanied by an extra hard, extra fast smack, crashing into her round booty cheeks like a jackhammer. She was yelping and twitching with each impact. Her bottom’s pinkish hue had grown in intensity; there were now two dark red spank spots on her otherwise brown rear.<br /><br />After twenty licks, Robert stopped for a moment. Rose, thinking she had a chance to escape, tried to roll herself off of his lap, but he was expecting it. Grabbing her body with both arms, he suddenly pulled his right leg out from under her and brought it down on top of her thighs, clamping her in place between his legs.<br /><br />“What the….what are you doing???”<br /><br />“I‘m keeping you in place. There‘s no way I can aim properly with you squirming like that.”<br /><br />Her backside was now framed between his hand on her lower back, and his thigh, holding the two, throbbing mounds implacably in place. He lined up the hairbrush and picked up right where he had left off.<br /><br />SPLAT! SMACK! WHACK! WHACK! SMACK!<br /><br />The clerk was furiously writing down notes. Rose yelped and cried out and flailed her arms and lower legs furiously, but there was nothing she could do to even remotely improve the situation. Her buttocks were dancing under the hairbrush, jiggling like two bowls of jello-strawberry jello-on a shaking table. Jolene made a little humming sound as she watched her newest coworker take her medicine, noting that Robert was in no mood for shenanigans today. Anna let a hand creep down to her inner thigh…watching Robert turn Rose’s black ass scarlet was causing a familiar itch down bellow, even though Rose was clearly in great pain.<br /><br />Finally, with two extra loud and slow SPLATS! On either side, Robert put down the hairbrush and raised his leg, letting Rose scramble off of him. She wobbled to her feet and grabbed her big, perky bottom in both hands, hissing in pain as she rubbed it in a futile attempt to mitigate the sting. She was grimacing.<br /><br />“How do you feel, Miss Jackson?”<br /><br />“OW! How the fuck do you THINK I feel, JERK?!?!?”<br /><br />She hopped up and down a little, causing her rotund buttocks to bounce and wobble under her hands. They really were red, and looked quite aggravated. Not really swollen, though.<br /><br />“I feel like…agghh…bugs biting me…like I got hornets all over my ass, and they keep stinging! Ouch!”<br /><br />“Understood. Do you feel any deeper trauma or bruising?”<br /><br />“Ahh…I…I don‘t think so, just the sting. Why, does that mean you have to finish the job now? Ow!”<br /><br />Robert turned to the clerk. “High sting factor, no reported thud. No visible or tactile signs of bruising or sub-cutaneous tissue trauma.”<br /><br />“Right,” said the clerk, “seems promising. Someone at RnD will be getting a raise.”<br /><br />Robert addressed Rose, who was trying to work her panties back over her reddened, tender derriere. It wasn’t easy; due to the prominent shape of her ass, she had to stretch her panties tightly to get them around her hips, and that was now a painful prospect.<br /><br />“Stand in the corner, Rose. When the testing is done you and the others will be provided aftercare.”<br /><br />Rose hobbled over to the corner, panties halfway up her juicy thighs, both hands still rubbing her ass. Robert and the clerk both watched her naked, well-spanked rear as she walked; it had a way of bouncing heavily with each step.<br /><br />“Next will be Miss Marensky, with the HB23 model.”<br /><br />Jolene stepped forward.<br /><br />“So,” she said, “tire yourself out on Rose? Or are you just getting warmed up?”<br /><br />Robert smiled a little.<br /><br />“Bend over, Jolene.”<br /><br />She pouted at him.<br /><br />“Okay, fine, don‘t answer me.” She laid herself across his lap and pulled her body forward, sticking her voluptuous backside right in his face. “Its not like it can be as bad as last time, you brute.”<br /><br />Meanwhile, Rose (who had given up trying to pull up her panties) was watching intently over her shoulder, unable to take her eyes off of what was going to happen next. Anna, for her part, was eyeing the long-handled bath brush with a sinking feeling in her stomach; she knew she was really in for it now.<br /><br />“We‘ll only know after the fact,” said Robert, helping her into the right position. Jolene had a fat ass; there was no better way to say it. It didn’t sag or droop (okay, maybe just a tiny bit), but there was a lot of it. She was also fair skinned; her big, pale bottom would show the results of Robert’s abuse much more clearly than Rose’s.<br /><br />He began spanking her with his palm, much as he had done with Rose. Jolene’s butt was wider and jigglier than Rose’s, even if it didn’t stick out quite as far. With each crisp slap, the dimply flesh would ripple and rebound delightfully. She let out a cute little gasp or “ooh” each time he connected, occasionally seeming to lift her hips a few inches as if to welcome the next smack. More than once, he had to use his left hand to push her back down against his knees to make sure he had enough room to swing. Slowly, each subtle, rosy handprint built on the ones beneath it, giving rise to a soft, glowing pink hue in the fattiest part of each buttock.<br /><br />“That‘s the end of your warm-up,” he said, letting his hand rest against her juicy rear for a moment before reaching for the brush.<br /><br />“Ohhh,” she moaned, “I was just getting into it. Couldn’t you go a little longer this time?”<br /><br />She wiggled her butt, letting the wide, bouncy cheeks sway back and forth before his face. He smiled and shook his head...the little minx was trying to postpone the inevitable.<br /><br />“You know I would love to,” he said, “but company policy mandates twenty licks, no more no less. Perhaps after hours sometime.”<br /><br />She stopped jiggling her assets and looked petulant. “Fine,” she said, sticking out her lower lip and looking back down at the carpet, “meanie.”<br /><br />He picked up HB23 and hefted it in his hand again. The back of this hairbrush was intriguing; almost club-like, instead of the usual flat surface. Once again, he studied the narrow part of the handle where it connected to the paddle. It looked a little too thin to be trusted, but there was only one way to know for sure.<br /><br />He placed the back of the brush against the fatty underside of Jolene’s ass and rubbed it in a wide circle. She inhaled softly, savoring the coolness of the wood before what was to come. In a moment, Robert tightened his left hand’s grip on her back, raised the big hairbrush to shoulder height, and-<br /><br />SMACK!!!!<br /><br />It wasn’t as loud as the first hairbrush, but it fell with much greater force. Jolene’s left cheek exploded out around the impact, waves of tender flesh rippling out away from the hit.<br /><br />“WOW! OH! OH!”<br /><br />She jerked her body abruptly, clearly unprepared for the pain. Robert did not break pace. He lifted the brush again, revealing an angry red spot where it had hit the first time, and delivered an identical swat to the opposite cheek.<br /><br />WACK!<br /><br />She wasn’t teasing or egging him on any more. Her body scissored and shook under his relentless assault, locks of light brown hair flying as she looked over one shoulder after the other, trying to see what he was doing to cause such unimaginable pain. WACK! SMACK! THWACK! Every second, like clockwork. Patches of deep, fiery red piled up on top of each other, getting darker and more inflamed with each swat. WACK! CRACK! CRACK! Her corpulent buttocks were getting visibly swollen, exaggerating their already very prominent jiggle whenever the brush landed. WHACK! WAP!<br /><br />“OOOH!! OW! NO! NO! OWW! PLEASE!”<br /><br />The wood kept raining down on her plentiful ass. For well over two minutes, there wasn’t a sound in the room but the understated WAP of the brush and Jolene’s resulting shrieks. Rose, Anna, and even the clerk watched in mute shock. How long could this continue?<br /><br />WACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMA-<br /><br />The brush came down for the thirty-ninth stroke, and Robert’s hand continued past Jolene’s ass, handle still clutched in his fist. The blade of the hairbrush, however, went spinning through the air, landing heavily on the carpet at his feet.<br /><br />Jolene, squinting through her teary eyes, looked up over her shoulder, raising her torso a bit to see what had happened. Robert held the broken handle in front of his face, scowling.<br /><br />“I suspected it.”<br /><br />The clerk stepped forward, picking up the bristled paddle-blade and holding it out next to the handle.<br /><br />“Too thin right at the hilt,” the clerk shook his head, “well that‘s just a bugger.”<br /><br />Jolene looked relieved. Wincing, she eased herself off of Robert’s lap, both hands clasping her thoroughly punished bum. The entire lower surfaces of her butt cheeks were a dark, angry red, and a pair of small bruises had appeared on her sit spots, where the thickest part of the rounded brush had connected the most times.<br /><br />“Whose design was 23?” Asked Robert.<br /><br />“That‘d be Debbie, the new girl in RnD.”<br /><br />“I see. We‘ll be sure to give her a stern talking to once the report has been made.” He looked up at Jolene, who was bouncing from foot to foot as she rubbed furiously at her bruised ass (her large breasts bounced cutely under her shirt as she did this, but that‘s not really relevant to this account. Just figured you might want to know).<br /><br />“We‘ll salvage what data we can from this trial, though. Miss Marensky?”<br /><br />“Ow…it…” she wiped her eyes before quickly returning that hand to her backside, “it hurts. Deep. Almost like…like a big paddle, sort of. Ow, I think I‘m bruised!”<br /><br />Robert patted her reassuringly on the rump. She managed to smile a tiny bit through her pained grimace, a little of her former, vixenly self coming back.<br /><br />“Thank you. You can wait in the corner with Rose until the last trial is over.”<br /><br />Jolene hotfooted it to the corner, her hands not able to cover her wide, swaying rear cheeks as she stepped. She had left her panties on the carpet, where she had accidentally kicked them off toward the end of her paddling. The clerk picked them up and placed them on the desk, where she could retrieve them later. As the two stood next to each other, rubbing their sore fannies, there was a noticeable gleam between both of their legs, as if the fluorescent light was shining off something wet. Robert couldn’t blame them; after all, his own underpants weren’t exactly crispy-dry at this point either. Eh, one of the perks of the job.<br /><br />“Its your turn now, Miss Mandirez.”<br /><br />Anna tiptoed up to Robert’s chair, her face a picture of youthful anxiety. She had seen what that second hairbrush did to her friend’s behind. BB05 wasn’t rounded like that hairbrush, or quite as thick, but with that long handle and shiny varnish she knew it would more than make up for that. How long would it be until she could sit after this? As she walked forward to her fate, she felt a warm dampness between her upper thighs. Watching Robert Kinsley’s masterful work had excited her, even if she dreaded what was to come. It was that damned British accent of his, wasn’t it? Or maybe just that infuriatingly self-assured tone of voice when he said “Miss Mandirez.” Whatever the case, she was a mess of fear and excitement by the time she had placed her slim, violin-shaped self over Mr. Kinsley’s lap.<br /><br />“I‘m ready to begin as soon as you are, Anna.”<br /><br />As he spoke, he slid his fingers under the hem of her panties and pulled them down to her thighs. This took him a moment or two; even for Robert’s agile fingers, there was a lot of very tight ground to cover here. There was a reason Anna favored skirts and dresses rather than jeans; for a woman with her figure, they were just a pain to get on and off.<br /><br />“Well, I <i>am</i> in position,” she said. She planted her hands firmly on the carpet, letting her heavy, pendulous breasts hang down beneath her chest. The clerk could see down her collar. Oh well, it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t get an eyeful one way or another.<br /><br />“Nothing to wait for, then,” said Robert. He began his third preparatory spanking of the day.<br /><br />Anna offered such a target that a less experienced spanker probably wouldn’t know where to start. Her rear cheeks stuck out behind her in blatant defiance of gravity, nearly as thick as they were wide (and she had some wide hips). Robert lined up his hand with the tall, underside surface of each one and let fly, letting his hand connect heavily with each swing. SMACK! SMACK! Her cheeks bounced and shook, but they didn’t really jiggle. He decided that she would need a slightly more intense warm-up session to prepare all that ass, and so he stepped up the pace.<br /><br />SMACK! SMACK! She was breathing in little gasps, keeping her legs a few inches apart to give him access to the deep, plummeting cleft between her cheeks. He had such big, hard, flexible hands; he had only given her ten slaps, and already there was a tingling burn throughout her situpon. She let out a soft “mmmm” as he slapped her again and again. She hoped this would do the job of preparing her; she most certainly did not want to be unready when the bath brush came out.<br /><br />SMACK! SLAP!<br /><br />All too soon, the hand spanking was done. Robert had gone a bit harder toward the end of it than he usually did, but she still wasn’t in much discomfort. She grimaced and sucked in a deep breath as she felt the long, stiff paddle blade line up against her rump, just above the crease where buttock met thigh. Ohdamn, this brush was a hard one.<br /><br />Before he began, Robert turned the brush over and gently ran the soft, nylon bristles over Anna’s cheeks. She purred in surprised pleasure; that tickled!<br /><br />“Bristles are useful. Write that down. Now on to the wood.”<br /><br />As two well-spanked ladies and one inwardly gleeful clerk looked on, Robert raised the bath brush and whipped it down into the underside of Anna’s massive tush. CLAAP!!! This one was easily the loudest and most dramatic of the three. Anna inhaled long and hard, gasping in pain as he flicked the bath brush up again. SPLAAAP!!! Her other tan, jutting mound bounced under the fiery onslaught. She let out an “Ahh!” and her body gave an involuntary jerk.<br /><br />Robert Kinsley had no mercy. He wielded the wooden bath brush just as hard and fast as the other two, smacking those mammoth cheeks with all the gusto his arm could provide. SMAAACK!!! SPLAAT!!! SMAAACK!!! Anna wasn’t making much noise yet, but he knew this would change. He would make it change. The experience of spanking Anna was having a mental effect on him. Those proud, full-of-themselves cheeks! How could they possibly be that damned thick! He had to teach them a lesson. Beat them back down into submission. Anna’s was an ass that <i>demanded</i> punishment, and lots of it! Despite his professional calm, he found himself swinging the paddle faster, giving it to her harder than he had Rose or Jolene. At the seventh SPLAAT!!! Anna finally “AWWW’”d. At the tenth, she was writhing and squirming over his lap just like the other two.<br /><br />SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!! SMAAACK!!!<br /><br />He was halfway done. Her mountain-like buttocks were already a dark, injured crimson, and wobbling and swaying like fat, rubber balls. Not enough, damnit, not enough! He kept a calm face, but his eyes were burning. What an ass! If Anna were to stand straight and clench her glutes, she could literally balance a coffee cup on it. Was the brush even getting through all that armor? He would make sure it did.<br /><br />“AAAAAH! AHHHH!! OHHH!! NOO-AAAAAHHHH!!!!”<br /><br />Her hourglass-shaped body was thrashing and struggling now. He dug his left forearm into her back and leaned in, confining her frenetic, bare-butted lap dance to its current locale. SNAAAAP!!!!! CRAAACK!!!! SPLAAACK!!!! SNAAAPP!!!! “”OH! OW! AHH! HELP!!!!” However-and this is a testament to Anna's resolve-she didn't try to roll off of his lap the way Rose had.<br /><br />Rose and Jolene watched in stunned amazement as Robert did his job. He was in the zone. His deep, dark eyes were full of masculine intensity. Under his trim office suit, his muscles had grown taught. The clerk was scribbling furiously in his notebook, clearly struggling to keep up with the action.<br /><br />Screams, cries, wails, and the relentless crack of the bath brush filled the air for several minutes. Anna was aware of nothing besides the paddling. She was struggling mindlessly, kicking, screaming, flailing her limbs like an animal in a trap. When the fiftieth lick landed and Robert lifted his imprisoning arm, she rolled off his lap onto the floor, seizing her rump with both hands and kicking her feet like a rabbit.<br /><br />Rose looked at Jolene, clearly horrified. Jolene just gave her a “well, you should have known what to expect” look in return, though in truth even she was pretty cowed by this last display. She felt herself getting weak in the knees, but kept position in the corner.<br /><br />“Anna?” Robert got out of his chair and knelt over his victim’s twitching body. “Anna, are you alright?”<br /><br />She looked up at him through a face blotchy with tears. She tried to say something, but all that came out was a sob.<br /><br />“Please, Anna, can you-”<br /><br />Before he could finish his sentence, she lunged to her feet, grabbed him around the shoulders, and forced her tongue into his mouth.<br /><br />Robert was too stunned to react, at first, which allowed her to French kiss him for a good two seconds or so. When he managed to remember himself, he put his hands on her shoulders and gently, deliberately, pushed her back to arms length away.<br /><br />“Anna, please, we‘re on the job.”<br /><br />Reluctantly, she complied with his protest, letting her arms leave his shoulders and return to her blistered rear. Her backside was purple. Not red. Dark, thoroughly, and utterly punished purple, and swollen to even larger than its usual size. As she backed off, it also became clear that her female spot was completely slick.<br /><br />“So,” said the clerk, “I…uh…I guess BB05 is a success?”<br /><br />Anna turned to him and nodded energetically, using one hand to wipe away her tears while the other remained clamped over her burning ass.<br /><br />“Well then,” said Robert, his voice slightly hoarse, “you three can go on to aftercare. I know you could use it.”<br /><br />The clerk opened another door, revealing a room that looked like a spa. There were two, rather handsome young massage therapists waiting, both with bottles of cold cream and aloe vera . Rose and Jolene didn’t have to be told twice. They marched into the aftercare room (Rose had gotten her panties back on by now, Jolene was still naked from the waist down). Anna, however, did not follow them.<br /><br />“*sniff*…Sir?”<br /><br />“Yes?”<br /><br />“Would…*sob*…is it okay if…*sniff*…<i>you</i> give me the cold cream this time?”<br /><br />He put his hand on her arm, looking caringly into her bleary, hazel eyes.<br /><br />“I have to finish my report before I can do anything else. Do you think you can wait for ten minutes?”<br /><br />Anna nodded.<br /><br />“Alright. Wait in my office.”<br /><br />As she left the room, the two men sat down at the desk and worked out the details of their quality-assurance report.<br /><br />“So that‘s maximum ratings for hair 22 and bath 5, but an ixnae for now on 23.” The clerk checked the boxes as Robert summarized the medical and emotional effects of each implement at the bottom of the sheet.<br /><br />“That‘s certainly my assessment.”<br /><br />“Aight.”<br /><br />They finished the report, and the clerk tucked the papers away into his briefcase.<br /><br />“You know Bob,” he said, “I can‘t help but wonder. What if someone actually wants to brush their hair with these?”<br /><br />For a moment, there was silence. Then…<br /><br />“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!”<br /><br />They both laughed uproariously, wiping tears of merriment from their eyes. The clerk had really had him there for a second!<br /><br />The Vermont Country Store would stay in business for a long time yet.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-60363778949525258622009-10-12T21:57:00.000-07:002009-10-12T22:19:31.572-07:00Love My LurkersToday marks an annual tradition in the spanking blogosphere; Love Our Lurkers day. Originally conceived by the lovely and talented Bonnie of <a href="http://bottomsmarts.blogspot.com/">My Bottom Smarts</a>, this is an open invitation for lurkers (people who read silently without commenting) to speak up and comment, either with a name or anonymously. Since I seem to have nothing <span style="font-style: italic;">but</span> lurkers so far, this little holiday seems especially relevant to this blog.<br /><br />According to blogspot's hit counter, there are a good number of you. This is your cue to chime in and tell me what you think of my work so far, tell me something about yourselves, or even just say hi. If you've been waiting to think of something to say, or have just been shy, this is your time to come out of the shadows. Please, don't be nervous; despite the internet's reputation, I'm really not a scary person.<br /><br />Look forward to hearing from you!S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-82214795334881607962009-10-10T12:44:00.000-07:002011-05-03T12:19:11.255-07:00Short: The Sidekick<span style="font-style: italic;">Here's another of my older stories.<br /><br />This short story was written in response to a writing prompt volunteered by RubyRear, of the spankingcommunity.com forums. The parameters he set were F/M, non-consensual, first time spanking, spanking in public, and involving a leather strap. The result was...whatever the hell this is.</span><br /><br />...<br /><br />“Come in,” she said.<br /><br />He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward. He was a fair-skinned, almost pale boy with sandy blonde hair and big, sensitive blue eyes. She wondered how old he was. Eighteen? Nineteen? Somewhere around there. As he came forward, his eyes darted around the room, looking for hidden dangers. He was trying to look impassive, but his apprehension was clear.<br /><br />“You can sit down, if you wish.”<br /><br />He remained standing.<br /><br />“Don‘t be shy,” she said, leaning back against the couch, “we’re just going to talk.”<br /><br />He stayed where he was.<br /><br />“Sit down,” she said, a little more forcefully, “after three days in the cell I‘m sure you could use company.”<br /><br />He looked shocked.<br /><br />“Three days?” He asked. “It hasn‘t really been three days!”<br /><br />She shook her head.<br /><br />“I‘m afraid it has. You should be thankful, though; if Doctor Destructo had his way, you‘d have spent them in the torture chamber. It took me this long just to talk the others out of it.”<br /><br />His eyes narrowed. A pity, they were so big and soft.<br /><br />“Why?”<br /><br />She smiled. “Sit down.”<br /><br />Slowly, he complied.<br /><br />“We might be on different sides,” she said, “but I believe in common decency.”<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">Common decency?</span>” He raised his voice, “When you robbed Fort Knox, kidnapped the Queen of Engla-”<br /><br />“That wasn‘t me,” she waggled a finger at him, “Redclaw did Buckingham Palace. Destructo and I were busy with the satellite heist when that was going on.”<br /><br />“You…” he stammered, “…that‘s just as bad!”<br /><br />She smiled. He was trying to sound heroic, condemnatory. He had only been at this for less than a year.<br /><br />“You‘re so cocky,” she chuckled, “even without your uniform and gadgets, you make it sound like you‘ve won. Captain Crossfire‘s been giving you lessons, I can tell.”<br /><br />He tried to stare her down. He was tall, and athletic, but she was much moreso. Like his mentor Captain Crossfire, he relied on suits and gadgets to do the job. The woman known as the Specter, however, was one of those rare supers who did it all with just natural skill and training. Even sitting down, she was an imposing figure. Ever since they first met in battle a few months ago, Fireboy had had a secret fascination with her tall, womanly silhouette. There was just something about a strong woman, especially one with some nice curves like the Specter. Unfortunately, she was one of the bad guys.<br /><br />“Anyway,” she went on when he didn’t answer, “you‘re probably hoping you‘ll be rescued. Its possible, I‘ll admit, but it isn‘t likely. The last time a Defender came into our hands, they only got him back after paying our ransom. And he was a senior member.”<br /><br />He knew all of this, of course. She just wanted to make sure he didn‘t forget it. Fireboy was just a sidekick, a Robin so to say. He wouldn’t be worth nearly as much manpower to try and rescue as their last prisoner.<br /><br />“So,” she went on, “since you’ll probably be here for a long time, why don’t we make friends?”<br /><br />His confidence, already weakened by three days of solitary confinement, was cracking. He hesitated.<br /><br />“No.”<br /><br />She looked hurt. “Oh? Why not?”<br /><br />“You‘re trying to do something,” he said quickly, gentle, blue eyes getting slightly wild, “you want information, or my identity, or to turn me against the Defenders.”<br /><br />The top of her face was masked, but her smile was quite visible. She had high, Amazonian cheekbones and full, round lips, with lipstick the color of blood. Going further down, her body was sleek and fit, with large breasts that strained against her black spandex uniform, almost bellying her great strength. Fireboy had been told the Specter was vain, and she looked like someone who cared a lot about her appearance. It paid off.<br /><br />“Maybe,” she said, “in the long run, I might try that. But for now I‘m just trying to be hospitable.”<br /><br />He shook his head.<br /><br />“I don‘t want your hospitality.”<br /><br />Her smile didn’t change.<br /><br />“So much for being civilized.”<br /><br />In an instant, she had stood up to her full height, platinum blonde hair falling over the skintight black spandex that covered her shoulders and chest. She might have been fifteen years older than him, but she was over six feet tall and had the muscles of a tiger. Fireboy tried to leap out of his chair and run, but she was already upon him, big, strong hands grabbing the collar of his prison uniform.<br /><br />“GET OFF!”<br /><br />He tried to push her away, but she used her other hand to grab the back of his neck, putting him in a commando hold. He was in terrific shape, but the only kind of fighting he was very good at involved jetpacks and laser guns. She could handle him like the boy he was.<br /><br />“I was afraid you would be stubborn,” she said, forcing him close to the floor, “so I prepared just the thing. Let‘s go.”<br /><br />She dragged him to the door and into the hall. The masked guards who had brought him here from his cell were still there when the Specter brought him out.<br /><br />“Come with us,” she said to the guards, “I could use a hand.”<br /><br />Flanked by soldiers, she forced him through the League of Darkness’ lair. Fireboy growled and struggled as they passed other guards and supervillains, some of whom pointed and laughed.<br /><br />“Let me go!” He shouted, “You bitch, let me go!”<br /><br />“Bitch?” She squeezed his spine harder, pushing him down and making him inhale sharply in pain. “You called me a bitch? You‘re making me less hospitable every time you talk! But we can fix that habit!” She pulled him faster now, making it a struggle for his legs to keep up.<br /><br />They came out onto a balcony. The air was chilly…they were up in the mountains. Of course, he remembered, the League of Darkness had a mountaintop lair. Fireboy struggled harder as he saw the railing; was she going to throw him off the edge? A second later, he saw that there were manacles attached to the bars, one pair each for hands and feet.<br /><br />She pushed him up against the railing, winding him and forcing his head and upper body over the side. Three stories below, the building disappeared into the forest, which covered the mountains off into the horizon. They were really in the middle of nowhere. He gasped and struggled, trying to push himself back, but she was just too strong.<br /><br />“You won‘t get away with this!” His voice was getting high pitched and terrified, “When they find you, Crossfire will-”<br /><br />“Sure he will.” She shoved his stomach down into the railing, winding him. “Chain him up!”<br /><br />He felt two other pairs of hands grab his arms and legs, shoving them into the manacles and locking them tight. He threw his body in all directions, desperately trying to free himself, but it was no use. Soon, he was chained hand and foot to the railing. Good god, what was she going to do? Why hadn’t he listened to his parents and stayed away from this superhero nonsense? How could this be happening? He frantically wished for a rewind button that he could push, a way to go back and undo his mistake. But reality wasn‘t so accommodating.<br /><br />“I won‘t talk!” He shouted, looking over his shoulder to face his captors, “You won‘t get anything!”<br /><br />“I‘m not trying to get information,” said the Specter, “Like I said before, I can do that later. I‘m teaching you a lesson!”<br /><br />He was bent over the handrail, hands and feet securely fastened to the bars. He tried to move his body, but he was pulled too tightly over the railing to do more than slide a few inches in either direction. His feet were raised off the floor by the manacles, forcing him to stand on one of the lower bars for support. He felt blood rush to his head.<br /><br />The Specter stood back.<br /><br />“You can go back to your duties now,” she said, “I‘ll call you again when we‘re finished.”<br /><br />The guards were probably smirking under their helmets as they withdrew. They had a reasonably good idea of what was happening; the Specter had, shall we say, a reputation.<br /><br />She looked back at her bound captive. In this position, his waist was bent right over the top of the fence, with his backside pointed into the air. Fireboy’s backside was very round and accented, and stuck out a little further behind him than most men’s. The Specter was sure the girls at whatever high school or college he went to when he wasn’t fighting crime often stared after him in the halls. The Specter had noticed this physical attribute of his during their various battles; after all, spandex uniforms are tight.<br /><br />“So,” asked the Specter, “did your parents ever spank you?”<br /><br />“Wuh-is this a joke?” He had to talk loudly for her to hear him in his position.<br /><br />“Not in the slightest. I don‘t want to turn you over to Dr. Destructo. But if can’t get you to cooperate, I‘ll have to. Trust me young man, this way is better.”<br /><br />“Now,” she stepped right next to his bound lower body and raised her voice, “did your parents spank you?”<br /><br />Fireboy was on the brink of tears. Looking up over his shoulder, he saw her towering over him, six foot body framed in a tight, black uniform that showed her muscles to be almost as generous as her female parts.<br /><br />“N-no.” He said very softly, voice trembling.<br /><br />“I can‘t hear you.”<br /><br />He shut his eyes. He felt his thighs and buttocks stretched out in front of her, bound in position. He had never even imagined being this helpless. He was a superhero for god sake! A superhero! He was starting to tremble.<br /><br />“No!” He said over the edge of the balcony, “Never!”<br /><br />“Well maybe if they had, you would know what was best for you. But…”<br /><br />She knelt down so that her head was close to his, separated by the bars. His prison shirt and fallen down around his chest, leaving his belly exposed. From this angle, she could see rows of small-but very well toned-abs bunched tightly under his skin.<br /><br />“…its never too late.”<br /><br />With a single motion, she pulled his pants down over his thighs (she reasoned that he had already broken the comics code by swearing, so now anything went), wrenching them out from between his belly and the railing, and let them drop the rest of the way to his bound ankles. Immediately, a shiver went through his body as his flesh was exposed to the cool, mountain air. His thighs and buttocks were even lighter than the rest of him, and nicely firm. His bottom was large, but it was all muscle, no fat. Most embarrassingly for him, his penis hung down behind the railing, in clear view of anyone standing behind him.<br /><br />Fireboy’s mouth opened and closed, his normally soft eyes bulging with shock and indignation. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be! He had heard and read about epic defiance, heroic resolve under nightmarish torture. Torture he had expected, the Defenders had no fear of it. But this wasn’t a dark chamber that the light could fight to withstand. This wasn’t the torture of a dignified enemy that the other superheroes talked solemnly about when recounting their careers. This was…embarrassing! Ridiculous! Childish! Condescending!<br /><br />“Give…” he stammered, hoping she could hear him from down there, “give me to D-Destructo! Torture me! Throw me-throw me back in prison!”<br /><br />“If I can‘t make you cooperate,” said the Specter, who was busy retrieving something from her utility pack, “Dr. Destructo will take over. But not until I‘ve done the best <span style="font-style: italic;">I </span>can!”<br /><br />His eyes widened as he got an upside-down look at the item she produced. It was a thick, leather strap, at least twelve inches long, with one end made into a handle. Before he had a chance to say anything else, she raised the lash to her shoulder and-<br /><br />WOOSH! <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP!</span><br /><br />Whatever Fireboy was trying to say came out as a strangled gasp. The strap cut across both cheeks, feeling like it dragged the skin off after it. Fireboy’s body bucked against its restraints as he reflexively tried to escape, but already she was raising her arm again.<br /><br />WOOSH! <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP!</span><br /><br />Another line of skin burned away! Gasping, Fireboy found his fingers grabbing at the rails for support. How many more strokes were coming? Just a few, surely! Just a few! He heard the leather sing through the air again.<br /><br />WOOSH! <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP!</span><br /><br />That strap was on fire! The metal bars were cold and hard against his naked thighs and waist, seeming to force him back up into the line of fire when he struggled. Less than a second and a half after the last impact, the strap whistled downward again.<br /><br />WOOSH! <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP!</span><br /><br />He clenched his teeth to stop himself from crying out. He didn’t feel like a hero anymore, or even like a man. He was a boy. A helpless little boy chained to a handrail getting his ass blistered by a piece of leather.<br /><br />The next <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP!</span> Cut into his flesh from a lower angle, tearing horizontally across the lower, thicker part of his rear. Was that a tear that clouded his vision? Was he crying in pain? <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP!</span> A diagonal slash across his right flank, leaving even more fire where it criss-crossed the others. <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP!</span> Another one just like it on the left cheek.<br /><br />“How many do you think that was?”<br /><br />The Specter had lowered the strap for now. She pushed a lock of platinum blonde hair out oh her masked eyes and leaned against the handrail beside him. He was breathing heavily, tears dripping into his eyebrows.<br /><br />“T…ten?”<br /><br />She shook her head. “Seven. But we‘ll get much higher than ten.”<br /><br />She stood back up and swung the stap horizontally, straight in front of her. <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP!</span> More flesh was flensed, this time from the very bottom of both cheeks, just above the thigh. He stifled another cry, and more tears flowed. But he also felt something else, something possibly even worse.<br /><br />Fireboy was struck again by the allure of this tall, black-clad megacriminal, with her flowing white hair and taunting smile. She had him, and she would do whatever she wanted. He had had…daydreams…about his mentor’s nemesis. Getting captured and beaten by her wasn’t one of them by any means (mainly, he fantasized about gently bringing her to the side of good and receiving sex as a reward), but that forbidden attraction was still in his mind. As he struggled against the bonds, the top of his penis had been rubbing against the handrail, and it was getting hard. Oh god, she was going to see it! That thought made him renew his struggle to escape. He growled and roared, tearing against the manacles, but all that did was draw more attention from the strap.<br /><br />Three more whaps. His mouth opened to cry out, but he held it in. Tears were dripping into his dangling hair, and from there off the edge into the forest below. He was bleeding, he knew it. She had whipped the skin off, and was strapping his open flesh!<br /><br />The Specter stopped again. Fireboy was not, in fact, bleeding. He had eleven lines of bright, angry red raised across his buttcheeks, but the skin was far from broken. His prison shirt had fallen down to his chest, revealing hard, streamlined muscles. From her current position to his side, she could also see that his penis was standing up against the underside of the handrail, and that he was trying to hide it with his arms and thighs. She ignored it.<br /><br />“Okay!” He said, swiveling his head to look up at her between the bars, “I‘ll talk to you. We can be…friends or whatever.”<br /><br />She smiled. He really didn‘t understand, did he? She looked again at his bottom. Even with its stripes it was crass, cheeky, like it was defying her. And he still was, really. He was trying to humor her.<br /><br />“I don‘t want to talk to you right now,” she said, backing away from the fence and standing directly behind him again, “we can do that later. Right now, I want to finish our lesson.”<br /><br />She took another second or so to enjoy his mortified face, tear-stained and framed by his bound ankles. Then, she reached back and gave him some more leather.<br /><br />“What the hell is this?”<br /><br />Two other people had come onto the balcony. One was a tall, middle aged woman with cybernetic implants riddling her body, dressed in a green uniform with a hood. The other was also female, shorter and younger, with a bright red cape and leotard. Fireboy recognized them as Cybess and Redclaw.<br /><br />“Ah, hello,” said the Specter. “I was wondering when you’d return to base.”<br /><br />Cybess shook her wire-ridden head. “There were…complications…delaying our voyage”<br /><br />“Wait,” said Redclaw, pointing at Fireboy, “is that Crossfire’s little stooge?”<br /><br />“He was until a few days ago. Dr. Destructo just turned his debriefing over to me.”<br /><br />“Heh,” chuckled Cybess, “Debriefing indeed.”<br /><br />She raised a metal hand and rubbed a scar across her face. “Captain Crossfire has been most…aggressive in recent times. I must say, this does the old heart good.”<br /><br />“Yes!” Snarled Redclaw, “The Defenders completely destroyed the moonbase project, and I swear it was Crossfire’s group! Make that little fucker scream!”<br /><br />“Would you like to watch?”<br /><br />Cybess grinned. “Certainly.”<br /><br />Fireboy let out his first real sob. How could this have gotten any worse?<br /><br />WOOSH! <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP!</span><br /><br />He yelped. This one was harder. She was trying to impress the others now. That meant spanking with full strength.<br /><br />“Is he starting to cry?” Said Redclaw, “Fucking make Crossfire‘s groupie cry!”<br /><br />The Specter accommodated Redclaw's request by giving him another one, just as hard. He had braced himself for this one and stopped himself from howling, but just barely. His endurance was quickly wearing out. He found himself longing for the early licks, when the other two weren’t there to watch his complete emasculation. When would she stop?<br /><br />After eight more strokes, she stopped again, flexing her right arm. His legs were shaking; he was having trouble keeping his feet perched on the bars. As she watched, he sniffled, face contorted to hold in the sobs.<br /><br />“Captain Crossfire and his loyal sidekick fly through the skies like a mighty eagle,” quoted Cybess. “That‘s how the Times put it. But I‘d say one of them is more of a red-tailed hawk.”<br /><br />All three of them chuckled. It was true; Fireboy’s entire derriere was swollen, lined, and bright, shiny red. There were still a few patches of white here and there, but overall the Specter had been quite thorough.<br /><br />“Your arm getting tired?” Asked Redclaw.<br /><br />“Not really. Would you like a turn?”<br /><br />Fireboy squealed, provoking sadistic chuckles.<br /><br />“No, keep going.”<br /><br />“Indeed, you‘re doing quite a splendid job.”<br /><br />“We gotta’ give our report to Destructo anyway,” said Redclaw, “but we’ll tell the guys. You whip his ass to the bone!”<br /><br />The Specter smiled as they walked away. A couple of masked henchmen were also watching from further off to the side. Let them. She had chosen this place for a reason. Getting back to business, she flicked the strap against her thigh. And my, what a job it was! Fireboy used a jetpack to fly, she knew; it was in the vault with his uniform and other gadgets right now. But she could swear his bottom had some gravity-defying powers of its own. And to think it had never been spanked!<br /><br />“What do you want me to do?” He whimpered, his face almost as red and puffy as his hindquarters. “Just tell me, I‘ll do it!”<br /><br />The Specter just smirked. She could see his cock was still hard. He wasn’t suffering nearly as much as he wanted her to think. Not yet, anyway.<br /><br />“If something occurs to me, I‘ll let you know.”<br /><br />She placed the strap carefully against his buttocks, lining them up with the sit spots. Then she reached back and <span style="font-style: italic;">WACK! WAP! WACK!</span><br /><br />She went faster now, sacrificing force for rapidity but still putting in a lot of muscle. With each whistle of the strap through the air, his body tensed up. With each loud smack, he bleated and yelped, writhing in his bonds, another welted line carved over the others. <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP! WAP!</span> Almost once per second. His erection was dying. She took that as a sign to go just a little faster. <span style="font-style: italic;">WAP! WAP! WAP! WAP!</span><br /><br />Finally, he caved in. His whole body rocked and buckled over the fence as he started bawling out loud like a baby. His bottom was livid purple, the skin not far from cracking. All higher thought and awareness had been purged from his mind. He was just a sobbing, trembling wreck.<br /><br />She decided to give him ten more, just to be thorough. These weren’t as hard as the ones before (her arm was starting to really hurt), but she made sure they weren’t anything to laugh about. He didn’t respond to these blows, except by twitching and crying a little harder. When she was done, she called to the guards who had been watching.<br /><br />“Take him back to his cell.”<br /><br />She knelt down and spoke into Fireboy’s ear. “We‘ll try to make friends tomorrow.”<br /><br />…<br /><br />That night, the Specter returned to her quarters. She had been to the prison to check on him. He was lying facedown on his cot, both hands clutching his ruined cheeks. That was pretty much what she had expected.<br /><br />Lying in bed, she closed her eyes, thinking about her new pet project. Fireboy-whatever his real name was-was so defiant. So arrogant. So innocent. She put a hand inside her pajama bottoms and wiped away a bit of the moisture.<br /><br />He wouldn’t surrender tomorrow, she thought as she pushed her fingers in. But he would be reduced to tears much faster. That round, immaculately toned bottom would take days to heal, and she was sure he would earn another session on the balcony before then. She would overpower him. Break him down. After a few days, he would tell her everything. She would make him tell his secret identity, the locations of Defender facilities, their individual weaknesses, everything he knew. And then she would make him do other things. She would pluck his adorable, teenaged naivety like a ripe cherry, and consume it. She worked her fingers faster, moaning as she brought herself to orgasm. She had seen his thick, hand-length erection today; that too would be among the spoils of war. He would be her slave, her toy, her pet. He would put up a valiant struggle-that was the whole appeal-but her victory was inevitable. If all else failed, she had a cane under her bed.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-85343004693809863372009-10-07T08:07:00.000-07:002009-11-04T11:01:38.059-08:00Vessels: Intro to Calculus (Jake 3)I met Heather during my first week at Muller University. I first bumped into her on the stairwell of my dormitory, where her room was two floors above mine. I had been on my way downstairs, when I heard a terrified squeak from behind me, and something warm, soft, and heavy hit me in the back.<br /><br />“Woah!” I shouted, grabbing the handrails to keep balanced, “watch it!”<br /><br />Turning around, I saw a girl getting up off the ground. One of her shoes was untied; it looked like she had tripped on the laces. Did I mention she was klutzy?<br /><br />“Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” She said, picking herself up off the stairs. She looked sheepish and embarrassed.<br /><br />“Its alright,” I said, chuckling a little, “are you okay there?”<br /><br />“Yeah,” she said, “thanks.”<br /><br />She was a short girl, maybe five foot three, and full bodied, just a pound or two shy of chubby. Her hair was short and glossy black, and her face was round and open.<br /><br />“So much for making impressions,” she said as she got to her feet, “I thought I’d at least make it downstairs without almost killing someone.”<br /><br />“Who me?” I said. “Oh, don’t worry. It takes way more than that to kill a badass like me.”<br /><br />I puffed out my chest. She laughed. Hers was a deep, throaty laugh, one that you can tell is genuine. I liked making her laugh.<br /><br />“What’s your name?” I asked, helping her up.<br /><br />“Heather,” she said, “Heather DuCourcey.”<br /><br />“Cool,” I said, “I’m Jake Ramone.”<br /><br />As we continued down the stairs, she absentmindedly rubbed her bruised ass with one hand. It would have been hard not to be interested in it under the best of circumstances, but the rubbing made it near impossible. Heather was wide shouldered and wide hipped, with large, globe-shaped buttocks that rippled under her hand. I later learned that she, like most girls, was insecure about her body, and thought that big butts were always a sign of fatness. God do I hate women’s magazines.<br /><br />We chatted until we got to the ground floor, at which point she went down to the basement laundry room and I left for my first class. We said hi again when we met in the lobby that evening, and discovered that we had Intro to Calculus together the next day. I had made my first new friend at school.<br /><br />…<br /><br />Intro to Calculus was taught by Professor Grodvikia, a middle aged Bulgarian woman with a short temper and a poor grasp of English. She stood in front of the whiteboard for an hour, saying things I could barely understand and getting frustrated when anyone asked a question. Being a math person, I was more or less able to follow by reading the book. Heather, who sat a few seats away from me, however, was not a math person. Just two weeks into the semester, I was already helping her with our homework. Not that I minded.<br /><br />One Tuesday in mid October, I came to Calculus a minute or so late to discover that everyone else was present…except Professor Grodvikia. This was odd. She was usually the embodiment of punctuality, and got annoyed when students were even a few minutes late. I smiled a bit. Maybe she’d stop being so uptight about lateness after this.<br /><br />Suddenly, the door flew open, and in walked a person who could hardly be less like Professor Grodvikia. A tall, olive-skinned (possibly Persian or Indian) woman, maybe twenty five years old, strode purposefully across the room. The shocking part was what she was wearing; she had a skintight, black leather top cut into a low V-collar at the front, held together at the sides by straps. On her lower body she wore matching black leather short shorts, polished so they sparkled, that looked almost too tight to move in. Finally, a pair of high heeled black boots adorned her petite ankles and feet.<br /><br />“My name is Miss Flinn,” she said sternly, without a trace of emotion on her face, when she reached the professor’s desk, “I am a Teaching Assistant for Professor Grodvikia. Since the Professor was not able to make it today, I will be teaching this class in her place. You are to regard me as your instructor for this course for as long as I stand in.”<br /><br />What the…? I hadn’t heard anything about a TA, and even if I had, there was no way in hell the school would let them show up to work dressed like that. I looked around at my classmates. All of them seemed to be in mute shock.<br /><br />“Understood?”<br /><br />Her hazel eyes flashed. “Understood,” everyone quickly echoed.<br /><br />“Um…Miss Flinn?” Someone raised their hand.<br /><br />“Yes?”<br /><br />“Um…what’s with the dominatrix stuff?”<br /><br />She narrowed her eyes. “What ‘dominatrix stuff‘ are you referring to?”<br /><br />Her eyes bored into the kid dangerously. I was sitting across the room, but I could still tell I’d have trouble thinking straight under that piercing glare. He didn’t answer.<br /><br />“Any other questions?”<br /><br />She let her hands rest on her leather-clad hips. She had a slim figure, but an athletic one. Her face had soft features, but her expression and demeanor more than made up for it. Due to the deep V-shape of her black leather color, the inside cleft of her breasts was visible. They were a nice upper medium size, and pear shaped. I couldn’t decide whether this was titillating, or terrifying. Everyone else seemed shocked into silence.<br /><br />“Excellent,” she said softly when more questions were asked, “now we can begin the class.”<br /><br />She wrote some formulas on the board, and we began taking notes. She went quickly, and was only slightly more approachable than Professor Grodvikia, but at least her English was fluent. When her back was turned, I glanced over at Heather with a look of utter confusion on my face. She returned the expression.<br /><br />I turned to the guy sitting next to me. “What the hell?” I whispered.<br /><br />He shrugged. “Dunno, man,” he said, sounding strangely groggy, “weird shit’s gotta happen sometimes, I guess.”<br /><br />I stared at him openmouthed for a second, not understanding how he could be so nonchalant. A moment later, I noticed something familiar about that slow tone of voice. I had twice been in that state myself.<br /><br />I looked back at the lecturing Miss Flinn, wondering if I was truly losing my mind. Should I get up and leave right now? No, what if this is all just me hallucinating? I mean, this is public. Nothing sadomasochistic was going to happen here in a classroom full of students, was it? I grimaced. I sure hoped not. However mixed my feelings about the candy store and hitchhiking incidents were, I did NOT want something of that sort occurring in front of my classmates.<br /><br />The class dragged on. I made a point of sitting quietly and doing exactly what she outlined on the board. Hopefully, this would all turn out to be paranoia. Or a daydream. Or both.<br /><br />Half an hour into the class, she put down the marker and ruler she had been using for her diagrams and turned toward the class.<br /><br />“So,” she said, “can anyone tell how to finish this equation?”<br /><br />Dead silence. I had a fairly good understanding of how to do the problem, but I was not about to draw attention to myself.<br /><br />“Hmmm,” she said disapprovingly, “it seems I must pick someone at random.<br /><br />My heart sank as she started looking. I gritted my teeth, knowing what was about to happen…and was surprised when she never so much as glanced in my direction.<br /><br />“Girl,” she addressed Heather, “what is your name?”<br /><br />“Um…my name’s Heather,” she said nervously.<br /><br />“Excuse me?”<br /><br />Heather looked up at her, confused and somewhat intimidated.<br /><br />“Heather,” she repeated.<br /><br />Miss Flinn’s face darkened.<br /><br />“Excuse me,” she said slowly, “but how did I say you were to address me?”<br /><br />“Oh…Miss Flinn. Sorry.”<br /><br />She paused for a moment. The TA kept glowering.<br /><br />“I mean…sorry Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />Miss Flinn’s eyebrows lifted only slightly.<br /><br />“So,” she asked, “what is the final step in this equation, Heather?”<br /><br />I wanted to blurt out the answer, but I knew I couldn’t risk that. I found myself wishing for a telepathic link between myself and Heather, so I could feed her the answer, but there was another part of me that was ghoulishly curious. What was going to happen? As I watched Heather stammer and look at her desk, trying her hardest to think, a selfish little creature inside of me wanted to see how this played out. It might have just been curiosity about whether this was connected to my earlier experiences, but in retrospect I think there was more than that.<br /><br />“Heather, have you been paying attention to a single word I’ve spoken today?”<br /><br />“Well…yeah…I just…don’t really understand it that well.”<br /><br />Miss Flinn bit her lip, eyebrows narrowing again.<br /><br />“Eek! I mean, I don’t understand it Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />She said it, but it was too late.<br /><br />“Girl, I am tired of your disrespect!”<br /><br />Heather cowered in her seat.<br /><br />“Come here.”<br /><br />I had no doubts about what was going to happen now. Heather got up and walked bashfully toward the whiteboard. She was wearing blue jeans today, which made the contours of her big ass easy to see. I tried to stand up and do something, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to. I felt myself growing hard in my pants. Goddamnit, was I just going to sit there and watch it happen?<br /><br />Miss Flinn walked in front of the desk and pointed to it.<br /><br />“Bend over.”<br /><br />Heather’s eyes grew wide.<br /><br />“What? Miss Flinn?”<br /><br />“Bend over the desk, Heather,” she repeated, “you have repeatedly failed to address me properly, and there are consequences to be faced. Do it now.”<br /><br />With a pleading look around the room for someone to help her (no one reacted), Heather moved very, very slowly toward the desk and lay across it. Her butt stretched under her jeans as she pointed her large backside into the air.<br /><br />“I am going to spank you thirty times with this ruler,” said Miss Flinn, picking up the wooden ruler she had been using before, “after every stroke, you are to count up out loud. Failure to count a stroke will cause it to be repeated until you comply. When I am finished, you will stand up and thank me for disciplining you. And you will address me with respect.”<br /><br />Heather cringed. She looked pleadingly back at the rest of the class, looking for someone to speak up and break this surreality. But everyone was paralyzed, in either mute shock or semi-consciousness.<br /><br />“Yes, Miss Flinn,” she whispered weakly.<br /><br />Miss Flinn stood to the right of Heather’s vulnerable backside. Lifting the ruler from the desk, she gently, surgically, pushed the wood against Heather’s jeans, positioning it right at the meatiest part of her ass. She stuck her other hand between Heather’s knees, forcing them apart.<br /><br />She raised the ruler, and brought it whistling down exactly where she had been aiming.<br /><br />“Ow!”<br /><br />With a <span style="font-style: italic;">crack </span>that made me wince, the ruler cut into Heather’s buttcheeks, making them bounce. I saw her legs tremble.<br /><br />“I did not hear you counting!”<br /><br />She swung it again, a little bit higher.<br /><br />“Ow…one, Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />Crack!<br /><br />“Ow, two, Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />Crack!<br /><br />My cock was harder than it had been in months, and starting to get wet at the tip. I felt terrible for enjoying it, but my libido wasn’t listening. Each stroke sent vibrations across Heather’s lovely ass, as did her legs when she kicked in pain.<br /><br />After ten strokes, Miss Flinn told Heather to get up.<br /><br />“Take off your blue jeans,” she instructed, “the rest of this spanking is to be conducted in your panties.”<br /><br />“In my…in my…Miss Flinn…?”<br /><br />“Indeed,” said the TA, her icy demeanor broken by a smirk, “I want to see your bottom turn red as it is being punished. Take off the pants.”<br /><br />Heather looked at the class in terror. Everyone in the room was still silent. Most of them almost looked half asleep (some of them were completely asleep).<br /><br />“Hey,” I addressed the boy next to me again, “hey, shouldn’t we try to do something?”<br /><br />He shrugged. “I dunno. Why don‘t you do it?”<br /><br />Heather unbuckled her jeans and bashfully pulled them down. When I saw her tiny, white thong and what it was trying unsuccessfully to cover, I almost drooled.<br /><br />“Young Lady,” said Miss Flinn, “is that a thong?”<br /><br />Heather’s face was burning bright red. She looked at the floor.<br /><br />“Yes, Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />Miss Flinn shook her head, another cruel smile on her harsh, Indian face.<br /><br />“Such clothing is hardly appropriate for one your age,” said Miss Flinn.<br /><br />It was all I could do to not burst out laughing. Look who was talking! I covered my mouth with one hand to suppress the chuckles. The other had, without my noticing, slid inside my pants.<br /><br />“Tell me, would you wear such panties if you were in a skirt?”<br /><br />“Um…maybe, Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />“Maybe? And what if your skirt was lifted by the wind, or if you fell down?”<br /><br />Heather did tend to fall down a lot. It was a valid concern. She didn’t answer.<br /><br />“Very well,” said Miss Flinn, “the last ten strokes will be administered on the bare.”<br /><br />Heather moaned and looked ready to tear up.<br /><br />“Bend back over.”<br /><br />Heather got back into position. The thong slid deeper between her cheeks as she bent over, covering even less of her butt than it did before. Her round, quivering cheeks were pinkish in the middle, with lines from the ruler visible.<br /><br />Miss Flinn got back beside Heather, and swung the ruler again. Without the jeans in the way, I could see the wood bite into her flesh. Her ass cheeks clapped together as they bounced and jiggled.<br /><br />Crack!<br /><br />“Mmmmmhhh…ahhh…eleven, Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />Crack!<br /><br />“Owww-twelve, Miss Flinn-oohh!”<br /><br />Miss Flinn was like a machine, making each swing exactly like the one before it with perfect timing. As she disciplined Heather’s heaving flesh, new and brighter lines of red appeared across her helpless buns.<br /><br />Crack!<br /><br />“Thirteen, Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />Crack!<br /><br />“Fourteen, Miss Flinn…eeeeh.”<br /><br />Crack!<br /><br />“Fifteen, Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />Crack!<br /><br />“Owwwww!…Sixteen, Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />Her voice got higher and more desperate with each stroke. She began bouncing on the balls of her feet in between spankings. When the ruler connected, she jumped an inch or so off the desk and kicked. Miss Flinn paid no heed. She was merciless.<br /><br />When she got to twenty, Miss Flinn leaned forward and grabbed the waistband of Heather’s thong. Was it just me, or did the strap look kind of damp? Slowly, she worked the panties down over her butt and let it fall to her ankles with her jeans. Now totally naked from the waist down, Heather trembled in pain and humiliation. Her naked ass was just like I imagined it; full, wide, and chubby, but not at all sagging. The bright red lines across her rump crisscrossed each other, leaving darker intersections where they met. Below this, a tangle of black pubic hair was visible.<br /><br />The switching resumed just as it had before. At twenty-three, Heather was sniffling. At twenty five, her entire butt was a mess of overlapping red marks, some almost as high as the waist, some just above the thighs, but most of them right on the sit spot, which was just a few shades away from purple. My hand was working frantically under my desk, more precum staining my underwear.<br /><br />Crack!<br /><br />“Ow! Ow! Twenty-six Miss Flinn-ow!”<br /><br />As I looked, I saw something glisten between Heather’s thighs. She was definitely wet. Her short, dark pubic hair was practically dripping.<br /><br />The last four strokes came without breaking pace. Miss Flinn showed no sign of tiring as she finished dominating Heather’s poor buttocks. Heather was sobbing. Her buns were covered with lines of pink, red, and dark crimson. Her legs continued to twitch a little. On the other hand, the entire insides of her thighs were now glistening wet.<br /><br />She pushed herself up from the desk, and turned her tearstained face to Miss Flinn.<br /><br />“Th-thank you, Miss Flinn.”<br /><br />She reached down, wincing, and gingerly pulled her pants and panties back up. I smiled to myself. I knew exactly what that felt like! I was sorry to see her (clearly open and damp) vagina disappear back under her clothes, but I had seen enough. My hand kept kneading my dripping hard penis, mere moments from climax.<br /><br />“Class is dismissed,” said Miss Flinn.<br /><br />Immediately, everyone came back to life and filed out of the room. I quickly pulled my hand out of my crotch.<br /><br />No one said anything beyond the usual chatter. It was as if no one else remembered what they had just seen. Well…almost no one. Heather was the first to run out the door, both hands itching to rub her butt, but waiting until she was out of sight.<br /><br />As I stood up, facing a corner to hide my enraged boner, I looked back at the front of the classroom. There was no one there. Miss Flinn was gone.<br /><br />…<br /><br />I didn’t see Heather around the campus the next day. I considered knocking on her door, but decided that would just be too awkward. I felt horribly guilty. I ran into another girl from Calculus, and tried desperately to confirm what the hell had happened that day.<br /><br />“Tuesday’s calc? We did more of chapter three, right?”<br /><br />“Yeah,” I said, “I was talking more about the…uh…TA?”<br /><br />She shrugged. “Weird. I thought yesterday was when Grodvikia screamed at us about cosine equations?”<br /><br />“No, that was last Thursday.”<br /><br />She thought for a moment. “Not sure. Those classes all kind of run together.”<br /><br />I tried the same line of questioning with three other of my classmates. No one had any specific memories about Tuesday’s class. Even Professor Grodvikia, next time I got to talk to her, seemed to have an uncharacteristically fuzzy memory.<br /><br />The next time I ran into Heather was two days later, when I met her on the way to our Thursday Calculus.<br /><br />“Hey,” I said.<br /><br />“Hey, what’s up?” She returned brightly.<br /><br />She seemed perfectly normal as we made our way to class, except I noticed her getting nervous as we got close. We entered the room to see Professor Grodvikia standing, as boring as ever, by the whiteboard, writing out today’s assignment. As far as I could tell, nothing strange had ever happened.<br /><br />But when Heather sat down, she winced.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-15363732597580848912009-09-21T09:11:00.000-07:002009-10-10T18:57:15.682-07:00A Belated Introduction, and Reading GuideThis should have been the first post on this blog, but its still on the first page so no harm done.<br /><br />Welcome to my fiction blog! Spankos are welcome here, and hopefully I'll be able to cook up something you can enjoy. I've been a writer for some time, but naughty stories are something new to me, so I could use all the feedback you can spare.<br /><br />I've been interested in spanking since I hit puberty. In my teenaged years my fantasies focused exclusively on giving; I'm definitely an "ass man," and smacking a cute girl's butt until its red and stingy and she's purring and wet has a primal appeal. As I matured, my sexuality expanded further into spanko territory, and I began to like the idea of receiving as well. I've been fortunate enough to do a bit of both in my time, but my experiences as a spanko are still just beginning.<br /><br />But enough about me.<br /><br />My stories focus on the sensuality and excitement that accompany a good spanking, and sometimes the other activities that often follow. Some of my tales have overtones of "serious" discipline or torture, but its all written through the lens of fantasy and fun. Some of the spankings are quite severe, but never to the point of bleeding or other serious injury, and there's always a sexual element. Something I should mention is that my imagination goes to crazy places. I'm generally a mystery and science fiction writer, and many of these elements follow me into the realm of the sadomasochistic. Expect there to be plenty of (though by no means exclusively) fantastical and science-fictiony scenarios here. Hey, if Anne Rice can do it with Sleeping Beauty of all things, why the hell not?<br /><br />Most of my posts are going to be part of an ongoing novella called <span style="font-weight: bold;">Vessels</span>. Vessels (which includes M/F, F/M, and F/F galore) follows a number of protagonists of both sexes as they are drawn into a magical game of kinky predation. Since Vessels follows several narrators over the course of some time, each chapter will include the name of the protagonist and its place in that character's experiences (Parts 1 and 2 of Jake's misfortunes are already posted). Each character's experiences are meant to be read in order, but there's no particular order for going from one character-plot to another.<br /><br />Other stories will be labeled <span style="font-weight: bold;">Shorts</span>. Shorts are just one-off stories with no connection to any others. There won't be as many of these, but they'll happen. Its possible a short story might blossom into another multi-part saga like Vessels, and I'll be sure to inform my readers if that happens.<br /><br />Each post will be tagged for implements (hairbrush, strap, etc), gender roles (F/M, F/F, M/F), and, if part of a longer story, characters. My apologies to fans of M/M, but I'm just not interested in that arrangement and couldn't convincingly write about it if I tried.<br /><br />Hopefully that gives you everything you need to know before digging in. If any readers have questions, comments, suggestions, flattery, insults, or blackmail, please don't be shy!S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-37604893452472105222009-09-16T16:27:00.000-07:002009-10-10T13:00:31.659-07:00Vessels: Cab Fare (Jake 2)I had been spending the last few weeks saying goodbye to everyone from high school. My three best friends were all spending a year abroad, and none of my pals from the swimming team were going to the same college. The most awkward part was saying goodbye to my ex-girlfriend. We had been on again/off again since our “official” breakup four months ago, and the end of summer would begin a permanent “off.” She was the only girlfriend I’d had in high school; I’ve been told I’m good looking, but I get shy around girls. My friends give me shit about it all the time.<br /><br />I was still working at the candy store. Since that very confusing (and painful) day when I went for a job there, I’d pulled in a pretty good income for the summer. About a month ago, I had began to wonder if the incident with the beautiful redhead and her spatula had actually happened at all. No one had heard of anyone matching her description. Some people asked me where I knew her from, and why I was so curious, at which I blushed and changed the subject. As it was, I had no evidence that I didn’t imagine it all; my ass had been sore for a couple of days, but after it healed I had nothing. Had I just imagined it being red and stingy? Was I going insane?<br /><br />I still fantasized about it sometimes. Whether it had really happened or not, it awakened a whole new animal in me. I’d thought about spanking occasionally before. It was something I daydreamed about, once in a while; having a girl draped over my lap, round, juicy ass in the air. It’s a fairly common male fantasy. I had never given my ex more than a couple of playful whacks, but had sometimes been tempted to ask her about going further. The idea of being spanked myself, however, had not occurred to me until the candy shop incident, and now that it was there, it stuck. Since then, I’d thought about it almost daily, and usually felt the urge to masturbate when I did.<br /><br />That night, I had been at the bowling alley with the few of my friends who were still in town. We bowled from nine to eleven, at which point the alley closed. We would have stayed out longer, but I had work the next morning. My house is only fifteen minutes from the bowling alley, so I had walked there. The sun had set by now, and the air was getting cool. It was summer, so the night wasn’t that cold, but I still wished I had brought a long sleeved shirt.<br /><br />As I started walking home, the wind picked up. It was blowing from the north that evening, so the air was colder than usual. Man, it almost felt like autumn already!<br /><br />I turned the corner toward my neighborhood, and was assailed by another blast of wind; I was walking right into it. It was a clear night, but the breeze was frigid. I couldn’t remember a summer night ever having been this cold around my town. I was still at least ten minutes from my house, and already my toes were getting numb. As I trudged onward, the wind picked up, pushing against me like an icy wall. Where the hell was this weather coming from? Ruefully, I looked down at my sandals, which left most of my feet exposed. I was wearing blue jeans rather than shorts, but they provided little protection from the wind. My arms were getting covered in goosebumps.<br /><br />After a couple more minutes of this, I hadn’t gotten very far, and I was actually starting to shiver. I considered running the rest of the way, but that would mean pushing even harder against the wind. It had been perfectly normal weather before, but now, in just the last few minutes, it had turned into winter.<br /><br />As I stood there, shivering, a car pulled up beside me. The front seat window rolled down, and I could feel the warmth of the car’s interior. A girl in her early twenties leaned her head out.<br /><br />“Hey,” she said, “you need a ride?”<br /><br />She had a round, pale face, full lips, and shiny black hair tied in a bun. She was wearing a pair of little round glasses over her hazel eyes. I could hear music playing from the car radio in the background.<br /><br />“Are you going near Hove Road?” I asked.<br /><br />She consulted the person in the driver’s seat before turning back to me. When she moved her arm aside, I saw that her green, striped shirt was extremely tight, and that her breasts were hugely visible underneath. There was a small, rectangular slit cut about eight inches below the collar, through which a peek at the undersides of those enormous spheres could be had. I wondered who in god’s name designed shirts like that.<br /><br />She looked back at me. I quickly raised my eyes back to her glasses.<br /><br />“Yep, we’ll be passing it. Want to hop in?”<br /><br />“Sure,” I said, shielding my face from an especially strong gust of wind, “thanks a lot.”<br /><br />I opened the side door and climbed gratefully in. It was warm inside the car, and the music was okay. The girl with the glasses and cut shirt sat in front. In the driver’s seat was a black girl, the same age or younger, with a forest of dreadlocks hanging behind her smooth, sculpted face, wearing a dark pink sweatshirt. Both of them wore jeans.<br /><br />“So,” I said, once we were moving, “I’m guessing you’re not from around here?”<br /><br />The white girl shook her head, a soft smile on her full lips. “Nah, we just pass through every once in a while. Y’know, pop in and out.”<br /><br />“I gotcha. What are your names?”<br /><br />The white girl giggled a little, turning further around so that her expansive chest (with its little window) was in view. I tried to keep my eyes level with hers.<br /><br />“I’m Brianna,” she said, pronouncing it the English way (bri-ah-nah), “this is my girlfriend, Genie.”<br /><br />Genie smiled at me in the rearview mirror, revealing the most perfect set of white teeth.<br /><br />I smiled back. “I’m Jake,” I said.<br /><br />A minute passed in silence. The two ladies sat in place. I felt like they were waiting for something.<br /><br />“Gee,” I said, feeling a need to make conversation, “I dunno why its so freezing tonight.”<br /><br />Genie giggled mischievously. Brianna glared at her.<br /><br />“Is something funny?” I asked nervously.<br /><br />“Nah, nothing really,” said Genie. Her voice was heavy, and had a twangy, African American accent. “We just like to keep it <span style="font-style: italic;">really </span>warm in here.”<br /><br />Brianna shook her head. “Don’t mind her,” she told me, “she doesn‘t know when to shut up.”<br /><br />Genie knocked her right hand gently against Brianna’s face, upsetting her glasses. Brianna squealed a little and straightened them. As she wiped the lenses, her goliath breasts bounced up and down inside their restraints. I know this is getting redundant, but they really were awe-inspiring.<br /><br />We drove on in silence for a few more minutes. I was just thinking of trying to start another conversation, when I looked out the window. We weren’t anywhere near where I lived. In fact, I had never been to this part of town before.<br /><br />“Um, sorry,” I said, “I think you forgot to let me out. I don’t recognize any of this.”<br /><br />Genie chuckled. “Stop complaining, babe.”<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">What?</span> What do you mean stop complaining? I need to get home, where are you taking me?”<br /><br />“Nowhere,” said Brianna, her eyes twinkling with mirth, a huge grin spreading across her soft face, “we don’t really go anywhere. Like I said, we just pop in and out.”<br /><br />Not making any sense of that statement, I said “pull over. Just let me out here.”<br /><br />Brianna kept leering at me, turning a little further so that the cutout part of her shirt was in view.<br /><br />“You know,” she said, “I think he’s right, Regina. This looks like a good place.”<br /><br />“Yeah,” said Genie, bobbing her head (which shook her dreadlocks) and chuckling, “I was thinking that too.”<br /><br />Genie pulled into an abandoned alleyway. I tried to open the door. It was locked.<br /><br />“What the fuck-” I grunted, pulling at the handle. I was cut off in the middle of my sentence by a feminine hand that pushed me back against the seat. Brianna had taken her seat belt off, and was looming over me, one foot on the floor, the other knee resting on the front seat. She was gazing straight into me, her glasses seeming to amplify the force. She was smirking like a mean little kid.<br /><br />“Don’t use that kind of language,” she said, “or we might have to <span style="font-style: italic;">punish </span>you.”<br /><br />“What are you-”<br /><br />I tried to protest, but was distracted by a metallic click, accompanied by a cold sensation around my wrists. Genie had turned around, and somehow slipped handcuffs over my wrists. She leered at me, as if she wanted to rub it in that I had been outmaneuvered.<br /><br />“Why don’t you be quiet, now?” Said Brianna, leaning in very close. “The more you say, the harder it will be for you.”<br /><br />Her hand was still on my chest, pushing me against the backrest. I marveled at how her hand was so forceful and commanding, but still so soft and feminine. Like metal covered in silk. She pushed her face right into mine, using the other hand to support herself.<br /><br />“Tell me,” she said, her lips scarcely two inches from mine, “do you want to get home tonight?”<br /><br />“I…”<br /><br />I know I meant to shout or threaten or something (I‘m normally good under fire), but at her touch, my brain stopped working. She wasn’t noticeably muscular; under normal circumstances, I could probably outfight her without breaking a sweat, but that didn’t matter. She licked her lips, her tongue nearly touching mine. Her scent was pouring into my nostrils. It had the same effect as the smell in the candy shop. Despite myself, I felt my manhood harden.<br /><br />“Well,” she said, “while you’re deciding, we’ll get busy.”<br /><br />The side door opened, and Genie (who must have gotten out of her seat while Brianna was pushing me back) seized my shoulders. Now that I saw her upright, I realized what a gorgeous specimen she was as well. Her skin was the color of milk chocolate, with thin, black eyebrows curved over her wide, bright eyes. Her smile was all the more alluring for its sadism. I also couldn’t help but notice how wide and curvy her hips were.<br /><br />I shook my head, trying to remind myself that I had been kidnapped, and had no idea what these crazy bitches were on about. What the hell was I thinking, checking them out while they handcuffed me? I tried to lift my bound hands in defense, but Brianna grabbed them. She wasn’t as strong as I was, but the two of them were working in concert, and my muscles weren‘t coordinating right. Genie, who was the more muscular, grabbed my chin and forced me to lean to the side. As I struggled and gnashed my teeth to get free of her hand, I felt a warm, soft body squeeze past me, rubbing against my head in a rush of perfume and heat. As they wrestled me down, Brianna was seating herself next to my head, pushing me down over her legs and scooting further under me. At the same time, another set of handcuffs clicked shut around my flailing ankles.<br /><br />“Look,” I said, comprehension finally dawning, “if this-”<br /><br />SMACK!<br /><br />A strong hand slapped against my ass. Genie was standing in the car door behind me, giving me an “I told you so” look. I tried to pull free again, but another spank, harder than the first, put a stop to that.<br /><br />“Okay, Genie,” said Brianna, who had now positioned herself directly under my hips, with me lying across her lap, “pull ‘em down!”<br /><br />As Brianna used both her hands and all of her weight to keep me pressed against her lap, I felt Regina stick her hands beneath, fumbling with the zipper of my jeans. Her groping hands pushed against my dick. In a single, brutal motion, she had pulled my pants and underwear down to my ankles. The sudden rush of cold air from the open door bit my naked skin like ice, making me gasp when it reached my balls. My penis, which was still semi-erect, was struck by both the cold air and the warmth of Brianna’s thigh, producing a mix of sensations that made me moan out loud.<br /><br />“Damn, Brianna,” I heard Genie laugh, “it almost sounds like he’s enjoying this. We need to teach him to take us seriously.”<br /><br />“I completely agree,” said Brianna, jabbing an elbow into my back to keep me over her lap, “this young man is about to receive a sorely needed lesson in respect.”<br /><br />Soft, ticklish fingernails ran across my sensitive buttocks. I gasped again.<br /><br />SMACK!<br /><br />“Enough squeaking! This is serious business!”<br /><br />The hand that assaulted my ass that time was smaller and softer, but was swung with just as much force. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Brianna’s right hand sliding back over my butt. Standing just outside the car door, Genie was pulling out a camera, beautiful, white grin still on her face.<br /><br />“No!” I managed to croak. “You can’t film this! I’m-”<br /><br />SMACK!<br /><br />“We decide what gets filmed and who sees it,” said Brianna, “not you.”<br /><br />“I’m ready,” Genie said from behind me, “go for it.”<br /><br />Brianna began to spank.<br /><br />Her fingers were thin and supple, but Brianna had surprising strength in her arms; her hand was like a strap, cracking against my ass cheeks each time it hit. She didn’t swing as hard or fast as the redhead in the candy store had, but it still didn’t take long to start stinging. Every second, her hand would strike a random cheek; I never knew which one it would be. About two minutes in, she took her elbow off my back and grabbed my left buttock with her free hand. She then delivered ten hard swats to the lower inside part of each cheek, which made me howl out loud and dance across her lap, arms and legs pulling against the cuffs as the pain darted down toward my anus. Then she put her elbow back on my spine, and kept spanking like before, laying more fire over my now-stinging crack. Between each blow, I felt the cold wind leap back over my skin, which only accentuated the burn when she smacked again. All the while, her pendulous, round breasts were so close to my back I could feel their warmth…but they never touched. The worst part was the knowledge that Regina was filming it the whole time, to show to whoever she wanted, whenever she wanted.<br /><br />“Okay, slow down girl,” Genie said after several more minutes, “its someone else’s turn.”<br /><br />“I know,” said Brianna, stopping the spanking to gently run her fingernails over my ass cheeks again (making me jump a little), “you don’t have to be impatient.”<br /><br />Both of Brianna’s forearms went onto my back. She leaned forward, making it so I had to put effort into breathing. Now that she was leaning over more, I thought I could feel just a soft trace of breast grazing my back.<br /><br />Genie whistled as she set down the camera and stepped up to the car door.<br /><br />“Here,” she climbed halfway in, so that she was literally standing over my naked ass and legs, “hold him tight.”<br /><br />Genie swung her arm back, and connected hard with the underside of my butt cheeks.<br /><br />POW!<br /><br />Genie was way stronger than Brianna (or even the redhead), and the angle she was at meant her hand was colliding with the most sensitive part of my lower rear. The feeling went deeper, running down through my buttocks and into the base of my crotch.<br /><br />POW!<br /><br />She struck again, driving my body forward a centimeter or so over Brianna’s jeans.<br /><br />I clenched my teeth to prepare for the next blow, but it didn’t come.<br /><br />“Brianna,” I heard Genie twang, “I can’t keep going at this angle. You want to do the camerawork?”<br /><br />Being reminded about the camera made my face blush as pink as my ass.<br /><br />“Alright,” said Brianna. She straightened up. I missed the presence of her glorious breasts over my back.<br /><br />“Jake,” said Brianna, resting a hand on the inside of my right buttock, fingertips nearly touching my asshole, “if you try anything while we‘re switching places, you will be the sorriest little boy in the history of the planet. Got that?”<br /><br />She rubbed me a little bit, sending a tiny, tantalizing bit of stimulation through my crack.<br /><br />“Yes, I got it.”<br /><br />Brianna lifted my torso up and scooted out from under me. My dick throbbed in protest as the heat of her body disappeared. Leaving me lying on my belly on the car seat, she squeezed past me and out the door. Looking up, I saw a perfect, bubble-shaped butt jiggle under her tight jeans as she got out of the car. I was sorely tempted to touch it, but was too terrified of the consequences.<br /><br />Genie handed the camera to Brianna, before getting into the car herself. Her perfume was stronger, smelling of citrus. She lifted my bound feet, and sat down on the seat under them, scooting over until her lap was under my crotch. My waist was elevated much higher than it had been on Brianna’s lap, and her legs felt much tighter in their jeans. I realized how thick and luscious those thighs must be, but also shivered in fear at how strong she was. Genie was an athletic, muscular girl, no two ways about it. The cold air kept pouring through the door and chilling my buns and thighs, making the skin tighten.<br /><br />POW!<br /><br />Regina’s hand was like a sledgehammer, pressing my left buttock hard against the bone.<br /><br />POW!<br /><br />Genie followed no pattern at all. She waited longer between smacks than Brianna had, but hers were also a lot harder. I could hear her hum to herself inquiringly between smacks, as if considering where the next one should go. I could tell she was enjoying her work. She gyrated her body ever so slightly with each stroke, putting her back into it. Just before each smack, her thighs shifted under my penis. The minute, incremental friction was causing a slow, powerful force to build. I realized that these girls could make me orgasm even if I didn’t want to.<br /><br />Genie leaned far over, so that her breasts were mashed against my back. She whispered in my ear “you like that, don’t you bitch?”<br /><br />I panted.<br /><br />She grabbed my testicles, and tightened her fingers just enough for it to be felt.<br /><br />“Don’t you?”<br /><br />Feeling horribly exposed with my nutsack in this sadistic stranger’s hand (and in the view of the camera Brianna was now holding), I tried to shake my head, but was persuaded to stop when she started to squeeze.<br /><br />"Don't you?" She repeated.<br /><br />No was not an acceptable answer. Burning with humiliation and indignance, I slowly, reluctantly nodded my head yes.<br /><br />“Ohhh, he likes it!” Crowed Genie, letting go of my scrotum.<br /><br />“Let’s see how long he can say that for,” laughed Brianna.<br /><br />“Yeah,” Genie agreed, rubbing her strong, warm hand against my roasted cheeks, “he’ll see what happens when we get ahold of a piece of ass this fine!”<br /><br />Strangely, I felt just a little flattered. The raunchiness and vulgarity of the term she used made me feel sexy and masculine. Delivered in that saucy black accent, it was enough to make my flesh crawl with more than just the outdoors chill.<br /><br />I felt something cold, hard, and smooth run across my rear. I looked over my shoulder, and my eyes widened in horror. Regina was holding a small, wooden paddle and sliding it back and forth over my bright, reddish pink flanks. The girl was grinning beatifically as she held me down. Outside of the car, Brianna refocused the camera, making sure she got it all on tape.<br /><br />“N-no!” I shouted, struggling and kicking against the handcuffs with a renewed burst of energy, “please, don’t use that! I’ll do whatever you want! Just please, don’t-”<br /><br />“Stop being such a baby!”<br /><br />Genie grabbed one of my stinging buttocks and squeezed it with her fingernails. I yelped and shuddered. She quickly dug her left elbow hard into my back, and pressed down on my ass with the cold paddle.<br /><br />“I was only going to give you fifteen,” Genie said, “but since you’re being like this, I’m gonna’ make it twenty.”<br /><br />I tried, weakly, to get up, but she easily held me down. My willpower had turned to water. All I could do was shut my eyes and grit my teeth.<br /><br />CRACK!!!<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">Ahhh!</span>”<br /><br />The paddle went far beyond Genie’s hand, or even the spatula that the redhead had used. Rather than the sting that had been inflicted before, this was a deep, penetrating thud. A dull, pulsing sensation, mostly pain but part stimulation, welled up deep in my ass cheek, like a tangle of fireweed.<br /><br />CRACK!!!<br /><br />The other cheek was pounded as well. Each paddle lick was like a shock. Stars danced in front of my eyes.<br /><br />CRACK!!!<br /><br />“You still liking it, bitch?”<br /><br />I was about to deny it, but I felt her fingers creeping over my balls again. Whimpering in dismay, I closed my eyes and did the only thing I was allowed to do. Of course, I'm not sure I can honestly say I <span style="font-style: italic;">didn't</span> get something out of the paddling, but right then I just wanted to go home...I <span style="font-style: italic;">think</span>.<br /><br />“That’s impressive,” said Brianna as I nodded yes, “I’d say make it twenty-five, then.”<br /><br />“Good idea,” said Genie.<br /><br />She resumed. Every time it connected, I kicked my cuffed legs and shouted. By fifteen strokes, the tears were beginning. By twenty, I could no longer keep count. The last five blows were a blur, the liquid fire in my ass mixed with the pleasure and pain in my dick. All I heard was the sound of the paddle connecting with bare flesh.<br /><br />“Check out the paint job!” Said Genie.<br /><br />My ass was burning so hot, I could no longer feel the cold air from outside. I had no doubt that it was a much darker red than it had been after the candy store incident. Genie touched my right cheek tenderly, her finger tracing a line over my seared and bruising flesh.<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">Mmmm</span>,” I heard Brianna murmur, “don’t tell me twice.”<br /><br />Her voice had developed a purr that made me more aware of my erection; it had gone down somewhat toward the end of the paddling, but was still a little hard.<br /><br />Regina slid out from under me, standing in the door beside Brianna to admire her handiwork. As she turned around, I (looking over my shoulder, squinting through the tears) was able to make out the shape of the biggest, roundest, most perfect ghetto booty I had ever seen. The instant I laid eyes on Regina’s enormous, jiggling cheeks, my erection sprang right back.<br /><br />“Jake,” ordered Brianna, “turn over on your back.”<br /><br />Powerless to disobey, I rolled slowly over, grimacing as my stinging, throbbing ass made contact with the carseat. The cold seemed to have died down a bit, so my nut sack wasn’t freezing, but now my erection was in plain view. I had never felt so exposed.<br /><br />“Mmmmm,” she licked her lips again.<br /><br />Crawling forward into the car, Brianna climbed on top of my legs, her face moving over my erect penis. Slowly, she took off her glasses, and lowered her head until her mouth was just an inch from my tip. She pushed her weight against my waist, putting more pressure on my tortured butt. I winced.<br /><br />Genie snorted and rolled her eyes.<br /><br />“You’re such a whore, Brianna. Come get me when you’re done with business.”<br /><br />Genie walked out of sight, allowing me to catch another, brief glimpse of that enormous, bulging bum.<br /><br />For a torturous moment, Brianna studied my penis, smiling with carnivorous delight. There was an unbearable craving in my shaft, but she kept on teasing. Finally, she went down, and I felt her warm, wet lips close around the head of my cock.<br /><br />She worked her mouth up and down my shaft, her tongue tickling it around the base of the head. As she worked, she swiveled her head, moving the tickling sensations all the way around. My breathing was picking up.<br /><br />I tried to say something at one point, but she glared at me menacingly, and I lay still. She opened her mouth and lifted her head. Immediately, her saliva turned icy cold as my penis was exposed, making me grit my teeth. She looked annoyed at having her attention pulled away from my dick, as if she didn’t realize that I was attached to it.<br /><br />“Jake,” she said, “if you let out so much as a moan before I’m finished, you’re going right back across my lap.”<br /><br />I nodded hard, desperate to make sure she knew I understood. After a few moments, she put her mouth back around it and continued to suck. She used her tongue like a living creature on its own, her lips pressing in against all the right spots as the heat of her mouth encouraged my blood to flow faster in that area. I wanted more than anything to move, or gasp, but I could not let myself do that. It was torture, but I managed to hold still and keep my mouth clenched shut. Finally, the ball of sensation in my hips exploded, spilling a wave of pleasure up through my penis and into her mouth. I clenched my mouth shut, strangling my cry of release and crunching it into a quiet hiss. Brianna murmured, contentedly, as she tasted my semen. Drawing back her tongue, she sucked harder, licking up every last drop. She swallowed it before straightening up, wiping her lips with her hand. I realized, incredulously, that I had just been raped.<br /><br />“Good,” she said hoarsely, putting her glasses back on and pulling a bottle of water from under the seat, “looks like you’ve learned the way things work in this car.”<br /><br />As she gulped down some water, Genie walked back into view.<br /><br />“Hey, BJ Queen,” she said, “I want to try something.”<br /><br />She looked smug, as if she had won a contest. I took a break from wiping my dick with my cuffed hands to watch her face.<br /><br />“I read somewhere,” she went on, “that spankings hurt guys more right after they cum. I’ve got to test this out.”<br /><br />She raised her hand, which held a straight, wooden switch. She must have cut it from a nearby tree while Brianna was going down on me.<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">No!</span>” I shouted, pulling back away from the door. “<span style="font-style: italic;">No way, not any more!</span>”<br /><br />I raised my handcuffed hands to protect myself as well as I could.<br /><br />“Well,” said Brianna, “I guess maybe you <span style="font-style: italic;">could </span>try it.”<br /><br />My heart sank into my gut.<br /><br />“…but only,” she said, touching the switch and looking over at me, “if I get a turn after you.”<br /><br />It sank further.<br /><br />“Kiddo,” said Brianna gleefully, “come outside, or you’ll have to hop home in handcuffs, without your pants and undies.”<br /><br />Feeling like I was in a nightmare, I stepped outside of the car. We were in a dark, poorly-maintained alley. I didn’t recognize it, and was not sure how long it would take me to find my way home.<br /><br />Erection gone, face still blotchy and damp, I crawled gingerly out of the car. As I stepped outside, wincing with every movement of my gluts, I noticed that it had gotten much warmer. It was just a normal, summer night. Brianna and Genie stood on either side of me.<br /><br />“Awww,” said Brianna, “his cock isn’t pretty anymore.”<br /><br />Regina laughed. “We’ll know if what I read is right, then; if he likes it, we’ll notice. If he doesn‘t…he’ll <span style="font-style: italic;">scream</span>.”<br /><br />Genie put her left foot on the bumper, making the top of her thigh flat. She stood there, knee up, switch in hand.<br /><br />“Over my knee.”<br /><br />I walked awkwardly forward, pants around my handcuffed ankles, until I was standing just before her leg. If anyone happened to look down the alleyway, they would see me, naked from the waist down, butt the color of ripe strawberries.<br /><br />I bent over, leaning across Genie’s knee. As my head passed near her crotch, I smelled female scent. The knowledge that Regina was turned on by all this made me feel better about it. Crushing my (mostly flaccid) penis against her jeans for the second time, I felt a little extra blood pour back into that part of me.<br /><br />WHAP!<br /><br />The switch whistled through the air before cutting into my swollen flesh like a knife. This was a whole new kind of pain; all the force of the paddle concentrated into a thin, brutal line across both cheeks. The pain shot into my prostate, where it bloomed in the wake of my orgasm.<br /><br />WHAP!<br /><br />I’m glad they were expecting me to shout this time, because I did. I heard my voice echo across the alley. I was amazed and grateful that no one seemed to hear, but was still afraid that someone would.<br /><br />WHAP!<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">AAAAAHHHH</span>!!!”<br /><br />WHAP!<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">GGHHHA</span>!!”<br /><br />WHAP!<br /><br />I was almost hyperventilating after the fifth stroke. When Genie pushed me back up, my handcuffed hands immediately darted to my butt. I could feel raised, welted lines crisscross across my swollen cheeks from the switch. Stars were dancing in front of my eyes. I bounced on my heels, hissing and gasping.<br /><br />Genie looked at me from the front and the back.<br /><br />“He was yelping like a dog,” she said, “but I don’t think it really hurt him that much.”<br /><br />I looked down. My erection was back. I silently cursed at my dick for getting me into more trouble.<br /><br />“Maybe,” said Brianna, “or maybe he likes the pain.”<br /><br />Genie laughed. “He likes <span style="font-style: italic;">pain</span>? What a pervert.”<br /><br />Brianna walked over to where Genie had been. Her green, cut shirt was incredibly tight on her figure. Combined with the streetlights shining off her glasses and the strict sensuality of her raised hair, I wanted nothing more, even in my anguished state, than to tear her shirt off and squeeze those enormous, grapefruit-sized orbs in my hands, to rip her jeans apart and impale her on myself until I passed out. I realized a second later that she was still holding the camera.<br /><br />“Either way,” she said, “he’s my bitch now. Bend over the hood, bitch!”<br /><br />Tearing my eyes away from Brianna, I turned and bent over, lying across the warm hood of the car. My ass burned harder as I stretched it, but the warmth of the engine brought some relief to my tired penis.<br /><br />Brianna’s high heels clicked against the pavement as she stepped closer. I heard the switch whistle through the air, and<br /><br />WHAP!<br /><br />Brianna wasn’t as strong as Genie, but at this point that was little relief. I writhed and thrashed against the car, squealing and sobbing, all pride forgotten.<br /><br />“Hold still!” Brianna ordered, grabbing the small of my back to hold my bottom in position. “If I miss because you’re squirming around, I‘ll make you touch your toes!”<br /><br />I held as still as my short-circuiting nerves would let me.<br /><br />Four more times, the switch slashed at my tender, mistreated butt, before Brianna stopped. Blinded by pain, an aching, crushing sensation having replaced the afterglow of the blowjob, I tried to straighten up. This was cut short by another crack of the switch, which caught me so badly by surprise that I screamed like a girl.<br /><br />“Aren’t you done?” I heard Genie ask.<br /><br />“You got to use the paddle,” Brianna explained, “I’m doing ten with the switch to make up for it.”<br /><br />“Huh. If you say so.”<br /><br />The switch came back down every ten to fifteen seconds. In between strokes, she rubbed and kneaded my ass with her other hand, as if trying to soften it for the switch. This was much slower than the rest of the spankings had been, but I was still barely finished recovering before it struck each time. When the tenth finally landed, Brianna pulled me back to my feet.<br /><br />“Well what did you expect?" She asked, "no one rides for free.”<br /><br />I tried to say something, but my lungs wouldn’t obey me. My face was covered with tears, and I was still sniffling. The world was in a reddish, spinning haze. Oblivious to my state, Brianna grabbed my pants and underwear and pulled them back into place, cherishing my yelp when they squeezed my buttocks.<br /><br />And then, she kissed me. It wasn't a deep kiss, just a fast-but sensuous-peck on the lips. It was over before I could even react to it. I started to say something through my sniffling, but she was already getting back into the front seat.<br /><br />"We'll take you home now. For reals."<br /><br />I spent the ride home in silence. I lay, fully clothed but still handcuffed, on my stomach in the back, clutching my thoroughly punished rear in both hands. Genie and Brianna chatted idly as they drove, occasionally looking at me over their shoulders or smirking at me in the rearview mirror.<br /><br />“Here we go,” Genie said after a few minutes, pushing a stray dreadlock out of her face as she stopped the car, “you’re a free man, baby.”<br /><br />Brianna reached back and unlocked both pairs of handcuffs. She noticed me staring down her chest; she smiled reassuringly. The proximity of her lips-which had not long ago brought me to orgasm-sent weird sensations down my spine, where they mixed with the pain signals coming from the other direction.<br /><br />I fumbled the door open, and lurched out onto the street, both hands on my ass. My wrists and ankles had red circles from the handcuffs. I was right in front of my house.<br /><br />“Nice meeting you, toots,” said Brianna through the window, “keep it real.”<br /><br />The engine roared, and my rapists sped away into the night. Giddy, I grabbed the doorknob and walked inside, wondering what I would tell my parents about why I had been out so late.<br /><br />When I entered the living room, the first thing I did was look at the clock…which said it was eleven twenty-five. Exactly the time I had said I’d be home.<br /><br />Hang on. I left the bowling alley just after eleven. I walked through the cold (which was now completely gone) for at least five minutes. It was probably another ten minutes in the car when the girls drove me to my fate, and god knows how long for me to get spanked, paddled, sucked, and switched. The ride back had felt like fifteen minutes or so.<br /><br />So how the hell could it only be eleven twenty-five?<br /><br />I checked every clock in the house, and asked my father (who was in the kitchen) how long it had been. They all gave me the same answer. As far as time was concerned, tonight’s misadventures could never have happened.<br /><br />I went into the bathroom, and looked at my butt in the mirror. Every inch of it was a dark red, like undercooked ham, with lines of swelling crisscrossing it from the switch. I gently touched it, and felt the appropriate burn.<br /><br />My parents and friends were concerned and curious about why I was sitting so uncomfortably for the rest of the week, and I had to think fast to deflect the attention. It was healed by the time I got on the plane for college four days later, but the memory sent a psychosomatic sting through certain parts of me. As I looked out the window, my freshman year about to begin, I thought about the three women who had spanked me and mysteriously vanished that summer. I wondered if that was the end.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311346866904736194.post-78587289294484410472009-09-16T12:31:00.000-07:002009-09-24T08:00:29.654-07:00Vessels: Candy Store (Jake 1)I never would have thought of working at a candy store. Generally speaking, candy shops are operated by sixteen year old girls with baby-like faces and cute hairstyles. Being eighteen and male, it didn’t seem like an appropriate place for me to work. However, as July wore on and I still didn’t have a job, I decided I’d just have to take what I could get; I really didn’t want to start my freshman year of college penniless.<br /><br />I'm Jake, by the way. Jake Ramone.<br /><br />I hadn’t been to that store since I was in elementary school; as I approached, I couldn’t help but notice how much smaller it seemed. I remembered the last time I had been in there in fifth grade, when my friends had dared me to steal a handful of candy canes. I thought I had gotten away with it, but when I got home-hands and face covered with stickiness-it turned out the cashier had seen and recognized me, and called my mom. I sure got thrashed for that one.<br /><br />Snapping myself back to the present, I stood on the sidewalk and looked in through the windows. Man, I had forgotten how much stuff they had in there! Just through one window, I could see saltwater toffee, fresh caramel, boxes of mint fudge. Breathing in, I could pick up the faint smell of chocolate even from outside. I don’t eat much junk food (being on the high school swimming team means you need to keep in shape), but I have always had a sweet tooth that I frequently have to repress. Right now, it was practically begging to come out. I sighed, looking wistfully at the boxes of fudge. Maybe working here would be more complicated than I thought.<br /><br />I tore my eyes away from the window and entered. As soon as I was inside, the smell of a thousand types of candy hit me like a sugarcoated meteorite. The fudge smelled so rich and thick, and the cinnamon drops so hot. The shop was packed with jumbled heaps of cases and jars full of bright, colorful merchandise that was almost dizzying to the eye. Damn, this place made me feel like a little kid again. I reminded myself that I was here to work, not shop; I didn’t have the spare change to waste on junk food. All the same, as I made my way toward the register, I hoped that they offered freebies to their employees. Even a state swimming champ needs to cave in once in a while.<br /><br />I walked to the back of the shop, and immediately my eyes were seized by something else.<br /><br />Behind the register was the kind of woman I only thought existed in gossip magazines and on TV. She was wearing a bright red top of some kind, cut just low enough to let the world know what it was missing. Coral-red hair spilled down to her shoulders, framing her bright green eyes. She wasn't sixteen years old, or baby-like. If I had to guess, I'd say late twenties to early thirties, and in full womanly bloom.<br /><br />For a moment, I was at a loss for words. She looked at me inquiringly, one fiery red eyebrow raised.<br /><br />“Can I help you?”<br /><br />Her voice was sharp, but extremely feminine. I thought I heard some kind of accent.<br /><br />Embarrassed, I managed to say “Oh…um, sorry, I was coming here to see if I could pick up a job application?”<br /><br />She smirked a little as I stumbled at the beginning of the sentence. She must have known why I was distracted.<br /><br />“Okay,” she said.<br /><br />Damn, there was just something in that woman’s voice.<br /><br />She pushed some crimson bangs out of her face. She looked vaguely condescending, as if she was privy to some embarrassing secret of mine.<br /><br />“I’ll take it you’re looking for a summer job?”<br /><br />Scottish or Irish, I decided.<br /><br />“Yeah,” I said, “just until the end of August.”<br /><br />She smirked a little wider, letting a hint of her ivory-white teeth see the light.<br /><br />“Wait here, lad,” she said, “I’ll see if I can find them. Don’t touch the sweets while I’m away.”<br /><br />I was a little indignant at being called “lad," but my annoyance dissipated as soon as she turned around. However thin and elflike her face was, her ass was anything but. She wore a short, tight skirt, the back of which bulged out behind her, making her heart shaped butt apparent with each step. I felt the moisture drain from my mouth as I watched her walk into the door marked “employees only.”<br /><br />She turned the corner, abruptly ending the display. I scolded myself for gawking at her like an idiot; what was I, a seventh grader?<br /><br />I tapped my toes, checking my watch every few moments. My mouth, which had gone dry at the sight of her bouncing skirt, was already full of saliva again from the candy smells.<br /><br />Two minutes, and still no sign of her. The store was utterly silent. The vibrant colors were like laser beams now, shooting into my eyes. My thoughts were spiraling around. Every tick of my watch seemed to take longer than the one before. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts, but it was like being drugged. I don’t think I’ve ever craved anything as much as I wanted to grab a candy at that moment.<br /><br />Four minutes. The jellybeans mounted in clear tubes on the wall were swimming, like fish packed into an aquarium, little nodes of dazzling color squirming all over the walls. Was the room actually spinning? My mind was not doing what it was supposed to do, but I couldn’t snap out of it. Five minutes. My muscles were starting to tense. The smell of candy was burning in my nose and mouth.<br /><br />My eyes settled on a jar of caramel toffees that sat on the counter, right by the register. The jar stood there, taunting me like the cashier’s ass. I clenched my teeth against the impulse.<br /><br />Six minutes. My mind was wailing for her to come back and fix reality. It was such a perfect, smooth, rounded jar, almost oval shaped. I just wanted to run my finger over it, even if I knew I couldn’t eat anything. I told myself not to; if I extended my hand, I might be tempted to grab one.<br /><br />Eight minutes. Where the hell was she?<br /><br />This was complete torture. The watch was banging in my ears like an extra heart. Finally, I decided that I had waited long enough. She couldn’t blame me for taking a small piece after leaving me waiting for this long. Hell, they probably gave out free samples all the time. Reaching out, I grabbed a handful of caramels (even though I only meant to take one), and started unwrapping them.<br /><br />The smell became even stronger when I opened it. Squeezing the little candy between my finger, delighting in its squishy, yielding texture, I brought it toward my watering mouth…<br /><br />“What did I tell you?”<br /><br />Gasping in surprise, I dropped the toffees, which scattered across the tile floor. Blood pounding in my face, I looked up. She was standing in the doorway behind the counter, hands on her hips. Her eyes were narrowed.<br /><br />“Oh…sorry…I…”<br /><br />She was grinning now, the way a cat grins before it jumps on a mouse (cats don‘t have lips, but you know they would if they had them), and her green eyes were smug.<br /><br />“…its just…I was waiting for so long…I was going to pay for them as soon as you got back.”<br /><br />She shook her head, unappeased. I remembered what happened last time I stole from this store. I was much too old to be spanked now, but my mind still made the connection.<br /><br />She stepped out from behind the counter, walking past me toward the front door. She locked the door and flipped the sign that said “closed.” Then she turned back to me, disapprovingly, but with a hint of that impish grin lingering at the corners of her mouth.<br /><br />“Do you ever want to work in this neighborhood again?”<br /><br />I nodded.<br /><br />“If I tell the owner what I just saw, you won’t be able to. He knows all the other shopkeepers. They tell each other things.”<br /><br />My heart raced. Could I really get in that much trouble just over a couple of toffees? Normally, I’d know that was ridiculous, but the scents and colors had put me in a slow, suggestible state of mind. I found myself believing her, and growing proportionately anxious.<br /><br />“Why shouldn’t I do just that?”<br /><br />“I…please, it won’t happen again. You don’t have to give me an application, just please don’t tell him.”<br /><br />“Alright, then,” she said, marching past me back behind the counter, “this way.”<br /><br />I paused for a moment, but then decided to follow her. Whatever she had in mind, it couldn’t possibly be as severe as what she had threatened. Groggily, still mysteriously stoned, I followed her through the door into the back room.<br /><br />This room was darker than the main part of the store, and cluttered with cooking equipment. Vats of molten fudge and sugar were stacked by the walls, with saucepans of the same simmering over a stove. From beside the sink, she pulled up an armless, wooden chair and sat down on it.<br /><br />“Take off your pants.”<br /><br />For the first time in nearly ten minutes, I had a rational thought.<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />“I know you heard me,” she taunted, patting her thigh, “take ‘em off or I’ll phone the owner right now.”<br /><br />My willpower dissolved again, consumed by the fog that was clouding my brain. To my surprise, I found myself unbuckling my belt and letting my jeans drop to the floor. I realized that my underpants were bulging in front, and hastily tried to cover it with my hands.<br /><br />She chuckled. Her laugh was musical, but menacing. Like a heartless nymph’s.<br /><br />“Don’t think I didn‘t see that. Let’s have a closer look. Take your drawers down.”<br /><br />My jaw dropped. I became briefly lucid again.<br /><br />“What the? You’re fucking insane! You can’t actually think-”<br /><br />“Drop them!”<br /><br />She glared at me in a way that made me obey. Confounded by her power over me, I reluctantly slid my fingers under my briefs and pulled them down, letting them fall to the floor on top of my jeans. My boner bounced upward, pointing almost directly at her.<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">Beautiful</span>," I couldn't tell if that was sarcastic or not, "Now, step out of them and come here.”<br /><br />She slapped her thigh, sending the smack of flesh against flesh through the kitchen. Gritting my teeth, I stepped out of my pants and underwear (my sandals being pulled off in the process) and walked up to her, stomach writhing. My dick was still rock hard and sticking straight out; I tried to put my hands in front of it, but it wasn't a very effective cover.<br /><br />"Did I say you could cover yourself?"<br /><br />What the hell was going on? I reluctantly brought my hands back to my sides, blushing in embarrasment as my manhood was left pointed straight at her. She pointed at it accusingly.<br /><br />"That's very rude."<br /><br />I blushed even hotter.<br /><br />“Sorry.”<br /><br />“Not as sorry as you’re about to be. Bend over.”<br /><br />I bent my knees and placed my body over her thighs. Her skirt only covered about eight inches of her legs; I could feel her warm flesh on my right hip. My penis was pressed against her, only a thin layer of cloth separating it from her skin. I could smell her; it mixed with the chocolate to wreak havoc on my nerves.<br /><br />“Good.”<br /><br />I felt her hand push the back of my head, forcing it downward. I was now lying across her lap, legs hanging down on one side, head and arms hanging from the other. I felt her eyes rove over me, outside of my sight.<br /><br />One of her arms went around my torso, holding me in place; I could feel her breasts rub against my back as she leaned forward to get a better hold. I then felt a warm hand slide across my rear. A lock of red hair fell in front of my eyes.<br /><br />“Such a pretty arse, you’ve got,” she tickled it a little, making me grimace, “a shame what’s going to happen to it.”<br /><br />She patted my left butt cheek. I felt an involuntary throb in my manhood. My face flushed even redder.<br /><br />The first smack came before I realized she had started.<br /><br />She wasn’t an especially big girl, but her hand was stronger than I would have thought. The slap echoed around the room, and her palm left a burning sting behind.<br /><br />Another smack landed, hitting the same spot on the opposite cheek. This one was a little louder, and stung more as well. I think I might have yelped a little.<br /><br />“Look ma’am, it was just a candy, I-”<br /><br />SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! She slapped my ass five times in quick succession, hitting both cheeks with each smack. I gasped, legs kicking reflexively. A red, tingling burn rode the wake of the impacts.<br /><br />Realizing that talking would only make things worse, I let my head fall limp again and lay still, exposed before her emerald eyes. I was thoroughly humiliated, being made to lie there without being able to protect my stinging butt, but that just made my dick press harder and stronger against my belly.<br /><br />After a few seconds, she started again, letting out another smack at least once per second, each building on the sting left by the others. Sometimes she alternated cheeks. Sometimes she tortured one until I could have sworn it was splitting open, before suddenly attacking the other when I wasn‘t expecting it. Whenever she made a sudden change like that, I gasped.<br /><br />I was approaching the limits of my pain tolerance; my hips began squirming, trying to avoid the onslaught. She just laughed, and moved her other arm further down my body, holding my waist in place. The smacks kept getting harder.<br /><br />After fifty slaps, I was gasping with each impact. At one hundred, I was on the brink of tears. I tried to remind myself why I was allowing this to happen, but the hellfire that was roaring in my ass was the only thing I could concentrate on. As she smacked, my dick was chafed a little against her thighs, making it harder and harder.<br /><br />She smacked me another thirty or forty times before, finally, the spanking stopped. Fire ants were swarming across my posterior. My cheeks were damp with sweat and a couple of tears. My breathing was heavy.<br /><br />“Get up.”<br /><br />Wincing, I climbed off of her and straightened up. My rump was covered in acid. Gingerly, I put my hands on it, gasping as they made contact. I couldn’t believe how hot it felt!<br /><br />“Stop rubbing!” she commanded, “we’re far from over yet.”<br /><br />I looked back at her. She was smiling serenely, rubbing her tired right hand. Her skirt had been pushed back a bit by my body, and I could see the beginnings of her white cotton panties. Groaning, tortured by both pain and desire, I pulled my hands away from my cheeks.<br /><br />She pointed across the kitchen. “Fetch that.”<br /><br />My eyes grew wide as I looked where she was pointing. A heavy, Teflon spatula hung from a rack beside a collection of other kitchen utensils. It gleamed dully in the dim light, as if impatient to taste my flesh.<br /><br />“Go on!”<br /><br />She slapped my butt hard.<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">Ow!</span>”<br /><br />Quickly, I strode to the rack and, hesitating only for a second, retrieved the spatula and brought it back. She turned it over in her hands, examining it with her green eyes.<br /><br />“This should do. Back across my knees.”<br /><br />I was much more hesitant this time, but another slap got me moving. I was soon in the exact same position I was in before. The only difference was that her skirt was pushed mostly away, and my hips and penis were lying directly on her thighs. Her skin was smooth and delicate, and the flesh beneath it was soft.<br /><br />With a crack like a whip, the spatula bounced off my ass.<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">AAH!</span>”<br /><br />I immediately tried to straighten up, but she pushed her full weight against my back, pinning me<br />to her lap. I should have been stronger than her, but my muscles weren’t obeying. As I grunted and struggled, I heard the spatula whoosh through the air again.<br /><br />“<span style="font-style: italic;">GAAH!</span>”<br /><br />The tears were coming. I lay back down, quivering, across her legs. The pleasurable jolts in my penis were no longer enough to protect me from the pain.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Snap! Snap! Snap!</span> Three more firecrackers exploded on my cheeks. She was doing it faster now, not as fast as her hand had been, but she was putting a big arc into each swing. She picked up the same pattern she had used with her hand, only with more force and less speed. Every time that spatula bit me, I squirmed to get away from it. Whenever my wriggling became too much, she pushed her elbow into my back and gave me a volley of blisteringly hard ones, all in the same spot, which made me howl. My erection, which had been winding down, pumped itself back to full hardness, grinding itself against her thighbones. I barely noticed it through the agony.<br /><br />I got at least fifty with the spatula before she put it down. I was breathing frantically, tears running down my face. To this day, I am proud that I avoided sobbing out loud. She pushed me off of her lap, letting me stand up beside the chair. Immediately, I began to feverishly rub my bright, crimson ass.<br /><br />I turned around, still sniffling. She was smiling as impishly as ever.<br /><br />“Scrub your face,” she said, pointing to a clean washcloth that lay on the counter.<br /><br />Muttering an incoherent thanks (why the hell was I thanking her?), I took one hand off my swollen, tortured ass and used it to wipe my face. I looked down at my throbbing penis, and saw a droplet of precum at the tip.<br /><br />“Your bum’s a brilliant red,” she commented, standing a few feet behind me. “Like rose petals. Well, you’ve been standing there long enough. Go on, before your belt starts giving me ideas.”<br /><br />I didn’t need to be told twice. I picked up my underwear and pulled it gingerly over my flaming backside, hissing in pain as the tight briefs squeezed my ravaged cheeks. She giggled as she watched me struggle with my clothes. I made extra sure to get my belt back on as soon as possible.<br /><br />“Here,” she said as I managed to get my sandals back on, “don’t forget this.”<br /><br />She handed me a blank application.<br /><br />“Bring that back soon, and I’m sure we’ll hire you…so long as you keep your hands out of the merchandise. Off you go.”<br /><br />She slapped me across the butt one last time, grinding my rough jeans into the enflamed skin. I ran home as fast as my blazing ass and rigid dick would allow me to move. Stumbling, still coughing on tears, perfume, and chocolate fumes, I barreled my way home.<br /><br />The first thing I did when I got there was dash to my room and knead my manhood until I came. As I sprayed my seed across the bed sheets, I felt the fumes and drowsiness leeching out of me. Lying in the aftermath of the orgasm, buttocks still full of red hot needles, I found that I could think normally again. It was like waking up from a dream.<br /><br />That night, I laid down on my bed (stomach down, of course) and filled out the application. I wasn’t quite able to believe what had happened that day, but my smoldering, angry red butt was more than proof enough. I wondered if I had the courage to show myself in that store after that. How would I be able to work alongside that sadistic, beautiful redheaded bitch after this?<br /><br />Before I went to sleep (still on my stomach) I found myself thinking about the exposed thighs and hidden breasts of the Scottish girl, and heard her sultry giggle in my ears. I had to masturbate again before I could sleep.<br /><br />…<br /><br />Two days later, I walked-slowly and timidly-back to the candy store. My butt was still smarting a little, but I couldn’t afford to put everything off for this long. I went in, both dreading and hoping to see the girl again, but she wasn’t there. Instead, a portly man in his fifties was standing behind the counter.<br /><br />“Hey there,” he said, “is that an application you‘ve got?”<br /><br />“Yeah,” I nodded, handing him the completed form.<br /><br />“Alright,” he said, “we always need a new cashier at this time of the year. I’ll be calling you back within a week or so.”<br /><br />He folded up the application and put it away somewhere.<br /><br />“Um, excuse me,” I said, “but I have a question. About one of your employees.”<br /><br />“Go on.”<br /><br />“When I was here to pick up the application, there was a woman working here. Tall, red hair, Scottish or maybe Irish. What’s her name?”<br /><br />He looked confused.<br /><br />“Scottish girl? Red hair? I don’t think I’ve ever hired anyone like that. Are you sure you’re not thinking of a different store?”<br /><br />“Yeah,” I said, eyeing the jar of caramels sitting by the register, “I’m pretty positive it was this store.”<br /><br />“Huh,” he seemed genuinely perplexed, “well that’s pretty darned strange.”<br /><br />He noticed me eyeing the caramel toffees. I quickly looked away, blood starting to rush to my face.<br /><br />“Here,” he said, “try a couple of these.”<br /><br />I raised my eyebrows.<br /><br />“Those?”<br /><br />“Sure, its not like we sell them. Those are just for whoever’s on duty to snack on. We give them out as free samples every once in a while; helps business a lot.”<br /><br />“Uh, thanks but no thanks,” I said, “I was just curious.”<br /><br />He shrugged. I could tell he thought I was a little weird.<br /><br />“Alright,” he said, “you’ll hear from me soon.”<br /><br />…<br /><br />I got the job, as it turned out, and made a decent amount of money before school started. I asked all my coworkers about the redhead. No one had the faintest idea of who I was talking about.S.N.M.http://www.blogger.com/profile/16939190339217464158noreply@blogger.com0