Paddling 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.

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.

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? Liked him liked him?

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?”

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.

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. 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.

He replied that that would be just fine.

…

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 Spongebob Squarepants poster on the door, and a doormat with a big pink heart lying in front of it.

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. What am I so afraid of? Spongebob seemed to be taunting him.

He rapped his knuckles against the door. There was a very quiet, very sickly pause. Then the door opened, and he smelled baking chocolate.

“Hey! Come on in!”

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.

“Hey. Nice place,” he followed her into the living room and looked around, “I‘m a real My Little Pony fan myself.”

“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.”

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.

“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.”

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.

“At least…um…not one that was…um…messy.” God fucking damn it.

Jill giggled and shook her head. Alex decided he had best change the subject.

“Single room?”

“Nah, my roommate has choir practice. She doesn’t get back until ten.” Jill’s face suddenly lit up. “Ooh! Hang on!”

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.

“I made those brownies you told me about. Here, try one.”

He took one of the corner pieces. Mmm, fudge. 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.

“Wow. You put something extra in these.”

“Mmhmm.”

“What was it?”

“I’m not telling,” she said playfully, twiddling with her hair.

Alex gave her a mostly-joking glare of frustration. “Hey, I‘m the one who sent you this!”

“And I’m the one who baked them.”

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.

“So,” she said after wiping the last couple of crumbs from her mouth, “have you got your uniform?”

Damn, here it came already. Alex tried to keep a poker face.

“It hasn‘t arrived yet. I was late getting my measurements in.”

“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.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Without your paddle?” He hoped that this meant she’d be sticking with her palm.

“There’s alternatives.”

That didn’t sound good.

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.”

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.

“Alright!” Jill smiled gleefully. She patted her naked thigh a few times, making the skin ripple. “Come to mamma.”

Alex gave her a very deep, serious look, his brown eyes conveying a sense of deepest pain. “My mother died two months ago.”

“Oh…” Jill looked horrified. “Oh god,” she put her hand in front of her face, “I’m so sorry, pl-”

“Haha, gotcha.”

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.

“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.

“You’re lucky I’m even giving you a warmup after that!”

“Nah, we both know its because you just love me that mu-OW!”

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.

“Ow! Hey, whatever happened t-AH!-to starting-OW!-light?”

“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!”

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.

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.

“Okay,” she said, petting his back like a cat as she let her right hand rest, “now we’re going to start the warmup.”

Alex’s head snapped around. She was grinning in a cruel manner that one wouldn’t have thought her capable of.

“Wait, what???”

“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.”

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.

Jill smiled sweetly at him. Alex narrowed his eyes. Oh that sneaky, underhanded…

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.

“Ready,” she patted her hand against the fullest part of his round buttocks, tickling him a little, “set…”

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.

“Nice,” she said, resting a hand on his seat and gently squeezing one side after the other, “all warmed up. Get up!”

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.

“There‘s a spatula on my kitchen counter,” Jill informed him, her eyes for some reason not level with his, “can you get it?”

A spatula? What, is she going to paddle me with that? Alex chuckled at the thought; he couldn’t imagine that hurting too much. Well, I’m not about to complain. 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.

“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.

“I‘m guessing you set a timer and hit me until it beeps?”

“Its not hitting. 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.

“Oops, sorry about that! Anyway, press start when I tell you.”

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.

“Keep your butt relaxed; it won’t hurt as much. Okay, ready…go!”

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.

SNAP!

Oh. Oh, that stung alright. Okay, maybe spatulas aren’t such a silly thing to…

SNAP!

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.

SNAP!

“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.

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.

SNAP!

SNAP!

SNAP!

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.

“Hmm,” he heard her muse.

“Hmm?” He asked back, kneading his flesh. The sting was intense, but fortunately it was already starting to subside.

“The spatula is really light,” she explained, “I’m not sure this is really working.”

“Trust me, its working.”

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.

“Not really. I know you felt it a little, but its not the same as the paddle.”

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.

“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?”

Alex laughed and started to make a witty comeback, but then he met her eyes.

“You’re serious?”

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.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious.”

Jill blushed even redder and shrugged her exposed shoulders. “We’re both grown ups.”

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.

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, mostly naked) in a woman’s presence before, but never in a fully clothed woman’s presence. This was different, and unnatural.

“Okay,” said Jill, “bend back over.”

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.

“Two minutes,” she said, “think you‘re ready?”

Alex shook his head. “I…I really don’t know.”

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.

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.

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.

“Ow!”

The spatula made its tell tall whistle, followed by another loud snap.

“OW!!!”

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.

Whistle. Snap. Pain. Repeat.

“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!”

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.

Suddenly, the paddling stopped. Alex blinked his tearful eyes. There was still nearly a minute to go…

“Lift up,” jill commanded, smacking her palm against the side of his hip.

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.

“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.

“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.

“Just getting that out of the way,” she explained, “it was poking me.”

Whistle. Snap. “AAAH!!!”

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-

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.

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.

“Nutmeg,” Jill whispered.

“Huh?” Alex craned his head to look down at her.

“In the brownies. I added nutmeg.”

“Ah, right,” he panted a few more times, “I knew it was either that or,” he panted again, “cinnamon.”

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.

“Shower?” Jill suggested.

“Good idea.”

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.

“I told you paddling’s a great sport,” Jill gloated.

“I told you your mind was in the gutter,” Alex gloated back.

“Oh, whatever. You’ve been checking me out since our first day in class.”

“I’m a victim of society; I just do as my peers expect of me.”

“Shut up.”

“Kay.”

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.

“OH!!!”

She got out of bed, giving Alex a fantastic view as she danced across the room, pulling something out from under the nightstand.

“HERE’S where I left that paddle!”

She turned back toward him on the bed, grinning evilly, tapping the lexan blade against her palm. Alex’s eyes widened.

“Oh you wouldn’t…”

“Why not?” She asked sweetly, seating herself beside him.

“Oh you bitch!”

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.

CRACK!!!

Alex roared in anguish. Jill smiled.

“I don’t have my phone, so let’s count to thirty.”

…

At 10:30 PM, Jill’s roommate came home.

“Hello?”

No answer.

After grabbing a brownie (mmm, nutmeg), 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.

Jill’s roommate smiled, perhaps a bit jealously. She noticed the lexan paddle lying discarded on the floor by the bed.

Okay, she decided, that does it. I’m joining that team next semester.

Vessels: 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.

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?

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

“Hey,” she said, “you need a ride?”

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.

“Are you going near Hove Road?” I asked.

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.

She looked back at me. I quickly raised my eyes back to her glasses.

“Yep, we’ll be passing it. Want to hop in?”

“Sure,” I said, shielding my face from an especially strong gust of wind, “thanks a lot.”

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.

“So,” I said, once we were moving, “I’m guessing you’re not from around here?”

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.”

“I gotcha. What are your names?”

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.

“I’m Brianna,” she said, pronouncing it the English way (bri-ah-nah), “this is my girlfriend, Genie.”

Genie smiled at me in the rearview mirror, revealing the most perfect set of white teeth.

I smiled back. “I’m Jake,” I said.

A minute passed in silence. The two ladies sat in place. I felt like they were waiting for something.

“Gee,” I said, feeling a need to make conversation, “I dunno why its so freezing tonight.”

Genie giggled mischievously. Brianna glared at her.

“Is something funny?” I asked nervously.

“Nah, nothing really,” said Genie. Her voice was heavy, and had a twangy, African American accent. “We just like to keep it really warm in here.”

Brianna shook her head. “Don’t mind her,” she told me, “she doesn‘t know when to shut up.”

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.

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.

“Um, sorry,” I said, “I think you forgot to let me out. I don’t recognize any of this.”

Genie chuckled. “Stop complaining, babe.”

“What? What do you mean stop complaining? I need to get home, where are you taking me?”

“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.”

Not making any sense of that statement, I said “pull over. Just let me out here.”

Brianna kept leering at me, turning a little further so that the cutout part of her shirt was in view.

“You know,” she said, “I think he’s right, Regina. This looks like a good place.”

“Yeah,” said Genie, bobbing her head (which shook her dreadlocks) and chuckling, “I was thinking that too.”

Genie pulled into an abandoned alleyway. I tried to open the door. It was locked.

“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.

“Don’t use that kind of language,” she said, “or we might have to punish you.”

“What are you-”

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.

“Why don’t you be quiet, now?” Said Brianna, leaning in very close. “The more you say, the harder it will be for you.”

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.

“Tell me,” she said, her lips scarcely two inches from mine, “do you want to get home tonight?”

“I…”

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.

“Well,” she said, “while you’re deciding, we’ll get busy.”

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.

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.

“Look,” I said, comprehension finally dawning, “if this-”

SMACK!

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.

“Okay, Genie,” said Brianna, who had now positioned herself directly under my hips, with me lying across her lap, “pull ‘em down!”

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.

“Damn, Brianna,” I heard Genie laugh, “it almost sounds like he’s enjoying this. We need to teach him to take us seriously.”

“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.”

Soft, ticklish fingernails ran across my sensitive buttocks. I gasped again.

SMACK!

“Enough squeaking! This is serious business!”

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.

“No!” I managed to croak. “You can’t film this! I’m-”

SMACK!

“We decide what gets filmed and who sees it,” said Brianna, “not you.”

“I’m ready,” Genie said from behind me, “go for it.”

Brianna began to spank.

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.

“Okay, slow down girl,” Genie said after several more minutes, “its someone else’s turn.”

“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.”

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.

Genie whistled as she set down the camera and stepped up to the car door.

“Here,” she climbed halfway in, so that she was literally standing over my naked ass and legs, “hold him tight.”

Genie swung her arm back, and connected hard with the underside of my butt cheeks.

POW!

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.

POW!

She struck again, driving my body forward a centimeter or so over Brianna’s jeans.

I clenched my teeth to prepare for the next blow, but it didn’t come.

“Brianna,” I heard Genie twang, “I can’t keep going at this angle. You want to do the camerawork?”

Being reminded about the camera made my face blush as pink as my ass.

“Alright,” said Brianna. She straightened up. I missed the presence of her glorious breasts over my back.

“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?”

She rubbed me a little bit, sending a tiny, tantalizing bit of stimulation through my crack.

“Yes, I got it.”

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.

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.

POW!

Regina’s hand was like a sledgehammer, pressing my left buttock hard against the bone.

POW!

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.

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?”

I panted.

She grabbed my testicles, and tightened her fingers just enough for it to be felt.

“Don’t you?”

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.

"Don't you?" She repeated.

No was not an acceptable answer. Burning with humiliation and indignance, I slowly, reluctantly nodded my head yes.

“Ohhh, he likes it!” Crowed Genie, letting go of my scrotum.

“Let’s see how long he can say that for,” laughed Brianna.

“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!”

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.

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.

“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-”

“Stop being such a baby!”

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.

“I was only going to give you fifteen,” Genie said, “but since you’re being like this, I’m gonna’ make it twenty.”

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.

CRACK!!!

“Ahhh!”

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.

CRACK!!!

The other cheek was pounded as well. Each paddle lick was like a shock. Stars danced in front of my eyes.

CRACK!!!

“You still liking it, bitch?”

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 didn't get something out of the paddling, but right then I just wanted to go home...I think.

“That’s impressive,” said Brianna as I nodded yes, “I’d say make it twenty-five, then.”

“Good idea,” said Genie.

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.

“Check out the paint job!” Said Genie.

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.

“Mmmm,” I heard Brianna murmur, “don’t tell me twice.”

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.

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.

“Jake,” ordered Brianna, “turn over on your back.”

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.

“Mmmmm,” she licked her lips again.

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.

Genie snorted and rolled her eyes.

“You’re such a whore, Brianna. Come get me when you’re done with business.”

Genie walked out of sight, allowing me to catch another, brief glimpse of that enormous, bulging bum.

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.

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.

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.

“Jake,” she said, “if you let out so much as a moan before I’m finished, you’re going right back across my lap.”

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.

“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.”

As she gulped down some water, Genie walked back into view.

“Hey, BJ Queen,” she said, “I want to try something.”

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.

“I read somewhere,” she went on, “that spankings hurt guys more right after they cum. I’ve got to test this out.”

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.

“No!” I shouted, pulling back away from the door. “No way, not any more!”

I raised my handcuffed hands to protect myself as well as I could.

“Well,” said Brianna, “I guess maybe you could try it.”

My heart sank into my gut.

“…but only,” she said, touching the switch and looking over at me, “if I get a turn after you.”

It sank further.

“Kiddo,” said Brianna gleefully, “come outside, or you’ll have to hop home in handcuffs, without your pants and undies.”

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.

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.

“Awww,” said Brianna, “his cock isn’t pretty anymore.”

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 scream.”

Genie put her left foot on the bumper, making the top of her thigh flat. She stood there, knee up, switch in hand.

“Over my knee.”

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.

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.

WHAP!

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.

WHAP!

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.

WHAP!

“AAAAAHHHH!!!”

WHAP!

“GGHHHA!!”

WHAP!

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.

Genie looked at me from the front and the back.

“He was yelping like a dog,” she said, “but I don’t think it really hurt him that much.”

I looked down. My erection was back. I silently cursed at my dick for getting me into more trouble.

“Maybe,” said Brianna, “or maybe he likes the pain.”

Genie laughed. “He likes pain? What a pervert.”

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.

“Either way,” she said, “he’s my bitch now. Bend over the hood, bitch!”

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.

Brianna’s high heels clicked against the pavement as she stepped closer. I heard the switch whistle through the air, and

WHAP!

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.

“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!”

I held as still as my short-circuiting nerves would let me.

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.

“Aren’t you done?” I heard Genie ask.

“You got to use the paddle,” Brianna explained, “I’m doing ten with the switch to make up for it.”

“Huh. If you say so.”

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.

“Well what did you expect?" She asked, "no one rides for free.”

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.

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.

"We'll take you home now. For reals."

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.

“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.”

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.

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.

“Nice meeting you, toots,” said Brianna through the window, “keep it real.”

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.

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.

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.

So how the hell could it only be eleven twenty-five?

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.

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.

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.