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Bobby & Linda get spanked
Bobby and I were on my bed. School had ended at noon that day,
and my mom would be at work till 5. Bobby had driven me home, the way
he did two or three days a week, and we'd gone into the living room
and kissed some and made out some, the way we usually did. Then Bobby
had said he wanted to see my room, to see if it was the way he
imagined it.
I knew why he really wanted to see it, of course--he wanted to
see my bedroom, where I got undressed, for both of us to picture me
naked, because maybe there he could get me to go all the way. He'd
suggested that before, and I'd said no. But he hadn't been too pushy
about it, and the more we kissed, and talked, and made out, the more
I'd begun to think it sounded like a pretty good idea. After all,
Bobby was 19, and I was just turned 18--in a lot of countries girls
my age would already be married and have a couple of kids.
So we went up to my room. Bobby looked at my things, my books, my
desk with its straight-backed chair where I did my homework, some
stuffed animals, and he really stared at my nightgown hanging in the
closet. Then he put his arms around me and started kissing me,
squeezing me against him, Page 1 Blanche's Place, Washington, DC
More(Y/N/C) and we sort of slow-danced across the room until we bumped
into the bed and fell on it.
We kissed some more, and pretty soon my blouse was untucked, and
some of Bobby's fingers were inside my bra but other fingers were
inside my panties. I unbuttoned my blouse and unhooked my bra so Bobby
could kiss my nipples, but while he was doing that those other fingers
were inside of me, and I slipped my hand down the front of his pants,
where I found something that felt about the size and shape of a
flashlight only it was hot to the touch.
We were both moaning and panting pretty hard, and I guess that's
why we didn't hear a thing until the door opened. We spun around, and
there was my mother standing there, with a really grim look on her
face. Bobby and I jerked our hands out of each other's pants, and
Bobby wiped his fingers on the bedspread while I tried to button my
blouse with my bra still pulled up above my boobs.
Mom stepped back into the hall and I thought for a minute that
she was going to leave us alone long enough for us to get ourselves
together and for Bobby to get out of the house. Then I heard the hall
closet door opening and closing, and mom's footsteps stalking back
toward my room, and my heart sank right to the bottom of my stomach.
"She couldn't," I thought, but my stomach--and my ass--knew she was
going to.
Sure enough, when mom walked back into my room she was swinging
the paddle. It was a board a little over a foot long, about two inches
wide and a little under an inch thick. It had a small hole in one end,
with a long leather thong through it so the paddle could be hung on a
hook in the closet. Dad had used the paddle on me a few times when I
was 9 or 10, but not too hard and only through my jeans. For a while
after Dad died it just hung in the hall closet, and I thought once or
twice about throwing it in the trash but never did. A couple of years
ago, mom found the paddle and since then she'd developed a real
fondness for using it. She didn't do it the way Dad had, though--she
did it real hard, and long, and always on my bare bottom. After the
Brooke Shields ad for Calvin Klein jeans came out, she even made a
joke about it: "Nothing comes between you and my paddle!" I thought it
was a sick joke, but when mom was using the paddle her jokes were the
least of my worries.
Bobby looked at the paddle, then at my mom, then at me, and then
back at the paddle. "I guess I probably better go, Linda," he said,
and I said "yeah, you better." He started for the door, but my mom
moved into his way. "Not so fast, Robert," she said. "Go back where
you were!"
Bobby walked back toward the bed, and mom said "Let me explain
something to you. In this house we believe in corporal punishment, and
that means punishment of the body. You and Linda are both guilty and
you both deserve the same punishment." Bobby didn't say anything, so
she went on. "Now, you're free to leave if you want to, but let me
tell you what's going to happen if you do. Linda's going to get her
punishment, and after we're through with that, she's going to get your
punishment too."
I almost fainted at the thought. I'd spent more than one night
sleeping on my stomach because my ass was too sore to sleep on my
back, and I knew that this beating was going to be much worse than
anything I'd ever had before. The thought of having it doubled made me
want to die right there, before it could even start.
"'I'll stay," Bobby said quietly.
"No!" I shouted. "Bobby, you don't know what it's like!"
"have to stay," Bobby said angrily. "I can't let you suffer that
much, and besides it was my idea to come up here!"
Part of me was proud of Bobby--probably my ass, since that was
the part that would suffer more if he left--but I wondered whether he
would ever speak to me after my mother paddled his rear. I knew she'd
do it, but I wondered how. Probably take him into her room, make him
undress and paddle him in there, I decided. I wondered for a second
whether he would scream, but then I knew he would; he couldn't help
it, the way she used the paddle. Then I tried to picture how she would
hold him still if he tried to struggle. I'd learned not to move,
because if I did mom would put me on the bed or the floor, sit on my
back and paddle my butt extra hard and long, but I thought Bobby was
probably too strong for her to do that to him.
"All right, then," mom interrupted my thoughts. "Stand up,
Linda." I stood up, and she turned to Bobby.
"Well, Robert, you wanted to undress my daughter. Go ahead and do
it." He stared at her unbelievingly.
"Go on, undress her. Now!" she snapped.
Bobby walked slowly over to me, looked at mom again, and then
started undoing the buttons on my blouse. I lifted a hand to help him,
but mom knocked it away with the paddle. "Let him do it!" she ordered.
Bobby pulled my blouse off, then my still-unhooked bra, and
turned to put them on the bed. I lifted my arms unconsciously to cover
my boobs, but mom ordered me to put my arms down. "He's going to see
all of you there is to see", she hissed at me.
While Bobby worked at the button and the zipper on my jeans, I
stood there trembling and wondering if she was going to have him watch
while she pounded my ass. Then it struck me that if she did, that
meant I would get to watch his paddling. For some reason, that thought
made me stop trembling, and I felt the tiniest hint of the warm glow
between my legs which had been so hot just before mom walked in on us.
My jeans slid down my hips, the panties coming with them, and
once Bobby had them down around my ankles, I stepped out and stood
there in my birthday suit. Bobby put my pants on the bed and stood
with his back mostly toward me.
"Turn around! Look at her!" my mother ordered him. "That's what
you wanted to see, isn't it?"
Bobby obeyed, but didn't answer. He really looked miserable.
"All right, Linda, it's your turn," mom said. "Get his clothes
off."
I wanted to start with his pants but decided I'd better do his
shirt first. Bobby stood absolutely rigid while I unbuttoned his
shirt, threw it on the bed, and pulled off his undershirt. I knelt on
the floor in front of him to unbuckle his belt and unzip his fly, and
had to struggle a bit to get the zipper down past the bulge in the
front of his pants. His eyes met mine quickly, then glanced away in
embarrassing. I pulled his jeans down to the floor and he stepped out
of them.
Then I pulled his underpants down and he stepped out of them too.
I stared with interest at what I'd uncovered. His penis--"dick", I
guess boys call them--didn't look as big or as hard as the
"flashlight" I'd touched earlier, but it was still sticking straight
out from his body. I'd never seen a naked boy, or man, before. I'd
played doctor with other kids, of course, when I was four or five, and
I'd seen drawings in sex-ed books and movies, but they didn't look
anything like this. At the base of his dick, bobby had a pouch, and
suddenly I understood what boys meant when they talked about "balls",
because I could see them inside Bobby's pouch.
Mom noticed my interest. "Take a good look," she said, "because I
don't think your going to want to see any-thing like that again for a
long time!" She reached out and touched Bobby's dick with the end of
the paddle. "He seems to like seeing you naked. But it won't look like
that when we're through!" Then she lifted his balls up with the
paddle. "I'll show you what those are good for in an hour or two."
I had no idea what she meant. "An hour or two" sounded like the
paddling might go on that long, and my ass burned at the thought. On
the other hand, the thought of learning more about Bobby's balls
excited me, and it wasn't my ass that burned at that thought.
My mother went over to the desk and brought the chair out to the
middle of the room. I expected her to sit down, and wondered nervously
which one of us would go over her lap first. Instead, she told Bobby
to sit in the chair. He obeyed, and she announced "I want this to be
an unforgettable occasion for both of you. Considering what the two of
you were doing when I walked in, I think it is appropriate for you to
administer the punishment to each other."
My heart leapt at the thought. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after
all. Bobby and I wouldn't paddle each other hard, I'd be able to sit
down at school tomorrow, and maybe Bobby would still be speaking to
me.
"You know where you belong, Linda," my mother said. I went over
to the right side of the chair and lay across Bobby's lap, my head and
arms hanging down on his left side, the lower side of my boobs against
his left thigh and my pelvis on his right thigh. I'd wanted my naked
body against Bobby's, I thought to myself, but not quite in this
position.
"Here, Robert." Mom handed him the paddle. "Now, maybe you think
you're going to give her little love pats, but that won't do. You're
going to smack her hard, and for every one that isn't hard enough, I'm
going to give her three, and I'm going to give you five. Do you
understand?"
I realized with horror that this paddling was going to be even
worse than I had first thought! Bobby would have to hit me at least as
hard as mom would have, or his strokes wouldn't count at all. And I'd
have to do the same to him. I started to cry, and begged mom to do it
herself, but she just ignored me and told Bobby to get started.
"How many times?" he asked. "I don't count," she replied, "I go
by the color of her ass. By the time I tell you to stop, it'll be dark
purple."
I pictured what my ass was going to look like and my cheeks
clenched together involuntarily. I clutched at the chair legs and
started crying even harder.
"By the way, Robert," my mother said, "every time I count out a
number, you'll know that you've been too easy, and Linda has three
more coming from me--and don't forget that means five more for you,
too!"
I could feel Bobby's body tensing as he raised the paddle, and I
knew he was trying to decide how hard he had to bring it down in order
to satisfy my mother. Then I felt his arm start down and I screamed
just as the paddle smacked into the right side of my ass. It stung,
but not like mom's.
"One," my mother said.
I knew the next one would hurt more, and it did.
"Two."
The third one landed back on the right cheek, lower than the
first, and much harder. I screamed.
"Three."
I was in despair. My ass was already hurting, and now I had nine
coming from mom. "Harder, Bobby," I yelled.
I don't know whether he started worrying about my ass or his own,
but the next one was a real zinger. It burned into the left side of my
ass, right in the middle, and I shrieked and jerked.
Mom didn't say anything that time.
Up till then the smacks had been several seconds apart, which
gave me time to clench up the cheeks of my ass and take in enough
breath for another yell. Now that Bobby knew what my mother expected,
though, he really went to work. The smacks started coming faster, and
my screams turned into sort of a gasping wail. Sometimes as I
struggled to catch a breath I could hear the loud crack of the paddle
as it landed.
There wasn't time after each blow for me to anticipate the next,
and I never knew where the next fiery blossom of pain would bloom.
Bobby really covered the territory, moving at random from the middle
of one cheek to the base of the other to the top of the first to the
tops of my thighs. He rolled me toward him to land the paddle on the
outside of my right cheek and away from him to do the left. Sometimes
the paddle would come down in the same place twice in a row, and that
was even worse. A couple of times the paddle didn't land squarely, and
I heard mom count "four" and then "five".
I don't know how long it went on like that. It seemed like hours,
but I suppose it was only a few minutes. My whole ass felt like
someone had poured gasoline over it and lit a match. It hurt so much
everywhere that I hardly noticed the separate pain each time the
paddle landed. Somehow I gathered the strength to beg. "Please!" I
gasped out. "Let him stop!"
Bobby stopped. "Isn't this enough?" he asked.
"Six," my mother announced. "Don't stop again until I tell you
to!"
The paddle came down again--harder than ever, it seemed. I
screamed and started kicking my legs, trying to throw myself off
Bobby's lap. He dragged me back against him without missing a lick,
and paddled the backs of my thighs until I stopped kicking, then
started in again on my ass.
Once I was still I could feel something poking me hard in the
side, and I realized it was Bobby's dick, as big and hard as it had
been in his pants a while ago. "The bastard!" I thought to myself. He
has getting turned on by this!"
Finally mother told him to stop and took the paddle from him. I
started to crawl off Bobby's lap, but mom told me to stay where I was.
"Hold her leg-tight," she ordered Bobby, and he grabbed my left leg
just above the knee. Then she came and stood in front of the chair,
facing toward my feet, and took hold of my right leg, pulling it up
and away from the other.
My legs were being pulled so wide apart I thought they were going
to tear me in two, and I knew I was totally exposed to both of them.
"Please, mother," I begged. "Please don't, not there, don't paddle me
there!"
"I ought to," she snapped, but I'm not going to." Then she raised
the paddle and swung it down to land on the inside of my right cheek.
I howled and tried to kick, but they were holding my legs too tightly,
and all I could do was flop like a fish on Bobby's lap. So she
paddled, and I howled and flopped. She concentrated on the places
Bobby had missed, along the crack of my ass, the insides of my thighs,
the out-side of my left cheek which had been too close for Bobby to
hit. Those places hadn't hurt so much before, but now the fires rising
from them were just like the fires from the rest, and I was sure that
my ass, from mid-thigh to the tops of my hipbones, looked like a steak
that had been left on the barbecue grill too long.
Finally she stopped. They both let go of my legs, and I slid off
Bobby's lap and lay on the floor, sobbing and burning.
"Well, Robert," my mother started to say, "it's time for your--".
Then I heard her gasp. "Why you pervert! So you liked that!" She was
looking at Bobby's dick, standing straight up, dark red and
swollen-looking. "Well let's see how you like this!"
I'd never seen anyone move as fast as she did, grabbing him by
the dick and jerking him to his feet--unless it was Bobby standing up
at the same time. His face was as red as his dick. In one motion she
sat down on the chair, dragged Bobby off his feet and across her lap,
letting go of his dick as he fell, clutched him across the small of
his back and raised the paddle.
The paddle had landed with a tremendous "SMACK!" in the middle of
his ass before Bobby even knew what was happening. It came down again
and he bellowed like a mad bull and started kicking. Mom gave him a
couple more, but it was clear that he was going to pull himself off
her lap and onto the floor.
Mom stopped paddling and stuck her right hand, with the paddle
still in it, between his thighs. "Watch this, Linda!", she ordered.
She rolled him toward her, onto his side, and reached over him with
her left hand and grabbed his balls. Her hand turned white as she
squeezed, and Bobby screamed.
"Hold still and shut up!" she commanded, "or next time I'll
really crush 'em." Bobby moaned, but he stopped struggling. Mom looked
up at me. "See," she said, "I told you I'd show you what those are
good for." Then she rolled him back down on his stomach, her hand
underneath him, still clutching his balls, and went to work again with
the paddle.
Bobby jerked each time the paddle landed, and cried out every
three or four "SMACK!"'s, but he didn't struggle and he didn't yell
while mom finished his thirty.
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Then she dropped the paddle on the
floor and told Bobby to stand up.
Bobby scooted backward across her lap until his feet touched the
floor and then stood up. I noticed right away that his dick wasn't
hard any more. It was hanging down, and not much bigger than his
thumb. Mom noticed too, and reached out and tweaked it with her
forefinger. "Didn't like that quite as much, did you, Robert?" Bobby
didn't say anything.
Mom stood up and said "All right, Linda, it's your turn." I went
over to the chair and sat down as gingerly as I could, but I couldn't
help moaning as my ass touched the hard wood. "Back you go, Robert,"
my mother directed, and gave him a push. Bobby lay down across my lap,
and I got my first close-up look at his buns. I noticed that there
were little blond hairs growing everywhere, but mostly I noticed that
his ass was bright red.
"Hold his balls, the way I did," mom said, "or he'll never hold
still." Bobby started to protest, but I slid my hand under him, found
his shriveled-up dick and then got my thumb and a couple of fingers
around the pouch that held his balls. "Give them a squeeze, just to
let him know you mean business," my mother ordered. I could feel
Bobby's balls, sort of squishy under the skin of his pouch. Bobby had
just started to say "No, do--," when I clenched my hand. He screamed
out, and I relaxed my fingers some.
"Good," mom said. "Do that again if he starts fighting you." "The
rules are the same," she went on, "keep going till I tell you to
stop--and for every one that's too soft, he gets three from me and you
get five."
I reached down and picked up the paddle, and sat studying Bobby's
ass for a few seconds, trying to decide where to start. After what
he'd done to my ass, I wasn't about to go easy on his, even if my
mother hadn't been standing ready to keep me honest.
Hunched over the way I was, to keep my left hand around Bobby's
balls, I decided to work on the right cheek for a while and then move
around. I lifted the paddle up high and brought it down hard. Bobby's
ass jiggled and he let out a groan.
"One," my mother counted.
I swung the paddle harder. Bobby's right cheek bounced again, and
a new, redder mark formed where the paddle had landed.
"Two."
I crashed the paddle down as hard as I could, and Bobby yelled
out and jumped, so I squeezed with my left hand, and he got very
still. Mom didn't say anything, so I went on. Bobby was pretty
muscular everywhere, including his ass, but each time the paddle
landed, his ass would flatten out under it, and then bounce back,
throwing the paddle up into the air.
Whenever I got in a really good lick Bobby would cry out--and
usually when I didn't, mom would count out another number. I got kind
of a rhythm going, taking advantage of the way Bobby's ass bounced the
paddle back into the air, then swinging it back down to land in a new
place, leaving a wide red strip to mark the place.
It became almost hypnotizing, and then I realized that something
else was happening too. I was sitting naked on the chair, bending
forward to reach around Bobby's waist, and the lips of my pussy were
right against the seat of the chair. Every time I swung the paddle
down I was forcing my clit against the chair, and I was getting more
turned on than I'd ever been when I played with myself in bed.
The harder I paddled Bobby the hotter I got, and I knew I was
going to come--unless my mother made me stop too soon. I swung the
paddle faster and harder, until Bobby was really yelling, and then I
felt my orgasm start. Bobby was kicking and really struggling, but I
wasn't about to let him stop me then, and I squeezed his balls with
all the strength in my left hand.
Bobby screamed and stopped struggling, but I was too far gone to
notice. I squeezed harder and paddled faster as the delicious waves
rippled through me from head to foot.
I finally stopped coming and realized my mother was saying
something. I let the paddle rest on Bobby's ass and looked up at her.
"You can stop, now," she said, looking at me strangely. I dropped the
paddle on the floor and forced my left hand to relax. Bobby slipped
off my lap onto the floor, and lay there moaning and clutching his
balls with both hands.
"All right," mom said to me. "You gave him nine easy ones, so
that means you've got 45 coming from me. And he gets 27."
"Please," I said, "don't give us any more. We'll never do it
again."
"Don't bother to beg," she snapped.
"Having you over my knee doesn't work all that well," she added.
"We'll do it differently this time. I want you to go lie on the bed,
face down, with your legs hanging over the corner."
I started to whimper as I struggled to my feet and limped over to
the bed. My ass was still burning, and it throbbed with every step. I
stole a glance at the mirror and saw that my backside looked just the
way it felt--an angry reddish-purple from waistline to mid-thigh.
I threw Bobby's jeans out of the way and lay down the way my
mother had told me to. She grabbed me by the ankles and pulled me
backward until my soaking-wet crotch was just off the corner of my
bed, my feet were on the floor, and one knee was along the side of the
mattress and the other against the end. And my ass, of course, was
sticking out right where she wanted it.
"Get off the floor, Robert, and come over here," mom ordered
Bobby. "Sit on her back--I don't want her squirming around," she
explained. "Facing me," she demanded, as Bobby knelt on the edge of
the bed and started to swing a leg over my back.
Bobby's weight crushed the breath out of me as he settled his
butt below my shoulder blades. I groaned at the thought of how
helpless I was, and the sensation of Bobby's balls resting on the
small of my back wasn't enough to relieve the feeling of terror that
started in my ass and ended in the pit of my stomach.
I heard the floorboards creek as mom moved to a position behind
and to the side of me, and I gripped the edges of the mattress with my
knees. Then I could sense motion as she swung the paddle back and up,
and the "whish" as it sped toward its target.
The paddle landed with terrible force in the middle of the left
side of my ass, and the pain was indescribable. My rump should have
been numb from the treatment it had received earlier, but this was
five times as bad. I screamed for all I was worth, and without even
thinking about it I braced my feet on the floor and pushed with all my
strength, trying to move before the paddle could descend again.
Bobby's weight was just too much, though, and all I could do was
tense up my muscles as the paddle crashed down again and again. I
shrieked until my throat was raw, and pleaded with mom to stop, but
there was no escape.
Somewhere around 25 or so, the paddle suddenly felt different,
and the next time it landed almost softly. I caught myself in
mid-scream as there was a clatter across the room, and it suddenly
dawned on me that mom had actually broken the paddle against my ass!
I'd started struggling again, trying to roll out from under
Bobby, when mom said "Stay where you are. We're not done yet!" She
tossed the broken stub of the paddle onto the bed, picked up Bobby's
jeans, and jerked his belt out of the belt loops.
I could see what she was doing out of the corner of my eye, and
it didn't look encouraging. Bobby's belt was an old, hand-tooled
leather one that had been his dad's, and it was heavy enough and
supple enough to hang straight down once mom had pulled it free of
Bobby's pants.
Mom moved back behind me, and I heard the belt whistle through
the air in the middle of the room as she took a couple of practice
swings with it. I hoped that maybe the belt wouldn't be as bad as the
paddle; it shouldn't be, I thought, because it's softer and lighter.
What I hadn't considered was how fast the belt could move. I had
barely heard it start to hiss through the air when my ass lit up like
fireworks on the 4th of July. I was so shocked that I didn't even
scream until the second time the belt slashed across my ass, but then
I got down to some serious noise.
The paddling had been a heavy, bruising kind of pain, but mostly
in one spot at a time. The whipping now felt more like a knife cutting
long strips out of my ass, as the end of the belt wrapped around first
one cheek and then the other. Mom swung the belt from right to left on
one stroke, and back from left to right with the next. Some went
diagonally from the top to one cheek to the base of the other, and
some followed the opposite route.
I gave up trying to push off the floor with my feet and began
kicking crazily--anything to keep that leather from biting into my
butt. That was a mistake, because then mom swung the belt from bottom
to top, straight up the middle, just as the momentum of my legs lifted
me slightly off the edge of the bed. The whistling end of the belt
curled itself around my pussy and then sliced its way up along the
crack of my ass, leaving a trail of liquid fire everywhere it touched.
If anyone thought that I couldn't scream any louder than I had
been, they were wrong. I stopped kicking, but still the belt kept
slashing into me.
Finally the belt hissed for the last time, and I realized
that--for me--it was over. As Bobby rolled his weight off me, I could
feel all of the muscles in my ass quivering, the heat radiating
outward in waves which kept time with my pulse.
Mom was breathing pretty hard, but she wasn't about to let up.
"Out of the way, Linda," she ordered. I eased myself backward off the
bed and got shakily to my feet.
"All right, Robert, same position." Bobby lay down kitty-corner
across the bed, and mom grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him back
until his balls and dick hung down off the corner of the mattress.
"Sit on his back, Linda." I clambered into the position Bobby had
been in a few minutes earlier. His bony shoulder blades bit into the
throbbing flesh of my ass, and I could feel his backbone pressing into
my pussy as I held onto his ribs and looked over the tops of his
purple ass-cheeks.
Mom took a step back and raised the belt. "If you move, Robert,"
she warned, "you're going to be very, very sorry!" She began her
swing, and I watched Bobby's ass in fascination as the end of the belt
whistled toward it. It was like seeing a movie in slow motion--the
belt coming down and across, the skin and muscle of Bobby's ass giving
way under it, the crack between his cheeks opening wider as the belt
caught the other cheek and pulled it sideways.
All at once things were happening much faster. Bobby was
bellowing like a mad bull, and I was sliding down his back--which had
suddenly become vertical--and landing on my hands and knees on the
floor.
"Get out of here!," my mom yelled. "If you're going to be such a
pansy, Robert, take your clothes and get out of this house. Linda will
get the rest of yours!" I held my breath. Going back under that belt
was the last thing in the world I wanted.
Bobby just stood there, rubbing his ass and looking undecided.
Finally my mom said, "All right, if you're going to stay, get back
down on the bed." Bobby stood there a few seconds longer, then turned
and lay down on the corner of the bed again. This time mom grabbed him
by the balls and started to tug him backward. Bobby yelped and pushed
himself back with his arms.
Mom went over the to bed and picked up the broken stub of the
paddle. She untied the leather thong from which it used to hang in the
closet and walked back behind Bobby. I watched, puzzled, while she
made a little noose with a slipknot in one end of the thong, and then
I realized what she was about to do!
"I warned you not to move," she said to Bobby, "and this time I
think you'll obey me." She grabbed his balls again with one hand,
slipped the noose in the thong over them, and pulled it tight. The
sack holding Bobby's balls looked like a balloon about to burst.
Bobby started to plead and squirm, but mom jerked on the thong
and he shut up. She pulled the thong down along the corner of the bed,
looped the bottom end of it around the leg of my bed a couple of
times, stretched it tight and tied a square knot in it. Then she told
me to get back on Bobby's back.
While I was doing that mom walked over to the window and picked
up the watering can I kept on the sill to water my plants. "I told you
you'd be sorry if you moved, Robert," she said. "Now you're going to
learn what this belt feels like when it's wet!" She dribbled water out
of the watering can until the last foot or so of the belt was dark.
Bobby begged and pleaded with her, but she just ignored him, stepped
back behind him and put the watering can on the floor.
I could see Bobby's ass-cheeks clench together as the belt
started toward them. It landed with a vicious wet-sounding "SLAP".
Bobby yelled out and started to straighten his legs to stand up again,
but quickly sank back on the bed with a groan. The thong was obviously
doing its job.
Again and again the belt slapped into Bobby's ass, first from the
right, then the left, across the top, middle, bottom. Each time Bobby
cried out, but he didn't try to move again. After about 15 of those,
my mom stopped and picked up the watering can again. She kept
dribbling water onto the belt until it was soaked through and dripping
wet.
The next time the belt landed it hit with a heavy "SPLAT" that
sprayed me with water and knocked Bobby's hips sideways. Bobby
screamed that time, the way I had. The belt splatted again, on the
other side, pushing Bobby's ass back in the other direction.
Bobby cried and pleaded for mom to stop, rolling his ass from
side to side in a futile effort to avoid the sopping wet leather. Mom
teased him with the belt, changing her rhythm, letting his ass twitch
back and forth a few times and then landing the belt just as he moved
in the direction she was coming from.
Finally she stopped and tossed Bobby's belt onto the bed beside
him. "Let him go," she said to me. I climbed off Bobby's back, got off
the bed, and knelt behind him. I tried to loosen the noose around his
balls, but the thong was stretched too tight. The knot holding the
other end to the bed leg was tight, too, but I finally picked it
loose, untied it, and freed Bobby's bursting ball-sack.
Bobby's ass was a mass of purple stripes of different shades, and
I was thankful that mom hadn't had the idea of soaking the belt before
she was done with me. Both of us, I thought, would have to think up
some excuse for not taking showers in PE for a while.
Bobby got up and didn't look at either of us while he put on his
clothes. He winced and gritted his teeth as he slipped his underpants
on, trying to stretch out the wasteband as he pulled them up. I went
to my closet and got out my robe; I couldn't stand the thought of
putting on even my flimsy panties.
Bobby finished dressing, jerking his soaking belt through the
loops on his jeans and stepping into his loafers, and left without a
word to either of us. Mom put the watering can back on the window
sill, picked up the two pieces of the broken paddle, and headed for
the door. She stopped and said "We'll talk later," then pulled the
door shut behind her. I lay down on my bed, on my stomach, and thought
about the way Bobby's ass had bounced as I paddled it.
* * * * *
Bobby and I never went out after that. It wasn't that we broke
up; we saw each other at school, and talked some, but neither of us
ever mentioned that afternoon. It seemed that Bobby always had
something to do after school, so he couldn't drive me home, and I got
used to the fact that he didn't call me at night or on the weekends.
Because there was this kind of strain, you see. I don't really
understand it, but it has something to do with the fact that both of
us knew that we'd really gotten turned on by seeing the other one
completely vulnerable and in pain, and neither one of us really knew
how to deal with that. That afternoon was pure hell for me, but now
when I lie in bed and play with myself, the pictures in my head are
from my mom's position, watching me paddling Bobby, or lashing the
belt into his ass myself. It always makes me come, and I'd gladly go
through the experience again for the chance to hear Bobby beg and see
his ass jerk and twitch as I slashed at it with a leather strap, while
his ball-sack ballooned out from the noose which held him still. I
can't help but wonder what pictures are in Bobby's head when he jacks
off at night.
As for my mom, well, we had our talk about high school sex, and I
promised her that I'd behave. I'd thought that maybe I was done with
paddlings forever, since the paddle was gone. But last week I was
putting something away in the hall closet, and there, hanging from the
hook where the paddle used to be, was a shiny new bamboo cane. My buns
started tingling at the sight, and I rushed to my room, locked the
door, pulled off my sodden panties, closed my eyes, and really went to
work on Bobby's ass with that cane.
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