Wednesday, August 09, 2006
Once Upon A Spanking, Conclusion
At long last, here is the final chapter on this recollection of one of my spanking adventures. I apologize to my loyal readers for the delay getting this to you, but real life has a way of interferring, and, even though I am not real, I do have a real life (go figure). Anyway, enjoy.
I resumed my position of shame over the saw horse. Gunless girl took aim and fired with her paddle, starting my rear end burning anew. Before I knew what happened, I was dealt another blow. I let out a startled shout. Gunless girl laughed. “Thought you were gonna get off easy, eh? Well, each round gets a little big longer!”
I allowed my math mind to whirl again. If she meant that, for each round, I was to get one additional swat from each girl, that meant … well … 1 plus 2 plus 3 plus 4 …. Plus 14 plus 15 equaled … um … One-hundred twenty! Multiply that by six, and you get … HOLY SHIT!!
Now I felt panicky. I could not begin to imagine what that many whacks would do to my poor posterior. That amount of punishment would do serious damage. Sitting would be out of the question for days, perhaps weeks. I remembered hearing stories of how people could have their feet beaten so badly they would die from the poisons that the body released to try to combat the pain. I began to fear that so many hard blows to my arse could require actual hospitalization.
As the next girl began delivering her next set of blows, I tried to concentrate on the heat to my seat in an attempt to calm myself. I decided that, after a sufficient amount of blows, the ladies would come to their senses and cease their spanking. If not, when I felt that serious injury was near, I would insist on stopping, and resort to struggle if necessary. So I steeled myself to take as many as possible.
The second set of swats was, in truth, twice as painful as the first. I managed to stay over the horse without restraint, but did find myself dancing a little from foot to foot, and moving my bum up and down a bit to try and bear the pain.
With little pause, round three started and, as I feared, gunless girl delivered three smart whacks to be now-searing butt. The ladies had now lined up in an orderly fashion, so the timing became pretty regular. Each lady would deliver her blows, briefly admire her handiwork, and then make way for the next person to torment me. The pain was really sinking in. I tried to stay still, but continued to dance around somewhat while remaining bent over. The ladies seemed to appreciate this and occasionally encouraged me to keep this coping action up.
By round four, I had begin to get used to the paddle swats. The pain was still intense, but I knew what to expect so I was able to just concentrate on the flaming heat and push away the anxiety. When the final girl had delivered her four, gunless girl called for a break. I waited for permission to rise, and when it was given, I stiffly got off of the horse. One of the other girls came up and placed her hand on my tortured tushie, and gave it a little rub. With a big grin, she commented on how well she and her sisters were doing. I cautiously reached by hands back to see if I could rub some relief into them. I heard no objections, so I gave myself a short butt massage. By my calculations, I’d already received sixty swats, but I still had several hundred more to go.
Gunless girl ordered that, since my punishment still had a considerable ways to go, that I should divest myself completely of my pants, since they would just get in the way. Reluctantly, I did so, seeing a little more of my dignity tossed aside. In a surprise show of sympathy, one of the girls offered my a cold glass of water to refresh myself. I gratefully accepted, and, although I considered just pouring the water over my butt to cool it, I decided it would be best if I simply drank the beverage. As I was doing so, I saw gunless girl pulling an ottoman into the middle of the room, and them put a couple of sofa cushions on top of it.
“Enough pausing, time for more spanking,” she said, much more gleefully than I would have preferred. “We’re going to change things up a little. Lay over the foot stool, and make sure your butt is pointing straight up!” I laid across the cushions, and, though it was somewhat awkward, the cushions were something of a relief.
The paddling began again. The new angle gave the ladies a way to deliver a completely new form of pain. They started to work on the lower part of my bottom, and on the sides. A couple even used a two-handed technique to get more leverage. I grunted and “ouched” quite a bit as my butt was beaten over and over. I could feel myself starting to quiver somewhat, as the pain continued to sink in.
We paused again after round five and I was again allowed to rise. At this time, gunless girl gave me something of a dose of good news.
“You’re good and sore right now, so this must be having an affect. We have two rounds left.” Only two? Despite a goodly number of smacks remaining, I could at last see the end. “The next round will be ten swats from each girl. Now bend over that chair.” She pointed to a low-backed easy chair in the middle of the room. I dragged my sore-butted, half-naked self over the the chair and laid over the back if it.
This paddlings I received in this round drove the pain deeper into my backside. The sting wasn’t as bad, but the soreness wasn’t going away. Each swat was causing me to lurch a little and grunt occasionally. My butt didn’t feel like it was on fire anymore, it felt like each cheek had been hit by a sledge hammer, and each swat felt like a nail hammer was striking me. I had to grab a cushion to keep from leaping up and covering my ass with my hands. The round seemed to go on forever.
When the last girl delivered her tenth swat, I heaved a huge sigh. Even though I knew still more whacks were coming, I felt greatly relieved that this round had completed. I was ordered to stand up and move to the center of the room. I took this opportunity to reach back and check to make sure that my ass was still there. It was, but it felt like it had doubled in size.
When I reached to room’s middle, gunless girl walked up until she was toe to toe with me. She looked me right in the eyes and said, “You’re pretty warm back there now, aren’t you?” in a very strict voice. I just nodded. “Good! You deserve every whack. You were pretty fucking stupid doing what you did. You were just looking for a show, but you violated our privacy and our trust. What you did was mean, selfish, and totally shitty. You’re lucky I didn’t just blow your head off. Now it’s time to finish this.”
She took a step back. “You’re going to get fifteen whacks from each girl. You’re going to be naked while you take them, shoes and everything, and your going to take them bending over with nothing to hold onto. You’re going to count each swat, and if any of the girls pauses for more than a couple of seconds, you will ask them for the next swat. And your going to take these quietly and without moving. This way, maybe you’ll feel just a little bit how we did when we discovered your peeping tom act!”
Now I was truly humbled. I actually responded to her by saying, “Yes, ma’am.” I felt so small and childish. She was right. I deserved everything that these ladies dished out, as severe a paddling as they could give. I turned around and completed my humiliation by removing my shirt, shoes, and socks. Then I bent over and put my hands on my knees.
SMACK! The first of my last round of torment crashed into my already-roasted cheeks. “One!” I shouted, trying not to show strain in my voice. “Two!” “Three!” Gunless girl was being slow and methodical, and she was hitting hard! After four, she paused, and when I didn’t feel the fifth swat I realized that I now had to ask for it. “May I please have another swat?” I said in a voice that felt very small. She was happy to oblige.
Swat after swat from girl after girl blasted into my bottom. I managed to stay still, although it was sometimes difficult. Each time one of them stopped, I asked them to continue in a smaller and smaller voice. I began to feel very emotional. Gunless girl was right again. I did now know how awful it felt for these ladies to be spied upon. I felt terrible. Not only did I deserve this punishment, it was something they needed to do to me to start making things right. Despite my attempts at control, I could feel tears coming to my eyes.
While the fifth girl was delivering her fifteen, the tears began to gather on my cheeks. One of the other ladies noticed and cried, “Oh my god, he’s crying!” The girl wielding the paddle stopped and the room became quiet. The ladies had realize that this wasn’t revenge any more, it was a serious and important chastisement. Someone said, “Maybe we should stop.”
Before anyone else could respond, I cried, “No!” As I gathered my composure, I elucidated. “I harmed you ladies. I need you to finish.” I saw gunless girl nod, and the paddling resumed. I didn’t sob, but my voice was cracking with strain, more emotional than physical, as I continued to count the strokes.
At last the spanking was finished. I remained bent over. I was stiff and sore. By butt was numb with pain, and I was emotionally spent.
“You did well,” replied gunless girl, the anger now gone from her voice. “Now go stand facing the wall for a few minutes and compose yourself. Stay there until I come back for you. Lades, we’re finished here.” Still naked, I headed for my place of shame. Before leaving the room, the other five girls were kind enough to gently pat my behind and leave me with a few words of forgiveness.
As I stared at the wall, reflecting on my stupidity and thoughtlessness, I allowed the tears to run their course. Although it was still humiliating to be standing in their living room, butt naked and with a seriously red and beaten rump, my shame began to subside and I started to feel better. I could feel the bruises setting in and I knew that they would be with me for a while. After a few minutes, the ring leader, the now-gunless- and paddle-less girl, returned with a bottle of skin lotion. In a business-like manner, she applied a considerable amount to my rear end. I expected to see steam rising from behind me.
When she finished, she handed me the bottle of skin lotion and a bottle of Heineken. “The lotion should keep your skin from cracking too badly,” she said, “and the beer should keep your head from cracking.” I gratefully accepted both. The Heineken had been opened, and I downed it in two swigs. I felt the tension easing away.
“Now put your clothes on and get the hell out of here. And don’t come within two blocks of this house ever again.” As I began to dress, she continued. “As far as we’re concerned, this is over. It shall never be spoken of again. I expect that you will respect that and not talk of this again, as well.” As I looked for my underpants, she added, “Oh, and we’re keeping your undies as a souvenir.”
I finished dressing and, as she suggested, got the hell out of there. I never thought that I’d want to leave a house full of pretty girls so quickly, but you learn a lot of new things in college. And I did respect her wishes. When walking around town, I would go out of my way to make sure I didn’t pass that house. I have slipped a little on her “never spoken of” edict, however, twice now. The first time was when I told Angela, since I try not to keep secrets from her (she used that as an excuse to spank me, but that one I enjoyed, and besides, Angela never lacks for reasons to spank me). The second time was with you, my esteemed readers.
As luck would have it, one of the residents of the house turned out to be in one of my classes that semester. She recognized and greeted me right away, but took care to avoid any reference to the paddling in which she had participated. We studied together a few times, and even had a couple of friendly dates (no, we didn’t spank each other and we didn’t sleep together).
The bruises on my ass faded in a few days. However, the memory continues to linger. While, in truth, the paddling wasn’t really so bad, me being a spanko and all, the ordeal was. It was, though, a fitting punishment for a brief moment of insanity on my part, and it was well deserved. It wasn’t the pain that made me feel remorseful, or baring my bottom to the fine young ladies. It wasn’t really even being nude. There was nothing remotely sexual about that particular spanking, however, and that was the primary difference between that and any other bottom warmings that I have endured. These ladies were truly mad at me, and rightly so. They made me meekly submit, and took their anger out on my butt.
That day made me become more insightful. Whenever I feel like doing something impulsive, I seem to recall that incident and, before acting, decide if what I was thinking of doing would deserve a spanking like I received on that fateful day. So I am able to more thoroughly consider the consequences before I act on that impulse. And that, my friends, while perhaps not really fantastic, is certainly something to take away from the experience.
I resumed my position of shame over the saw horse. Gunless girl took aim and fired with her paddle, starting my rear end burning anew. Before I knew what happened, I was dealt another blow. I let out a startled shout. Gunless girl laughed. “Thought you were gonna get off easy, eh? Well, each round gets a little big longer!”
I allowed my math mind to whirl again. If she meant that, for each round, I was to get one additional swat from each girl, that meant … well … 1 plus 2 plus 3 plus 4 …. Plus 14 plus 15 equaled … um … One-hundred twenty! Multiply that by six, and you get … HOLY SHIT!!
Now I felt panicky. I could not begin to imagine what that many whacks would do to my poor posterior. That amount of punishment would do serious damage. Sitting would be out of the question for days, perhaps weeks. I remembered hearing stories of how people could have their feet beaten so badly they would die from the poisons that the body released to try to combat the pain. I began to fear that so many hard blows to my arse could require actual hospitalization.
As the next girl began delivering her next set of blows, I tried to concentrate on the heat to my seat in an attempt to calm myself. I decided that, after a sufficient amount of blows, the ladies would come to their senses and cease their spanking. If not, when I felt that serious injury was near, I would insist on stopping, and resort to struggle if necessary. So I steeled myself to take as many as possible.
The second set of swats was, in truth, twice as painful as the first. I managed to stay over the horse without restraint, but did find myself dancing a little from foot to foot, and moving my bum up and down a bit to try and bear the pain.
With little pause, round three started and, as I feared, gunless girl delivered three smart whacks to be now-searing butt. The ladies had now lined up in an orderly fashion, so the timing became pretty regular. Each lady would deliver her blows, briefly admire her handiwork, and then make way for the next person to torment me. The pain was really sinking in. I tried to stay still, but continued to dance around somewhat while remaining bent over. The ladies seemed to appreciate this and occasionally encouraged me to keep this coping action up.
By round four, I had begin to get used to the paddle swats. The pain was still intense, but I knew what to expect so I was able to just concentrate on the flaming heat and push away the anxiety. When the final girl had delivered her four, gunless girl called for a break. I waited for permission to rise, and when it was given, I stiffly got off of the horse. One of the other girls came up and placed her hand on my tortured tushie, and gave it a little rub. With a big grin, she commented on how well she and her sisters were doing. I cautiously reached by hands back to see if I could rub some relief into them. I heard no objections, so I gave myself a short butt massage. By my calculations, I’d already received sixty swats, but I still had several hundred more to go.
Gunless girl ordered that, since my punishment still had a considerable ways to go, that I should divest myself completely of my pants, since they would just get in the way. Reluctantly, I did so, seeing a little more of my dignity tossed aside. In a surprise show of sympathy, one of the girls offered my a cold glass of water to refresh myself. I gratefully accepted, and, although I considered just pouring the water over my butt to cool it, I decided it would be best if I simply drank the beverage. As I was doing so, I saw gunless girl pulling an ottoman into the middle of the room, and them put a couple of sofa cushions on top of it.
“Enough pausing, time for more spanking,” she said, much more gleefully than I would have preferred. “We’re going to change things up a little. Lay over the foot stool, and make sure your butt is pointing straight up!” I laid across the cushions, and, though it was somewhat awkward, the cushions were something of a relief.
The paddling began again. The new angle gave the ladies a way to deliver a completely new form of pain. They started to work on the lower part of my bottom, and on the sides. A couple even used a two-handed technique to get more leverage. I grunted and “ouched” quite a bit as my butt was beaten over and over. I could feel myself starting to quiver somewhat, as the pain continued to sink in.
We paused again after round five and I was again allowed to rise. At this time, gunless girl gave me something of a dose of good news.
“You’re good and sore right now, so this must be having an affect. We have two rounds left.” Only two? Despite a goodly number of smacks remaining, I could at last see the end. “The next round will be ten swats from each girl. Now bend over that chair.” She pointed to a low-backed easy chair in the middle of the room. I dragged my sore-butted, half-naked self over the the chair and laid over the back if it.
This paddlings I received in this round drove the pain deeper into my backside. The sting wasn’t as bad, but the soreness wasn’t going away. Each swat was causing me to lurch a little and grunt occasionally. My butt didn’t feel like it was on fire anymore, it felt like each cheek had been hit by a sledge hammer, and each swat felt like a nail hammer was striking me. I had to grab a cushion to keep from leaping up and covering my ass with my hands. The round seemed to go on forever.
When the last girl delivered her tenth swat, I heaved a huge sigh. Even though I knew still more whacks were coming, I felt greatly relieved that this round had completed. I was ordered to stand up and move to the center of the room. I took this opportunity to reach back and check to make sure that my ass was still there. It was, but it felt like it had doubled in size.
When I reached to room’s middle, gunless girl walked up until she was toe to toe with me. She looked me right in the eyes and said, “You’re pretty warm back there now, aren’t you?” in a very strict voice. I just nodded. “Good! You deserve every whack. You were pretty fucking stupid doing what you did. You were just looking for a show, but you violated our privacy and our trust. What you did was mean, selfish, and totally shitty. You’re lucky I didn’t just blow your head off. Now it’s time to finish this.”
She took a step back. “You’re going to get fifteen whacks from each girl. You’re going to be naked while you take them, shoes and everything, and your going to take them bending over with nothing to hold onto. You’re going to count each swat, and if any of the girls pauses for more than a couple of seconds, you will ask them for the next swat. And your going to take these quietly and without moving. This way, maybe you’ll feel just a little bit how we did when we discovered your peeping tom act!”
Now I was truly humbled. I actually responded to her by saying, “Yes, ma’am.” I felt so small and childish. She was right. I deserved everything that these ladies dished out, as severe a paddling as they could give. I turned around and completed my humiliation by removing my shirt, shoes, and socks. Then I bent over and put my hands on my knees.
SMACK! The first of my last round of torment crashed into my already-roasted cheeks. “One!” I shouted, trying not to show strain in my voice. “Two!” “Three!” Gunless girl was being slow and methodical, and she was hitting hard! After four, she paused, and when I didn’t feel the fifth swat I realized that I now had to ask for it. “May I please have another swat?” I said in a voice that felt very small. She was happy to oblige.
Swat after swat from girl after girl blasted into my bottom. I managed to stay still, although it was sometimes difficult. Each time one of them stopped, I asked them to continue in a smaller and smaller voice. I began to feel very emotional. Gunless girl was right again. I did now know how awful it felt for these ladies to be spied upon. I felt terrible. Not only did I deserve this punishment, it was something they needed to do to me to start making things right. Despite my attempts at control, I could feel tears coming to my eyes.
While the fifth girl was delivering her fifteen, the tears began to gather on my cheeks. One of the other ladies noticed and cried, “Oh my god, he’s crying!” The girl wielding the paddle stopped and the room became quiet. The ladies had realize that this wasn’t revenge any more, it was a serious and important chastisement. Someone said, “Maybe we should stop.”
Before anyone else could respond, I cried, “No!” As I gathered my composure, I elucidated. “I harmed you ladies. I need you to finish.” I saw gunless girl nod, and the paddling resumed. I didn’t sob, but my voice was cracking with strain, more emotional than physical, as I continued to count the strokes.
At last the spanking was finished. I remained bent over. I was stiff and sore. By butt was numb with pain, and I was emotionally spent.
“You did well,” replied gunless girl, the anger now gone from her voice. “Now go stand facing the wall for a few minutes and compose yourself. Stay there until I come back for you. Lades, we’re finished here.” Still naked, I headed for my place of shame. Before leaving the room, the other five girls were kind enough to gently pat my behind and leave me with a few words of forgiveness.
As I stared at the wall, reflecting on my stupidity and thoughtlessness, I allowed the tears to run their course. Although it was still humiliating to be standing in their living room, butt naked and with a seriously red and beaten rump, my shame began to subside and I started to feel better. I could feel the bruises setting in and I knew that they would be with me for a while. After a few minutes, the ring leader, the now-gunless- and paddle-less girl, returned with a bottle of skin lotion. In a business-like manner, she applied a considerable amount to my rear end. I expected to see steam rising from behind me.
When she finished, she handed me the bottle of skin lotion and a bottle of Heineken. “The lotion should keep your skin from cracking too badly,” she said, “and the beer should keep your head from cracking.” I gratefully accepted both. The Heineken had been opened, and I downed it in two swigs. I felt the tension easing away.
“Now put your clothes on and get the hell out of here. And don’t come within two blocks of this house ever again.” As I began to dress, she continued. “As far as we’re concerned, this is over. It shall never be spoken of again. I expect that you will respect that and not talk of this again, as well.” As I looked for my underpants, she added, “Oh, and we’re keeping your undies as a souvenir.”
I finished dressing and, as she suggested, got the hell out of there. I never thought that I’d want to leave a house full of pretty girls so quickly, but you learn a lot of new things in college. And I did respect her wishes. When walking around town, I would go out of my way to make sure I didn’t pass that house. I have slipped a little on her “never spoken of” edict, however, twice now. The first time was when I told Angela, since I try not to keep secrets from her (she used that as an excuse to spank me, but that one I enjoyed, and besides, Angela never lacks for reasons to spank me). The second time was with you, my esteemed readers.
As luck would have it, one of the residents of the house turned out to be in one of my classes that semester. She recognized and greeted me right away, but took care to avoid any reference to the paddling in which she had participated. We studied together a few times, and even had a couple of friendly dates (no, we didn’t spank each other and we didn’t sleep together).
The bruises on my ass faded in a few days. However, the memory continues to linger. While, in truth, the paddling wasn’t really so bad, me being a spanko and all, the ordeal was. It was, though, a fitting punishment for a brief moment of insanity on my part, and it was well deserved. It wasn’t the pain that made me feel remorseful, or baring my bottom to the fine young ladies. It wasn’t really even being nude. There was nothing remotely sexual about that particular spanking, however, and that was the primary difference between that and any other bottom warmings that I have endured. These ladies were truly mad at me, and rightly so. They made me meekly submit, and took their anger out on my butt.
That day made me become more insightful. Whenever I feel like doing something impulsive, I seem to recall that incident and, before acting, decide if what I was thinking of doing would deserve a spanking like I received on that fateful day. So I am able to more thoroughly consider the consequences before I act on that impulse. And that, my friends, while perhaps not really fantastic, is certainly something to take away from the experience.
