Friday, November 16, 2007
Ye Olde Naked Weekend, Continued, Continued
Right on schedule, here is the next installment of how I spent a cold, wet weekend many years ago.
Still giggling, she pointed at the paddle on the counter. “No, you goof,” she said. “I mean spank me with that thing!”
Had I not been wearing pants, Liz would have been able to notice instantly my reaction to her latest invitation. As it was, I was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, so it was difficult to disguise my interest. I picked up the board.
“This thing might hurt,” I told her.
“Duh!” was her response. “What good is a spanking if it doesn’t hurt.”
I didn’t need another invitation. She stuck her butt out again and I gave her a couple of quick, back-handed whacks. She laughed harder and jumped up and rubbed her butt with both hands. She looked so good that I wanted to put her on a plate, cover her with chocolate sauce, and eat her all up.
“I told you it would hurt,” I said.
“It didn’t hurt. I just like feeling my butt when it’s warm!”
I decide to swing for the fences. “Well, if you think it’s warm now, wait until I properly paddle you.” I pointed towards my living room. “Go out there and bend over!”
Liz seemed unfazed. Without hesitation, she did as directed. Perhaps she had experience at this sort of thing. Maybe she was in a sorority that initiated recruits with the paddle. Maybe she had been paddled at some point as a youngster. Maybe she was, like you and I, a proper spanko.
I moved into position behind and beside her, and patted her rump with the paddle a couple of times. I figured I’d give her about five good, but not terribly hard, swats, and fairly slowly, so that I could judge her reaction and stop if she was in too much discomfort. I heard Liz’s breathing quicken. I took aim and said, “Get ready, here we go!” And then I spanked her.
WHACK! Liz let out a little “Oooo” and half-straightened, but immediately got back into position. I hit her a little harder and heard her sharply pull in her breath, but she didn’t move, so I gave her another one about the same strength. This time it sounded like she was holding her breath, and she had stiffened considerably. She was, however, still presenting her butt to me, which was turning a nice shade of pink.
When I saw that she had relaxed, I gave her another swat. I saw her stiffen again, and she appeared to be in genuine discomfort. I thought about calling a halt to the spanking after four swats, but then Liz said, “Come on, let’s have it! My butt is waiting!” so I gave her one more swat, hard enough to get her to straighten up again. She did, and jumped up and turned around, vigorously rubbing her glorious globes.
“So, did that hurt?” I said.
Liz did not seem too distressed. “That wasn’t too bad,” she said. “And, wow, my butt feels yummy!” This surprised me, because I did not think that Liz had ever been paddled before, and I never thought that I would hear her utter the word “yummy.” I had her turn back around so that I could inspect her buttocks to make sure there was no damage to the skin, but her dermis was intact. She insisted that I feel how warm her cheeks were, and, I do admit, they did feel yummy.
“Spank me some more!” she said.
“No,” I responded. “I haven’t had my evening meal yet, and I’m starving. Let’s have something to eat first.”
Upon reflection, Liz realized that she, too, was quite hungry.
I had prepared a concoction of diced potatoes, onions, green peppers, and sausages, which I tossed into a frying pan and mixed with some parsley and pepper, then topped with some shredded cheddar. I served it with a couple of cold beers. It was a perfect post-coital meal for a wintry night. As we ate we chatted. Not surprisingly, the topic of conversation found its way towards spanking.
Liz related to me that, growing up, her mother was the primary disciplinarian. She said that her mom would employ a wooden paddle on occasion. She would only give one or two swats, and always with a covered bottom. Liz, who was the youngest of three girls, mentioned that, when they reached their teens, each of her sisters had committed two or three sins that her mother considered particular egregious. On those occasions, her sisters were given longer, harder paddlings, perhaps ten or more swats, although still over the seats of their pants. Liz admitted to observing some of those punishments, and feeling an odd curiosity as to what it might feel like should it be her on the receiving end of the paddle. Alas, it was not to be. Liz said that, when her eldest sister graduated high school, her mom apparently decided to put the paddle away. Even though Liz tried on numerous times to provoke her mom into paddling her the way she had paddled Liz’s sisters, her mom always opted for non-corporal punishments.
Had I not been wearing pants, Liz would have been able to notice instantly my reaction to her latest invitation. As it was, I was wearing a pair of pajama bottoms, so it was difficult to disguise my interest. I picked up the board.
“This thing might hurt,” I told her.
“Duh!” was her response. “What good is a spanking if it doesn’t hurt.”
I didn’t need another invitation. She stuck her butt out again and I gave her a couple of quick, back-handed whacks. She laughed harder and jumped up and rubbed her butt with both hands. She looked so good that I wanted to put her on a plate, cover her with chocolate sauce, and eat her all up.
“I told you it would hurt,” I said.
“It didn’t hurt. I just like feeling my butt when it’s warm!”
I decide to swing for the fences. “Well, if you think it’s warm now, wait until I properly paddle you.” I pointed towards my living room. “Go out there and bend over!”
Liz seemed unfazed. Without hesitation, she did as directed. Perhaps she had experience at this sort of thing. Maybe she was in a sorority that initiated recruits with the paddle. Maybe she had been paddled at some point as a youngster. Maybe she was, like you and I, a proper spanko.I moved into position behind and beside her, and patted her rump with the paddle a couple of times. I figured I’d give her about five good, but not terribly hard, swats, and fairly slowly, so that I could judge her reaction and stop if she was in too much discomfort. I heard Liz’s breathing quicken. I took aim and said, “Get ready, here we go!” And then I spanked her.
WHACK! Liz let out a little “Oooo” and half-straightened, but immediately got back into position. I hit her a little harder and heard her sharply pull in her breath, but she didn’t move, so I gave her another one about the same strength. This time it sounded like she was holding her breath, and she had stiffened considerably. She was, however, still presenting her butt to me, which was turning a nice shade of pink.
When I saw that she had relaxed, I gave her another swat. I saw her stiffen again, and she appeared to be in genuine discomfort. I thought about calling a halt to the spanking after four swats, but then Liz said, “Come on, let’s have it! My butt is waiting!” so I gave her one more swat, hard enough to get her to straighten up again. She did, and jumped up and turned around, vigorously rubbing her glorious globes.
“So, did that hurt?” I said.
Liz did not seem too distressed. “That wasn’t too bad,” she said. “And, wow, my butt feels yummy!” This surprised me, because I did not think that Liz had ever been paddled before, and I never thought that I would hear her utter the word “yummy.” I had her turn back around so that I could inspect her buttocks to make sure there was no damage to the skin, but her dermis was intact. She insisted that I feel how warm her cheeks were, and, I do admit, they did feel yummy.
“Spank me some more!” she said.
“No,” I responded. “I haven’t had my evening meal yet, and I’m starving. Let’s have something to eat first.”
Upon reflection, Liz realized that she, too, was quite hungry.
I had prepared a concoction of diced potatoes, onions, green peppers, and sausages, which I tossed into a frying pan and mixed with some parsley and pepper, then topped with some shredded cheddar. I served it with a couple of cold beers. It was a perfect post-coital meal for a wintry night. As we ate we chatted. Not surprisingly, the topic of conversation found its way towards spanking.
Liz related to me that, growing up, her mother was the primary disciplinarian. She said that her mom would employ a wooden paddle on occasion. She would only give one or two swats, and always with a covered bottom. Liz, who was the youngest of three girls, mentioned that, when they reached their teens, each of her sisters had committed two or three sins that her mother considered particular egregious. On those occasions, her sisters were given longer, harder paddlings, perhaps ten or more swats, although still over the seats of their pants. Liz admitted to observing some of those punishments, and feeling an odd curiosity as to what it might feel like should it be her on the receiving end of the paddle. Alas, it was not to be. Liz said that, when her eldest sister graduated high school, her mom apparently decided to put the paddle away. Even though Liz tried on numerous times to provoke her mom into paddling her the way she had paddled Liz’s sisters, her mom always opted for non-corporal punishments.
The next installment will continue to detail the exploits of that noteworthy weekend.
