Monday, June 22, 2009
The Story Unfinished, Conclusion
Liz straightened up and put her hands behind her head, still in punishment mode. "Thank-you, sir, for paddling me so hard," she said. It was something that I deserved and that I needed."
"You're welcome," I responded. "Your punishment is complete, Liz. You can put your hands down." Liz let out a huge sigh and immediately reached back to feel her roasted rear end. She winced when she first touched her buns, and started to more tenderly rub her red cheeks.
"Why don't you take all the time you want to recover," I told Liz. "There's lotions and stuff in the bathroom to keep your skin from cracking. And there are ice packs in the kitchen freezer to if you're afraid of swelling. If you want, when you feel better, come over to the barn. I'm making lasagna for dinner."
All through Liz' ordeal, she had not shed a tear, which I found curious. I could see her eyes reddening, but she would not let herself cry. I was afraid that perhaps all of these spankings she had been given this day had not really had any effect, and that she might return to her hedonistic ways, thinking that her conscience was clear.
As I started to leave, Liz said, "Hey Frank, thanks for doing this. And thank Angela for me, too." Her voice started to crack. Then I saw the truth. She was waiting for me to leave before falling apart. While her humility let her submit to this substantial punishment, her pride would not let anyone see her cry. I left her alone to deal with her emotions.
How did I feel about all of this? To this day, I'm not really sure. I was angry at Liz for living such an irresponsible life, especially since she seemed like such a practical person when I knew her from before. The spanking made me feel good, not just because of my spanko inclinations, but because it let me take some of that anger and disappointment out on her butt. Yet part of me felt like perhaps we had gone too far. The masturbation episode made me especially uncomfortable, because it seemed like we had made Liz degrade herself entirely too much.
However, not once did Liz protest. She cooperated throughout the entire afternoon. She had seemed so tense when she first arrived the previous day that I thought the least little weight might cause her to shatter like so much fragile crystal. And I knew my wife well. Angela would never embarrass or shame anyone (except maybe the children who were sometimes embarrassed by the very presence of a parent when around their peers) without a very strong and proper reason. Also, Liz seemed to trust Angela, and had said so. Being a woman, I think that perhaps Angela saw something in Liz' soul that a man could never see. I eventually decided that it was not the proper time to pass judgment. Time would answer my questions.
Later that afternoon, as I was preparing the lasagna, I saw Liz come out of the guest house and head towards the barn. I remarked as such to Angela, who quickly went outside to intercept her. I watched through the window as Angela took Liz' hand, and they appeared to speak warmly. Then Liz and Angela exchanged a rather long and emotional embrace.
As Angela escorted Liz into the barn, she said, "I told Liz that she could stay in the guest house for as long as she liked. I hope you don't mind." Of course I was okay with it, and I told Angela so.
"Was that why Liz gave you such a nice hug?" I added.
"No," was Angela's response.
"So what did you tell her?"
"That, Francis, is something that you will have to spank out of me."
As it turned out, there was not need to spank the truth out of Angela, not that I need a reason to spank Angela. Liz told me later that Angela had told her she knew Liz was a good person, that she had just done some bad things. Angela had said that she wanted to be friends with Liz so that she could learn about the good things that Liz had done over the years, and not just things that she needed to be spanked for doing. My darling wife has a wonderful heart.
Liz stayed for three days, and then told us that she had to go back to Florida to "get her affairs in order." By that, she meant that she needed to sell her condo and pay her bills. She first sold her Beemer (which she had paid cash for) and bought a used Escort. She sold most of her furnishings and other possessions and used the cash to pay off what she owed. The selling price on her condo made her a small profit, which she had to split with her ex-husband. She took what she had left and moved to St. Louis, where she took a contract job as working on the infamous and much-overhyped "Y2K bug." Since them, Liz has worked on a number of other contracts. She has not re-married and has not really settled down, but rather works a job in a city until the project is over, then finds a new contract that pays well in a different city and moves on. This is indeed not that unusual a life for a talented computer professional.
We see Liz from time to time, whenever she is nearby (meaning whenever she passes within a hundred miles or so of us she takes a detour to visit). Sometimes we have a nice dinner. Sometimes we play games. Games that do not involve the children. Games that do involve things that were done during those last two encounters with Liz. If you know what I mean.
But that, my friends, is a story for another day.
Suffice to say, Liz has turned her life around. She definitely has a fondness for expensive things, but she always saves her money and pays cash. She once said that, once she has gathered enough money, she often decides that she no longer wanted that item. So she's clearly more responsible.
Plus, she is our friend. Both Angela and I agree that she is a fantastic friend.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
The Story Unfinished, Part VI
The previous chapter of this story can be found here.)
When the last of her orgasm has left Liz' body, she slumped back in her chair, panting like she had just run a marathon. She rested her head on the backrest of the chair, and her bones seemed to have softened into jelly. Angela also relaxed, and when next she spoke, her voice was no longer commanding but had fallen back to a conversational tone.
"How does that make you feel?" asked Angela.
"Oh, my god," breathed Liz. "It feels like I just puked out fifteen years of shit." When she noticed Angela's look of admonishment, Liz added, "Ma,am."
"It was what you needed, wasn't it?" responded Angela. Liz just heaved a sigh and nodded affirmatively.
"Good!" said Angela, cheerfully. And then her voice became stern again. "Now there's one more thing that you need. Francis is going to take that big paddle from the table there and give you fifty good whacks on your red butt! After that, we're done. Now I'm going to check on the kids."
As Angela approached the door, she paused and added sincerely, "Liz, it's been a pleasure meeting you." And then she left.
I finished my water and silently waited while Liz' heart rate return to normal and her bones re-solidified. Then I walked picked up the paddle and walked to the center of the living room.
I gave Liz the speech that I'd used on Angela many times in the past. "Elizabeth," I began, "this is going to be what I refer to as a formal paddling. As such, there is a certain decorum that we shall follow. When I am ready to begin, you will stand up and ask me, sincerely, for a spanking. You will ask specifically for the spanking that Angela said that you will get. And you will tell me why you want the spanking. If you ask properly, I will agree to the spanking, at which time you will turn around and bend over. You will clearly count each swat out loud. If you forget to count or miscount, that swat will be given again. If you miscount again, you will receive five additional swats. If you make a third mistake, I will start the spanking over. Now, do you understand so far?"
"Yes, sir," was Liz' reply.
"At some point in the paddling, I will pause. At that time, you will remind me that the spanking is not yet over, tell me the number of whacks you have left to get, and ask me resume. Understood?"
"Good. Now this paddling is going to be very hard. Nonetheless, you will stay in position, you will not stand up and you will not put your hands over your rear end. If at any time, you fail to follow any of these rules, I will finish the spanking and we will begin again. Am I being completely clear?"
"Yes, sir, you are, sir,"
"Excellent! Now let's proceed."
Liz got up and stood before me. With her head held high and in a clear voice, she said, "Francis Spakowiak, I have behaved shamefully for for many years. I have wasted money, I have drank too much, I have used too much coke, and I have slept with too many people. I didn't do it because I it made me feel good, I did it because I could and for no other reason. Would you please take your paddle and give me a good, hard, long, painful spanking on my bare butt?"
I was impressed. Liz had handled that part without any hesitation, and without looking away. I looked her in the eyes and saw that she was ashamed, but determined. Not just determined to take this paddling that she had coming, but determined to make sure that, after I was finished, that she would leave her old life behind forever.
"Yes, Elizabeth, I will give you a good, hard paddling," I replied.
"May I have at least fifty swats?"
"Yes, fifty sound like a good number."
With this protocol out of the way, Liz turned around and assumed the position, positioning her feet about shoulder-width apart, hands on her knees, bottom presented properly. Her backside was already quite red and starting to bruise from its earlier abuse. However, that would not cause me to hold back in any way. After all, she did ask for a good, hard paddling.
I gave Liz' bottom a good smack with the paddle, and she yelped and then called out "One!" I guess she did not realize how much this paddle would hurt, even on her already well-punished bum. The second swat drew a lesser yelp, and the third just a moderate grunt. I made sure that each swat struck her across the fleshiest part of her globes, covering the most area and maximizing the discomfort that she was surely feeling.
I steadily gave Liz twenty whacks, with just enough pause between each one to allow her to call out count and for me to wind up for the next stroke. I could hear the strain in Liz' voice, but she did not miscount and she held her position admirably.
When I paused, Liz took a couple of breaths to steady herself and then, without standing up, said, "Please don't stop. That's only twenty. You promised me fifty swats, and that's what I deserve. Please give me thirty more swats, even harder than the last ones!" Indeed, I felt that the remaining strokes should be the hardest that she had received all day, perhaps harder than she had ever felt in her life.
With the center of her bottom cheeks clearly well bruised, I took aim for a point slightly lower. When the paddle made contact, Liz shrieked and took her hands off of her knees, but she didn't completely straighten up or put her hands over her painful hindquarters, and she called out, "Twenty-One," so I did not feel that she deserved an additional swat. I did hit her in the same spot again, which elicited a similar reaction.
I made sure that the remaining swats were as hard as I could make them, without knocking Liz over or over-swinging. On each punishing whack I brought the paddle back over my head and swung it swiftly back down, snapping my wrist at the end to add to the sting. I achieved the desired result, as Liz was able to hold her position, but each number she called out seemed to be slightly higher pitched and not as loud as the last. The last few were clearly through gritted teeth. But the lady persevered.
After the last swat, I stepped back to admire the results. Her butt and the tops of her legs were a deep, dark red, with blotches of purple. There were marks on the sides of her cheeks from her earlier strappings and Angela's paddling. Her breathing came in long, slow breaths, and her legs were quivering.
(Please return for the conclusion of the story)
Monday, June 15, 2009
The Story Unfinished, Part V
"Sit down," Angela told Liz. Liz gingerly seated herself in the comfortable living room arm chair, but rather than leaning back, she sat near the edge with her back ramrod-straight.
Angela told her, "You don't need to be so formal. Relax. Sit back and get comfortable." Liz did so, but remained attentive. "No, make yourself truly comfortable. Lean back into the cushions. Go ahead and put your feet up." Liz relaxed some more, but did not use the footrest. "Put your feet up," said Angela, a little more firmly.
Liz stretched her legs out and rested them on the ottoman. She was still naked, and was trying to maintain some semblance of modesty, so she crossed her legs. It appeared that Angela was wishing to do away with the modesty, though.
"Please, Elizabeth, make yourself really comfortable," continued Angela. "You can slouch, and you don't need to cross your legs like you're at a business meeting. Go ahead and spread them out a little, maybe even prop your feet on the edge of the footrest. Go ahead. Pretend like you're home alone after a hard day at work, you've kicked off your shoes, and you're sitting down to watch your favorite TV show. Go ahead!"
For the first time all day, Liz began to look truly uncomfortable. She slid down the chair, parted her legs, put her feet up. As I'm sure you've surmised by now, this caused Liz to clearly put her female sexual region on display. Her pubic region was glistening with the moistness of arousal, something that Liz obviously wished to hide.
Angela's next command even took me by surprise.
"Touch yourself," Angela ordered.
"Huh?" was Liz' eloquent response. Liz was surprised, too.
"I said, touch yourself," repeated Angela. "Put your hand on your wet little pussy. Maybe put a finger or two inside, or rub your clit."
Liz just stared at Angela, as did I. "Did your ass beating make you deaf? Or were my instructions too complicated? I'll make it simple ... put your hand between between your legs and rub your pussy!"
Slowly, nervously, Liz slid her hand towards her female genitalia. Angela pulled a chair up so that she was sitting directly in front of Liz, with perhaps three or four feet between them.
Angela leaned forward. "I'm going to sit right here and watch you jack off," she said. Oddly, my first thought was that she had never said that to me, but I quickly pushed that aside. "This is what your life has been like. You did things you thought made you feel good, but you were really degrading yourself, and everyone except you could see exactly what you were doing to yourself. So now Frank and I are going to sit here and watch you while you spread your legs and put yourself on total display and play with your twat until you come!"
Liz pressed her hands through the lips of her vagina. Despite the obviously uncomfortable look on her face, when her fingers touched her tender areas, she gasped.
"See?" said Angela. "You're turned on. Even when your broke and alone, even when you're naked and embarrassed, even when your ass has been beaten black and blue, you're still turned on. So show me how turned on your are!"
Liz started to rub her sexual organs. Seemingly involuntarily, her breathing began to increase, and small gulps of arousal emitted from her throat. She began to stroke herself harder, and spread her legs wide so that she could more easily access herself. This caused her vagina to be wide open and in full view of Angela and I.
I'm not sure why, but I began to feel uncomfortable, like something was happening that I should not be watching. I found myself imagining that I was in the same position, being stripped naked and told that part of my punishment was to masturbate while my tormentor watched. I became abashed. I remembered that Liz appeared to have a dry mouth, so I decided to escape for the moment and went to the kitchen to retrieve for her a cup of water.
Angela continued to press Liz. "C'mon, Liz, get yourself off. You've offered your pussy to the whole world over the past few months, just like you're showing it to me now. So do yourself right. Give yourself a great, big orgasm for me. Go ahead and scream and squirt all over yourself. Use both hands if you need to. Show me just how nasty you are, and how disgusting you have been! This is your life, the one that you've pursued so hard the past few years. So let it out! Show me how much you've enjoyed that life!"
I poured water for Liz, Angela, and myself, and returned to the scene. I handed Liz her glass, and she took it gratefully. She paused momentarily and drank about half of the glass. She then returned to her punishment wank with Angela glaring intently at her. When Liz touched herself again, a spasm of arousal made her moan and arch her back involuntarily. She slid further down in the chair and reached deeper between her legs.
Since Angela had the bird's-eye view, I opted to stand off by the side to observe. I watched as Liz continued to tease herself. In a surprisingly short time, the orgasm began to gather within Liz. She laid her head back and closed her eyes. She began to grind her buttocks into the chair cushion and thrust her hips up onto her hand. Her moans became louder and more intense. I could hear the liquid sound as moisture accumulated around her hand and pubic hair, almost like a sponge being squeezed while in a bucket of water.
Angela leaned forward further. "Let it go, bitch!" she called. The intensity in Liz increased and the moans grew still louder. Angela stood up and grabbed Liz' knees, spreading them wider. "Let it go!" she called again.
And then Liz did indeed let it go. The moans turned into a loud, throaty shout that was almost a higher-pitched growl. She deeply pressed both hands on her pussy and lifted her hips so that her butt was no longer on the chair and she was supported just by her shoulders and her feet. She was now vigorously rubbing herself, trying to maximize the orgasm. She screamed and called out repeatedly, bucking her hips. Her breath came in loud, rasping groans. I thought that I had never seen such a long, loud, and intense orgasm, until I realized that it was not just sexual energy that Liz was giving off. She was trying to release all of the stress, tension, and bad feelings that had build up since she had left college.
(Part VI coming very soon.)
(No pun intended.)
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
The Story Unfinished, Part IV
When we finished our tea, I excused myself to use the rest room. As I did this, I noticed that Angela had fetched a pair of scissors from the kitchen drawer. She called Liz into the middle of the living room, and began to lecture anew.
"I'll bet your feeling pretty small right now, standing here, practically naked, with a sore ass in front of a woman who you just met yesterday. Well, you've been acting pretty small, but you probably thought otherwise. So now you know what small feels like." Liz just nodded.
Angela continued. "Turn around!" she commanded. "I want to get a close look at your ass." Liz faced the other way, and Angela roughly squeezed Liz' tender bottom cheeks with both hands. I saw Liz wince. "Pretty hot," said Angela. "Let's see if we can make your face as hot as your ass!" Angela firmly turned Liz around by the shoulders, then grasped her bra by the fabric between the cups, and stretched it outward. Angela then proceeded to take her scissors and cut through Liz' bra.
I heard Liz let out an audible gasp. I'm sure that she knew that she'd end up naked eventually, but I don't think this was how she envisioned it happening. I had been standing off to the side, and I saw Liz' face redden. When Angela roughly slapped one of Liz' breasts, Liz blushed even more, and hung her head.
Angela cupped one of Liz' breasts forcefully, causing Liz to lift her head and look straight at Angela. "You don't seem to like me touching your tits," said Angela. "Why not? Have any guys have touched your tits since your husband left?" Liz did not respond. "That's what I thought," said my wife. "How many guys? More than ten?" After a long pause, during which Angela just stared at Liz, Liz gave a small affirmative nod. "Slut," was Angela's disgusted response.
Angela continued relentlessly. "How about girls? How many women have had their hands on your tits?" When Liz was silent but continuing to blush fiercely, Angela said, "Quite a few, I'll bet. Was any of that sex enjoyable?" This time, without hesitating, Liz shook her head, no. Angela just stared at Liz.
"Oh, my god," said Liz, almost at a whisper, "I am a slut." She stumbled back a step as her knees almost buckled under the weight of her past deeds. Angela put her hands on her hips and continued to stare a hole through Liz. Liz trembled for a moment, then took a couple of very deep, cleansing breaths. Then she let her hands fall to her sides, letting the pieces of her bra fall to the floor, after which she straightened up, lifted up her head with resolve, and placed her hands back behind her head.
"Angela," said Liz, "I know we agreed that Frank would be doing the spanking, but even though I barely know you, it's obvious that you know exactly what I've been going through, what an idiot that I've been, and what I need to get my head right. I need you to spank me. Really, really spank me."
Angela just stared at Liz.
"Please?" said Liz. Still no response from Angela. "Ma'am?"
After another long silence, Angela commanded, "Francis, please hand me the small paddle."
One of our favorite spanking items is what is often referred to as a "hairbrush paddle," although it was more the size of a hand-held mirror, with the handle slightly shorter and the business end more oblong rather than round. It was about 3/4 of an inch thick, made of mahogany, and had been covered in a clear, shiny finish. It was a beautiful piece of wood, and it stung like the devil.
I handed Angela the paddle. Without prompting, Liz turned around and bent over the sofa cushions that were still piled on the ottoman, lifting her bottom up so that it made a perfect target for my wife. Without hesitation, Angela patted each of Liz' fanny cheeks twice with the paddle, and then commenced spanking.
Liz was paddled with no mercy. Right from the beginning, Angela swatted her fast and hard. She started out by concentrating on the center of each cheek, then moved lower towards Liz' thighs. Angela worked over the sides of each cheek, and even spread Liz's cheeks so that she could paddle the tender flesh on the inner part of Liz' fleshy globes.
Throughout her painful ordeal, Liz kept lifting her butt up as if she was asking for more and harder whacks. Angela was happy to comply. Liz was rather vocal, crying out, groaning, and whimpering during most of the spanking. She grimaced and gritted her teeth, but she continued to will herself to take everything Angela gave her. Liz' bare bottom turned increasingly redder, eventually approaching purple as the bruises began to form.
After at least five minutes of spanking, Angela stopped. Her arm was clearly tired. Liz was panting raggedly, her posterior quite obviously very sore and burning. Her faced was damp with perspiration and her mouth was dry. There was pain and embarrassment in her face, but, curiously, still no tears. Liz stiffly stood up and cringed as the full effect of Angela's very effective paddling were truly starting to sink in.
(still not finished, my friends)
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
The Story Unfinished, Part III
We repeated the hairbrush spanking, except this time I worked over both cheeks with no break. I made sure to get to some spots on her hiney that had been neglected on the first go-round. I kept her squirming the whole time, making sure that she didn't have a chance to relax.
When Angela allowed me to stop, Liz' butt was bright red, but didn't appear to be bruised. That was good, I thought, so when I use the strap it will hurt like the dickens.
Liz was told to stand in the corner again and wait for her punishment to resume. Angela went to check on the children to make sure that they were not misbehaving (they were, but Angela settled them down by threatening to make them watch video tapes of Masterpiece Theatre all day), and told me to watch Liz to make sure she did not touch her sizzling rump. I was also told to absolutely NOT talk to her.
This last order lasted maybe two minutes. With Angela gone for a bit, it allowed Liz and me to step out of our roles and chat for a moment.
"So is this as good as our last spanking, ten years ago?" I asked her.
"If good, you mean painful," Liz replied, "then this one is way better. If by good you mean sexy, then this one sucks by comparison."
I chuckled. "You were the one who agreed to a spanking. I'll bet you didn't count on a six-implement spanking, though."
"Or a super-heated butt plug! Well, I did sleep with you before she did. She's probably getting back at me for that," Liz remarked, slyly.
"Seriously, though, Liz, this is not going to be fun for you. Angela wouldn't tell me what she was planning, which means she figures that I'd object to it. Since she already knows that your butt can take a whack, so to speak, she'll have something very unpleasant planned."
"That's what I need, Frank," said Liz, earnestly. "I've screwed up my life completely. I could have been set for life, but instead I went crazy, than when my idiot husband left, I went crazier. I've probably blown through two million bucks!"
That gave me pause. Two million dollars would have set her up for life. With some careful investing, she could have done whatever she wanted, employment-wise, and not had to worry about what her wages. Instead, she had little except her car and the clothes on her back.
Liz continued. "I need to feel like there are consequences to my actions. I can probably find a job, get my finances fixed, find a new man, and life will be fine. But then I'll forget about all the stupid things I've done. I wouldn't have learned anything. But if I get a really good ass-beating, one that I'll remember, and not fondly, I'll think of that when I look at another eighty-thousand-dollar car, and opt to buy the Civic instead, like I should."
Who was I to argue with a pretty, half-naked lady with a red butt that was soon to get much redder?
Angela returned after a bit, and the punishments resumed. Angela selected the smaller of the two straps that she had set out and ordered Liz back to the middle of the room. "Is your butt cooling off any?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," responded Liz.
"That's unfortunate," replied Angela., "because Francis is just going to heat it up again. Do you see this strap?" She handed the strap to Liz. "Can you feel how heavy and thick it is?" Liz nodded. "How do you think that it will feel against your butt?"
"It think it will hurt very much, ma'am."
"Yes, it will." Angela took two of the cushions off of the sofa and placed them on top of the ottoman on which I had earlier spanked Liz. "Now hand the strap to Frank and lay over this," she said, "And make sure your butt is right in the middle. I want to make sure that Francis lays it on hard."
I took the offered strap and watched as Liz positioned herself with her pert, blushing bottom pointing towards the ceiling. "Give her ten, Francis," ordered Angela.
I did so. With Liz' rear end perfectly positioned, the first strike cracked clear and loud, and Liz let out a little shout and bucked. I paused for only a brief moment, and them brought the strap down again. I could tell by Liz' reaction that the second stroke hurt worse than the first. I suspected that the remaining eight would all be increasingly painful.
Liz was breathing hard when I finished. Angela walked around and sat down so that she was eye to eye with Liz. "Are you starting to learn that your childish behavior can have painful consequences?" she asked.
"Yes," Liz managed to say.
"And that you had better grow up soon or you'll always be in trouble."
"Good. Francis, give her another ten!"
Ten more times that strap lashed against Liz' rapidly-reddening buttocks. Liz bucked, arched her back, tightly held the side of the ottoman, and weakly kicked a few times. She did not, however, make any attempt to avoid the strap or cover her bottom.
When I stopped, Angela had Liz stand up. Angela walked around Liz once, inspecting her like a drill sergeant. After a brief lecture, Angela looked Liz up and down again, then told her, "You've acted like such a disgrace, it's time to increase the embarrassment level. Hold your arms over your head!"
Liz raised her arms, and Angela proceeded to unceremoniously pull up Liz' shirt over her head and completely off. Then she disdainfully tossed it aside. That left Liz standing there wearing just her brassiere, her hands still up. "Put your hands back behind your head! Now, how does that feel?"
"Shameful," quietly replied Liz.
"Good!" said Angela. "Now get back over those cushions. Francis, please get the other strap, and this time give her twenty, and make them hard. I want her to feel this for a week!"
Liz again positioned herself, and I again lashed her well. The heavier strap made Liz react even more than she had previously. Angela had me apply three of the strokes against her thighs, which caused Liz considerable distress. After a little more lecturing, Angela ordered twenty more for Liz, with several falling on her thighs this time. Liz called out in pain several times, and started to writhe on the cushions, but always kept her butt in place for the next crash of the strap.
When I finished, Angela again put Liz in the corner with her hands behind her head. Liz wobbled slightly as she walked, both from the blood rushing from her head and from the heat that emanated from her behind. As Liz did her penance and awaited her next ordeal, Angela made her and myself a cup of tea in the kitchen. We sat and talked quietly about non-spanking things for a few minutes as we sipped our beverage.
(yes, my friends, still to be continued....)