Wednesday, June 10, 2009
The Story Unfinished, Part IV
(part III can be found here)
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)
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)
