Saturday, June 20, 2009
The Story Unfinished, Part VI
(Editors Note: Frank has surgery on his injured back on Friday. He wanted me to tell you that the surgery went fine, and that he will be home from the hospital in a couple of days. In the meantime, Frank asked that I publish the remaining installments of his latest story. Due to it's length it will be posted in two parts, one today and one tomorrow or Monday.
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?"
"Yes, sir."
"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)
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?"
"Yes, sir."
"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)
