by Jay Lawrence
"Bend over, Milly and touch your toes."
She did as Jason instructed and closed her eyes, thinking that he was about to take the belt to her bottom. Instead, two pairs of hands made contact with her body. Exploring fingers caressed the lush leather-covered curves of her hips and thighs.
"Mm, you feel so good."
One of them stood behind her, pressing his hard, fat cock against her straining bottom. Steely fingers grasped her wrists and wrapped the belt around them several times, fastening her hands together. Milly whimpered but more in pleasure than fear. They pushed her to the kitchen table and made her bend over it, her torso flat against its smooth pine surface.
"Now, what have we here?"
Milly kept her eyes tightly shut. If it was a dream, she would experience it all via touch, taste and smell. Which one of them had spoken? Her senses were so confused she couldn't be sure. Something flat and hard was applied to her still-clad bottom, like a smooth plane of wood. A paddle?
"Have you been a good girl, Milly?" The words hissed unexpectedly in her right ear, making her jump. Her breasts were squashed flat beneath her weight, her bottom pushed up towards the invisible implement.
"No, sir. I haven't been good."
Strong fingers briefly played with her hair, then grasped a handful and tugged her head backwards so she felt like a tightly strung bow.
"Milly Bad Girl. What did you do? Forget to swallow hubby's come? That really bugs him, doesn't it?"
How did they know? The paddle-like object was smooth and cool and hard against the soft tender under-shelf of Milly's buttocks. She knew that it would hurt, even through the leather pants. They were teasing her, tormenting her. The fingers tightened their grasp on her hair until tears sprang into her eyes.
"Beg for it, Milly."
She was so wet, she thought she'd had a slight accident in her panties. A warm pool of arousal spread outwards from her cunt, saturating her skimpy underwear. She whimpered softly. "Please."
The cruel voice hissed in her ear like the Devil on her shoulder. "Beg. Like you really mean it."
"Please!"
Her voice sounded pathetic but she didn't care. She wanted to feel the blunt sting of the paddle against her bottom.
"Well, you asked for it," said the voice. Milly could detect the faint hint of a sardonic smile and thought that it was Jason who spoke. The paddle parted company with her buttocks then came down hard with a muffled thud.
"First on the luscious leather and then on the bare. Sound fair to you, Eth?"
"Sounds fair to me."
Milly squeaked with every sharp stroke of the paddle. It was heavier and blunter-feeling than Bill's belt and really quite painful. She couldn't imagine how much it would hurt "on the bare". She began to wriggle her bottom from side to side, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, the stiletto heels of the thigh-high boots sliding slightly on the polished floor. The steely fingers grasped her bound wrists and held onto them, holding her in place for the punishment.
"Ow! Ow, that hurts!"
"It's supposed to hurt. No pain, no gain, honey!"
Her bottom felt as if it was on fire, burning against the cool lining of the leather pants. The paddling ceased and more deft fingers reached around her waist to unfasten her pants.
"Oh no! Oh, please don't!"
It was pointless struggling for their combined effort was too much for her. The leather pants were tugged down to her thighs, resting at the tops of her boots. Now all she wore was a tiny thong, exposing both throbbing buttocks to the full onslaught of the harsh paddle.
"Ow! Ow!"
Now Milly's squeals had turned into helpless shrieks. Again and again the smooth plane of polished wood made contact with her naked bottom, burning and stinging like a super-intense hand-spanking.
"It hurts! It hurts!"
Milly's high-heeled boots were beginning to rap out quite a tattoo on the kitchen floor as she danced from one foot to the other, unable to break away from the fierce grip that held her hands in place on the tabletop. Her bottom presented an amusing sight to the two men as it wriggled and jiggled and desperately attempted to avoid the relentless strokes of the paddle. It was very red, a deep, angry crimson. Milly had forgotten about being aroused. It was a real punishment with serious pain. Her mind whirled, wondering why they were doing it to her, what she had done to cause it to happen. Again and again she clenched her buttocks as tight as she could against the sharp slaps of the paddle but to no avail. They still made their mark on her tender flesh.
"I think that's enough for the moment. Take some footage of this glowing derriere, Jase. Shines like a beacon!"
They were talking over her head as if she didn't exist and was just some empty-headed doll created for their amusement. Milly began to feel very angry.
"How dare you do that to me! How dare you!"
At last she opened her eyes. All she could see, through blurred vision, was the tabletop and her arms stretched forwards, still held by strong hands. It was Ethan who held her down and Jason who had delivered the paddling. Her bottom throbbed as if it had been stung by a swarm of hornets but the deepest damage had been done to her pride.
"Boy, that's a beauty of a well-paddled ass, Miss Milly!"
She could hear the soft whirr of the video camera and knew that Jason was indeed taking footage of her thoroughly disciplined rear. What websites would it feature on?, she wondered. Would perverts pay to download a quick movie of her throbbing, scarlet behind? Tears of humiliation threatened to run down her flushed face.
"My husband will be home soon. Then what will you do?"
Mentally, Milly compared Bill, a fairly short, lightweight guy, to Jason and Ethan. If there was a fight, she didn't think Bill would fare well. She had to bluff.
"He has a black belt in Judo, you know."
Jason laughed and slapped Milly's bottom hard, making her squeal again. "Yeah, right! Maybe a purple belt in origami! We know Bill. Don't you worry about that."
"You know Bill?"
Jason's fingers left her smarting bottom and began to stroke her pussy.
"Yep, as we mentioned when we arrived, we know Bill. He knows we're here, Mil. I can assure you it's all pre-arranged."
Jason's fingers found her clit and began to massage the swollen bud. Milly groaned.
"That feels sooo good, doesn't it? Just like your red-hot ass. Spread your legs."
Milly did as she was told, unable to help herself as strong surges of arousal pulsed in her clit. She was going to come.
"Every good girl deserves a little frigging." Jason's fingers slid inside her pussy and began to thrust as Milly arched her spine and finally shrieked out her orgasm.
"Nice. Did you get that, Ethan?"
"Yep."
"You were recording?" Milly's face burned. She looked up at Ethan who grinned at her behind the lens of the camera and made a mock salute.
"Orgasms R Us, one of Juiced's many triple X websites. Hey, your ecstasy might be downloaded five hundred times a day, Mil. Talk about multiple orgasms! Your pleasure preserved for posterity."
Milly clenched her teeth as the guys laughed. Then she heard the front door open. It must be Bill, at last. Thank God! Desperately, she cried out his name. Familiar footsteps crossed the hall and approached the kitchen.
"Bill! Be careful! Call 911!"
"Hi, Bill."
"So you made it, guys. Want a beer?"
"Sounds like a plan. Got any chips?"
"In the cupboard to the right of the stove. Help yourself."
Milly stared at her husband, who leaned casually against the fridge. She was speechless, unable to interpret what was happening to her. Ethan had put down the camera and was rummaging in her kitchen cupboard, pulling out bags of snacks. Jason slapped her burning behind.
"You can pull up your pants now, Milly. Great shoot, by the way. We must do this again some time."
"You really arranged this?" Milly stood up, her wrists still tightly bound by
Jason's belt. Bill grinned.
"Yep. Remember that little rape fantasy we were talking about the other week?"
Milly remembered. They had talked for hours about her kinky daydream involving two guys and a severe punishment spanking.
"'I want to be used and abused by two good looking strangers.'"
Milly swallowed. It was true. She had said that. But it was just talk. She watched Bill reach into the fridge and take out a six-pack of beer. Things had really changed since they got married.
"Be careful what you ask for," smiled Jason.
"For you just might get it," finished Ethan.
"I can't believe this!" Milly looked from one guy to the other then at Bill. Then suddenly they all burst out laughing. Milly laughed until the tears streamed down her face, slapping her bound hands against the tabletop in mirth. Bill was a dark horse. By God, he was a twisted one. Her bottom throbbed steadily and when she realized that there was no way on earth she could pull her pants back up with her wrists fastened in front of her she laughed all the more.
"Here's to Milly's makeover," said Bill, raising his can of Bud as if it was a glass of champagne.
Milly smiled.
MY BARE BOTTOM WHIPPING
My first spanking took place in the desert. We were on the road, Art and I, driving through Arizona in his old red sports car that had seen better days. Phoenix was an urban sprawl so we headed south to Tucson in search of the old west, Wyatt Earp and the OK Corral. I come from the north and heat disagrees with me. I get bratty when the mercury rises. By Mesa, my temper was frayed.
"I hate this place."
My voice sounded shrill but I didn't care.
Art raised an eyebrow.
"Oh? Give it a chance. We've seen the airport and the suburbs of Phoenix. It'll improve."
"I doubt it."
I crossed my legs and pouted. The a/c was turned up high, blasting cold air on my chest. My nipples were hard. Ahead, the poker-straight highway stretched into the shimmering distance. I was tired, hungry, thirsty and horny but didn't have the sense to voice any of those needs in an adult fashion.
"I wish we'd stayed in New Jersey."
Art sighed.
"Any more of this, sweetheart, and I'll wish you'd stayed at home, that's for sure."
It was the cue I'd been waiting for and I pounced, eager for a fight, my libido so misplaced it wasn't funny.
"Thanks! I should have fucking stayed at home! Christ, I'm so hot..."
"So I see."
The edge of amusement in Art's maddeningly calm voice made me want to slap him. I hated his self-control, longed to scratch my nails down his back and draw blood. Yep, I was horny...
"Why are you pulling over?"
The car drew into a rest area and Art got out without a word. I watched him head into the men's washroom without a backward glance. I uncrossed my legs, the moist flesh of my thighs sticking together beneath my shorts.
Christ, just fuck me. Fuck me hard and bite my neck and stick your finger in my ass. Give it to me hard, will you?
I didn't realize, back then, that my penchant for rough sex was a hint about some darker needs. I only knew I liked to be pinned down, legs thrust over my head and fucked so deep and strong I thought his cock'd come out of my mouth.
I thought about sex and my nipples hardened even more. I wasn't wearing a bra and they pushed against the thin cotton of my T-shirt.
"Drink this."
Art returned with a paper cup full of water.
"I'm not thirsty."
"Yeah, right. Suit yourself. Dehydrate."
I watched him drink the cup in one big swallow. A few drops ran down his chin and swiftly evaporated.
"Fuck you," I muttered, my mouth dry, panties wet.
"I don't fuck silly girls."
I grabbed his ponytail and gave it a hard tug.
"Quit it."
Wild with hormones, I pinched his thigh through his jeans, as hard as I could. It was strange foreplay but it worked for me.
"Okay, do that again and I'm going to whip your ass, Joely."
I paused. It was that look-into-the-abyss-and-decide-whether-to-jump moment. I could have pulled back. I didn't.
Slyly, I reached out and slowly, deliberately, pinched him on the other thigh. Not a smart thing to do to an ex-Marine.
"Let's go for a little walk, shall we?"
Art threw open the car door. I watched his tall, spare frame cross the baking tarmac of the rest area and disappear behind a line of eucalyptus trees. Damn him. I didn't know whether to stay and sulk or go see what he was up to.
I'm going to whip your ass, Joely.
Art's words were like a searing brand on my overheated brain. Whip my ass. Something about the idea excited me. I felt angry and nervy but incredibly turned on. A lone trucker watched me as I climbed out of the car and walked slowly across the rest area. I knew the guy was admiring my ass, tight and round in skimpy white shorts. I thought about fucking him, screwing a nameless stranger just for the hell of it. Where was Art?
Intense heat beat down on my bare head. Suddenly, I felt like a little girl, left alone and looking for Daddy.
"What kept you?"
There was a picnic area behind the row of dusty trees, with a long table and bench seats. Art leaned against the table. I realized, with a shock that made my heart jump, that he had taken his belt off and held it, looped, in one hand.
"Bend over the table and pull down your shorts."
I stared at him. Was it a joke? His brown eyes gazed levelly back at me without a hint of humor. Shit.
"But we can't. Not here..."
My voice trailed away to nothing and butterflies danced in my stomach. I thought of my naked ass, shorts around my ankles, Art's heavy black belt cracking down on my unprotected cheeks. Slowly, dragging my feet, I approached the picnic table.
"Drop 'em."
My fingers trembled as I undid the button and pulled down the zip. In a few moments the tight shorts were a crumpled heap about my ankles, swiftly followed by my panties.
"Bend right over. Your body flat against the table."
It felt like a dream. I thought about the truck driver and wondered if he was watching, imagined him jerking off as Art whipped my ass.
"You really need this."
"Yes."
I spread my thighs and felt a drop of pussy juice dribble down my sweat-sticky flesh. My cunt was slick. I wanted to be whipped and whipped hard. My boobs were crushed beneath me as I adopted the position. I felt the cool plane of the leather belt against my ass cheeks.
Give it to me.
Art placed his free hand on the small of my back and I shivered uncontrollably.
"You going to talk to me like that again?"
I shook my head.
"What did you say, Joely?"
I swallowed hard. My voice was raw with sex.
"No, Art."
Cool leather left my skin and there was a taut pause then a loud crack. I jumped as if I'd been shot and cried out in shock. It damn well hurt.
"I should've done this months ago."
I wanted to reach back and rub my smarting bottom. Instead, I gripped the warm edge of the picnic table and thrust my ass higher, pushed it towards Art, inviting another taste of the belt. I still don't know why. It hurt like hell but it was a good kind of pain, one I needed to feel.
Crack!
"Oh, fuck!"
I cried out as a second sharp, hot lash cut across my trembling vulnerable bottom. That time I jumped, my whole body convulsing in reaction to the belt. Heat was all around – beating down on my body from the cloudless desert sky and warming up my naked squirming ass. My top clung to my back as I began to sweat. My pussy was wet. Where the hell was that truck driver? Random lust-filled thoughts passed through my mind as Art began to whip me in a steady rhythm.
Crack. Crack. Crack.
It stung like biting insects. I jumped and jolted and wriggled and squirmed about like a fish, dancing fro
m one foot to the other, jiggling around but always offering my ass to the belt again and again. I hated it and I wanted it too. It hurt and it made me feel more aroused than I'd ever felt in my life. Where was that truck driver? I realized that I wanted him to watch me getting my bare bottom whipped. I wanted to lie over a table in the open air with my shorts round my ankles and my boyfriend taking his belt to me. I wanted the stranger to get off on my humiliation, take his cock out and jerk off all over my face.
The whipping ended and I felt a sense of something missing, disappointment, though I'm not sure I could have taken much more. I realized my face was very hot, as warm as my well-lashed ass. Art's hand caressed my bottom and I shuddered, ready to come.
"I feel better for doing that, Joely."
His fingers slid down to my pussy and I groaned. I needed release. I thrust my hips at Art, fucking his searching hand.
"I don't think I've ever seen you so wet and ready for it."
It was true. Something about being whipped had really turned my crank.
"Now you're going to go stand over by that tree with your shorts round your ankles. It's corner time, Joely."
"What?"
My eyes must have been as wide as Bambi's. Now, my darling boyfriend wanted me to parade myself, half naked, where anyone could pass by and see my well-whipped ass. We'd both be arrested.
"I can't do that..."
Without a word, Art pulled me up and marched me towards the nearest tree. I shuffled along with my shorts restricting my movement like a convict's manacles. It felt refreshingly cool in the shade. I could see the nearby rest area. There were a few vehicles parked on the tarmac. Anyone could decide to take a walk over to the picnic table. I felt oddly powerless, a little desperate. It was a new sensation and something about it turned me on.
"You'll do as you're told, Joely. Face the tree. No, don't try to cover your ass with your hands. I'm going to sit here and admire my handiwork. That's a well-whipped behind you've got there."
The bark felt rough beneath my chest and thighs. I did as I was told like a good little girl, the sense of arousal growing steadily in my cunt and mind. I started thinking about going over Art's knees for a long hard bare bottom spanking. I thought about paddlings and whippings and being severely chastised with a riding crop. Visions of discipline danced in my head.