Scenes of Domestic Discipline: Book 2

by Susan Thomas

  I stood holding my bottom very carefully and was still crying when Peter asked Amy for the cane. It was quite thin and whippy with a very small crooked handle. I realised that it was just like the ones in my local party shop. I had gone in there to buy streamers and in the corner was a bucket with about a dozen canes. I had assumed that they were for the various costumes that were available for hire, but now I was wondering.

  The sofa was just about the right height for me to bend over the back of it with my face looking down at the seat. Amy sat on the sofa and held one of my hands - I soon found out why. Peter told me that I would get the same as Amy which was one stroke for each year of my life. That meant I was to get twenty-three strokes. I must be honest, I was frightened and started to cry before receiving even one stroke. Getting a cane stroke wasn't at all like being spanked. Each stroke stung like mad and was much more intense than a smack with the hand.

  Peter varied the punishment: for the first few he gave me a stroke and then waited, which gave me time to recover and brace myself for the next one. Then he suddenly gave me three in quick succession; after those three he was back to one at a time. He went on in this fashion until I had all twenty-three. I found the tightly grouped ones made me wail. The stinging pain built up and made me try to get out of the way, but when he spaced them out I could handle it better. There was one very odd moment when I was bent over waiting a little longer than usual for my next stroke of the cane when I felt a dreamy erotic sort of feeling. It was quickly dismissed by the sharp sting of the next stroke. By the time my punishment was over I was very sore indeed.

  "O.K. Kate, you can get up. It's all over now."

  Amy gave me tissues and I began to pull myself together. She seemed to be quite excited but for the life of me I couldn't think why, and anyway, I was too busy trying to pull myself together. Composure regained, I put my clothes on again and stood there gingerly rubbing my bottom through my jeans. It was stinging and smarting a great deal, and I wondered how long it would last. In spite of my sore bottom, I thought how strangely satisfying it had been to be spanked like that by Peter and I wondered if I was a bit odd.

  "How does it feel now?" asked Peter.

  "Sore." I smiled weakly. "But I deserved it. I could have stopped Amy, and I am glad I was able to share her punishment."

  "But you didn't," interrupted Amy. We both turned and stared at her.

  "Well, there is another part to my punishments ... the payment. You haven't had to make that payment."

  I turned and looked at Peter and could see that this was a road he would rather not travel, but Amy carried on.

  "Peter feels that if he has had to go to the trouble of punishing me then I must pay him for his trouble. There is only one way I can pay him and I'm sure you can guess what it is. You haven't done that ... but I think you should. What do you think, Peter? Wouldn't you like to have Kate in payment for your trouble?"

  As Peter replied, he looked like a man treading on eggshells: he didn't want to offend me by saying that he didn't want me, but he was also unsure what Amy was playing at.

  "Well," he began carefully, "Kate is a very attractive young woman, but she is not my wife. Also you and I agreed these rules before we were married. Kate has never agreed to anything. I was surprised that she took a spanking. It was brave of her, but that is all she volunteered for."

  Amy seemed determined to make her point. "Ah, but Kate and I have always been friends and shared everything in full. She hasn't shared this part of my punishment. How about it, Kate? Are you wiling to go the next step? Are you going to let Peter take you to bed as payment for his trouble in spanking you? If you are really going to share my punishment, you should."

  It was a breathtaking question and no-one else but Amy could have asked it. The problem was it touched a nerve. Right from the first time I had met him I found Peter attractive. On their wedding day, when the happy couple left the dance floor to "retire" for the night, it had been my duty as bridesmaid (together with the best man) to escort them to their suite. I must confess as the door closed leaving me on the outside I was jealous about what she would be getting. Now here she was asking me a question like that!

  A really delicious feeling stole over me. There was something wonderfully erotic in letting him 'have me' in payment for my debt: that bit about there being no choice because I owed him. My sore bottom was already making me feel quite tingly all over and now this! I had already heard Amy making her 'payment' and suddenly I wanted to make mine.

  "Well," I stammered, "I didn't know about this payment idea ... but I deserved my spanking and if this is the usual way you get your punishments ... then O.K."

  Peter's face was a picture. It was clear that he really liked the idea of taking me upstairs, but he had doubts. I wasn't sure which way he would decide, but his desire won and he just said in as calm a way as he could. "Right, it is true that you've both been a nuisance, so Kate, you'd better get up those stairs to your bedroom."

  Amy gave me a hug and pushed me towards the stairs. I climbed, my bottom sending 'just been spanked messages' as I went. This idea of making a payment in bed was leaving me weak and trembling, and I found I could hardly get up the stairs. He followed me into my room and shut the door behind him.

  "Please undress," he said. I did as I was told.

  As I undressed I found that I had to say something. "Just 'take' me Peter, please. No kissing or cuddling. It seems very disloyal to do that."

  The erotic feeling began to disappear as I undressed, and I began to feel quite shy about being naked in front of him. He was after all some sixteen years older than me and much more experienced. Once more I turned my back as I stepped out of my knickers and sort of half held my arms in front of me. He took hold of my shoulder and gently turned me around, he stroked my hair very softly with one hand, and with the other softly moved my arms away from my breasts.

  "So bold one minute, so shy the next. Do you know how very attractive you are?"

  I shook my head, and with his right hand he began to smooth my shoulders and back, bringing his hand all the way down to my bottom. His left hand stayed in my hair turning, twisting and smoothing it very slowly and softly. "Do you know," he said, "having you is going to be delightful." He began to undress.

  He was more muscular than he looked when dressed. It was a lean, hard muscle that made him look immensely strong and dangerous. My heart began to beat rapidly, and I felt myself begin to tingle with the anticipation of being taken by this man. He took his underwear off last and I gasped - he was clearly very aroused at the idea of taking me to bed with him. He stood in front of me and I felt very small and slight. Without any warning he put one arm around me and the other under my legs, lifted me clear of the floor and lay me on the bed. I already wanted him a great deal but the experience of being lifted so easily made me feel utterly submissive and completely ready for him.

  He raised my knees and then very carefully, parted my legs and knelt between them looking at me with controlled desire. He took hold of his erect penis and put it at my entrance. I lifted myself up so that I could see him enter me but he didn't. He placed himself just before my wetness and holding himself up on his arms began to tease me with his hardness. I found myself like some wanton: rising to meet him and trying to get him to enter me. I grabbed his shoulders and tried to pull him down and into me. He was too strong and instead I became aware of his scent. It was an intoxicating mixture: some sort of aftershave, a hint of fresh sweat and something else much darker and dangerous. Whatever it was it made me want him more.

  The sheer force of his entry made me gasp; it was not pain it was just the surprise and power of him that made me gasp. I let myself fall back onto the bed. The feeling of completely being in his power was extraordinary; he was huge in me and I just gave myself to him. He could do whatever he wanted for I was his. Now he was in me and over me, holding himself on his knees and hands he began to ride me slowly, thrusting deeply each time.

  I had neve
r experienced anything like it; it made me feel so complete, so submissive, and for the first time I felt like a real woman. As he rode me I noticed the soreness of my bottom and as I did, the soreness seemed to merge with the feelings I had inside me. With a speed that is indescribable I felt myself climbing swiftly towards orgasm. I know my knees went right up in the air; I think I cried out and I know I got hold of his shoulders and back and held on as if he might take off. But it was me taking off. Then I did scream out, I locked my legs around him, and I think I must have pulled him over his edge because then he was pumping his seed into me in hard, vigorous thrusts, each one making me gasp with pleasure, my eyes shut tight to lock the experience in.

  He seemed to go still for a moment when he had finished, and he gently rested himself on me. I lay there bathed in sweat, marvelling at what had happened, and I found I was stroking his hair. He lifted himself and pulled himself out with a groan and lay down beside me. He reached out a hand and found one of mine and held it. We lay without speaking for a while. As we did I could feel his seed pooling out of me and I felt sad that it was going. How long we lay like that I don't know, but eventually we did the inevitable and showered and dressed to go downstairs.

  Amy must have been listening for she had drinks just ready for us as we arrived. Peter looked a little uncertain but Amy rushed up to him and hugged him and then she hugged me.

  "I so wanted you to experience him," she whispered. "The spanking was the opportunity. I love Peter and I don't want to share him again but we have always been friends and I wanted to share just the once."

  When in Rome

  Joy's dad, Peter, was a widower, and she had been motherless since the age of five. It wasn't a problem, they got along just fine, but when she was seventeen her dad was sent on a business trip to the US and met Melinda. Melinda was an attractive, sensible and delightful young woman fifteen years younger than 40-year-old Peter, but age they decided, was no barrier to them although the Atlantic was. Melinda wanted to remain in her home town near her family so Peter asked Joy what she thought about moving.

  "Is there any room for me in this marriage, Dad?"

  "Of course, you silly girl. Melinda knows we come as a package, and she likes you. She is too young to be a mother to you but she can be a sister. It would mean your last year of school at an American high school but it is possible."

  Joy didn't like the sixth form college she attended nor the 'A' levels she was studying. It all seemed rather casual and chaotic to her, and Joy rather liked there to be order in life. Some may regard that as a boring quality in the young but I like Joy, she has a wonderfully odd sense of humour, and just because she likes things to be 'right' it doesn't mean she is boring. She was happy to up sticks and move to the US, and, after all, with all the various ways of staying in contact it wasn't as if we would become strangers.

  Her dad's company were happy to arrange a transfer to the US and a post close enough to Melinda's home town to make a commute easy. He married Melinda, and Joy was one of the bridesmaids. After the honeymoon they all moved into a new large house close to Melinda's family who welcomed Peter and Joy with open arms. Their immediate neighbours, close friends of Melinda's family, were Mr and Mrs Groves, both retired, he a police officer and she a former teacher. Their children had grown and left home. Mr Groves had a large hobby workshop where he loved to make anything of wood from a simple fruit bowl to a beautiful dresser.

  Joy discovered that the high school she was to attend was strict with a most proactive principal who patrolled the corridors, ensuring good behaviour. It was highly organised unlike the chaos of her sixth-form college, and Joy approved. The use of corporal punishment surprised her considerably, after all it had been banned in England long before she had been born. Apparently, girls or boys right up to the end of their schooling could be paddled by the principal or one of two other designated paddlers. However, since she would be eighteen one day after arriving, it would bizarrely require her to sign her own consent form as she was legally an adult. If she didn't, sanctions included long periods of suspension which made a mess of the school work.

  Joy wasn't fazed at all, as she told me order and discipline appealed to her, and she liked to do things 'right'; it was the right thing to do to sign the form. Mr Hamill, the principal, watched her do so. A tall man, formerly a marine who has seen active service, he was a no nonsense but kindly man, and approved of her cheerful attitude when signing up.

  "Well, let's just hope, young lady, we never have to apply the paddle to you."

  Indeed, there wasn't much chance, on paper at least. The huge majority of boys, and an even bigger percentage of girls, were never paddled - its very existence a warning to be good. Strangely, the principal's secretary told her that in her opinion it was Joy's age group among the girls that got it most. "Something to do with thinking you're grown up," she explained.

  When she told Melinda what the secretary had said, her stepmother agreed. "Yes, I think that's true. I was paddled twice in my final year and only twice in all the years before. I wonder what your dad will do."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Well, my dad, and it was the same for most kids, had a rule, paddled at school then spanked at home."

  Joy laughed. "My dad has never so much as smacked me. He is a real softie, haven't you realised?"

  Melinda laughed because of course she had, and for a while they giggled together about the man who meant a great deal to both of them, but then Melinda turned serious.

  "Well, you'll be the odd one out if ever you do get paddled which won't make you Miss Popular so best avoid it if you can."

  Now this is where you will think Joy really odd but I don't, it's very Joy and I like that in her - things must be done right. So she went to her father and explained the situation to him and asked that if she was paddled at school would he please spank her at home. She told him it was the right thing to do.

  "Don't be so daft, Joy. I'm not doing that, it's old fashioned and I have no intention of giving in to local pressure. In fact if you were seventeen I would have refused to sign the paddling consent form but you've signed it and there it is."

  Joy was not happy with this, it went against her sense of what was the correct thing to do, and even if her dad didn't like it 'when in Rome do as the Romans do.' However, all was well for a while; Joy liked the strict environment at school, made friends and was doing very well. Her closest friend was Alexis and they did a great deal together, including shop for clothes. Alexis was spanked at home apparently, even though she was several months older than Joy, but it wasn't often enough to be a problem for her and she regarded it as being the way things were.

  The trouble occurred when Alexis and Joy bought a pair of leggings each. They were drop dead gorgeous, no doubt about it, with each leg being a matching but different pattern. They were so tight on, that the sheer elegance of their slim teenage legs and the true perfection of their bottoms was apparent to all. They bought them and decided to wear them the Monday to school knowing that every boy in the place would be watching them, which naturally meant the leggings were excellent value for money.

  All was well until the first period which was different for Alexis. When Joy walked in to the lesson the teacher spoke of dress code infraction and sent her straight to the principal's office. She waited on a bench trying to think why she had been sent. It was true she had not read every word of the student manual and rules because it was lengthy and detailed, but she was not showing leg or breast in any way and Alexis was wearing similar leggings and she wasn't here.

  When she was finally ushered in to see the principal he got up from his chair and walked around her. Without a word he handed her the manual opened to a certain page. It was clear in there that skin tight clothing for girls was forbidden with a mandatory four swats for offenders.

  "Oh dear. I am sorry, sir, I didn't realise."

  "Didn't realise is not enough of an excuse, Joy. You're a good student but no exceptions, four swats
is the penalty."

  Joy understood. Rules are there for a purpose, and she had broken one so she must take the consequences. It appealed to her sense of good order, and at that point she wasn't even scared. It was simply satisfying that the system worked.

  "OK, let's get on with it. Joy, stand right here for me."

  Joy moved to the position indicated and noticed that Mr Hamill had pulled the paddle out from some place just behind his desk. She looked at it with interest. It seemed a bit longer than an ordinary ruler plus wider and thicker, but more than that she could not tell at a single glance.

  "Joy, I want to you to bend over, grip your knees with your hands and hold that position. Do not move until I tell you to."

  It was only as she bent over and the leggings, already tight, stretched even tighter across her bottom that she realized that all that lay between her bottom and the wooden paddle was their thin material; you couldn't count her thong, that simply gave no protection. It was at that moment she became scared.

  Mr. Hamill rested the paddle on her bottom for a moment and it felt huge to her. Then it moved away and suddenly struck with a force that literally took her breath away for a moment. Then the pain, heat and sting of the blow hit her.

  "Aaah," she cried and then a plaintive, "oooow," as there seemed no end to the effect.

  "Aaaah." The next swat seemed even harder, and the heat that burned deep down into her was awful. She felt it rise and rise making her cry out a series of high notes. "Ooo... ooow... ooow."

  Mr Hamill hit her bottom so hard with the next swat that she rocked forward and for a second thought she was falling, then the pain of it hit her.

  "Aiiiow... ooo... oow."

  The next swat too almost knocked her forward it was so hard, and her bottom exploded with the most intense burning sting; she wondered if she was literally on fire. It not only burnt but seemed to burrow right down into her.