The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Saturday, October 12, 2013

Happy Tears--the conclusion

Hester's initiation into the joys of domestic discipline bring about big changes in the household of Arthur and Eleanor. Eleanor tells Arthur that she has taken Hester to task and has given her a proper spanking. Arthur wants details, but Eleanor puts him off. Here is the result:

“Let's do something about our own emotional life. I made her a promise and I'm going to keep it and that's all I'm going to tell you. If you feel like spanking me because of that, go right ahead.”   
   “You know, you've just given me a wonderful idea,” Arthur Hadley murmured thickly as his hands began to squeeze and massage Eleanor's voluptuous buttocks. “Come here, young lady!”   
   He took her by the hand and led her to a armchair. Eleanor began to be very frightened, her eyes very wide, her mouth open. But the agitated rise and fall of her juicy breasts indicated that she was far from being as apprehensive as she feigned. Over his lap she went, and with his own trembling hands he lifted her nightie over her hips, disclosing the temptingly upthrust hillocks of her milky bottom. He put his left palm on the small of her back, and his right palm hesitantly glided over the warm, quivering naked flesh.   
   “I can see I'm in the hands of a novice,” Eleanor giggled.  
    “I like that! Just for that, young lady, I'm going to make you beg for mercy!” Lifting his hand, he brought it down with a hard smack on her right buttock, and quickly followed with another on the left cheek which fairly made Eleanor's plump buttocks bounce and jiggle. Her eyes widened with surprise. She could feel his stiff cock prodding her belly as she lay across his lap. Decidedly, she told herself, voluptuous chastisement was going to intensify and ramify her love life in a most delightful way.   
   His hand rose and fell methodically for about five minutes, until at last, Eleanor gasped out, and there were real tears in her eyes when she did so, “Oh darling, that's enough! You've got me so hot I've just got to be fucked now! I'll be a good girl! Please, Arthur darling!”   
   He lifted her up, and she put her arms around his neck and crushed her mouth to his while his hands again pulled up her nightie and fondled her flaming bottom.   
   Then he lifted her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed, and she herself pulled off the nightie and was waiting for him, squirming and frantically pulling at him as the sheets rubbed her posterior and created between her thighs another kind of heat which is even more erotic and inviting.   
   The moment his cockhead slipped between the pulsing, twitching lips of her cleft, Eleanor let out a cry of ecstasy, forcing her arms and legs around him, and pulled him down upon her, biting his ear-lobes, clawing the back of his neck with her sharp nails, and panting, “Oh darling, give it to me hard, I'm so hot I'm dying for it!”    
  And that was one of the most furiously satisfying fucks the two of them had known, even since their honeymoon night.

So Eleanor finally gets a spanking from Arthur. You wonder why, with Eleanor being such a died-in-the-wool spanko, it took all the way to the end of the second volume for them to get around to it. But now it's Katy-bar-the-door for the continuing spankfest, now that the cat's out of the bag. Betty and Hester, mischievous girls that they are, get into trouble together.

 But when Hester came home that Friday afternoon from college, she had the misfortune to be smitten with another impulse at horseplay with her younger stepsister by way of betokening their friendship. Upstairs in Betty's room, that golden-haired miss was straightening her bed when Hester slipped up behind her and smacked her soundly on her bottom. Whirling around with a cry, Betty pushed Hester and Hester pushed her back, and the next thing they knew they were swinging at each other with pillows.   
   They grew so vehement and enthusiastic over this new sport, that the pillowslips were torn and the stuffings flying all over the room when suddenly the cold voice of reason and retribution broke in upon their game: “Well, now, is this the way a college student and a senior high-school girl behave?”   
   Hester and Betty gulped, turned and stared at Eleanor Hadley. It was all the latter could do to keep from showing them a twinkle in her eyes, as she pursued: “I see that both of you are to blame this time. Both of you will come to my room at once.”    
  “Yes, Mother,” Hester stammered, and then, taking a deep breath, she added, “It was really my fault—I started it, Mother—I came in here and slapped her. I think I'm the one that ought to be punished not Betty.”      Eleanor Hadley really did smile then and her eyes twinkled. “Good for you, dear,” she said gently. “I'll take full consideration of that. But just the same, Betty is big enough and old enough by now to know that those pillow slips are very expensive and they weren't made to be ripped apart like that. Come along now, Betty, just because Hester is big enough to forgive you doesn't mean that I shall.”
     And so, a few moments later, both Hester and Betty lay on Eleanor's bed, side by side holding hands, clad only in their bras, their panties drawn to their knees, with the door thoughtfully closed, while Eleanor Hadley applied the strap first to Hester's tawny-skinned bottom then to Betty's pink-sheened plumper one.             She gave each of them twenty-five strokes, and both girls were crying softly by the time the last lash fell over their quivering naked reddened posteriors.   
   “Now, my dears, my own daughters,” she said tenderly, “come over to me, each of you, and give me the kiss of peace.”   
   They scrambled down from the bed, and, still holding hands as they had done during their punishment, walked towards Eleanor in the straight-backed chair. And it was Hester who, forgetting entirely she was a college student and all of eighteen, first plumped herself down on Eleanor's lap and without the least self-consciousness over her almost nakedness flung her arms around the dominatress's neck and kissed her and hugged her passionately.   
   And these were truly happy tears!

Aww... isn't that sweet? It should have ended there, but oh, no. There's more. We're just getting warmed up.

     It was Friday evening, and Arthur Hadley was in the living room with a stack of typed pages on the table beside him, going over the reports he had dictated to his secretary. Next week, he'd told Eleanor at the dinner table, he was going to be in Ventura to work out an efficiency program for a marine building firm, the first really lucrative contract that had come his way since he had opened his own office when moving to Claremont. Eleanor was on the couch, knitting a sweater for Hester, glancing at her handsome husband every so often with love and pride. Hester and Betty were out in the kitchen, having insisted on helping Jennie with the dishes.   
   All of a sudden there was a crash, followed by a girlish giggle, and then a second crash, followed by Jennie's excited cry: “Now I tol' you two gals not to play games with dem dere dishes, now you jist see wut you's done, you two!”   
   “What in the world?' Eleanor exclaimed as she laid down the sweater and rose. “Arthur, did you hear that?”    
  “I certainly did!” He took off his reading glasses, laid down the report he'd been reading, and got up from his comfortable armchair. “We better investigate, I'd say.”   
   When the two reached the kitchen, Jennie was wringing her hands and shaking her head in dismay while Hester and Betty stood side by side, serenely composed. On the floor lay the shattered remains of two dinner plates and a cup and saucer.    
  “What happened?” Eleanor demanded. “Oh my—my best plates, too! How could you girls have been so careless?”    
  “They wuz playing wut dey called a jugglin' game, Miz Hadley,” Jennie indignantly spoke up, wanting to assure her employers that she had had no hand in this disaster.   
   “I broke the plates, Daddy,” Betty turned to face her stepfather, wide-eyed innocence and a sweet smile registered on her lovely heartshaped face.

Of course you know what's coming next, right? Betty has a daddy complex or something. Big surprise there.

“Daddy, I—I think you ought to give me my spanking this time instead of Mother. After all, those plates were part of the set you had shipped here, weren't they?”   
   “Come to think of it, you're right, young lady,” he exclaimed. “So you want me to spank you, do you, Betty?”   
   “Y—yes, D—Daddy.”   
   “I may as well tell you in advance, Betty, that I agree with your mother's methods, and you needn't expect leniency from me. Is that understood?”   
   “Uh—huh, D—Daddy,” Betty stammered, her cheeks a becoming crimson with blushes of emotion.      “Very well then, come with me, Betty,” Arthur Hadley sternly decided, and grasped Betty by the wrist and led her back into the living room. Hester faced her stepmother bravely: “You'll be the one to punish me then, won't you, Mother?” she asked.  
    “Correct! Jennie, get me the martinet from the pantry. Since you're expected to set your sister a good example, Hester, a simple handspanking will hardly suffice. Thank you, Jennie,” this as the colored maid handed Eleanor the multiple-thonged little whip with its short wooden handle. “All right, Hester, into the living room with you at once, young lady!”  
    Hester, head bravely held high, preceded her stepmother into the living room. There she saw Arthur Hadley already seated on the couch, golden-haired Betty draped across his lap, pillowing her head in her folded arms, her skirt and nylon petticoat trussed well above her waist, and her filmy white panties trussed down to her nylon-sheathed calves, in the act of tucking in her waist with his left arm.    
  “Wait a bit, Arthur,” Eleanor smilingly interposed, “let's spank the girls together, so they'll feel they're sharing the penalty for their simultaneous misdeeds. Hester, kneel down on that armchair, pull up your skirt and slip, bend well over the back of the chair!”   
   “Y—yes, Mother!” The auburn-haired girl did not hesitate as she moved to the armchair, pulling up her clothes as she approached; she dutifully knelt down, leaned over the back as Eleanor, the martinet tucked under her left arm, approached and ordered, “You hold up your clothes during the spanking, Hester! And take care not to let them fall back down over your naughty bottom unless you want ten extra spanks!”      “I—I will, Mother,” Hester sighed, a little uneasy now that the moment of truth was at hand, for the martinet was ominously new to her.   
   Deftly Eleanor tugged down Hester's panties to the girl's knees, exposing the plump, twitching and contracting tawnysheened ovals of that well developed, voluptuous naked behind; then, taking the martinet in her right hand, she stationed herself to the penitent's left, and, glancing over at her husband, exclaimed, “Now, then, Arthur!”
     Instantly, Arthur Hadley's right palm fell with a sonorous smack on the upturned right bottomsummit of his young golden-haired stepdaughter's naked behind. Betty raised her head, her blue eyes widening with surprise at the emphatic sting of this very first spank. And she began to tell herself that from now on this was the very last spanking from him she was going to go out of her way to get.   
   At the same moment, Eleanor Hadley swept the leather thongs of the martinet solidly across the plumpest, most temptingly jutting curves of Hester's naked posterior, and the whistling smack drew a startled gasp from the auburn-haired culprit, who squirmed on her knees, and glanced apprehensively round at her beautiful executioner.   
   Smack! Arthur Hadley's castigating palm flattened over the jouncy summit of Betty's left bottomcheek. “Oooohh, Daddy!” Betty gasped, surprised at her own lack of stoicism this early in the chastisement. Two bright pink outlines of his hand had at once risen, superimposing over the smooth soft babypink tint of the blonde culprit's naked seat.   
   Hisss-thuckkk! The martinet's thongs serpentined through the air, clinging avidly to the lower summits of Hester's shivering naked behind. The auburn-haired girl gasped, “Ohh, M—Mother!”, looked round nervously, then squirmed feverishly on her knees, her fingers clutching her uptrussed garments still higher. The vivid streaks left by the thongs stood out lasciviously on the pale tawny sheen of her twitching naked hindquarters.   
   And thus in the Hadley living room, Betty and Hester shared a sisterly spanking as part of the secret, warmhearted pact the two girls had made; for when Betty had whispered out in the kitchen that she meant to break a dish or two and get Hester's father to inflict her first spanking as his new daughter, Hester, not to be outdone, purposely smashed the cup and saucer to offer herself up as a willing martyr to her new mother's loving chastisement.  
    When it was over, Betty was kicking and sobbing, begging her father to stop, avowing with a fervent sincerity that could not be questioned that she would never be careless again. Fifty good spanks had left her tender round bottomglobes a blazing scarlet, and as he drew her panties up over her inflamed posterior and slowly righted her on her feet and kissed her, he murmured, “I'm sorry I spanked so hard, honey.” But Betty flung her arms round his neck and in an outburst of love and furiously roused, subtle girlish passion, sobbingly declared, “I deserved it, Daddy, I was awfully naughty! Th—thank you for—for spanking me so good, and I won't ever do it again, honest!”   
   A similar tender scene of reconciliation was taking place as Hester, her bottom and thighs striped by fifty expertly applied strokes of the little martinet, gingerly eased herself down from the chair, to have her panties pulled up by her smiling, misty eyed stepmother—who had divined Hester's heroic act of self-sacrifice—and to be tenderly hugged and kissed and gently scolded over being so careless...     
 Not long afterwards, Arthur and Eleanor lay entwined, his cock buried to the hilt inside her pulsating quim, their tongues flicking in the sweet duel of carnal conclave, and he panted, “You know, Ellie, I've a hunch your daughter broiled those plates on purpose.”  
    “Umm hmmm—and you know something else, lover? Your daughter did the same with that cup and saucer.”    
  “Well, well,” Arthur Hadley mused, “if anyone would have told me six months ago that Hester would willingly go out of her way to get a bare-bottom tanning, I'd have considered him a candidate for the looney bin.”    
  “And if anyone had told me that my sobersides of a husband would have got such a kick out of spanking my poor little darling Betty's bare seat, I'd have laughed in his face.” 

You're kidding, right? Oh well, no time like the present. Strike while the iron is hot, so to speak.

Eleanor slyly whispered as she insistently squirmed under him. “Ohh, honey, I know it made you randy—take it out on me—give it all to me—oh, Arthur lover—don't spare me, fuck me good and hard—ohh darling!”      

And in Hester's room, the door locked as a precaution, Betty and Hester lay in bed together in the darkness, kissing and cuddling, having each soothed the other's burning, inflamed seat with cold compresses and cold cream. And out of that unison which was brought about by happy tears, perhaps it was not at all surprising that the golden-haired and the auburn-haired “sacrificial spank-ees” should seek an even more intimate solace with questing fingers and soon, the shivering, frictioning warm satin of their eager naked bodies.      But that, of course, is another story!
This is a pretty typical example of flagellant porn in the 60's. A ridiculous story line. Lots of action, most of which doesn't make logical sense, but it keeps on coming and that was what the publishers wanted. But comparatively, Paul Little was a regular Faulkner compared to some of his contemporaries who could not write at all.

Next time---the real Claire Willows.

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