The Romance of Chastisement

The Romance of Chastisement

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Spanking Times Seven

My new ebook, Spanking Times Seven will be released soon. I don't have an exact date, but watch this blog for an announcement.
"Spanking Times Seven" is a collection of seven spanking tales written mainly with an M/F orientation. The collection will include stories about a unique "Wife Swap" reality TV show with an interesting twist in the rules; a cat burglar who gets more than what she came for; a medieval slice of life about a constable and a pair of female thieves; some groupies who crash a party for a rock star only to discover they are the entertainment; a hitchhiker running away from daddy who encounters an unlikely rescuer; some roommates who adopt an odd (but sexy) method of keeping household order; and this story--Spring Break Breakdown. Art by Paula Russell






Spring Break Breakdown

The cool "Pina Colada Hour" that promised to be so much the part of each day on this vacation was rudely interrupted by the jangling telephone. Just when I was looking forward to renewing my close acquaintance with Hannah---in the bedroom.

"Your turn," said Hannah. "They've all been for you."

I winced. She was right. If it wasn't Jane, my secretary, it was someone she'd given my number to. I'd been running to catch the phone all week. Three days here but it hardly seemed like a vacation. After handling a rather intense case, I'd received a handsome bonus and had decided to renew the conversation with former lover and still current very good friend Hannah Reeves about setting up a law practice in Florida. Hannah was more than happy to meet me in Florida, but she had agreed to chaperone two college freshmen---- her sister's 18 year old daughter, Wendy, and her friend Holly at Ft Lauderdale for Spring Break. So here we all were, and I was up to my ass in estrogen with the three of them in a two bedroom condo on the beach.

Still it was great seeing Hannah again. In fact it was a passionate reuniting, albeit without being able to indulge Hannah's penchant for having her lush buns soundly leathered prior to sex. "It's too loud, Rob, the girls will hear." I allowed as to how that would be all the better--for them to hear what happens to naughty girls, but Hannah was too embarrassed. That had changed when they left for the beach--we had a window of opportunity. Then, the damn phone.


As it turned out, the phone was for Hannah. "It sounds like law enforcement," I said. Hannah cocked her head and mouthed "what?" Then she took the phone.

"They what? OK, where? OK. Oh my God. Thanks." Hannah looked worried. "It's the police. Wendy and Holly are in custody."

"Custody?"

"Juvenile to be exact. The little dears were rounded up by the beach patrol. Indecency. They were wearing those thong swim suits. Police hauled them to jail."

 I gave Hannah my best I-told-you-so look. “Thong suits, eh---what do you know about that?”

Both were blondes with great figures which they had been determined to show off as much as possible. So, they had pleaded with Hannah to allow them to buy these thong barely-there-butt-floss bikinis. They were obviously designed to tease every available male for miles around into hormonal overload.

The problem was the city had passed a new decency ordinance--just in time for Spring break--and the girls had gone out to the beach in defiance of it.
Served them right, getting arrested.

Hannah had let them buy the suits after first declaring, “Absolutely not.” She had wanted to be the cool auntie and had caved to the pressure. I had warned her.

“You bought them after all, didn’t you?”

“They promised not to wear them here," she said weakly. Then she shook her head, disgusted with herself. "I should have known they'd try this.”

"Well, they did leave wearing their one-piece suits," I offered.

"But they changed somewhere. I can’t believe this," she fumed.

"So what happens now?"

"I don't know. We have to go down there."

So we drove to the juvenile correction center. The parking lot was full. The place was a madhouse, but we were told that there would be an arraignment for a huge block of kids picked up in a sweep for a variety of youthful offenses. Hannah, who was a member of the Florida bar, was able to get us moved up on the docket. Most of the kids there were unsupervised, on their own, and had no one to plead their cases. The judge, a crusty old cracker who'd been on the bench longer than Moses motioned us back into chambers.

"Says here they got hauled in for wearin' one of them thong things," he drawled, reading the police report.

Hannah admitted only what we'd been told.

The judge leaned back in his chair and regarded us thoughtfully. "Way I see it, there's two ways this can go—one, the girls could get the mandatory Juvie treatment—locked up for three days of Spring Break week. Now that’s door number one. Two--and this one you ought to think about--Juvenile Correction is going to put on a little demonstration. Right out on the beach. They're gonna show kids what can happen to 'em if they don't obey the law. We're overrun with these damn hooligans this time of year, and the county passed a new ordinance. We’re damn tired of paying to incarcerate these kids.

And inside juvie it's no picnic. They got some matrons in there who don't take no guff."

“So now, they’re going to get what us kids got in my day for such shenanigans, and that’s a good paddling. Only now, the county is going to do a public demonstration and what they need are 'volunteers' for this little show. The good part is, after they’re done, that’s it. Case dismissed.”

Hannah was in shock. So was I. In return for a guilty plea, the girls were to receive, honest to gosh, a public spanking and no incarceration.

"You want to talk to your clients about it? After all, they'll be up on that stage, wearin' those little thong suits and getting a good licking in front of their friends..."

"I can safely say they'll agree to it, judge." Hannah was actually smiling. The little madams were going to get it.

The announcement to Wendy and Holly did not go over well.

"You mean they're going to s-spank us?" asked Holly incredulously.

"In front of all those people?" Wendy was shocked to even ask.

"Well, kids it's a hell of a lot better than being locked up at Juvenile, isn't it Rob?" asked Hannah, turning my way.

“It’s pretty grim in the lockup,” I said.

The girls were crestfallen. They were still in the juvenile detention center wearing their thong suits (now covered by a beach skirt and jacket ensemble).

"I could call your parents and ask them what they want you to do..." ventured Hannah.

"Oh, no no," they both blurted, almost in unison. "We'll do the, uh, demonstration thing."

Hannah notified the matron, then signed some papers. Then the girls signed. The matron made a phone call and two juvenile officers showed up. Both officers were Dept of Corrections people. Both wore khaki shorts and white blouses with ties. One whose name tag read "Carla" was a tall Brunette with a thin face and short clipped hair, the other, "Fran" was a stocky blonde. Both women appeared to be in their early forties and very capable. We were to go with them in a squad car to a stage that had been set up on the beach.

The girls were silent all the way there until Wendy asked in a shaky voice, "Are you the ones who are going to...you know..."

"That's right, miss," said Carla in a clipped businesslike voice. "You are both getting a break and I want full cooperation--or else. Just think of us as your moms away from home." Both women chuckled.

The girls just slunk down in their seats, totally mortified. When we got to the staging area, a crowd had already started to gather. The stage was set up at the end of a parking lot facing the beach. It was usually used for bands and music, but Juvenile Corrections had taken it over today. On stage were a few microphones and two sturdy stools. Carla and Fran secured the girls’ wrists in front of them with plastic restraints and pulled them out of the car. Another Dept of Corrections officer, a man, took the microphone on the stage. A curious crowd had begun to gather. It was mixed. There were families with kids, teenagers, and seniors who had been either sunbathing or swimming or walking on the beach, but they sensed something was in the offing and started gathering about the stage in expectation of what it might be.

The corrections guy announced that he was Officer Ruiz and that what they were about to see was a sentence carried out by order of the Juvenile Court for public indecency. Couched in the announcement was a warning that the punishment they were about to see was mild compared to what juveniles might receive for other, more serious crimes. Now the crowd was very interested. The girls were frog marched by Carla and Fran, respectively, to the stage. They had been stripped of their beach shifts and were now clad only in the thong bikinis that had prompted the arrest. No wonder they were arrested. Pale, firm and full, the pair of succulent teenaged bare bottoms on display in those bikinis left nothing to the imagination. When they had climbed the stairs to the stage, they stood, each officer with a firm grip on the arm of her charge, facing the expectant audience. Officer Ruiz regarded them with a thin smile then pulled out a sheet of paper and began to read it aloud to everyone.

“By order of the Juvenile Court of Dade County, Judge Ellison presiding, Miss Holly Sanders and Miss Wendy Woods, having pleaded guilty to violation of county ordinance no. 114.675(a)(2), public indecency, both shall be publicly punished as prescribed by law.”

Turning to Carla and Fran he said, “Ladies, do your duty.” Holly and Wendy started to mouth protests as they were gripped more tightly and escorted over to the two sturdy stools. Almost in unison, the corrections officers sat on the stools, which were side by side and pulled the two juvenile culprits over their laps. The girls shrieked at this indignity. Their pale moons quivered as they squirmed helplessly across the laps of the stolid matrons who held them in a secure grip, learned no doubt by experience with countless other naughty teenage hoydens.


Chuckles swept through the crowd at the obvious distress of the embarrassed teenagers. The crowd now noticed that cute backsides of the two girls were practically bare save for the skimpy thongs that hid only their private girlish parts. With grim smiles the officers each produced an oval paddle. The crowd grew silent. At a signal from Officer Ruiz Carla and Fran raised the leather spankers and proceeded to smack the wriggling bottoms of the hapless teenagers. The girls screeched in indignity and pain as crisp smacks rang out, the sounds of which were effectively picked up by the stage microphones. Holly was the shorter of the two and her legs fluttered as she squirmed in vain over the determined officer’s lap. Wendy’s toes drummed on the floor of the stage in an attempt to alleviate the unbearable sting that had built up from repeated applications of the paddle. The cracks and thwacks of the paddles along with the shrieks and crying of the mortified girls formed a cacophony of sound that attested to the efficacy of Florida justice as the bouncing bottoms of the two girls took on the dark red hues of a bad beach sunburn. After what seemed like two or three minutes of steady spanking, both officers quit and stood up, hauling their blubbering charges to their feet.

But it wasn’t over. Holly and Wendy were grabbed by waist and bent over, tucked under an arm of the officers with their red bottoms on display.

“This,” intoned Officer Ruiz, “is what juveniles flaunting our ordinances can expect—only worse. For you kids out there, be forewarned.”

They released the sobbing girls to Hannah and we bundled them into the car. Both teenagers were crying softly and rubbing their swollen rears.

“Ow,” bleated Holly, as she tried to sit in the car, “they really spanked us hard. My butt is raw. I never got a spanking from mom that was that long or that hard.”

And that was the problem, I thought.

“It was the most humiliating moment of my life,” sobbed Wendy.

“It could have been worse,” remarked Hannah. “You could be having fun in a cell with new friends.”

“Brrr,” said Holly. “If that’s what you call fun, I’m out of here.”

I looked at Hannah and smiled. "You girls go down to the pool--in your one piece outfits. I need to discuss something with your aunt."

They left. Cooling off their little bottoms in the pool would take awhile.

I looked at Hannah and pointed at the sofa arm. "Shorts down and bend over."

"W-what?"

"You heard me," I said, first unbuckling, then pulling my own belt though my pant loops with a slithering sound. "I think 20 good licks should suffice."

"But what did I do?" Hannah

"You let them buy those suits," I said. “We were just about to renew our relationship, so to speak,  when that damn phone rang. All because you let them buy those suits.”

Hannah decided to accept her fate. Blushing delightfully,  she shucked down her shorts and panties and assumed the position, bottoms up over the padded arm of the sofa. She gasped and wriggled as I laid on 20 moderate licks although I did put a little more mustard into the last five which produced some sharp "ouches!" and future promises to listen to me. Nonetheless I detected the unmistakable signs of feminine arousal. She was bent over the sofa primed and ready, and I had an erection that would not wait.

Now this vacation could really get underway.




                     


 


Sunday, April 27, 2014

F/M Sunday--Guest Author Pete

Today I'm featuring a new guest author, Pete. Pete wrote on USENET back in the 90's as I recall. He was (is?) a fairly prolific author of F/M stories. The story I picked for today to showcase Pete is a little different. Very few F/M stories are written from the POV of the dominant female. But this one is and I especially like it because of the lightness of tone.


It's Just Fun and Games

Pete and I aren't really into discipline or the dominance "thing," although I
guess you could say we are kind of sneaking up on the edges. What we've done is
to develop some little "games" that we play now and again, maybe once or twice a
week, that do involve some measure of corporal punishment. Fortunately for me,
it's my husband's corpus that's punished!

I guess it all began when I first met Pete, at an ad agency where we both
worked. The first time I saw him, long before we were properly introduced, I
thought he had the cutest buns I'd ever seen. Well, he ended up working for my
boss, and though I know you're not supposed to, we began to date...then went
"steady," then engaged, and finally married. There are a lot of things about
Pete that I really admire and respect, but sometimes I think I really did marry
him for his buns!

We'd been married for about a year when, one chilly winter night, we were kind
of foolin' around on the rug by the fire. Pete got sort of "handsy," and I
playfully told him to stop being so naughty or I'd take him over my knee. He
didn't, of course, so I put on my most severe schoolmarm voice, and told him to
take down his pants. He played along and so I pulled up a chair, put him over my knee and spanked
his cute little, bare fanny until my hand stung. I swatted his bottom all over, and I was fascinated by how it jiggled. He writhed around, complaining how it stung, begging for mercy, etc., but I noticed that his penis had become quite hard and he was rubbing it all over my bare legs as he flopped around. The pinker his bottom became, the bigger his erection grew. That was quite the revelation.

All just playful fun and games.
When we made love later, it was the best ever! Even better than before we were
married.

We talked about it the next night, and decided that it was the playful nature of
the whole thing that had turned us on, and that maybe we should work up a whole
scenario around it - with costumes, props and everything - to see if we could
make it even better . So we sat down together and put together a working script
we call "Nanny."

To play "Nanny," Pete will wear a sailor suit - the kind with the bib on the
back and the stars and stripes - while I'll wear a plain grey dress, sensible
shoes and pull my hair back in a bun. Pete's in my charge. I'll take him for
walks, he'll play with some old toys, get into all sorts of mischief, muddy his
shoes, etc...for which, of course, I'll have to spank him. As "Nanny," I'll use
my hand and a sturdy, old-fashioned wooden hairbrush. Surprisingly, we found the
few props we needed were both easy to find and inexpensive.

The rules of the game are simple. Either player can initiate a game, and either
player can refuse. If Pete comes home and finds me wearing that dowdy-looking
grey dress and decides he wants to play, he simply goes to our room and changes
into his sailor suit. If he doesn't, there's no hard feelings. Similarly, if he
comes home and changes into his sailor suit on his own, then I can either play
by putting on the ol' grey dress, or ignore it. But while the game is based on
fantasy and pretense - the spankings sure aren't! When Pete goes across my lap
with his short pants and underpants bunched around his knees, I really let him
have it! There is such a thing as artistic integrity you know.

"Very well, Master Peter," I will tell him severely, "Since you insist on
misbehaving, you will have to be punished! Come over here!"


"Oh please Nanny. I'm sorry. Please don't spank me!" Pete will plead with mock
(?) fear and apprehension on his face.

But he'll come nonetheless, and, scolding him in my most severe voice, I'll
slowly unbutton his little short pants and tug them down to his knees. Then I'll
hoist (Pete has to help me out here) him up and over my lap and yank down his
underpants. I'll generally continue to scold him for a little while, while I pat
and pinch his cute buns. He'll plead and beg me not to spank him as he wriggles
"unhappily" across my lap.


"Don't be silly, Master Peter," I'll tell him frostily, "You have been a very
naughty boy, and naughty boys need to be spanked."

Then I'll pick up my hard wooden hairbrush, tighten my grip around his naked waist,
and begin to smartly spank his chubby cheeks.  I'll start with the fleshy crowns of
 his buttocks, clustering a few spanks on one cheek,  and then on the other. 
Then I'll move down to the fleshy folds where his thighs begin,  'cause that's
the place  that makes it so hard to sit  the next day! Then move back up until
 I've covered square inch of his naughty, bare bottom.


It always amazes me at how red and hot his backside gets! Each SMACK of my
hairbrush will leave an oval-shaped blister all its own, but, by the time I've
finished, they'll all be blended together and his whole behind will be a bright
crimson hue. His make-believe, little-boy pleas and whining will pretty much
vanish after the first few spanks, and his howls and squeals become very
sincere. He'll kick and squirm and wriggle like crazy, and I confess I do enjoy
watching his cute buns quiver and dance with every spank. My usual dose of 50-60
spanks is generally sufficient to produce real tears of honest pain!


Then I'll take him to the corner and make him stand facing the wall, his hands
at his sides, with his bright red fanny shamefully displayed. When he is
released to continue playing with his toys, he'll usually contrive to do
something mischievous or impudent, and thus earn another spanking. Over my knee
he'll go again, his still-blazing bare backside turned up, but this time, I'll
only need to use my hand to generate a fresh torrent of tears. And after this
spanking, I'll soothe and comfort my husband in a most un-Nanny like
way...clasping his head to my now unbuttoned bodice and stroking his tender
bottom teasingly. This almost always leads to a different kind of fun and games!


The unquestioned positive impact of "Nanny" on our life in general, and sex life
in particular, led us to develop additional scenarios.



Tuesday, April 22, 2014

The Bizzare Club



Here's another story from the dusty archive. The author is unknown, but you might say I co-authored this one because of the rather extensive editing. No matter. This is an old fashioned type of story, an archetype really, but I've found that folks tend to like these retro-spank all action tales that you'd have been likely to find in pamphlet form in some 42nd street hole-in-the-wall in the 60's. 

Art by Paula Russell


The Bizarre Club


Ann thrilled as the car crossed the Golden Gate Bridge and headed for the
mountain top mansion of Mrs. Paul Stoddard in Marin County. She was going to
attend a meeting of the Bizarre Club! Her two friends, Helen and Lorraine were
members and she had heard them discussing the monthly meetings in hushed
whispers.

When Ann had asked to join, Helen had replied, "you'd probably be
shocked to the depths of your conventional little soul."

But, Ann had pleaded. "Didn't you say that Marshall Bettis, the producer belongs? And some other Hollywood bigwigs too?" It could do wonder for her career, to get noticed. Marshall Bettis the laconic Southern boy wonder. She’d sure like to meet him.

"Yes, I've seen him and I've seen Herman Swartz, too. And you could probably meet them. But you'd have to be prepared to take the heat, so to speak" said Helen with a knowing smile.

Ann didn't care. So what if there were kinky goings on? They were all kinky in Hollywood. That was where the power was.

Then two days ago, Helen had called her and said there was an opportunity for
tonight. Ann didn't know all about the club yet, but she did know that the
members attended the dance and buffet supper in underclothes. Four members
chosen by some game gave spankings to four other members. The idea simply
fascinated Ann.

"You know Ann, if you get the low card, you'll have to take your spanking. " Helen told her.

"Me? Spanking?" Yes, definitely not Kansas any more. She’d had thought she’d just watch. No, said her friends. Anybody who attended was at risk. That’s what made it so outrageous.

"Have you ever been spanked?" Lorraine asked.

 "Not since I was ten years old," Ann laughed, "I got a party dress muddy."

 "Lorraine was unlucky two months ago," Helen said, "She got the razor strap."

“Razor strap! My goodness!” said Ann covering her mouth.

 "And I couldn't sit down for three days! I'm not kidding," Lorraine rubbed her bottom remembering it. "But the odds are less than one chance in ten, didn't you say?"

 "Yes dear," Helen answered, "But before you agree to go, remember there is that chance.

Ann nodded. She’d risk it. Just think, she could rub elbows with movers and shakers in Hollywood.


"What will I wear?" Ann asked.

"That's up to you," said Lorraine, "as long as you wear the authentic underwear or sleeping garment of today or the past, you can be as modest or as daring as you choose"

Ann decided to be modest, at least for the first meeting. She had chosen ski
underwear, a long sleeved shirt and ankle length drawers of fireman red.
Underneath, she wore a white elastic bra and petal pink panties. Helen was
wearing a white lacy bra, a white panty girdle, stockings and a full crinoline
petticoat of white nylon mesh adorned with blue ribbons. Lorraine was the most
daring of the three with rose colored nylon baby doll pajamas. But even these
were double layer nylon and quite opaque.

The girls dressed at Helen's house in Sea Cliffe, and drove to the meeting in
their costumes. "What if we get a flat tire, right where the traffic is heavy?"
asked Ann.


"There will be a terrible traffic jam when we get out of the car," predicted Helen
with a laugh.


But they arrived at Mrs. Stoddard's huge mountain top house without mishap. All
the members wore black masks, and used only first names in introductions. The
men wore either undershorts and tee shirts or pajamas. The girls though, wore a
wide variety of costumes. A number of the girls, like Ann, had elected to keep
their costumes on the modest side. There was one girl in pink snuggles, vest and
knee length panties; another in pink cuddly pajamas. Then one girl wore a pink
vest and bloomers which were authentic 1928 items of lingerie. Another wore a
camisole and frilly ankle length cotton pantalettes which were real Scarlet
O'Hara style.



Most of the girls either wore slips or petticoats with a girdle or panty
underneath, or else wore foundation garments. There were six including Helen, in
their slips. Mrs. Stoddard  wore a bright red girdle and matching bra. Another girl wore a white
old fashioned girdle and bra outfit, making a cute combination. And finally a large
woman, in her mid thirties, named Donna, wore a black all in one corset.


On the more daring side, there were three girls in just bra and brief nylon
panties. Two girls wore nightgowns, one champagne ankle
length, one white printed waltz length, both quite sheer. One wore ankle length
blue nylon pajamas, while two had followed Lorraine's lead, wearing the blue and
white matching bloomer style panties worn by a girl named Phyllis. Ann noted that the
less a girl wore, the more men she attracted. But neither she nor Helen lacked for
dancing partners. And, best of all she had met and spoken with Marshall Bettis himself. She was in fact hurrying back from a restroom break when the music stopped.

It was midnight, and Mrs. Stoddard in her red girdle and bra
called the meeting to order. "First, for the benefit of our newcomers, I'll
review how the game is played. The red cards represent girls, the black cards
boys. The first deal is four cards and determines how many will be girls. If
four black cards come up, then four boys get spanked, and four girls do the
spanking. If two red, two black, then two of each get walloped. "


"The second deal in which everyone present gets a card, determines who the lucky
and unlucky parties are. If the girl gets a black card or a boy gets a red card,
then they are automatically eliminated, either for giving or getting a spanking.
Only girls with red cards or boys with black cards are considered. If the
Previous deal said 3 boys and 1 girl get spanked, then the three girls with the highest
cards do the spanking, the girl with the lowest card gets spanked The boy with
the highest card has the delightful privilege of warming the young lady, while
the three boys with the lowest black cards suffer. "

"Now, on the third deal, the four doing the spanking each gets a card
determining how many spanks. The rule is 10 spanks for each spot on the card. A
deuce, 20; a ten, 100; and ace high, 140. The final deal, each victim selects a
card to establish the spanking weapon. I'll run through the list, 2-bedroom
slipper, 3-yardstick, 4-kiddie paddle, 5-ping pong paddle, 6-hairbrush,
7-bathbrush, 8-plywood paddle with holes, 9-razor strap, 10-willow switch,
jack-riding crop, queen-flexible cane, king-martinet, ace-birch rod."

"Old business first. You'll remember last month Barbara was extremely
unfortunate. Her partner cut a queen for 120 spanks. Then she cut an ace, the
birch rod. Mrs. Stoddard held up an ominous bundle of supple birch twigs, wired
together). The committee allowed her to take only half her dose, and postpone the
other half until tonight. Babs, will you stand up, and after our selection of
candidates for tonight, come up the dais. And Phillip, please do the same."



Barbara and Phillip stood up. She was a very pretty dark haired girl, about
23, wearing a bouffant powder blue crinoline petticoat, white bra, and some
unidentifiable underthings beneath; she looked pale. Phillip was a slim boy
about the same age in white shorts and undershirt.


"Very well, now for tonight’s selection. " Mrs. Stoddard selected a deck of cards, gave them to a gentleman to shuffle, another to cut, then she dealt four cards off the top of the deck. Ann saw there were two hearts, one diamond and one club. "Well," said Mrs. Stoddard, "One gentleman and three young ladies.
Let's find out who they are." Mrs. Stoddard shuffled, gave the pack to be cut to
another girl, then began to deal presenting the card face down. As each person
received the card, they turned it face up and called it out. It seemed to Ann
that the boys were getting red cards and the girls black.


Then a girl named Billie who was wearing only bra and briefs, little yellow
ones, turned over her card and said in a lost little voice, "2 of diamonds.
"Well, she'll be one for sure. Al, a tall good looking boy with a blonde crew
cut received the deuce of clubs. Second victim. Then a short, young man turned
up an ace of spades. " Jerome, will you pair off with Billie?" Mrs. Stoddard
said. Next the lady named Donna drew the king of hearts and with the two red
aces out, Mrs. Stoddard paired Donna and Paul, the unlucky boy.


Ann's heart beat faster as her turn approached. Lorraine had a black card. Helen
got low so far. Ann took up her card, looked in horror, "Four of diamonds!' She
then realized how few cards were left. She saw Marshall, standing near her, cut the queen of spades. And a stocky balding man leered as he got the king of clubs. "The three of hearts
is out," whispered Helen. There were four cards left. Two men, two girls to
select. Helen and Ann watched desperately. For Helen, it decided whether or not
she would be spanked. For Ann, hoping desperately that Helen was wrong, it would
decide whether or not the leering character in grey silk pajamas
would have her to spank. He was looking over at Ann, mentally stripping off her
long woolen under drawers, she feared.



Then Phyllis, the girl in the chemise nightie, turned up her card, the three of
hearts. Very quickly the other cards were run out. "All right, now we have
selected our players. May I have all of you up on stage, paired off as follows;
Phillip and Barbara, from last week; Donna and Paul; Jerome and Billie; Murray
and Phyllis; Marshall and Ann, one of our new girls." Ann's knees were trembling. Meeting Marshall Bettis had been great but now he was going to spank her?


"Very well, the spankees will now draw cards. " They selected, and Ann
looked at her card, 3 of spades, she couldn't recall what that meant. "All
right, here is our program, Phillip spanks Barb, 60 with the birch. Donna spanks
Paul, 40 with the martinet. Jerome spanks Billie, 80 with the kiddie paddle.
Murray spanks Phyllis, 90 with the bath brush. And, Marshall spanks Ann, 70 with the
drilled plywood paddle. We'll be ready in about 10 minutes."


Mrs. Stoddard examined each girl's costume. She then ordered Paul to put on a
French Maid's costume, in which all the boys were spanked. Barbara was ordered
to lower her panties and girdle. Billie and Phyllis were okay as is. She asked
Ann if she was wearing pants underneath. Ann to frightened to speak, nodded and
was told to remove the ski undie trousers.


The staging was very effective. All the lights in the ballroom were turned out.
On the stage, a low light shone over each couple, a spot light played over the
couple engaged in spanking.




 Babs was lying over the arm of a love seat, her
panties twisted around her ankles, her blue girdle hugging her knees and her
frilly blue petticoat pulled tightly across her bottom. Phillip began with the
severe birch rod. The girl danced and bucked, yelling each time the twigs
licked her bottom like tongues of flame. While Babs was suffering, Ann, minus
her ski undie bottoms, was lying across Marshall's lap, tensely waiting. She was
too frightened to speak. Marshall whispered, "You sure are going to have a fine
shine on your pretty sit-me-down, Ma'am."

"Could you take it easy? Please?" Ann whispered desperately.

"Reckon that wouldn't be sportin’, Ma'am. Be glad you ain't getting the cane,
that's what my Poppy used to use on me."



When Babs had received 40 her petticoat was raised, since according to custom
the last 20 were given on the bare. Ann was shocked to see the wake of the
birch, no wonder the poor thing is writhing so, she thought apprehensively.
Finally, Phillip finished, but Babs was forced to lie as she was until the
remainder of the program was ended.

Next, Donna, looking every inch the dominant female, began to use the martinet
on Paul, who had been turned into a very cute French Maid. The martinet had a
wooden handle from which dangled nine tough leather strips. Donna raised the
silly little short black skirt and starched white petticoat, showing the full
length black mesh stockings, frilly black round garters, and little white
ruffled nylon bloomers. Donna cracked the martinet and Paul flinched each time,
but didn't cry out until the 15th stroke. Then he began to yell out, and Donna
seemed to renew her efforts, after the 20th stroke, she pulled the little
panties down and continued on the bare. Paul moaned, yelled and pleaded. Soon
Donna reached 40, and Mrs. Stoddard signaled a halt.


Next Jerome paddled Billie, the light kiddie paddle landed with a loud slap, but
surely didn't hurt as much as the birch or martinet. Yet, Billie began to squeal
at the first stroke, and began to kick wildly as Jerome's paddle struck the seat
of the maize pants. When Jerome delivered 60 to the sobbing girl, he slipped
down her little panties in spite of her protests. Ann could see that Billie was
nicely reddened, although the spanking didn't compare in severity with Babs' or
Paul's.

Now it was Murray's turn, Phyllis looked adorable as he spanked her with the long
handled bath brush. She tried to be a heroine, and remained silent until
the 20th stroke (Ann prayed she's be able to hold out as long), but then she
burst into tears. Murray continued spanking, teasing her about being a Momma's
girl as he brought the brush down with an emphatic smack on the well rounded
bottom. Ann thought, well, at least I didn't draw that creep. Her partner said
nothing, held the paddle ready in his right hand as he held Ann gently in place
over his knee with his left. Finally Murray took down Phyl's pants; murmuring
suggestive remarks about her "Cute little fanny" and as Ann counted the last 20,
she knew her turn was fast approaching.



Then, suddenly, Ann realized that the spot light was on her. She felt Marshall's
hand pull her pink nylon panties tight. Ann sucked in her breath. She could hear
Phyl, still sobbing softly.

When the paddle struck, Ann almost yelled on the first stroke. It hurt far
worse than she had imagined. She bit her lip as the paddle struck again. She
could feel his strong hand holding her in place and realized that she was trying
to twist away by involuntary reaction. Ann was determined not to scream, and bit
into the back of her hand as the searing strokes landed. He was spanking slowly,
so that Ann had a second to anticipate the next stroke. Of course, each
throbbing smack hurt more than the last, landing on a sore, sore surface. Ann
counted, 20 - 25 - 3031. Finally she could contain herself no longer, "Don't
please - no more, I'll do anything, oooch, noooo."






But if Ann thought her screams would stop the spanking, or in some way, lessen
the pain, or soften the tormentor, she was wrong. The paddle fell with the same
stinging fury. Ann thought she would faint with pain. She felt hot, salty tears
flooding her face, blinding her. Then there was a long pause. Vaguely, she
realized that the stranger was taking down her tight panties, and that her well
spanked bottom, as naked as the day she was born, was on display to 52 people of
both sexes. Later, Ann would shudder in embarrassment and humiliation, but at
the time, all she could think of was that awful paddle, and that it would hurt
more on the bare.


Finally a vicious smack landed, and the spot light went off. She heard Marshall
say softly, "Dry your tears, honey, it's all over. " Her hands went back to hold
the smarting cheeks. Then she heard Mrs. Stoddard say, "Now if you young ladies
will come with me to the bedroom, perhaps we can ease your discomfort a bit.
"Only then did Ann remember her panties and pull them back up.



Ann watched the other girls who lay face down on the bed, exposing their recently spanked posteriors. Barbara's was in the worst shape. The welts from the birch were still very angry. Mrs. Stoddard was gently applying lotion.

Billie was still glowing, but, not nearly as red as Phyllis, who was still crying. Ann slid down her panties again and viewed her own condition in the full length mirror. She could see why it hurt. The poor tingling cheeks were beet red with white dots from the holes in the paddle. Her bottom was much redder than Billie’s and a shade redder than Phyllis'. Ann lay down on the bed
beside Phyllis on suggestion from Mrs. Stoddard.


When she had finished her ministrations to the other girls, Mrs. Stoddard began
applying the soothing lotion to Ann. The lotion was not only cooling, but seemed
to deaden the pain. Ann sighed gratefully, dressed herself again in her nylon
pants and red, snug ski undies and followed the others out to the buffet supper.

There were slabs of ham, white turkey, tongue, imported cheeses, and, champagne.
Ann didn't think she would be able to eat anything, but on seeing the food, her
appetite returned. Of course, she did have to eat standing up.

Ann found she was now the center of attention. "You're quite the heroine, you
know," Helen said. "We thought you were never going to give in and start
hollering. "

"Yes," added Lorraine, "I wish I'd been able to do as well as you did. How in
the world did you ever manage to do it!'

Ann smiled weakly, "I'm afraid I bawled plenty before it was over. Golly, did
that ever hurt. "

Ann received other compliments and five requests for dates, among them one from
Marshall. As the girls got ready to leave, Helen invited Ann to stay over night
with her. Mrs. Stoddard advised, "Better rub in some medicated cream. That
paddle will really cause blisters if you're not careful. You've had an
application of cream with Novocain. When that wears off, it will begin to hurt
again. Then, when the hurt goes away it will begin to itch like the devil. Not
funny when you're wearing a girdle, Ann dear. So you will be sure to remember
that medicated cream, won't you"


Ann found the pain lotion beginning to wear off, and her cheeks were quite
painful again as they drove home, she spent the last part of the trip on her
hands and knees in the back seat.


"Well Ann," asked Lorraine, "coming to next month's meeting?"

"Oh sure, she'll come. " Helen sang out gaily, "She's famous now. And the famous Marshall Bettis has asked her out."

Ann didn't answer, she was thinking. Not only of Marshall Bettis and all the good things that connection would bring but also thinking of the strange fascination of the
club and also thinking of that terrible burning sensation of the paddle. She
wondered herself if she would be there when Mrs. Stoddard next dealt the cards.
In the back of her mind, she rather had a hunch that she would.