Originally posted by FATnUGLY:
Yan Nan Tian...if you wanna flame someone, use your damn signature long time no see your sig I kinda miss it leh..
FnU
So long never use signature already.You all miss my signature is it?
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It was Saturday morning and I needed a break from studying so I thought I would try to round up a friend or two to go out and do something. I didn't have far to travel to my first stop since it was the apartment next to mine. I didn't know two of the women that lived there very well but the third was in the same graduate program as me and we got along together pretty nicely. When she answered the door I said, "Hello Sweetheart. What do you say we get the rest of the gang and check out the zoo? Come along quietly and nobody will get hurt." It got a smile but the lightness quickly faded and she appeared pretty dejected as she spurned my offer. I couldn't just leave with her looking like a lost puppy so I closed the door behind me and asked her what was wrong. I was too late to stop the tears. She started crying as she turned away from me and sat on the sofa. I plopped myself next to her and she fell into my arms. After a few minutes she composed herself and I dabbed under her eyes with my handkerchief. She asked if I remembered the test we got back the day before. Of course I did and she said that was the problem. Not that I remembered it but because of the grade she got. I tried to be sympathetic and encouraging as I said, "Don't worry about it. I know you didn't study for it but I'm sure it was just a temporary lapse. You're very smart. One bad grade isn't going to ruin your chances for graduating and you'll do much better on the next test." She sniffled and said, "I got an `A'" With just the teeniest bit of sarcasm I answered, "Oh, now I comprehend your dilemma. Getting the highest mark you can receive would get me upset too. I just hate it when I get good grades. I got an `A' once and I felt bad for weeks." My humor wasn't getting the response I hoped for so I gave up and said, "I'm afraid I don't understand why you have a problem with the grade." He short response left me speechless. "I cheated." This was not the girl I thought I knew. She was unbelievably honest. We would tease her every time she drove us somewhere because she wouldn't go one mile an hour over the speed limit. And then there was the time we went to get lunch and she drove back into the fast-food drive-through because they gave her a dollar more in change than they should've and she wanted to return it. Now she's telling me she cheated on a test? But if she got her test back what was she upset about? I asked if she got caught. She broke into tears again just after she said, "No." O.K. I'll admit it. I was stumped. "Then what's with the crying. You're safe. It was a stupid thing to do but you got away with it." She said, "That's the problem. I cheated and that wasn't right. I should've gotten caught. Now I'm going to feel guilty. It's just like last time." Ever insightful I said, "Last time? You mean you've cheated on tests before?" She stopped crying but still sniffled as she explained. "It was when I was in junior high and the teacher caught me. I failed the test and she wrote a note about it that I had to have signed by my parents." I interrupted, "That doesn't sound like the same thing. This time the professor didn't find out." She looked down and continued, "I didn't take the note home. One of my friends forged my father's signature and the teacher never questioned it." Still a bit confused I asked, "And this was a bad thing because..." "Because it was wrong and I felt guilty about getting away with something as horrible as cheating and lying about bringing the note home." I offered some of my great insight. "But you were just a kid. Doing stupid things is required at that age." She smiled. "I know that now but at the time all I knew was that I had done something very wrong and hadn't paid my penance." I asked, "In that case, why didn't you just tell your folks about the test? They were young once and they understand mistakes." She nodded. "I could be very noble and say I was trying to save them from being disappointed in me but at the time all I could think of was myself. My real concern was my ability to sit comfortably for the next couple of days which is something I wouldn't have been able to do if they saw that note. In retrospect I think that taking my punishment and getting it over with would have been better than feeling guilty for weeks. I've always tried to do the right thing and accept responsibility when I screw up but who can I confess to now? If I tell the professor he'll flunk me and there goes my degree. I'm too old to claim childish foolishness as the reason and now it really would be a great disappointment to my parents. So I'm stuck with the guilt. I'm sorry for being such a wet blanket. You want to go out but I'm not going to be much fun as company today. Go and have a good time. Don't worry about me, I'll get over this thing in time." Somehow, going to the zoo didn't seem very important right then. Not when I had a friend in need. Suddenly I had an idea. Maybe it was a stupid idea but at least it was something and to help her, anything was worth a try. I asked where her roommates were and she said they had gone out shopping at a large mall. They asked her to go with them since they were planning on making it an all day trip but the turned them down for the same reason she didn't want to go with me. However, she didn't tell them why and then added, "It would have been too embarrassing. I didn't mean to cry in front of you but I couldn't stop myself. I still feel just as guilty but I had to tell somebody even if it didn't do me any good." I was more eager than ever to try my idea. I said, "Maybe it did. You said you wanted to confess to someone and you just did. If it'll make you feel any better, I'm very disappointed in you. I really like you and would hate to think of you as the kind of person who would stoop so low as to cheat on a test. I have a solution to your problem if you're willing to try it." She asked what I had in mind but I didn't answer. That is, I didn't answer in words. I had a feeling if I told her what I planned she would immediately refuse but if neither of us had to say anything out loud maybe she would go along with it. Fortunately, she was sitting on the right side of the sofa and I was in the middle so there was no need for either of us to have to get up and move. I had been holding her during our conversation so I already had my arms around her. I gently pulled her towards me and there was plenty of room for her head on my left as I led her to a face down position over my legs. Although I was hoping for her acquiescence, I was also half expecting her to speak up and either demand to know what hell I thought I was doing or since her new position made it fairly obvious, to get off the sofa and slap my face. Neither happened. I slid her forward so her rear end was directly under my right hand which came down as soon as it could. I waited for her to explode in indignation now that there was no doubt about my intentions but instead she rested her head on her hands and although she turned her face away in what I assumed was embarrassment, it appeared I had gotten her permission to continue. I repeated my feelings of shock and dismay at her lack of discipline in not studying and then to risk her whole career in order to pass one silly little test. I punctuated my lecture with numerous spanks and they were getting harder and harder with each word. She was crying again but it couldn't have been because the spanking was hurting her. I think she was letting her guilt have an outlet through her tears. I was just providing the excuse. She was getting what she thought she deserved to cleanse her soul. Maybe I should've kept the spanking at that level but it didn't sound like her parents limited themselves to only a few hand slaps over her clothes. If she truly wanted to be absolved of her crime it would have to be something more than just a token punishment. I stopped both the lecture and the spanking and guided her to her feet so she was standing directly in front of me. It was now an established fact that I had taken it upon myself to see to her proper chastisement so I felt safe in speaking about it. "Your parents would be extremely disappointed in you and since they're not here, I'm going to see that you get the kind of spanking they would have given you if they knew how their daughter cheats on tests." Hearing no objection to my decree, I lifted the bottom of her sweatshirt and told her to hold it up so I could get to the snap on her pants. She took it in her hands and even pulled it a little higher as I undid the fastenings and the pants came down. I leaned over and she lifted one foot after the other as I removed them entirely. When I came up again I noticed she had the sweatshirt high enough so I could see the bottom of her bra. I don't know what came over me but I said, "Take it off." In one sweeping motion it went over her head and fell to the floor. Since she was barefoot when she answered the door she was now clad only in her underwear. I always thought she was pretty but now she was beautiful. She was blushing and there were still signs of tears so it was time to get back to business. I put one of the throw pillows over my lap ostensibly to raise her bottom a bit more but actually to try and hide the effect that spanking a partially clothed and very good looking girl was having on me. When she was over my lap again she turned her face towards me and gave me a nod as if to say she was ready for the next phase. I returned her gesture and accentuated my concurrence with my hand many times. During this portion of her spanking the waterworks started again and additionally, she was giving out little grunts and quiet sounds that led me to believe she was really feeling the effects of my rising and falling hand. Actually, I don't think she minded the hand going up, it was the coming down hard and fast that she acknowledged most vocally. Anyway, her bottom was bouncing with each impact and the skin outside the boundaries of her panties was getting pretty red. We were finally getting somewhere but although it was obvious it was really hurting, we weren't anywhere close to infringing on her ability to sit comfortably for more than an hour or two at the most. I was taking my role as her parent in absentia seriously but I wanted to make sure I was doing it right so I slowed the pace of the smacks and asked about how they spanked her. She said it would be too humiliating to talk about but a few more well placed and very hard swats helped her overcome her shyness. As I said, I was not striking as fast as I was earlier but I didn't stop completely so her explanation was often interrupted by some little cry or yelp. I won't try to accurately reproduce what she said but in essence I discovered that she was subject to corporal punishment at their hands (and other things I found out about later) until she was sixteen. However, it must be said that, for the most part, her feelings about honesty and clear definition of right and wrong were deeply ingrained and the need for external discipline was a very rare event. But when it was necessary, they were not adverse to seeing it applied in a manner to make a lasting impression. Although this was enlightening I still was in the dark as to their technique. An interlude of very hard swats got her to tell me more. Their method of choice was a stern lecture while she was over their laps getting her first spanking. That was the prelude to her real punishment which was usually with her wooden hairbrush. I asked if that was what they used all the time and she admitted that on one occasion she tried to hide the brush when she knew she was in for a spanking but she only did that once. Her father was upset but not deterred and used his belt as a suitable substitute. Additionally, he felt this method would have limited effect if she was on his lap so he made her bend over a chair. She learned more than one lesson that day and always made sure the hairbrush was available after that. That's not to say she particularly liked getting spanked with it but given the alternative of receiving the belt when he could get a full swing prior to impact, she choose to be over his knees and letting their favorite implement drive its message home. As you can imagine, it took a lot of effort on my part to elicit this history and it was getting harder for her to speak clearly but I had one more question. Did they spank her on the bare bottom? She must have had trouble remembering since I had to encourage her at least ten more times before she admitted to receiving all her punishments on unprotected skin. At that point she started sobbing so hard it was impossible to elicit any more information but I had heard all I needed to hear. I stopped swatting and gently rubbed her until she calmed down. She turned her face towards me and asked if the spanking was over. Her voice was a little shaky and her cheeks were still damp so it was hard to read what she was really saying but I thought I detected a note of disappointment. I couldn't be sure and since the primary reason for this whole affair was to assuage her feeling of guilt, I would let her decide. I sent the question back to her by saying, "I don't know. Is it?" She turned her head to stare straight ahead and after a few seconds, whispered, "No." I had only part of my answer so I asked, "Do you know what I'm going to do next?" Again I waited. She seemed to feel the need for more punishment but I don't think she was comfortable declaring her own fate. She shook her head and then contradicted herself by offering a suggestion. "You're going to spank me again." I said, "Right. Where am I going to spank you." She looked back me and not without a little bit of impishness, said. "Right here on the couch." I clarified my question. "Where are you going to feel the punishment?" She didn't hesitate this time. "My bottom." I corrected her. "Almost right. Same question but tell me what your bottom is going to be wearing." There was a catch in her voice as she said, "Nothing. You're going to spank me on my bare bottom the way my parents used to do." I was slowly taking the initiative in deciding how and what was going to happen next. "Good. You got that one correct. Now what do you think I'm going to use to spank that bare bottom?" She didn't answer which ironically was all the answer I needed. I asked if she still had the hairbrush and this time she answered both this and my earlier question. "You're going to spank me with my old hairbrush. It's in my room. If you let me up I'll get it." We stood up together and when she turned away and started to move I stopped her. "Stay here. Tell me where it is and I'll bring it out. In the meantime, I want you to stand here and think about what you did to deserve this and contemplate how that brush is going to feel on your bare bottom. And speaking of that..." I pulled her panties down to her knees and told her to keep them there until I returned. Then she would take them off completely before going back over my lap. She was starting to cry again but she nodded and said the brush was on her dresser. In order to keep the panties from falling any further she had to open her knees and I was looking at more than she wanted me to see. The old hairbrush was a formidable object. Thick wood with a wide head and I returned to find her as I left her. I sat down and said it was time to continue. I got the feeling she was glad to put her legs back together while not really being very happy about doing the final preparations for the sort of spanking she remembered as the reason she had her friend forge her father's signature. She had to bend down to finish the job and when she stood upright again I got rather bold. She had shown no reluctance to remove her sweatshirt earlier and she looked silly dressed in nothing but her bra so I pointed to it and said, "That too." I'm sure she had never had a punishment quite like this one. Not only was her rear end going to pay for her sins but she was going to be totally nude in front of one of her friends who just happened to be of the opposing gender. Her face became even redder but she obeyed. When this last garment fell to the floor with the rest of her clothes she did a September Morn stance with one hand covering her privates and the other arm across her chest. I could see she was getting impatient for me to get on with the next spanking and get it over with but I kind of liked what I saw and felt I was in the position to demand more. I told her, "You're being punished and part of that includes the loss of your rights to modesty. Put you hands at your side and push your shoulders back." Without a word, she did as I commanded and I and spent a few minutes looking at her lovely form. When I woke up this morning I never guessed that I would shortly be gazing at a lovely and totally naked girl and that she would voluntarily put herself across my lap for a hard spanking. She had done so once already and I had complete confidence that she was it going to do it again. The tears were streaming down her cheeks by the time I put the pillow back on my lap and patted my thigh as a sign that I was ready to continue with the physical part of her penance. Yep, she reluctantly but of her own free will moved to my right and then stretched herself over me for more punishment. Not only was my target raised by the pillow but her muscles were firm and well formed so even laying flat, the twin hemispheres were rising above the rest of the territory like a couple of rounded plateaus. Although the area covered by her underpants was not quite as red as the areas where my hand contacted directly against the skin, it definitely showed signs of the spanking so far. It was a most enjoyable sight but she had an appointment with an old friend. She buried her face in the cushion to muffle her cries as the brush landed. She vocally noted receipt of each swat and I gave her ample opportunity to repeat herself again and again. My hand got this area to bounce around but it was obviously no comparison to the actions the object I was using now was producing. Those breathtaking globes flattened out under the wood and quickly regained their form only to jiggle and wiggle delightfully as they anxiously and fearfully awaited the next visit from her faithful hairbrush. I figured I would let her give me some indication when she thought she had enough. Aside from her screeching at each contact she was apologizing for her behavior and promising to be good in the future whenever she could form the words. What she wasn't saying was that she wanted me to stop. No plea for mercy or even for a few minutes respite and not once did her hands attempt to cover her bottom for protection. The brush continued to inflict its special brand of discipline and she submissively endured all it had to offer. Eventually, she seemed to collapse and the tension that I felt in her up to that point was gone. Except for the involuntary jump her body was forced to do in order to properly acknowledge the arrival of another impact, she was a limp target and totally accepting blow after blow. Even her cries of pain were losing steam. We had reached the point where further punishment would be of little benefit and besides, my arm was getting tired. It was quite a while after I stopped before she was able to speak clearly. During that time I was doing my best to soothe the battered skin and telling her it was all over and she was forgiven. The important thing was if she forgave herself. Her face was a mess but still managed to have a look of contentment when she looked back at me and thanked me for being her friend and for giving her the punishment she needed. I was glad to hear her say she no longer felt guilty when we stood up. We hugged each other and then I picked up her clothes. As I gave them to her she thanked me again and asked if I would mind waiting while she got herself cleaned up so she could go with me to the zoo after all. I smiled and gave her another hug. The spanking had gone far beyond what I originally intended and had lost some of its erotic appeal so the reason for the pillow on my lap had subsided. I was holding a beautiful girl who was totally naked in more ways than just the lack of clothes but the desire to explore the delights of the flesh with her was not present. My arms were wrapped around a good friend and I was happy just to have been there to help her. We decided not to gather any of the others and spent the day together. Luckily, the zoo was within walking distance so she didn't have to sit in a car enroute. She also choose to remain standing while we ate lunch. We had a lovely day and when I dropped her off back at her apartment I got a very sweet kiss. I didn't see her on Sunday and waited till after class on Monday to mention her almost imperceptible squirming on the seat in the lecture hall. She blushed ever so slightly but smiled coyly as she whispered, "I hope nobody else noticed. I haven't had a spanking like that in years. In fact, I would have to rate it as the second worst one I ever got. I guess I should thank you. It hurt like hell and as you have noticed, I'm still a little sore but it made me feel better and believe me, I'll never even think of cheating on a test again." I told her she was welcome but couldn't let that comment about being only the second worst one pass without comment so I asked her if the top honors went to the time she felt her father's belt. She shook her head and said it was not something she wanted to talk about on campus but if I would spring for dinner she would give me all the gory details. What an offer. I accepted. I wasn't sure where I was going to take her to eat but when my roommates announced their plans to play poker with some friends I knew I had the place to myself till the wee hours of the morning. She might be uncomfortable relating her spanking experiences in a restaurant but things might be different in the privacy of my apartment. I made my world famous spaghetti and put an extra cushion on the chair. After dinner we sat on my couch and she snuggled into me. She said, "That was delicious and now I'll fulfill my part of the bargain. I should be embarrassed to talk about this but after what we did Saturday morning I feel I can tell you anything." She gave me a kiss and it was a little more romantic than the quick peck I got after our outing. Then she settled back and began, "I told you how I can't keep a secret when I do something wrong. Well, as you can imagine that got my rear end in trouble a few times but usually my folks would say they were proud of me for telling them what I did before they had to find out from someone else and didn't feel the need to punish me too much. But as I said, not always and occasionally my bottom paid the price for my sense of honor even if there was no way they would have ever found out what I did unless I told them. The incident I'm going to tell you about falls right into that category." "Your guess about the time my father put me over the chair and used his belt was pretty close. That one really hurt. I remember telling you I never neglected to have my hairbrush available when they punished me after that. It was the worst spanking he ever gave me but didn't hold that number one spot for long. I should tell you more about that first spanking so you can appreciate what came next. I knew I was in for a well deserved session over one of their laps and as you can imagine, it was not something I was looking forward to very much. I don't remember what I did but whatever it was, I didn't think it was worth getting the hairbrush for it. It was useless trying to argue with them but I thought I still could have some say in how I was punished so I told them I left my hairbrush at school. They didn't question my story since they had complete faith in my always telling the truth. For the most part, they were right. I still can't lie very well. Anyway, that night I learned that the hairbrush was not the worst implement they could use and that I was foolish to think I could have any control over the severity of my punishment." "The other thing about that night was when I thought about how I had betrayed their trust and how they completely accepted my tale of the missing hairbrush. That gnawed at me all night and even though I was reminded of the belt every time I sat down the next day I was still feeling remorseful. After dinner I couldn't stand it any more and told them the how I had the brush all along and had made up the story about leaving it at school. To top it all off I added that I thought the spanking with the belt was a suitable punishment for my earlier misbehavior but I deserved nothing less than the original spanking I should have received with the proper tool. Although I normally did not engage in the practice, I knew they hated lying. Anytime they caught anyone telling them less than the absolute truth they would be furious, especially with politicians. But this was not some outsider, this was a member of their own family whose lips had been defiled. They agreed with my idea of repeating the spanking of the previous night and sent me for the hairbrush. When I returned and handed it to my father he said he would give me my first spanking. At the time I assumed he meant the lecture and hand spanking before the second portion with the brush. Boy was I wrong but I didn't realize it yet." "I did get to hear him recount his disapproval of my actions while his hand prepared me for the real spanking and then he laid into me with the hairbrush. Let me tell you, getting that thing applied to my bare rear end after what it had been through the night before was no picnic. But that was only the first part of my punishment. My mother shoved a bar of soap into my mouth and sent me to stand in a corner. My crying just made me suck on it even more but I had been ordered to keep it in there until they said I could spit it out and there was no way I was going to disobey them. I was feeling sick to my stomach and I thought the pain in my ass would never go away but after about a half-hour it diminished to a dull but consistent ache. That's when I was told I could finally get rid of the soap but I was not allowed to rinse my mouth. Then they lowered the boom. My father had given me the original spanking I had been foolish enough to request and now Mom was going to give me another one for lying. I was dragged over her lap while she and her hand gave me her views on prevarication and then she let the hairbrush finish the conversation. It had a lot to say and took a long time saying it." "Can you imagine? In less that 24 hours I got six spankings. Three with their hands, one with a viscous belt and now two with the hairbrush. I might add that they were both the longest ones I ever remembered. I was sent to bed and cried most of the night. I didn't sleep very much but they still demanded that I go to school. I hated sitting in class after they spanked me but I think I was usually able to hide my discomfort pretty well but not that day. I'm sure every one of my classmates and all the teachers could tell I was still subject to corporal punishment and had received a better than average dose in the recent past. I was embarrassed to tears every time someone made fun of the way I gingerly sat down for the next three days." "Well, there you are. The story of my absolute worst spanking. The one you gave me was right up there but you'll have to go a long way to top the amount of punishment I took those two days. Actually, it was more than two days if you consider the humiliation I felt afterwards as part of it and they did." I said, "I hope I never have to spank you like that but you let me know if and when you need a small refresher." She laughed and said, "Next time I'm feeling guilty you'll be the first to know." Neither of us said much for the next few minutes as our lips were otherwise occupied and when that embrace finished we decided to try another. Somehow my hand slid around to caress the front of her shirt which magically became unbuttoned. Now if I could figure out how to get that contraption around her breasts undone I'd be in business. She provided assistance and soon the shirt and bra were tossed to one side. More kissing and groping and then she pulled back. With an obviously false smile of complete innocence she put her hand on my crotch and said, "By the way, what was it you were trying to hide with that pillow? Were you getting turned on by spanking me?" I probably blushed as I sputtered something but she save me from embarrassment by adding, "There was something about being almost naked and feeling your hand on my bottom that made it totally unlike any spanking I ever had. In some way it was sort of sexy. I tried to push those thoughts from my mind and concentrate on the punishment and you were a big help. What I needed right then was a really good spanking and you were kind enough to see that I got it. Long before you even started with the hairbrush I wasn't thinking about anything else except that I was sore and it was going to get a lot worse. It did. But I have to wonder. If you didn't spank me too hard and only used your hand on my bare bottom, how would I feel about that?" This was an offer I couldn't refuse. I gave the only answer I could. "There's one way to find out." She stood up and in a moment every stitch of her clothing was in a pile on the floor. There was no embarrassment this time as she put her hands to her side and moved her feet apart to let me stare at her. Part of me wanted to carry that lovely body to my bed but that would have to wait, at least for a little while. I patted my thigh as I did Saturday morning and soon was entranced by that gorgeous bottom under my eyes. There were still a few bruises from the hairbrush but there was plenty of room for the pale skin to turn red. In time it did but not a very deep shade. As requested, my palm landed relatively softly but repeatedly and without the pillow under her, she was well aware of how I was reacting to our game. I could only judge by her sounds that she was not finding our activity too unbearable either. She was nice and pink when she rolled off my lap and knelt between my legs so her hands could free what needed to be out in the open. It did not stay exposed very long. While her mouth was working wonders I got rid of my clothes above the waist and she managed to stay wrapped around me as I stood up and let her remove my shoes, socks and pants. To be honest it was more comical than outright sexy but that did not diminish my enthusiasm. She had to let me swing in the breeze to get my underpants off and then she lay on her back and offered me another place to find refuge. I'll save you all the details but we're much more than classmates now. On our wedding night I sat on the edge of the bed and got that wonderful bottom bright red before neither of us could wait any longer to consummate our marriage. It was a chore but one we felt the need to repeat numerous time that night and many nights since.
I have been called into the lounge. It is a large room with a fireplace, two couches and a number of easy chairs. I have no idea why He wishes to see me but I have nothing to fear. If he wished to punish me I would have been told to report to the room that he has set aside for that purpose. There are three men with him and they rise at my entrance. He announces, "Ah! The entertainment has arrived." I am confused until He tells me to take off my shoes and leave them by the door. My heart begins to sink. The removal of shoes is a ritualistic part of my preparation for punishment whenever I enter the special room. Nervously I do as he wishes and then I notice The Chair has been brought here and placed in the center of the lounge. I stand, too frightened to move. Surely he does not intend to spank me in front of these strangers. He has come forward to meet me. I try to read something in his face but it is impassive as always. Although he is nothing more than a gracious host to me most of the time, he has often deemed it necessary to punish me in the other room and I have always submitted to it without question. During those times he more my Master than my host and it is in that light that I see him now so I offer no resistance as he takes my hand and I am led like a lamb to slaughter.. He sits in The Chair and brings me down into an all too familiar position. I lie there in a daze as he raises my dress and slip. He grasps my waist and I instinctively take hold of the chair legs. As I wait for the first stroke I hear him say, "When I am using my hand I prefer leaving her underwear on. The texture of the material when I rub it against her firm backside is quite nice and there is a delightfully different feel to spanking her that way. Of course it doesn't hurt her as much but its a good start I see no reason why we can't have a little fun before I get to the real spanking." If I could bring myself to speak I would correct him. Keeping my panties on is slightly less humiliating especially in the present circumstances but they offer little protection and Yes, it hurts. Not only that but I most decidedly disagreed with his other comment. I don't think those spankings or the one I'm apparently going to get tonight are any fun at all but I remain silent. I am too ashamed to be in this position in front of these men and besides, it would not do to contradict someone when they are about to punish you. There would be nothing to gain and considerable to regret. The spanking starts. He is starting out harder than he usually does and I resign myself not only to the almost unbearable humiliation of being spanked for the entertainment of strangers but now to the pain which will build to an agonizing level sooner than normal. I am surprised when he stops. I wasn't counting but it didn't seem like much more than a dozen swats. He lets go of my waist and I quickly reach for the floor to steady myself. I didn't see the little table where he puts the implements nor did I see any of them in the room although I must admit, I didn't have time for a thorough search. Even so, I try to comfort myself. As I have said before, he is a man of ritual and when he punishes me over his knee he waits to use his chosen implement until he decides that I have been properly prepared for it and that usually takes a lot longer than this. There has never been a time when I have received such a short and relatively mild spanking. I feel him returning my clothes to there proper place and my heart soars. It has been most humiliating and I know I will still have to face the guests who have punctuated my shame by polite applause but maybe the entertainment he spoke of was just a demonstration of my submissiveness. I hope I pleased him. He guides me to my feet and stands beside me. I cannot bring myself to look up so I stare at the floor until he takes my hand and leads me to one of the men who has risen to greet us. My hand is transferred and with it my fate as I am brought back to The Chair. My guide sits and gently moves me to his side. I want to look at the man who is truly my Master this evening but I don't. I'm afraid it would be misconstrued as asking for mercy. If he wishes me to be punished at the hands of another I will be. It appears the evening's entertainment includes audience participation and I resign myself to be spanked again by the man who holds my hand. I fear he will not be the last. My reverie is broken as the man in The Chair speaks. "Personally, I prefer the feel of soft and silky skin. Take your underpants off." I realize he is talking to me and it takes a moment for his message to sink in. When it does I reach under my dress modestly, unsnap the garter straps, pull my panties down a little and reattach the garters. I am told to take the pants off completely and I do as ordered. My face is red with shame as I hold them in my hand, unsure of what to do and he says, "You may hold them until I'm done and then you can put them back on." I nod and with his kind assistance, find myself over his lap. He does not grasp my waist but rests one hand on the small of my back so I must keep my hands on the floor and cannot hold the chair legs. I mourn the loss of my anchor as he raises my clothes and spends a few moments gently rubbing his target. The shame of submitting to a spanking by a complete stranger is momentarily overshadowed by indignation. How dare he take such intimate liberties. Needless to say I keep my views to myself and listen to him complimenting the one who had previously had exclusive rights to this part of my body on how nice and soft he found the territory. I pray for him to get on with the real reason I am in this position and then wish he'd go back to that nice rubbing as the first of his swats lands. It hurts as much if not more than the last of the my Master's demonstration. The second one lands swiftly and I barely have time to catch by breath for the next few. When he stops it is only to readjust my position. The force of his blows has driven me forward and he pulls me back with the admonition to brace myself harder. He strikes hard again and again. I am trying to keep from crying out but each one is as bad as the first and I am about to lose the battle. I long ago gave up trying to count my Master's strokes in the other room but now it seems important, however, the pain is getting worse. I think we're somewhere around twelve when I cry out and that encourages him to strike even harder. Just as I abandon my efforts at counting he stops again. I think there were about fifteen I am crying and hoping he is done but I jump as I feel his hand again. He is not hitting but has gone back to rubbing. Even this gentle touch is a little painful but what was humiliating before is now soothing. Oh, No! Rub the pain away if you must but don't move your hand there. I am ashamed to find my own body betraying me and I cannot close my legs to prevent his hand from sliding down there. Please don't touch me there! Please, please! Too late. He has found my secret and I moan as he explores further but just enough to satisfy himself that I have had the required response to his efforts. He tells the assemblage what he has discovered. I'm not sure if the applause is for him or me and I'm too ashamed to care. He helps me to my feet and tells me I can put my underpants back on. I still have them in my hand but had forgotten them. I step into them and the elastic hurts as it slides over my recently abused skin. When I complete my task he takes my hand and leads me to the next man. I am not sure how I will survive another onslaught much less two but I must do the best I can. I am led back to the chair and wait as stranger #2 settles himself. He informs (me or the group, I don't know) that he also prefers panties off. I half expected as much but he doesn't stop there. He also does not care for the business of moving clothes after I'm over his lap so (now I know he's talking to me) the dress and slip will be removed first. With fresh tears in my eyes I unzip my dress and let it drop to the floor. I pull the straps of my slip off my shoulders and it joins the dress. I step out of them and a voice I recognize as having the power to stop this nightmare says, "You know better than that. Hang them up." I look to see him pointing to the hat rack that is normally in the other room. I pick up my clothes and walk towards it. As I put them on hangers I realize how close I am to the door. Freedom is but a few feet away but I cannot even think of such things. I turn back to center stage as it were and walk proudly. As proudly as I can with nothing on but my underwear and with the knowledge that as soon as I'm back at The Chair I have already been doomed to stand in front of them wearing even less. As I put distance between me and my outer clothes I know it is unlikely that I will be allowed to put them on again before they're finished with me and I have little hope that they won't make strip me entirely. The spankings I am being forced to submit to for their entertainment are, at best, only half over and I fear they will not be the full extent of the punishments I will endure before the night is over. Upon my arrival I'm told to take my pants down. I've already done this once but then at least I had the small modesty of performing this action under cover of my dress. Now I am in full view as I go through the steps of undoing the garter snaps, pulling my pants down a little and reattaching my stockings. I stand in readiness with my pants just above my knees and he informs me he is left handed. I don't understand what he means till he guides me around to his other side. In the process my pants have slipped down to my ankles and he decides it would be just as well if I took them off entirely adding, "Since you won't be needing them for the rest of the evening." Again I hold them but he takes them and tosses them to the side before pulling me down. It seems odd to be lying in this direction but I do not have long to reflect on it. He wastes no time in making me more uncomfortable. No intimate caress from this guy. Just a lot of pain as he starts right in with no ceremony. If he is trying to outdo his predecessor he is succeeding but lest he feel too smug, he's striking on territory that has been well prepared and the humiliation regarding my state of dress or undress makes each stroke even more acute. I am giving voice to every spank and crying continuously. It takes every effort but this time I count and hope my assumption of fifteen swats from each is correct. It is. My ass is on fire but his turn is over. He is nice(?) enough to let me revel in my humiliation and pain for a few minutes before he helps me up. At least he didn't put his hand where the other man did but I speak too soon. He has me stand in front of him and tells me to open my legs. In shame, I do and he reaches in to grasp my most intimate area. His finger enters and all I can do is moan. He doesn't stop immediately but continues to stroke and probe. My body is torn between the pain behind and the heaven in front. My knees are getting weak and there is no doubt about the state of my arousal. I lean forward and put my hands on his shoulders to support myself. Suddenly he stops. I shamelessly move my crotch to follow his hand but it is gone. I want him to do more and don't care who knows it now. I hear them laughing and the memory of where I am comes flooding back. I hang my head and feel the tears forming in my eyes. I jump as he touches my thigh. He is not finished with me yet. Apparently he feels he should give me to the next man with even less clothing on as he unhooks the garter snaps and peels my stockings down. I lift each foot in turn as they are removed. He puts his fingers in the garter belt and pulls that down. He is dragging the elastic over my sore bottom and it hurts but I hold my position as it too is added to the growing pile of my underwear. The only clothing left is my bra and I have already resigned myself to it's departure. I am slightly comforted that if I am to be stripped in front of these men, at least it will be at their hands. He has risen and turned me to face the other men as he unhooks my only remaining garment and with agonizing slowness, exposes my breasts to them. I look at the floor as I listen to more applause. He steps to my side and gazes on what he uncovered. Not satisfied with just looking, his hand completely engulfs one of them. He squeezes a little and pinches the nipple. Does my entertainment value include such liberties? The one who has that decision remains silent and so I have no choice but to endure them. However, I am embarrassed to admit that endure is not the right word. In spite of the humiliation of being played with in such an intimate manner in front of an audience, my body is responding to his touch and I find myself leaning into his hand. This seems to amuse them but I'm beyond caring. I'm led to the next man but not by the hand. He is still holding onto my breast as he guides me. With a smile that bodes no good to me, #3 puts his hand on my free breast and I feel #2's fingers slipping off me as my new leader pulls me back to The Chair. He never lets go so I am pulled down with him as he sits. I had almost forgotten about the spankings in the heat of the last few minutes but he finally releases his handle and I have my rear end sticking up in the air, ready for what I hope are the last fifteen swats. Oh! That one hurt. He's not holding anything back. The next is just as bad but I find my attitude changing. I have shamed myself in front of these men and have little doubt I won't do so again before the night is over. I want, no, need to be punished severely. I am trying to raise my ass higher as the third hard swat lands. Yes, make it hurt. I have made a lot of noise since I came into this room but they were sounds of pain or moans of sexual delight, frustration and humiliation. For the first time I say an actual word. "Harder." He hits again and a voice says wait. I'm staring down as footsteps approach. I know who it is and he drops one of his implements to the floor by my hands as he turns and walks away. I don't know where he had it hidden and part of me wonders if he intended to use it himself or if he knew I would want it. There is silence in the room and I realize the decision regarding its use is mine. I am afraid to think about it so I quickly pick it up and hand it back to #3 who asks if he should continue his count at five or start at the beginning again. The question may not have been put to me but I answer anyway, "Start again." Part of me (the rounded part pointing up) regrets my decision immediately. This tool is designed to hurt and I scream and writhe in agony. After the next few I give up counting. Fifteen is a concept I can no longer comprehend. Each stroke is being applied forcefully and my whole world is bounded by pain. I gradually become aware that he has stopped and is now emulating the first man's actions by rubbing my bottom. I have no shame now so I open my legs. Oh good. He's taken the hint and moved his hand lower. That's it. Touch me there. His fingers are probing in and out but I can feel something else. I think it's his thumb but where's he going with it? He's pushing it in but not in the same hole as his fingers. He commences moving it in and out like his other fingers are doing. No one has ever done this to me before and I am surprised to find it a not unpleasant experience as long as he has no ideas of putting anything bigger in there. His other hand is sliding under me near my shoulders and he lifts me up as he stands. His grip on my lower anatomy is a little painful but I have no fear of falling as he transports me to the couch. I am placed over the arm and he steps back. My position is such that it could invite more attention with their hands or the implement to what has been the target of all of them. With a small hope that I can encourage them in the direction I desire, I spread my legs in open invitation and am gratified to hear the sound of a zipper opening. I grimace as I feel hands on my ass but it is only to steady me for the impalement I crave. I raise myself a little higher to facilitate his entry and it is done. He has filled me quickly but stays still long enough to compliment me on how nice it feels. I cannot bring myself to answer but respond by moving in a manner to suggest he might do more than just stand there. Yes! That's the idea. He is using me forcefully. He stops. Why? Please continue. A blindfold is put over my eyes and he goes back to his actions. Harder and harder, faster and faster. When he is finished I am moved to the floor on my back. The rug hurts my ass but I accept it as more punishment for the way I'm acting. My legs are wide open for whoever wants me. I don't wait long. I can feel his clothes against my thighs but all I'm concerned with is if his fly is open. It feels like it is as he plows in. I don't mind that he doesn't take the time to give me any compliments as I buck to meet his every thrust. His hands are mauling my breasts and pulling the nipples but so what if it hurts, it spurs me on to more action down below. All too soon I feel him reach his goal and then I'm flipped over and pulled to my knees. Almost immediately, another takes his place and he's pushing so hard I'm moving across the floor. I brace myself and thrust back to meet him. Our activities are bordering on violent and I'm not complaining. The pain is forgotten and I am no longer even aware of what kind of spectacle I'm making. He slams harder and finishes. I slump to the floor but they are not done yet. I'm on my back again and filled again. Again my breasts are squeezed and pulled but wait, this is the fourth man to take me. My Master has never used me in this manner before. Is this him or was he one of the others. This is not the time for such musings as I respond to my present ravisher's manipulations with all the enthusiasm I can muster. He finishes his turn and I lay exhausted but they are not through. I am picked up and put back over the arm of the couch. Oh God. My ass is in the air again and they have all had their turn. Am I to be spanked again or worse, whipped with the implement to the extent I have come to expect in the other room? My answer come quickly as I feel a man inside me. I am so grateful that I'm not getting punished that it takes a few minutes for me to wonder who this could be. Are they each going to try another round. If so, I'm all for it but this guy comes to his climax too quickly to be one of the ones who just had their way with me. Hands grab me and I'm spun around leaning backwards over the couch and here comes another one. Yes! Do it hard like that. At last he goes away and I am moved to the floor again but they put me on my knees with my body raised. I am not in any position for more of what six men just used me for. Someone cuffs my hands and the blindfold is removed. I am shocked to see the butler and chauffeur standing with my Master and the three guests. They all have their penises out of their pants and are standing in a line. One by one they step forward and I must clean my residue from them using my mouth. My Master is first and I perform this service lovingly. Then the guests and finally the employees. I'm sure they were aware of how my Master treats me in the special room but have said nothing. Now there is no escaping that they see me for what I am and as I grudgingly clean them I wonder how I will ever be able to walk through the house with any pride ever again. The question of me walking through the house is immediately answered and my world shatters as the man who will never again be considered to be just the host to a young houseguest tells the butler, "Take her to the basement. We can fend for ourselves for a while so gather the staff and let them have their way with her. She will be more than happy to service them in any way they wish. That includes the women and these gentlemen's drivers. They may all spank her but limit them to five swats each. That ought to be enough to keep her satisfied. You may have her for an hour and a half. Clean her up and bring her back here when you're done. We should be ready for another round by then." Turning to me he says, "Welcome to your new life. Would you like to take this." He is holding the implement so recently used on me. I look down and say "Yes." as I accept it and follow the butler out of the room.
I've been on a job in Madrid and living in a hotel again. The project I'm working on is fairly large and there are folks from France, England, America and of course Spain. Conferences and meeting with all those languages represented are interesting to say the least. I'm fairly fluent in French and my Spanish is passable but how can you understand the British? Anyway, the bottom line is that I can't just fly home every weekend but most of us on the project are staying at the same place so there is always company for dinner or sightseeing. However, being part of the slightly older set I don't much care for going out drinking and carousing every night and the few of us with similar feelings tend to hang around together. There was one other American in that group. A middle aged woman named Nora. We had been talking about the trials and tribulations of the consultant's life and I said it must be worse for a woman to dine alone since she may inadvertently attract unwanted male attention. She rather coldly replied that nothing of the sort had ever happened to her and I understood why. She was the most unsexy woman I can recall meeting. There was nothing physically wrong with her face or figure and her personality was quite pleasant once you got to know her but she had an air of unapproachability that overpowered any trace of femininity. However, I wasn't looking for sex, just companionship and since we shared the same language and culture we were together a lot. In fact, one of the younger workers commented that he thought we were married. We laughed it off and I tried to imagine this unpassionate woman sharing my bed every night. I just couldn't see it but she had been married for twenty years so I guess her husband, Sam, found something in her that I overlooked. There was a much younger woman from Nora's consulting firm who went to some of the tourist attractions with us but she talked constantly about her boyfriend. She was twenty-four years old, very much in love and he was all Connie talked about. We heard how Mark did this and Mark said that and Mark was going to move in with her and Mark was... You get the picture. One day she went off with the younger crowd which left Nora and I to wander about the streets alone. That's when Nora shared her true feelings about Mark. She had met him and thought he was a shiftless, uncaring young man who never remembered things like Valentine's Day, Christmas or Connie's birthday and it seemed that Mark saw Connie as an easy lay and a free meal ticket since he seemed incapable of holding a job. Nora truly cared for the girl and wished she could get her to see Mark as an irresponsible parasite before she got hurt. She was working up good tirade and said that what Connie really needed was a damn good spanking to wake her up. As you can guess, my ears perked up immediately and I said, "I understand your feelings but most people would think her a bit old to get a punishment of that nature." She was still upset about Connie and wasn't thinking clearly as she answered, "Tell that to my husband. As far as he's concerned no female is too old to get a spanking when she needs it." She realized what she said and turned beet red. I probably should've ignored it but I said, "I know it's none of my business but you don't have to put up with that you know. You have no children and a good job. Why don't you leave him?" She looked surprised and said, "Why? Just because he spanks me? As long as it's out in the open that's what keeps me close to him. I need his discipline and he's never punished me when I didn't agree that it was necessary but can we talk about something else?" I pointed out an interesting building and we went back to our sightseeing until we came to a statue of a naked woman. When we stopped to look at it she said, "That reminds me. I forgot to stop the newspaper delivery before I came here." I'll admit it, I couldn't make the connection so I asked why that statue made her think of newspapers. She blushed and said, "Sam was on a trip when I left and when he came home there were five newspapers on our front porch. That's an open invitation to burglars and we were lucky nobody broke into the house." Her explanation didn't go far in enlightening me so I asked, "And the statue?" Now she really blushed and whispered, "The statue is dressed the way I'll be and looks like she could be getting ready to bend over for what I can expect from Sam when I get home since it was my responsibility and I screwed up." I apologized for pushing too hard with my questions and making her talk about `that subject' again but she shrugged. "Don't be sorry. It's been on my mind and I've needed to tell someone. Since I've already opened my big mouth about getting spanked I figured I could tell you the rest. I hope I haven't shocked you." We sat on a bench and I said, "It would take more than that to shock me and I get the feeling you'd like to tell me more. How does he spank you?" She looked around and there was nobody in sight. Even if there was they probably wouldn't understand her so she said, "This is embarrassing and I've never told anyone about it but if you really want to know..." She trailed off and I encouraged her to go on. "First of all my spankings are never a surprise. I know when I've done something to deserve getting punished and if he isn't already aware of it I usually tell him what it was. I've tried keeping some of my sins secret in the hope that he wouldn't find out but it's never worked. He knows me too well and can tell when I'm hiding something. When he has to probe to find out what's bothering me I can count on an immediate spanking for trying to avoid the proper punishment. That rarely happens anymore but I'm getting off the subject. Once it's established that I need it he decides on either the belt or the hairbrush and we wait at least one full day so I can think about what I've done and what he'll do to help me correct my behavior. Because of our work schedules there are times when the next day is not convenient so we have to make a later appointment. I never thought about it but in a way it's funny. The two of with our calendars out and trying to find a time we can mutually agree on for me to get spanked. Anyway, I get to choose from the first three days he has available and if I can't make it I get an extra swat for every day I go beyond that without proper retribution. When I agreed with those terms I wasn't considering being stuck 5000 miles away and it will be three weeks until we're together. He understands that I have no control over the travel plans on this trip but the extras will add up anyway. Every day I think of how much worse the punishment is going to be." She stopped and curiosity got the better of me so I asked, "What happens when you finally meet for your appointment?" She looked around again and asked, "Do I really have to tell you that?" I detected a vulnerability in her that I had not seen before. Along with it was a form of submissiveness that was very out of character. Rather than just refuse to relate this very personal part of her relationship with her husband she wanted my permission. The question was, permission to do what? Stay silent or be `forced' to expose her secrets? I chose the latter and commanded, "Yes. Tell me everything and don't even try to gloss over the slightest detail." She waited a minute and I wondered if I had overstepped my bounds but then she said, "The appointment is not only for a specific day but for a definite time. That's when he'll come into the bedroom. I must be nude like that statue and waiting with my nose in a corner. I hate that. The spankings I can accept. Just because I'm a mature woman doesn't mean I don't need a physical reminder from time to time to keep me honest but the corner business makes me feel like a little girl. I'm supposed to stay in that spot for ten minutes before he arrives. I tried waiting till I heard him approach once but he knew from my whole attitude that I hadn't obeyed him. Our schedules were open so it was easy to arrange another appointment the next evening to deal with my sneakiness. I had only one day to recover from the spanking I got that night with the hairbrush before I got another with the belt. So like it or not, I do what I have to and I'm reduced to a little girl every time. I don't expect the spankings to hurt any less but just once I'd like to be treated more like a grown-up first. I'm sorry, I shouldn't complain. He says the extra humiliation is good for me and I suppose he's right. If it was only a spanking it might not go as far in convincing me to be more careful. Be that as it may, all I can see is the wall as he lectures me. That's another thing I don't like. I know damn well why I'm going to be punished and don't need him to remind me but it's part of the humiliating little girl routine. Finally he says he's ready to give me the spanking for making the appointment." She must have seen the confusion on my face because she explained, "No matter what I've done wrong I always get spanked for the simple fact that I've let my self-discipline lapse. That's the way we always start. An old-fashioned over the knee hand spanking and since it's supposed to be a punishment in its own right he makes it good one. I can tell you it's not any fun at all but then again, it isn't supposed to be. Then I pile the pillows on the bed and lay across them. Over the lap is good enough for the first spanking but he can cover more territory by striking from one side and then the other as he addresses the specific reason for the appointment with the hairbrush or the belt." I asked, "How long does that last?" She sighed, "Twenty-five strokes. More if do something stupid like try to cover my bottom with my hands which I learned not to do a long time ago and then any extras I've earned for delaying the spanking. When I get home I'll have almost fifty strokes waiting for me and it will be with the belt. I wish there was some way I could go home early or get him to come here so I could get it over with and avoid at least some of those extras. After the hand spanking even a light swat with the belt or the hairbrush would be agony. Of course, he wouldn't think of depriving me of the full benefit of the punishment so there's nothing gentle about the way he uses either of them. He goes slow so I have time to reflect on every stroke and anticipate the next. When we get to twenty-five all I can think of is that my rear end is on fire and any extras are almost unbearable. I've only had to get the additional strokes a few times and I do everything I can to avoid them. I'll cancel meetings with clients if I have to in order to make room on my schedule for our appointment. Now there's nothing I can do except wait but the thought of my welcome when I get home is always on my mind" She needed a sympathetic ear and I was there to give her what comfort I could. I might also find a way to help with part of her problem. I asked, "When was his last available time?" She looked up and said, "The day before yesterday. Why?" I didn't answer her directly. Instead I mused, "So as of today it's twenty-seven strokes. I wonder if he's more concerned with you getting the proper punishment or the fact that he's the one to deliver it." She was starting to catch on and said, "I don't know. Are you suggesting that someone else spank me while I'm here?" I nodded and she thought for a moment. "We've never discussed that possibility but even if he agreed how would he know I really got it? Any marks would be long gone by the time I saw him again." I asked, "Could you lie to him?" She smiled and said, "I know what you mean. No, I couldn't and he knows it. Am I correct in assuming you're volunteering to do the honors?" This time I smiled and said, "What are friends for? However, I should warn you. I have some experience in this area and can assure you and Sam that if you accept my offer it will not be a friendly spanking. You will be well punished but on the bright side, you'll be spared twenty-one extras. I'm living at the end of the hall and none of the rooms between mine and the elevator are occupied so we'll have some privacy unless you make too much noise." She grimaced and said, "He doesn't like it if I scream too loud either but don't worry, I know how to muffle myself in the mattress. I get the feeling that your comment about me being well punished is probably true but it can't be any worse than what I'll get from Sam. I'll ask him. When would be a convenient time for you to do this?" I looked at my watch and did some time difference calculations. "We can head back now. He should be awake by then and if he agrees I'll expect you in my room in time for a six o'clock appointment." She nodded and said, "Which means I better get there early so I have time to do my corner thing. All right, I'll call him as soon as we get there." Neither of us said anything on the long walk to our hotel where we went our separate ways. About thirty minutes later my phone rang and it was Sam. We ta
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