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Frank paddled his kayak across the smooth water of the lake. There were no other boats in sight and he felt completely relaxed, the stress of Wall Street far behind him. The midday sun was shining overhead as he approached the island. Pulling his kayak up on the sandy shore he dived into the clear water. After swimming around for a while he climbed out and walked across the soft green grass into a clearing surrounded by trees. He slipped out of his trunks and lay down, the sun warming his naked body. Soon he fell asleep, dreaming of a brown-skinned beauty caressing him on a sunny beach in the Caribbean. Suddenly he awoke and realized that someone was in fact stroking his body, a suntanned young woman as naked as he was.
“Hello,” she smiled. “I’m Helen. Who are you?”
Her hand slipped down to his penis which responded with a rapid erection.
“I see that you like me,” she said, turning on to her back “I like you too. Come on over and I’ll show you,” spreading her legs apart. This was enough invitation for Frank who rolled on top of her and began to thrust in and out vigorously with an enthusiasm that she responded to with wild writhing and squeals of ecstasy. Finally it was over and they lay breathless together.
“Now you have to do something for me,” Helen said when she could catch her breath.
“Didn’t I do enough?” Frank asked with a smile.
“Sit up with your legs out straight.”
When he was in position Helen laid herself face downward with her bottom across his thighs. “Spank me,” she commanded.
“What?” Frank was taken aback by the unexpected request.
“Don’t tell me that you wouldn’t like to spank a naked female butt. Most real men would.”
“Are you implying that I’m not a real man?” he said angrily.
“Show me,” she replied sticking her bottom in the air.
Frank slapped it a couple of times causing a faint pink blush to appear.
“Harder,” she said. “Or are you just too chicken? “
“OK,” he said. “If you really want it.” And he began to slap her harder. As he continued his enthusiasm increased, and he spanked her vigorously, changing the white skin of her buttocks into crimson. Finally he paused.
“Is that enough?” he asked. “My hand is getting sore.”
Helen looked at him scornfully. “Poor baby!” she said.
She got up and handed him a rubber-soled sandal. “Use this,” she told him, and resumed her position across his thighs.
Frank held it by the heel and continued the spanking. The smack of his hand changed to the duller thunk of the sandal as it descended on her buttocks. Obviously this was more painful because Helen wriggled and gasped with each blow. Frank found this exciting and paused to massage an erection. When Helen looked back and saw what he was doing she got up and pushed his shoulders down so that he was lying on his back. Then she straddled him, and grasping his stiff prick guided it inside her. Then she leaned forward and began to rock up and down. Frank stroked her breasts, caressing the hard nipples as she moved faster and faster. It must have hurt as she pushed her bruised bottom against him, but she gave no sign of pain, only of increasing excitement as she reached her climax.
Afterwards they rested, hugging and kissing. Frank had never met anyone so passionate and loving, and he told her so. Helen squeezed him tightly and told him that she loved him too. Then, reluctantly she got to her feet.
“Where are you going?” Frank asked, concerned. But Helen only gave him a wan smile.
When she returned she was carrying a wooden paddle from her canoe. She handed it to him, then went to a small tree on the edge of the clearing and bent over, holding the trunk. “Spank me,” she said.
Frank looked at her bruised buttocks. “You can’t be serious.”
“Spank me with the paddle.”
“No way,” he replied.
Helen walked up to him. Looking him straight in the face she said “You’re chicken-shit. Then she sneered,” Don’t be frightened. This girl won’t hit you back.” She reached down, grabbed his scrotum and squeezed hard. “Guess what! No balls!”
While Frank was doubled up with pain Helen walked calmly to the tree and bent over again.
Frank picked up the paddle, gripping it firmly with both hands. He felt humiliated and very angry. He swung the paddle, landing a vicious blow on Helen’s butt. It sounded like a pistol shot. Helen cried out, but Frank paid no attention. He swung the paddle again and again until her bottom was deep red all over and she was sobbing bitterly. Finally his rage abated and he saw what he had done. Dropping the paddle he began to rub her tortured buttocks. As he did so he felt excitement returning and he slowly pushed himself inside her. He moved in and out gently and she did not resist. After several thrusts he felt her pushing against him, gasping as her butt touched him, but matching his slow rhythm. He began to speed up and soon had lost himself in excitement and was slamming in and out with total disregard for her bruises. She herself was ignoring her pain and, moaning with ecstasy, pushing against him as she had orgasm after orgasm.
When it was over they lay down side by side, Frank gently rubbing her bottom. Helen kissed him softly and told him that she loved him. Then, sighing deeply, she got to her feet. Frank watched her in amazement, wondering what was coming next. When she reappeared she was carrying a length of rope which she handed to Frank. She turned her back to him and put her hands on top of her head.
“Whip me,” she commanded.
“No way,” he replied.
Frank looked at her buttocks, once white but now covered with red-purple bruises and shook his head. “No way,” he repeated.
Helen took the rope out of his hands and began to flog herself, whimpering as it struck her wounded bottom but continuing to wield it mercilessly. Frank had seen enough. He grabbed the rope and threw it across the clearing. When Helen tried to run after it he grabbed her and hugged her tightly.
“What’s going on?” he asked. “Why do you keep on punishing yourself?”
Helen looked at him sadly. “I have to,” she said. “Please let me go.”
“Not until you explain what’s going on.”
“OK. Lie down beside me and I’ll tell you.”
Frank released his hold on her and she lay down on the grass. Frank lay down beside her gently rubbing her butt.
“I was adopted as a baby by a school principal and his wife. They are very religious people who believe that most of the trouble in the world is due to overpopulation. So when they wanted to start a family they adopted girls from the Mary Magdalene Shelter, a place for young unwed mothers to come and have their babies. Most of them were then put up for adoption. I was the youngest of the four girls my parents adopted. They were loving and kind to us, but strict. They firmly believed that because we were the children of mothers who had committed adultery that we would have inherited the tendency to succumb to sins of the flesh. From an early age we were taught that any sexual activity outside marriage was a sin that should be punished. This included any form of masturbation, which they referred to as “self-abuse.” I remember when I was about four years old I was in the bath tub and my mother caught me with my hand between my legs fingering myself. She pulled me out of the tub still dripping, put me over her knee and gave me a good spanking, telling me that I was a wicked girl. I was sobbing bitterly when it was over and she hugged me and told me that the spanking had erased the sin so I was forgiven.
My sisters and I slept in a large room at the top of the stairs. One night when I was nine years old my eldest sister, who was fifteen at the time, pulled up her nighty and began to masturbate noisily. The rest of us listened for a while, then as our excitement mounted we decided to do it too. We were so busily engaged that we didn’t hear our mother coming up the stairs until she opened the door and switched on the light.
“I thought something was going on, you wicked girls,” she said. “Take off your nightgowns and stand beside your beds.” She left the room. When she returned with my father they were carrying all the implements they used to punish us; cane, strap, paddle and hairbrush.
My mother sat down on the edge of my bed and pulled me across her knee. She spanked me so hard with the hairbrush that I was sobbing uncontrollably by the time she finished. My next eldest sister received twelve strokes with the leather paddle over my father’s knee. The second eldest was bent over her bed to receive twelve strokes with the heavy leather strap from my father, and finally my eldest sister received twelve strokes with the cane. All of us were crying by the time our punishments were over. We had to stand by our beds with our hands on top of our heads while father delivered a lecture on the sins of the flesh. He ended by telling us that because of our chastisement our sins had been forgiven. Then mother hugged each of us and told us to get back in bed.
This attitude on the part of my parents led me to believe that sins of the flesh were evil but could be forgiven if they were followed by adequate, painful punishment. I found that if I masturbated I would be gripped by uncontrollable guilt until I had spanked myself mercilessly.To accomplish this I used my hairbrush, a leather belt, a shoe or whatever else was handy. Afterwards I felt relieved of any feelings of guilt. If I didn’t do this I was haunted by my conscience until I had punished myself severely.
This attitude was further demonstrated by something that happened when my eldest sister was seventeen. She had been given permission to go to the movies with a boy whom my parents had met and approved, but was under strict instructions to return by eleven. At midnight she sneaked through the back door and started to go upstairs. My father had been waiting for her and asked why she was so late. She explained that her friend’s car had broken down and she had to walk home. When he asked why she didn’t call she stammered that she forgot. She never was a good liar. My father took the cane from his bedroom and led her upstairs telling her that he was going to cane her so that next time she would remember to call if she was going to be late. It would be a mild caning to help jog her memory in the future. He told her to lift up her dress, lower her panties and bend over her bed. She hesitated, so he repeated his instructions more forcibly. When she lifted her dress and bent over we could see why she was so reluctant: she wasn’t wearing any panties. He asked her why she wasn’t wearing them and she turned very red and muttered that she must have left them in the rest room at the movies. At this point he turned to me and told me to ask my mother to come upstairs and bring the strap with her. When she arrived my father told my sister to take off her clothes, and when she unbuttoned her blouse it was apparent that her bra was missing as well. My father asked her in a sarcastic tone whether she had left it in the rest room along with her panties. Then he told her to bend over her bed and asked mother to go around the other side and hold her arms. At this point we all realized that she was in for a severe thrashing. He gave her a dozen hard lashes with the strap which started her sobbing bitterly and saying she was sorry. Father paused and gave her a lecture on lying and disobedience, following which he picked up the cane and gave her another dozen. Her bottom was a mass of welts and bruises and she was screaming with each stroke when he paused again. This time the lecture was on the sin of sex between unmarried adults. She sobbed that they were only necking, but father pointed out that a girl doesn’t take off her bra and panties to do that. He gave her another dozen with the cane and she became hysterical, screaming and writhing with pain. Finally it was over. He took the wretched girl in his arms, hugged her and told her that she had been very severely punished so her sins were forgiven.”
Helen paused. “This deep-seated guilt has been with me ever since I was a little girl. I have been to psychiatrists and they all told me that I have an obsessive-compulsive disorder, probably hereditary. They advised me that they could treat me with medication or possibly hypnosis, but that either would run the risk of substituting a worse situation such as complete rejection of sex or frigidity. They told me that when I got married the compulsion to discipline myself would probably disappear.”
“Then there’s a simple solution to this problem,” said Frank. “Marry me!”
Helen looked at him sadly. “Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m serious,” he said. “I’ve dated many girls, but none of them turned me on the way you do.”
“There’s more to marriage than sexual attraction,’ Helen said. “Perhaps we should see more of each other before we decide.”
“OK,” he said. “But I’ve already made up my mind.”
Helen’s parents liked Frank and were delighted to see Helen so happy. Her co-workers at the library also were happy for her, and if they noticed that from time to time she was reluctant to sit down, preferring to do her work standing, usually after a date with Frank, they didn’t make any comment.
They got married, and when the children started to arrive Helen gave up her library work and stayed home. They didn’t need the extra income as Frank’s brokerage was doing well and he had been promoted to partnership. Helen hadn’t been seriously spanked since the wedding, just a few slaps for old times sake.
They had four children, all girls. Frank and Helen were strict but loving parents, much the same as her parents had been, but with one big difference. Frank and Helen weren’t fixated on “sins of the flesh.” They taught their girls that masturbation wasn’t evil, that it was OK provided it wasn’t indulged in excessively. As they grew older they told them that extramarital sex was stupid, explaining about unwanted pregnancy and sexually transmitted disease, but that if they to do it with someone they really loved, to make sure that they both took precautions. Spanking was rarely used as punishment. Frank kept a cane, a strap and a leather paddle hanging on hooks behind his closet door. He had used each of them at one time or another on the girls, always on their bare butts and in front of the others. As a result all he had to do was threaten to open his closet to obtain eager obedience.
When the children left home Helen went back to her job at the library. The extra money came in handy for the girls’ college expenses, and besides she was bored with staying home. It was a nine-to-five job except when the library received shipments of books which she had to sort and catalog, which meant working overtime. Her boss, Bill, was a good-looking man a few years younger than her which made her work interesting, especially since he seemed to find her attractive.
One evening she returned rather late from working overtime. Frank was in bed watching television and greeted her with a big smile, pushing back the covers to reveal that he was naked and ready for action.
“I have to take a shower,” she said.
“Don’t be too long,” he replied.
Helen came out of the shower naked and walked straight to the closet. Opening the door she took down the cane and handed it to him. “I’ve been unfaithful,” she said.
“Wait a minute,” Frank exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve been unfaithful and have to be punished.”
“I was working late at the library. When I bent over to put some books on a shelf Bill came up behind me, lifted up my dress and pulled down my panties. I didn’t try to stop him and we had sex.”
Frank jumped out of bed, his face white with anger. “Has this happened before?”
“Never. You know my guilt wouldn’t allow me to hide it.”
Helen bent over the bed. Frank took the cane and began to lash her. Deep red lines started to mark the white skin. She was crying and writhing with pain but he continued to wield the cane without mercy. Finally, her buttocks covered with welts, he stopped.
“Forgive me,” she sobbed, but he just walked away. He dressed and left the house. Helen heard him come in several hours later, but he went into the guest bedroom to sleep and left in the morning before breakfast.
Helen spent a miserable day lying face down on her bed. When Frank returned that evening he went straight to the closet and took out the strap. He told Helen to put her pillow under her hips and then he began to beat her with the strap. Her bottom was covered with red-purple bruises from the cane, and the heavy leather strap added its marks. Frank lashed her slowly and deliberately, making her wait between the strokes so she couldn’t prepare herself. He would hit her two or three times rapidly then wait, watching her buttocks tense in anticipation then relax, before striking the next blow.
Again he slept in the guest room and left before breakfast. When he returned that evening he found Helen wandering around the house naked. “Please forgive me,” she pleaded.
“Not yet. Go into our bedroom.”
“Please don’t spank me any more. I can’t stand it.”
“You should have thought of that when you were screwing Bill.”
Frank followed her and took the paddle from the closet. “Bend over the bed.”
She bent over and Frank gave her three hard swats. Helen’s bottom was so bruised that the pain was excruciating and she started sobbing. Frank took off his clothes and sat on the edge of the bed. “Now bend over my knee,” he said softly.
He gave her several more swats, not very hard, then rubbed her bottom gently. Helen felt his erection pushing against her and got up, then kneeling she took him in her mouth. Afterwards they lay side by side on the bed.
“Am I forgiven?” Helen asked.”That was pretty severe punishment.”
“I’ll never be unfaithful again.”
“I hope not. But if you are your guilt will always force you to confess.”
3/21/2009 1:39 am
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