A Spanking Fantasy Part II

The wedding was fun, although I ate and drank too much at the reception. I was busy most of the evening entertaining bridesmaids.  At one point I did notice that C and Rosalynn were in deep conversation.  Wonder what they are up to?

The wedding was over.  We went back to the hotel and I collapsed into bed and went to sleep thinking about the clerk at the bath shop, and wondering what she was imagining when she had her little orgasm.  I’m sure she had an orgasm.

We slept late on Sunday morning.  C was up first, of course.

“Throck, get up and take a shower and get into your punishment panties.  We have some unfinished business to take care of.”

“Oh C, please.  Can’t we wait until we get home?”

“No, we can’t.  Oh, and before you take a shower, I think you had better have an enema.  You are going to do some serious corner time and I don’t want excuses about having to go to the bathroom.”

“No, no.  I don’t need that.”

“Yes, you do.”

“What will you give me an enema with?  We didn’t bring anything.”

“I have my douche syringe.  I’ll use that.”

“No, that will hurt.  Besides, you can’t use it if you give me an enema with it.”

“You’re right.  It will be yours after this.  I’ll just send you to the drug store to buy me a new one.  Now quit whining and get in position on you knees, and don’t give me any trouble or I’ll double your strokes.”

Oh my god.  What has gotten into this woman?  I assumed the knee chest position on the bed.  I heard C filling her syringe in the bathroom. She came into the bedroom with a full syringe and a tube of lubricant. 

C set the syringe, glistening with lubricant, on the bedside table.  The nozzle was nearly eight inches long and an inch in diameter.  My legs were shaking.  “Reach back and spread your cheeks apart for me,” said C.

C applied some lube to my anus and picked up the syringe.

“Oh, please don’t, please don’t,” I whined.

“Hush now,” said C.  “This will just hurt a little.”

I felt the tip of the syringe against my anus.  “Relax now,” said C.  “Take a few deep breaths.”  She thrust the nozzle into my rectum with a slow but steady motion.  I groaned.

Instead of immediately injecting the water she stroked the douche syringe in and out several times.  I groaned more.

“You like being sodomized with my syringe, don’t you?”

“Noooo,” I whined.  I did like it.

“Oh, I think you do.”

She stroked me for nearly a minute, and then said, “Here it comes,” and squeezed the water into me.

She pulled the syringe out and said.  “Hold that, I’m going to give you one more.”

“Oh no,” I groaned.

C refilled her syringe and returned to the bedroom. 

“Okay, sweetie, here it comes.”  She thrust the syringe into my rectum, and again stroked it in and out, finally injecting the fluid.  I moaned softly.

“Can you see the clock radio on the bedside table?” C asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“The time is 10:22.  I want you to hold the enema for ten minutes.  At 10:32 you can go to the bathroom.  Then take a shower, put on your punishment panties and come to the living room.  Understand? ”

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Oh, and take one of your little blue pills.  I want you in the same state for your spanking as you were the other night when you did your naughty thing.”

C left the bedroom and I waited, the water churning inside of me.  Ten minutes seemed like an eternity.  Several times I wondered if I would make it.  I knew if I didn’t my strokes would be increased.  Finally 10:32 lit up on the clock and I rushed to the bathroom.  The relief was wonderful. 

I showered, put on the boy shorts and took a pill.  What a waste of a pill; my “state” as C called it would last about ten seconds after my spanking started.  I got the perfume I had bought to give her as a present, hoping it might mitigate my spanking.  I went to the living room to see what else C had in store for me.  We were in a very nice suite, living room, small kitchen and bedroom.

C was sitting in the club chair. She had dressed for occasion in a white sleeveless blouse and a knee length full black skirt that buttoned down the front.  The skirt had a wide belt with a patent leather buckle.  She had on her pearls, and matching pearl earrings that could just be seen peaking out beneath her short dark hair.  Overall, a very sexy and appropriately severe look.  “Kneel in front of me,” she said.  I knelt and presented her with my gift.

“What is this?”

“I bought you a little gift,” I said sheepishly.

C unwrapped the present. “Spank Me,” C laughed. “How appropriate, I will indeed.  Throck, it was sweet of you to get me a present but you understand that it will not get you out of your spanking, don’t you?”  C put some of the perfume on.  “Oh, it smells good.”

“It’s designed by Francois Guillermo.”  I said, hoping that would mean to her it was expensive, which it was, but she didn’t seem to pick up on that. “Maybe you won’t hurt me too much.”

“Oh, sweetie, it’s going to hurt.  I have to hurt you.  I’m sorry, but you did a naughty thing and if I didn’t give you a good spanking what would you think of me?”

I hung my head.  I knew she would spank me hard, but I had no idea what else she had in mind.

“Go back to the bedroom and get the new bath brush, the punishment book and the notes the sales clerks wrote you, and then come back in here and go stand in the corner.  I think you need about fifteen minutes of corner time to think about how naughty you are, don’t you?”

“Yes C,” I said humbly.

“Well, run along.  Let’s get this thing started.”

I retrieved the hairbrush, the naughty book and the notes, and returned to the corner.  I hadn’t been in the corner five minutes when there was a knock at the door.  Oh my god, I thought.  It is probably the maid.  Surely C will send her away.  I thought the “Do Not Disturb” sign was on the door.

C opened the door.  “Am I on time?” a bright, cheery voice said.  It was C’s cousin Rosalynn.

“Right on time,” said C. “Come on in.”

Oh no, this couldn’t be happening I thought.  What is C thinking?  I thought about running back to the bedroom, but I just froze hoping to disappear into the corner.

“Oh, there’s our naughty boy,” said Rosalynn.  “What cute pink boy shorts he has on.  Well, I guess, after all, he is a naught boy, zzzzzzzzz.” 

Rosalynn would always make that little buzzing sound when she thought she was being clever.  I was tired of that joke, and I was humiliated.  But, I couldn’t bring myself to call a stop to all of this.

“I brought the things you asked for, C”

“Oh, good,” said C. “We can go in the kitchen and get it ready.”

Get what ready, I thought.  I don’t like the sound of this.

The girls were in the kitchen about fifteen minutes chatting and giggling and getting up to god knows what.

“This is very interesting,” I heard Rosalynn say. “Where did you ever learn about this?”

“I saw it on the web.  Throck was reading about it on one of the blogs he reads and it came up on the history file when I was looking for something else.  Thought it had something to do with cooking at first, and I read it.  He usually deletes the history file so I won’t know what he’s been up to, but he got sloppy this time.  I think he may live to regret it,” both girls giggled.

I heard C and Rosalynn leave the kitchen and go into the bedroom.  They closed the door and I could hear muffled conversation, probably C giving Rosalynn details of the protocol.  I was very nervous; I knew it was not the protocol I was used to. Usually I would simply kneel in front of C while she went through the punishment book and pronounced my sentence.  I was sure there was more in store for me this time. My legs were trembling. 

Soon I heard the door open.  “Throck, bring your things and come into the bedroom,” C said with a no nonsense tone.

I went to the bedroom.  It was a large bedroom with a king-sized bed, a desk, several chairs and a love seat.  C was sitting on the side of the bed with her back to me, and facing Rosalynn, who was seated on the love seat by the window.  Rosalynn was wearing a short, tight white skirt that showed off her very attractive and shapely legs, and a pink tank top that revealed substantial cleavage.  These were very attractive, if mature, women that were about to abuse me.  I had to parade in front of Rosalynn to go around the end of the bed to face C.  My embarrassment was absolute and I blushed over my entire body.  Rosalyn had a big grin on her face.  She was obviously enjoying my predicament.  I, on the other hand could barely fathom what was making me submit to this humiliation.  Did I have some perverse need?  My emotions were total humiliation and yet excitement; I had an erection.  My mind was swirling.  I couldn’t understand how I was even moving.

I knelt in front of C and presented her with the punishment book, bath brush and notes, and waited for my sentence.  I could feel Rosalynn’s eyes on my boy shorts pantied bottom.  I waited with trepidation as C leafed through the punishment book and read the notes.

“Spank your naughty husband hard with this brush, PLR. Was the clerk upset with you, Throck?”  C said when she read the note.

“No,” I said.  “She got rather excited when I told her about the brush and asked for a note.  I almost think she had an orgasm, right there in the store.”

“How naughty of you,” said C.

Uh oh, I thought.  Shouldn’t have said that.

“Perhaps you should have written that in your naughty book.  I asked you to buy a brush, not to give young girls orgasms.”

“She wasn’t young,” I protested.  I could hear Rosalynn suppress a giggle.  C just gave me a stern look.

“Well your basic spanking is ten strokes.  You will get five more for masturbating.  You forgot to write in the book that you squirted your nasty boy juice all over me.  For that you will get and additional five strokes.  Furthermore, you will be figged for this spanking,” C leaned over to the bedside table an picked up a spade shaped plug of ginger about four inches long, and held it up to show me. I had been so distressed; I hadn’t even noticed it there.

Figged, I thought.  That’s what they were doing in the kitchen, carving a ginger fig.  I had been reading about figging on a site on the web last week and C had found me out.

“You certainly must know what figging is,” said C.  “After all, I found out about it on a naughty site you had apparently been reading.”

“Oh,” I groaned. How could I be so stupid?

“And, finally you will receive an additional five strokes for surfing the naughty sites without my knowledge or permission.  I think you forgot to write that in your naughty book as well.  I think that makes twenty-five in all.”

“I’m sorry C,” I said hanging my head.

“Yes, I’m sure you are, and I’m sure you will be.  Now, I want you to stand up and turn around and face Rosalynn, and apologize to her for your naughtiness, and for her having to witness this spectacle.”

“Oh please, C.”

“Come on. Stand up.  Be quick about it.”

I stood up slowly and turned around and faced Rosalynn.  My mortification was nearly complete, or so I thought.  As I tried to find the words for my apology, C slowly lowered my panties to my knees.

“Oh my god, C.  He has an erection!”  Rosalynn exclaimed.

“Yes he does,” said C.  “And for being so rude, I think we will have to add an additional five strokes.”

“That’s not fair, C. You made me take a pill,” I whined.

“Do you want to argue about it?” C said firmly.

“No,” I replied sheepishly.  I was completely beaten and was going to be literally so.

“Well, let’s hear that apology.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been bad and that you have to witness my punishment, Rosalynn.”

“I’m sorry too, Throck,” said Rosalynn, trying to give me a look of pity. “But this is for your own good, and I’m sure you will feel better about it after it’s over.”  I knew that inside she was grinning from ear to ear, and couldn’t wait to get home and tell Ken about this.  How would I ever face Ken again?

“Okay, Throck.  Turn around and get over my knee.  We don’t want to delay this any longer than we have to.”

I turned around.  C had unbuttoned several of the buttons of her skirt exposing the stockinged top of her left thigh.  I draped myself over her leg supporting my upper body on the bed.  She bent my erection down so it pressed against the inside of her thigh.  Won’t have that long, I thought, but it felt erotic, rubbing against her stocking.  C locked her right leg over my legs to secure me in place and prevent kicking once the spanking started.  One or all of us has got to be sick, I thought.  It seemed everyone was getting some sort of pleasure out of this, even me, although I knew mine would soon be coming to an end.

“All right, Throck, I’m going to insert the fig now.  This is going to be a little uncomfortable I’m afraid.  As you know, I can’t lubricate the ginger because it won’t work then.  You are going to have to try your best to relax so I can get this in.  Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I groaned.

“Okay, reach back and spread your cheeks for me, or do you prefer Rosalynn to do that?”

“Nooo,” I reached back and spread my cheeks as instructed.

“Aw,” I heard Rosalynn say.

“Okay, take a few deep breaths and try to relax.  Here we go.”

I felt the tip of the ginger plug against my anus as C slowly began to try to work it into my rectum with a twisting motion.

It immediately started to burn.  “Oh, it hurts, it burns,” I said and started to squirm.  I let go of my cheeks.

“Quit wiggling, and relax and take this, Throck.  If you can’t hold your cheeks apart Rosalynn is here to help.”

“Nooo,” I cried.  I reached back and spread my cheeks again and tried to concentrate.  Oh, it burned.  Millimeter by millimeter C worked the plug into my rectum.  It seemed that it took forever.  Finally the fattest part of the plug passed my sphincter and I felt the muscle contract and squeeze the rest of the plug into my rectum until it was blocked by the spade-like flare at the very end. 

“There, it’s in,” said C.  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

My anus felt like it was on fire and my sphincter and buttocks were experiencing alternating spasms.

C picked up the bath brush and began to rub is on my cheeks.

“All right, Throck, it’s time.  I want you to look at Rosalynn.  I want her to see your shame.  Open your eyes. Look her in the eye and not up her dress.”

I opened my eyes and looked at Rosalynn who was staring at me with a wry smile.  The shame was intense but in some way exciting.  I wanted to sneak a peak up her dress, but didn’t dare.  I tried to keep my eyes locked on hers.  It was difficult and humiliating.

C was making little circles on my buttocks with the brush. “Your sentence is thirty strokes with the brush.  What do you say?”

“I’m sorry for being naughty, C.  May I please have my spanking now?”

“Yes you may.”

I felt the brush lift off my bottom.  My bottom was burning and twitching from the fig.

Wwaaap.  The first blow struck my right cheek.

“Yeeoow!” I screamed, closing my eyes, and losing eye contact with Rosalynn.

Wwaaap! Wwaaap! Wwaaap!  Three more fell on alternate cheeks.  I screamed and my upper body began to buck.  C was not much for warm ups, or just didn’t know about them.  Got to educate her I thought.

Wwaaap, “Yeeoow!”   Wwaaap, “Yeeoow!”   Wwaaap, “Yeeoow!”

My bottom was on fire.  I didn’t even feel the fig anymore. My whole bottom burned.  My erection was long gone.  I tried to regain eye contact with Rosalynn.  Her expression had changed from a wry smile to, I thought, a mild look of concern.

Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap.  I was yelling and writhing in pain.  My bottom was bouncing up and down and my legs were struggling against C’s lock. C paused.

“You must stop wiggling, Throck.  We’re only half way through.”

“I can’t take it, C.  It hurts so.  Please stop”

“You must take it, and you will.  Now compose yourself, stop wiggling and look at Rosalynn.”  Even though I complained bitterly, C had a good feel for my limits and was always willing to push them a little.  I could trust her not to kill me, but she would make sure I got my needed dose of pain.  Rosalynn didn’t know this, however, and now had a real look of concern on her face.

“His bottom is awfully red, C”

“Oh, it’s just a little pink.  It will be a much nicer shade when I’m finished.”  I felt the brush lifted from my bottom again.

Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap.  I screamed; I writhed.  I broke into a sweat and buried my face in the bed.  I could no longer look at Rosalynn.

Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap, Wwaaap. The blows fell hard and fast on alternate cheeks. Screaming, I clawed at the bedspread trying to escape but C had me firmly locked in place with her right leg and her hand pressed against my back.  Then suddenly it stopped.

“It’s over now, Throck.  Get up,” C said softly.

I slid off C’s lap to the floor and then kneeled up and hugged her and she held my head against her breast.  Then I realized I was sobbing.  I had never cried during or after a spanking.  This time, however, the emotional acrobatics C had put me through had really done a number on my mind.  The sobbing was cathartic.  C held me close to her and I wanted to melt into her.  I could feel her love flowing into me.  This was a bonding rush, big time.  C held me for a long time until I regained my composure.

“All right, Throck, it’s all over now, but you still have some corner time to do.  Hop up and get back to the corner.  You can leave your panties down so we can see that pretty red bottom and we’ll leave the fig in as well.”

I slowly rose and hobbled back to the corner, panties around my knees.  I hardly noticed the fig, my bottom was still tingling.

“Rosalynn and I are going down to the restaurant to have lunch.  I’ll bring something back for you, but I expect you to be good, and not leave that corner unless there is a fire alarm.  Do you understand?”

“Yes C,” I said meekly.

“Good.  We’ll see you in a little while.”

With that Rosalynn and C left the suite and closed the door behind them.  Unbeknownst to me, C took the “Do Not Disturb” sign off the door and replaced it with the “Please Make Up The Room” sign.  I heard C and Rosalynn giggling as they walked down the hall.

………

“Throck, wake up!  The wedding is at three and I have to be at the mall in an hour to get my hair fixed.”

Artwork: Barbara O'Toole