Always

Looking up I could see faces above me.

Yours certainly. Maybe others-at least one. Probably more.

But they were your kisses I felt-softly-

Around my lips gently

Then into my mouth-your tongue counting my teeth.

The light in the room was sort of red-maybe purple-

A scarf or something draped over the lamp.

I had chosen the thick black belt tonight with the heavy metal horse buckle

Liking the way it accented my hips and flat belly;

And also the way it made me feel somehow secure and walled off behind it.

It opened easily-you knew how it worked with the latch behind-

And I lifted so that you-whoever-could pull it down along with my jeans.

They were your hands up and down my thighs; your soft touch on the back of my legs.

I don’t remember shifting, or rolling, or being rolled

But then was on my stomach; a position I know well and am comfortable in

Because of the games we play.

I waited for something; a smack, a squeeze, but nothing. That wasn’t the plan.

My jeans slid all the way off my bare feet. Where had my boots gone?

I guess I lifted once more-but maybe not. Didn’t have to

As you pulled my underwear down, then off.

I could almost feel the muted light washing over my bare bottom.

Just hugged the pillow and felt the light sneak deeper as my legs were pulled gently apart.

The bed moved with your weight as I spread wider.

Just relax, you said. But I already knew that.

I gulped breath as a hand-yours?-spread me. It was my favorite part-being exposed like that.

The lube was cool back there and I shivered-though not from the chill.

Your finger spread it and worked it.

I must have mewed a little and pushed back because you shushed me.

You shifted and a hand was on my hip.

Then I felt the hard tension-the press-impossible little poke and jab.

It really wouldn’t fit.  Every time I thought that it wouldn’t fit.

Then a firm, steady unyielding push.

The first pain-the opening burn-lasted only a moment

Replaced then by a complete filling slide that warmed from the center out.

I moaned and this time you said nothing, as I gripped you inside me and

Felt your body cover mine.

I still wish we could have stayed coupled like that.

Always.

Liz Gets Her Soak-and More

Picks up after “Liz Needs a Soak”

Sipping her wine she watched him shower. Watched him soap up and now, with his back to her and both hands on the wall letting the water pound the back of his neck and run down his back and off his ass, she watched him rinse. The itch between her legs that she had avoided scratching till now got hotter and harder to ignore. When he turned away from the wall, she was on him, enveloping him with her arms.

“I thought you wanted to soak”, he said.

“I soaked…”

He dipped his head and lightly kissed then sucked her hard, thick nipples. She shivered and pulled back kissing him hard on the mouth and running her tongue along the inside of his lips then into his mouth as far as she could. He returned the deep kiss and was about to clamp her around the shoulders when she dinengaged from his mouth and spun him around-pushing his shoulders so that he put his arms back on the wall.

“Spread ‘em!’ she ordered from her knees behind him. He did and felt her kisses and soft bites on his ass. She lapped at the inside of his thighs then up between his cheeks. First he felt her hot breath on his asshole then her tongue lapped at it tasting the bitter remains of the soap that had caught there. She continued to kiss and tongue the small brown button until all she could taste was the warmth of the water that still cascaded over both of them.

With a hand on each hip, she turned him again so that his fully erect cock smacked her in the cheek as he spun. Liz lifted it, and ducked low to lick both of his balls, one at a time-closing her mouth over one of them and sucking softly for a moment. There wasn’t much swing to them right now-they were plastered tight and heavy to his undercarriage.

Leaving the balls, her tongue worked the shaft from the bottom to the top and back again, then up once more before she opened her throat and swallowed his full nine inches. John’s eyes were closed and he moaned once-softly. She gave it one or two sucking pumps then pulled back.

“Don’t you dare come”, she growled with a twisted smile squinting up into the splashing water.

“Come on”, John reached down and hooked his hands under her arms pulling her to her feet. He hugged her close with one arm and reached behind to turn off the water with the other before kissing her again deeply, this time hugging her hard.  She moved them, thus entwined-a dripping four-legged beast-toward the door to the bedroom.

Once there, in the dim light allowed by slatted blinds, John toweled her off gently top to bottom finally taking his turn on his knees in front of her. He buried his nose into her muff which, like her skin, smelled lightly of the euchalyptus bath salts. Then, working his tongue between her legs, he smelled something else-something better- and he snaked his tongue deeper, pulling her into his face before pushing her backward onto the bed. She fell backward allowing her legs to splay wide-grabbing behind both knees. Taking the invitation, John buried her face into her.

“Oh Jeeze…” she sighed…

His tongue flicked and whorled as he crawled along the bed trying to keep up with her skittering across the king mattress on her back. She was wet and moaning and as ready as he’d ever tasted her.

“I thought I told you not to start without me…”

“I didn’t touch-but my….brain….doesn’t……does what it wants…Jesus! Like that-LIKE THAT!”

She was a few steps beyond subtlety and softness. He slipped his hands under her and-from his elbows-lifted her crotch into his face tongue rubbing her clit feverishly. She arched her back closing her thighs firmly against his ears. He neither stopped nor slowed, knowing that this wouldn’t last long.

“AAAAHHHH!!!!” she yelled going quickly rigid. He could feel the tiny pumping against his probing tongue and kept the rhythm while she bucked as if trying to toss him off the bed. “Ooohh, Johnny…oh, Johnny….” She gasped again, then slowed, then sighed, then flopped flat back on the bed. Only then did John pull his tongue back and relax-laying his head on her soft inner thigh to regain his own breath while taking in the sights and sweet smells of her pulsing sex. The respite was short-lived however.

Liz scissor kicked her left leg over and came to all fours on top of him. She backed down his body until she felt his engorged member rubbing against her. She lifted and without so much as a helping hand, slipped over it, sheathing it damply to the hilt. She got her knees under her and began to slide slowly up and down, up and down. John caught her rhythm and began to lift into her making loud slapping sounds.

“Will you come like this?” she look down on him her eyes glistening.

“Absolutely will…” he said closing his eyes.

“Well then”, she stopped humping. “Still my turn.” She threw her legs straight back so she was covering him totally and ground her clit into him.

“You’re rotten…” he mock-bitched.

“Do not come!” she said as she herself began to tremble.

John ran his hands down her sweat-slick back and clasped the two tight balls of her ass which wouldn’t be much harder had they been carved out of wood. Given her quick shallow breathing, she didn’t need any help but for good measure he pushed into her as she grasped his shoulders tightly and stretched to full length screaming with release, coming again. She collapsed on top of him and he gently patted her softening bottom.

After a moment she scooted forward and John popped out of her-rising between her legs like a flagpole. She tightened around him a wiggled. “Poor Johnny-still hard…”

“Better not be for long-“

She rolled off and he came up on his side so they could lay face to face. She took him in her hand and stroked him slowly. “I have a favor to ask you…”

“You’re killing me Smalls”, he said dropping his head on his bicep.

“You’ll like this one.”

She rolled away and opened the drawer on the nightstand taking out a rubber and a bottle of lube. Then, facing away from him, she gathered pillows and hugged them to her breast bringing her knees under her to raise her bottom up in the universal signal for ass-fucking.

“Would you mind?” she asked undulating slowly.

John patted her sweet cheek as he came to his knees behind her. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” he said.

Liz Needs a Soak

Follows “The Boys Like It!”

Liz drove languidly toward home after her session with the boys. A day smoldering in sexual heat-from Angie, to the woods, to Bobby in the house-with no release had left her curiously spent but edgy. Truth is, she was in no hurry to go home or to be by herself. She passed the exit that would have taken her that way and headed toward the south side of town. She pressed a number on her dashboard display.

John’s phone burst into the opening bars of Lady Gaga’s “Born This Way”. His headlamp swept the rafters in front of him as he reached into the back pocket of his jeans. “Hey, you”, he said into the speaker.

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Up on Troy Hill”, he answered stopping his lamp sweep at a pile of something that looked to be raccoon shit. He hated raccoons and raccoon shit. He had walked away from properties based solely on the amount of raccoon shit in the attic. “I’m looking at a place that’s coming up for Sheriff’s sale…”

“Oh”, she said, not meaning to sound like a disappointed little girl.

“Why, what’s up?”

“I need a good soak.”

“Long day?”

“You could say that…” It was midafternoon but the day had turned cloudy and gray so it felt later than it was. She had slipped off of the parkway and was starting down the mixed residential and commercial streets of the South Side toward John’s place.

“Go ahead over…” he said. “I’ll kill the alarms from here.”

She navigated the narrow streets heading up toward a rise that overlooked the neighborhood and, across the river, the city. “You know”, she said smiling, “It’s not just a soak that I need.”

“Uh huh…” said John interrupting his square foot calculations and the cost of insulation. “I’m almost done here-I’ll finish up and be there.”

“OK, but hurry”.

Now he smiled in the darkness and felt a stirring in this crotch. “Don’t start without me.”

She pressed the disconnect button on the dash and made a left down Sarah. The buildings here were all over a hundred years old built to house and service the steelworkers that had immigrated here from all over Europe. The neighborhood never really “gentrified” and was comfortably industrial chic.

John’s place had once been a service station and a horse livery before that so it was unique in the congested neighborhood that it had off-street parking for two cars. Liz always felt like she was sneaking into the Bat Cave when she hit the automatic opener on her visor because the doors were disguised to look like a concrete wall. She slipped her car comfortably into the right side bay.

She stepped lightly up the metal spiral staircase and through the thick wooden sliding door that had been reclaimed from a butchers’ freezer. Counterweighted, the door slipped closed behind her as she turned to the right and slipped into the dim kitchen. She was fine with the gray glow from the skylight as the wine cooler built into the wall had its’ own lighting that came on when the door opened. She chose her favorite crisp chardonnay and opened it at the counter and placing it into an ice bucket. Then, bucket and glass in hand, she headed to the front of the house-to what she considered the heart of the small space.

Though she was with John every step of the way during the design and the remodel of his place-even sitting in the tub with him to make sure the two fit perfectly-it was, with the exposed metal, ceramic and concrete work, a man’s house through and through. That profile manifested perfectly in the master bath.

The room was tiled completely along the floor and three walls to the ceiling. The openness of the space was emphasized by the shower in one corner with no door or curtain of any kind and to the right of the door was the two-person soaking tub built embedded three stone steps up into a concrete counter that John had fabricated on site.

She turned the water on in the tub and let it fill a little before throwing in some salts. Then, facing the windows and the neighborhood beyond, she began to strip off her clothes. She wasn’t as free in this room right after John had installed the floor to ceiling windows. Knowing it was two-way glass and feeling comfortable disrobing, showering or anything else they did in here in front of two way glass is another. She had to experiment herself from outside with John in the shower before she gave in.

She slipped off her jeans for the second time today and lay them over the redwood shower chair. She followed with her bra, then finally, her panties which had been wet at least twice today. She rubbed her hands over her breasts then down her thighs-not trusting herself to touch between her legs. How the hell long would John be? Did he say?

She padded up the steps and sat on the edge of the tub dangling her feet and sipping her wine and the water tumbled in and the steam rose. She was trying to decide how much to tell John about her afternoon. It had been about an hour and a half after she left the boys up on the hill before she stepped onto their porch and knocked-realizing the doorbell didn’t work. The house was a small ranch in the state of disrepair you could expect given that it had been given over to student housing.

She had carried a bag over her shoulder that Frankie eyed curiously when he let her in. He looked even younger than he had up on the hill but she quickly realized that he had shaved. And showered. In fact, the whole house smelled of soap shampoo with only traces of sweet cologne or body spray. As she stepped through the door she had a “what am I doing here?” moment that evaporated completely in the light of Frankie’s smile. She returned the smile of the initiated and asked conspiratorially, “Where’s our boy?”

“Right this way”, he bowed his head slightly and waved his arm through the entrance hallway into the living room. The switches that they had brought off the hill were laid out precisely on a low table against the wall. The room was sparsely furnished-an overstuffed chair and couch. Bob came into the room from the other direction looking scrubbed and pink in a T-shirt and jeans. “I see you found the place”, he jabbered going for nonchalance. “Oh yes-it was easy.” Being in their house offered her some options that she didn’t have on the hill. “Why are you dressed?” she said in a tone that didn’t invite an answer. “Take everything off”, she ordered.

“Everything?”

“Do you want to argue with me?”

As he quickly slipped his T-shirt over his head she cut a quick glance to Frank and winked. His eyes smiled back wickedly. She would find out later what sport Bob played. He was well-muscled but not thickly so and perfectly proportioned. She was betting wrestling rather than football. No matter, she thought as he slipped his jeans off and kicked them aside. This is a body that many girls have wrapped themselves around who had no idea what it was in for now.

“Very nice”, she stepped closely appraising every inch but touching nothing. He kept his gaze downward and she followed it to his growing erection. “Turn around.” He did and she softly caressed the back of his shoulder startling him.

“Easy”, she cooed as if to a skittish colt. “Here. Step over to the chair.” She slipped her hand to the small of his back directing him. “Now over”, she push gently. The chair back was low enough so that both hands rested on the seat and his now-bulging cock wasn’t crushed against his belly. He was breathing quickly. “Easy”, she said again-stroking his back then down over his thick cheeks. “Here”, she said sliding her hand between his legs, “Spread for me a little.”

He did and jumped as she reached between and cupped his balls lightly. Then his knees buckled slightly as she ran her finger up his crack to tickle at his tight little button. “You have got to settle, boy. You are much too jumpy…” she said while continuing to rub his anus lightly. She was pretty sure that was the first time for that.

“OK-alright”, he gasped lightly.

“Alrighty then.” Like a surgeon she held out her hand and Frankie handed her a switch. She cut the air once and watched him come up onto this toes. “Be ready”, she said. “But don’t tense.”

She brought the switch back and stroked across this cheeks. “Owwwww!” he howled jumping straight up into the air. “That…FUCK! That hurt!”

“Of course it hurt, Boyo. I’m caning your bare ass-it’s going to hurt.”

“I didn’t think it would burn like that. OW!”

“Welcome to Frank’s world-Huh, Frank?”

He bent back over and she stroked him again-about the same strength-about the same place. Again he yelled and jumped up. But then gathered himself and got back into position.

“It’s in your mind, Bob. You know what it feels like now. Just take a breath and let it out. You know what’s coming-I’m going to give you ten more like that before we move onto anything else. You just have to take them. OK?”

“OK”, he gritted his teeth. She watched his bottom rise and fall as he breathed. She stroked again. Again, he yelped and jumped straight up.

“I’m sorry!” he pleaded, kneading his butt. “I’ll take them-however many. …it just hurts. Don’t get mad. Here.” He bent again offering his bottom that wore three distinct pink stripes. She stroked again, this time a little lighter but more than a kiss. “Owww!” He jumped up again and rubbed with his right hand where the tip had dug in a bit.  “Sorry-Sorry…Damn, that burns. Sorry.” Yet, he bent over again.

Most of the people she got into this position knew what was coming. They already understood the bargain. To get where they wanted to go required some fleeting, but at times intense, pain. The pain opened the door to the dark pleasures they were ultimately seeking but the pain was part of what they signed up for. What they needed. Bob was still trying to figure that out. Her heart went out to him and she wanted to do what she could to help him through his first bottoming.

She turned off the water and hit the switch that would keep the tub warm. Thinking of Bob taking the strokes, one after another and begging for more of what he needed but might not want, started to heat her up again-as it had back in the boy’s living room. She slipped slowly into the water and sighed as she lay her head back on a folded towel. She allowed her hands to slide down her stomach tickling at the well-coiffed bush below. “Don’t start without me…” John’s voice echoed in her head.

She yanked her hand away and reached for her wine as the garage door rumbled open below her.

To be continued…

The Boys Like It!

Continued from The Boys Plus One

Frankie unbuttoned his jeans-again-and this time let them fall into a pile around his ankles. The cool of the clearing on his bare legs alone would have been enough to excite him but the thought of what was happening-and he couldn’t help but to internally narrate-quickened his breath. Liz paid close attention to the deceptive curve of his bottom pushing against the navy blue briefs peeking out from under his shirttail. He was a slight kid but rounded at the bottom like John had been at his age. Her nostrils flared ever so slightly and her cheeks flushed as she pushed him gently forward. “Let’s get your hands on the wall there….” she said as he bent.

Behind them Bob leaned against a tree after moving to a better position to see both Liz’s face and Frankie’s butt. He made the choice to slouch with his hands in his pockets as if they could somehow obscure the pulsing erection crawling down his leg. Everybody in the clearing was winding themselves into a bit of a sexual tizzy except for Chloe who lay in the brambles with her back to the humans resting; with one eye on a tree that, she was pretty sure, held a squirrel.

Liz was careful to use her hands and make as much contact with Frankie’s bottom as possible. She made a production-almost a massage-of running her hands up his hamstrings and across his briefs to lift and drape his shirttail over his back. Then, like Vanna White framing a letter, she slid her hands across his backside before hooking her fingers in the elastic band of his underwear and drawing them ever so slowly down. She had to reach around the front to pop them over his rock-hard cock. His breath quickened audibly during the full ten-count it took to get them all the way off his cheeks. She slid her hand between his legs and upward feeling, touching, weighing and squeezing. With a pat, she reached for a switch.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“Oh yes” he hissed arching his back immodestly.

She flicked him across both cheeks with a snap of her wrist. “Ahhh”, he moaned as a thin pink stripe appeared almost instantly. She recognized the moan as being less about pain than about having an unreachable itch finally scratched. She scratched that itch again, then again in quick succession careful to not hit too hard. This wasn’t that kind of switching and as far as she could tell, Frankie wasn’t that sort of bottom. He broke silence around the twelfth cut and mewed through gritted teeth until she broke the end off of the branch. She paused to choose another, copping a quick glance at Bob. He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other and Liz couldn’t quickly surmise whose place he would like to take: Frank’s or hers’. She’d figure that out in a moment.

With another switch chosen and in her left hand she ran her right across the ridges on his bum. They were pink and tight but nothing showing purple. He flinched at her touch and pushed backward like a cat wanting scratched.

“Oh, you like this little respite, do you? This little rub…”

“Yes”, he said breathlessly. “Very much.” She dropped the switch and slid her left hand across his hip and around to his front where his rod continued to stand strong, hard and firm as a flag pole. He jumped when she touched it.

“You are so bad….” She whispered into his ear.

“The worst…” he whispered back.

“Here”, she placed her cock-hand on his chest never moving the right from his bottom, “Stand up.”

He did and she cupped his soft cheeks. “Hold your shirt up so I can spank you…”

“Yes…”

He did as he was told and she began slapping his bare bottom. She alternated soft then hard, right cheek then left, high then low-catching some thigh. “Don’t tense”, she hissed as she smacked on, cupping his rump’s warm softness.  She moved her hand down his chest and brushed, then gripped, his cock firmly bringing forth another low moan. She stroked slowly trying to catch the rhythm of her spanks-which really wasn’t easy and she never quite got it right-but it was good enough for Frank. He pushed backward slightly then began to rock as if to welcome her open palm more quickly while at the same time lengthening her strokes up front.

His right hand moved from his shirt to cover hers on his dick and directed more crispness into her technique. She heard a soft growl start deeply in his chest which quickly morphed into a whimper as he whacked harder, yanking her arm like a pump handle. His butt began to tense until she felt she was spanking a football. She stopped slapping and rubbed his firm cheeks trying to insert a finger into what had become a tight, impenetrable seam. “Do it Frankie”, she seethed. “Go for it!”

Suddenly with a bark, a growl and a thrust up onto his tiptoes she heard him spatter all over the leaves in front of him and on the ground. “ohjesusohjesusohjesus”, he gasped.

“There, there…” she cooed, slowly and tightly finishing him off and wringing him out. He released his hand from his shrinking but still pulsing cock and she did the same. Frankie sagged familiarly into her and she put her arm around his shoulders while his breathing came back. “I’d say that worked for you…” she said.

“I would say so.”

“Good. Alright then”, Liz said with a little pat on his butt. “Get those pants back up.” She turned away and pulled a bandana out of her back pocket to wipe her hand. She thought she had some sanitary wipes back in the car. Frank was flushed and moving as if underwater but he looked contented enough with a sheepish little smile as he fastened his belt. Liz stretched pointedly to pick a larger switch off of the pile-it was the best of the lot and would pack enough of a sting that she didn’t want to use it on Frank. She whipped the air once and pointed it at Bob. “Your turn big boy.”

“What? Me….No….” He actually threw up his hands and waved the thought away.

“No?” she asked.

“I don’t do that….I mean-I give. He takes.”

“You’re a top, is what you mean.”

“What’s that?”

“Tops give. Bottoms take.”

“That’s right then. Yes. I’m a top.”

“Hmmm…Is that right Frank? Is Bob a top?”

“He is around me, for sure…I’ve never…done anything to him.”

“Never?”

Frank shook his head. “Nope.”

“Well”, said Liz, stroking her chin. “That doesn’t seem fair does it?”

“Not to me”, said Frank a little too brightly.

“Well, Jeez…”Bob sputtered.

Liz fixed him with an eye. “I think you should get over here and bend over for me, boy. You might think you’re a top, but I’m the real deal. You should get a taste of the real thing when you can.” She rose into the role and affected the no-nonsense school teacher pose tapping the switch into the palm of her left hand. Then, when Frank continued to hesitate, she said softly “You really don’t want to miss out on this do you?”

“No”, said Frank to his roommate, “You don’t.”

Making his mind up in a rush Bob took two steps toward the wall when Chloe suddenly jumped up from her nap and barked at the hillside from which Liz and she had come.

“Uh oh”, Liz said. “Company.” They could hear female voices over the hill talking; too far away to be understood but coming closer. Bob was frozen in mid-step not knowing whether he was relieved or disappointed. “You know”, Liz looked at him wickedly. “We could just continue…really give them a show when they show up. Like I almost got.”

“Oh, no…that’s OK…” Again there was that nervous hand waving again. He was too big and too good-looking to be tossing his hands around like this. She looked at him closely, flushed and uncertain; ready to try something that he’d never done and, judging by the bulge in his pants, looking forward to it.

“You boys live on campus or off?” They didn’t answer quickly. “You’re students right?”

“Off campus”, Frank told her. “Just uptown.” He gave her the address.

“That’s near the falafel place isn’t it?”

“Middle of the block and across the street.”

She crowded Bob, assessing his size and searching his eyes for any kind of STOP signal. The vein in his neck pulsed quickly and his breath was coming in swallow swallows. She handed him the switch. “Take this home with you. I’m going to drop off Chloe there and be over. You be ready.”

“OK”, he said softly.

Her hand snapped like a cobra and grabbed his earlobe giving it a tug. “What?”

“Oww,” he grimaced surprised. “Yes Mam.”

“Good.” She smiled releasing him and turning quickly. “I’ll see you boys soon. Come on Chloe. Heel Pup.”

The puppy loped over and fell into line behind her as they headed down the trail.

To be continued….

The Boys Plus One

Continued from The Boys and Angie’s Workout….

The trail along this, the Western side of the hill, is a series of switchbacks cutting back and forth-a twisting serpent crawling toward the sunlight leaking over the trees at the summit. This morning, the man hadn’t summited. He had taken what he called his “vertical constitutional” and turned back about two thirds to the top. He didn’t have time to go all the way up today, nor the energy.

About halfway down he noticed the two kids heading up. Relative term; to him kids could be anyone under 30 but he judged these, from two switches away, to be a boy and a girl. Two more turns and he was able to correct himself “Hello boys”, he greeted as he stepped aside and uphill on the slender trail so they could pass.

“Morning”, said the slighter of the two who was in the lead. “Hey”, nodded the second, the taller and burlier. They were head down-seemingly determined to reach the top-and not interested in talking. “It’s all yours up there boys”, he called over his shoulder. There’s nobody up there but squirrels..”

“What did he mean by that?” Frank whispered back to Bob.

“Relax. Just a duffer talking. Just saying there is nobody up there.”

Relax…sure, thought Frank. Easy for him to say. He sipped nervously at the water bottle he carried but he wasn’t really thirsty-or rather it wasn’t the climb that was drying his mouth. It was what was going to happen at the top of the hill that had the butterflies rising in his chest.

The boys had spent as much time trying to make their spanking game appear-or feel, if only to themselves-spontaneous. Unplanned for sure. Something that happened organically. Just horseplay talking a turn. There were a couple more forced wrestling matches that ended the same way the first one had-with Frank on the bottom getting his ass slapped. Then they moved into card games, which Frank always managed to lose. The penalty-the lost bet-always played out in some variation of the same theme: smacks on the butt, swats with a wooden spoon with Frank leaning against the wall in the kitchen or a yardstick that stung like hell through nylon sweat pants as Frank lay over the back of the couch.

Then, just last week, he came back to the apartment to find Bob leafing through “Appalachian Folklore” book he had used for the paper. “So”, Bob asked, “What do you think about that witch’s caning?”

The fact is Frank had not been able to get the idea of the witch’s caning out of his mind since he had read it. He studiously avoided including anything of it in the paper he had turned in-and got a B on-but the idea of a caning in the raw openness of a clearing in the woods excited him. Of course all he had to do was mention it to Bob once and the plans were made.

As promised, at the top of the hill was a ruined stone wall-a remnant of a garden wall from a hundred years before. Whatever else was here had been retaken by the thick woods around them.

Frankie’s fingers shook slightly as he cut what he thought were acceptable switches. Bob was on the other side of the clearing cutting others-they would choose the best ones. Even though they had reasonably decided that thorned branches might be appropriate for a witch’s bare bottom they might be a little much for his-these were going to hurt. At least sting…He was counting on Bob not to hurt him. Well, at least too much.

They met at the wall. “Are you ready to do this?”

In answer Frankie turned his back to face the low rock wall. He took a few steps closer to it so he could bend right over-hands on its’ top. Bob, the thickening in his crotch expanding into a full shaft erection moving down his leg (How quickly that happened!) stepped to his left and measured his swing.  Frank, about to free his own stiffening hard-on to the morning air took a deep breath to settle his fluttering heart while he unfastened his belt and unsnapped his jeans. He was standing thusly, unzipped and ready to lower, when in a rush of crackling leaves and snapping twigs, a large dog burst through the brambles to their right.

It was an Irish Setter-a big puppy actually-loping and jumping around the clearing happily ignoring them sniffing and pawing at everything striking his fancy. The boys were frozen in place watching him as a tall blonde woman in followed the dog out of the brambles. “Dammit, Chloe”, she said with a laugh, “Would you slow down a little bit…” She froze when she saw the boys not three paces away. “Oh-good morning,” she said. “Sorry about Chloe-I thought we were alone up here.”

Frank froze. If he removed his hands from his pants, the belt would pull them straight to the ground leaving him standing there in his underwear. If he zipped up and snapped himself closed…the implications would be obvious. Bob, for his part, let his arm fall to his side and opened his hand so the switch could fall unobtrusively, he thought, to the ground. “No…” he stammered moving away. “No problem…Chloe, you say? Nice puppy.” The dog, no longer on-site, was happily bounding through the brush on the other side of the clearing.

Two long strides put Liz in the middle of the tableau. She registered the smaller guy, back turned, pants coming up or going down. Whether he had moved off or not, she saw where the other guy had been standing when she got there. And there was a pile of sticks and switches on the ground which she regarded carefully, stroking her chin theatrically. She felt as if she had walked onto the stage in the middle of a play she had written.

“He must have been very bad”, she said looking up from the ground breaking the nervous silence.

Frank shifted nervously and opted to button his jeans so he wouldn’t have to hold them. Bob who was looking hopefully away for the distraction of the puppy half turned back to face the woman. Neither boy seemed to remember how to talk. “Well?” Liz asked. “Very bad?”

Frank had zipped his jeans and was now turned looking at her. She was taller than he was-about as tall as Bob-wearing snug jeans, hiking boots, fancy $120 wicking shirt turned up and buttoned at the forearms topped by a nylon ballcap out of which her blonde ponytail hung in the back. He recovered his voice first.

“Somewhat bad”, he almost whispered.

“Somewhat? A switching is pretty severe for ‘somewhat bad’, don’t you think?” There was a hint of a smile on her lips and Frankie saw a glint in her eyes that he recognized as a reflection of his own feelings. “Not my rules”, he said.

“So”, she addressed Bob. “This is your doing…”

“Not entirely”, he said fumbling-as if he really owed anyone an explanation.

“Have you ever used a switch before? Either of you?”

“No”, Bob answered.

“I can tell by the pile of twigs you’ve put together here.” She bent to pick through them and Frank could positively not stop himself from stealing a look at her bottom. Seemingly obliviously, she shifted her backside slightly toward him while picking a few good switches from the pile.

“These ones are fine”, she said testing them through the air once after the other. “Some are passable. You there, big guy, what’s your name?”

“Bob”, he said. “Bob Wil…..” and bit his tongue before giving his last name.

“That’s OK”, she said. “I don’t need your last name or your social security number…You”, she tapped Frank on the bottom with the switch she was holding. “Who are you?”

“Frank. Frankie.”

“Hmmm…OK. Here’s what I’m thinking. You guys-you in particular” pointing the branch at Bob “don’t know much about the how’s of switching, right?”

“Never done it”, said Bob.

“Exactly”, she said.  “I have. And I’m good at it…So what I’m thinking is that I should take over here. I’ll take the switches to Frankie here-as a kind of tutorial. You can see how it’s done so you’re not fumbling around in the woods with twigs that won’t do the job.”

Chloe bounded back into the clearing and over to Liz, panting, her red coat full of burs that Angie would have to spend the rest of the afternoon brushing out. “Good girl-good Chloe….Go lay down now…take a rest…let us know if anyone’s coming….” As if understanding the command, the dog moved to the edge of the clearing and crashed. “So”, she said turning back to Frankie.

“OK” said Frankie.

“OK then”, Liz said. “Turn around and take down your pants young man.”

His cock stiffened at the words.

To be continued….

Angie’s Workout

The woman was sobbing so that her shoulders were quaking and she had to keep lifting her head from the pillow to gulp air through her mouth. “Poor Angie”, thought Liz, kneading the woman’s shoulders with her left hand trying to work the tension out. She could see the ridges across her back as Angie squeezed the pillow tighter. “I wish you would come back to the studio”, Liz said aloud, a quiet entreaty that brought a new flood of tears.

Liz knew that it wasn’t the spanking that had brought on the tears-she was using a small leather paddle that was just shy of being ornamental. It definitely stung when wielded correctly and Angie’s wide and luscious bottom bore the marks of a rather long-if not particular punishing-session. No, Angie’s eyes had been full while she was disrobing and had begun to overflow when she had first placed herself over her trainer’s lap. Angie still thought of Liz as her “trainer” though it was more of a euphemism these days as she hadn’t been to the gym in months.

Angela Boxter had been one of Liz’s original clients when she opened the studio. She had come in to lose the pounds she had picked up when she stopped smoking. She had worked hard, if a little obsessively, for a month or two before she had approached Liz about the “special” services that she knew were available.

Liz rubbed her left hand across the woman’s back and shoulders feeling the tightness that she could see in the heaves of the sobs. She put the paddle on the side table with the other implements and began to seriously knead Angie’s shoulders working at the tension. When the muscles opened and began to loosen she moved her right hand to the small of the back then down across her pink bottom working the thick muscles by the handful. “Poor Angie” she fairly cooed and she expertly and methodically massaged the woman’s upper thighs. Eventually the sobbing slowed, then quieted and finally snuffled to a ragged end. The catharsis passed, the woman softened and relaxed across Liz’s lap.

Liz didn’t know much about what Angie did for a living. She knew it was something in software with tight deadlines, a lot of travel and good money but that was it. Her schedule eventually pulled Angie out of the studio routine but she wouldn’t give up her trainer’s house calls. They were less frequent lately but still regular.

“Use the hairbrush now”, Angie said.

“Are you sure Hon?” she asked unnecessarily.

“Oh yes-and hard” Angie answered firmly.

This was Angie’s pattern and Liz knew it well.  First came the tears and the rush of the emotions that she kept pent-up inside of her day after day, week after week. Once those floodgates opened there was nothing to be done but ride the rapids to the end. Then came the punishment for things that only Angie knew. Whether it was for things she had done, had failed to do or had thought about doing since the last time was her secret and Liz wasn’t in the business of solving those riddles. She was in the relief business-however short lived that relief might be.

Liz took the thick, wooden brush that had never brushed hair off the table and patted her friend’s bottom which rippled slightly. “Now you keep it soft for me. No tensing.” Again a little pat.

“OK”, Angie answered clearly.

Liz lifted the paddle to shoulder height and brought it down with a loud “SWAT!” on the right cheek. Angie groaned then barked loudly as the second smack landed in the same place. “OWWWW!” came her cry after the third, then a sharp “OUCH” after the fourth. Her cries now were dry reactions to pain, not teary responses to deserved punishment. Angie always cried on emotions, not so much on pain. She yearned for these paddlings almost as athletic events, to give her a different release-the kind that she no longer got from the pain at the gym. Liz was well equipped to give her what she wanted.

She reached around Angie’s waist and pulled her close-effectively holding her in place. “I’m really going to beat your ass now girl!” she said harshly.

“Go ahead-it’s all yours”, said Angie before biting down on the pillow.

From below, Angie felt deliciously trapped as the grip around her waist tightened. Ducking her head lower she raised her bottom to meet the brush which wasn’t long in coming. She growled deeply in her chest as searing swat after searing swat rained fire on her cheeks. She released the pillow from her mouth turning her head aside to swallow air while raising her hips higher still to welcome the sweet blistering barrage. She kicked her feet against the cushions and smacked the side of the couch with her open hand.

Liz watched her friend carefully between every swat. As instructed, Angie kept her bottom soft so that it danced with every blow, waves washing away from each impact. The curve of her back spread her cheeks revealing her asshole and sex clearly and openly to Liz’s watchful eyes. And Liz watched intently for signals from a woman who would never say “Stop” and “Enough” wasn’t in her vocabulary. When Angie allowed her bottom to be beaten down like dough to a baker’s fists-when she flatted herself across Liz’s lap and tensed her cheeks against the paddle-it was over.

Then suddenly it was. After a last hard swat Angie raised herself on her toes thrusting upward with a dry yelp then crashed down flat. She squeezed her bottom tightly-the gaping crevasse between the burning hemispheres reduced to a thin shoestring. Liz lay the paddle down on the table and patted Angie’s bum. “Wow”, she said admiringly. The ample cheeks were darkly mottled in reds pinks and purples.

“Wow indeed”, said Angie breathlessly. Then after a pause, “Can I get up?”

“Oh sure…” Liz released her grip and leaned back.

Angie dropped one foot to the floor and awkwardly pushed herself up. She stood stiffly and padded around the room on tiptoes reaching back to rub her tortured bottom. “Ouch-ouch-ouch”, she chirped. “Damn, girl-you killed me…”

Angie was looking over her shoulder at her bum in the mirror on the back of the door. The woman had no modesty whatsoever, her round belly poking out slightly above the dark black bush between her legs.

“That is a red that wants to be purple”, said Liz.

“Looks like cranberry relish”, Angie agreed.

Liz giggled at the thought and sat back watching Angie move around the room. She had gotten used to her friend’s nudity-she had insisted on it during their first session. “Would you mind?” Angie asked having taken a small bottle of salve off the dresser.

“No, of course”, Liz leaned forward and beckoned with her hand. Angie stood sideways and bent slightly as Liz squeezed a little of the cooling unguent into her palm. She rubbed it gently on the full cheeks-circling both carefully making sure not to miss a spot. “That is some heat”, said Liz.

“Mmmm-hmmm” hummed Angie. “You did a job alright.”

Angie straightened languidly and turned to face Liz. She stepped closer, pushing herself between her clothed knees. Liz looked up toward Angie’s face and smiled that her view was partially eclipsed by the smaller woman’s larger breasts leaning down seemingly drawn to her. From this close Liz could feel the heat coming off of her friend’s body. Surprising herself, she placed her head against Angie’s belly and with a hot cheek in either hand pulled her closer. “Keep rubbing” whispered Angie, and Liz did, closing her eyes and letting her head swim as the smell of Angie’s sex mingled with the lotion.

Liz knew what Angie did after a paddling session like this. She did it alone, in her room, with her music and her vibrator. She had jokingly (maybe not really joking) teased after Liz before that she should come to her room with her. That is all it had ever been; locker room banter, playful teasing. This time, with Angie stroking Liz’ hair and Liz lightly squeezing Angie’s bottom, it had escalated beyond the kidding stage. Angie leaned closer with a soft buzz between her legs, feeling Liz’s breath hot against her belly. It came so close to happening that Angie actually thought it would.

Then, with a sigh, the spell-if that’s what it could be called-was broken. Liz pulled back patting Angie’s behind. “Poor Liz”, said Angie gazing down into her clouded eyes.

“Poor nothing…let’s seize the day”, said Liz standing. She gently took Angie’s head in her hands and kissed her chastely on the cheek. “Come back to the studio would you? Please? I could use you around.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see…”

“What’s the rest of your day like?” Liz asked breezily, gathering her implements along with the envelope that Angie had left for her.

“I have a con-call in an hour that I’ll have to do standing up, thank-you-very-much. And of course I need my alone time right now to….” She nodded toward the bedroom. Liz put her hand up in an “OK, I get it” motion. “Of course”, Angie teased, “It doesn’t have to be ‘alone’ time. If you want…”

“You are such a brat! If there was still a white spot on your butt I’d spank you again!”

“Oh shit!” said Angie. “What are you doing now?”

“Now? I’m off this afternoon. Have my boots in the car. I was going to go hike Blade Mountain. Get my fresh air fix pushing up the back side of the far hill.”

“Oh, I hate to ask…..but would you mind taking Chloe with you?”

Chloe was Angie’s Irish Setter that she always kept in the garage during their sessions. She was a young dog that needed more running than Angie’s schedule would allow and this wouldn’t be the first time that Liz had run her.

“Sure-I need a puppy fix.”

“That’s not all you need”, said Angie, eyes dancing as she disappeared into the bedroom leaving Angie a final glimpse of her lusciously glowing backside.

I’m sure he does….