Another Batch of Warm Buns: Spanking short stories of erotic, play and discipline. Susan KohlerЧитать онлайн книгу.
Christie was finished, she silently handed the paddle to Vicki who gave him six more swats. The last six were not very hard, but Vicki enjoyed giving them to Bill. When she was finished, Bill stood up and pulled up his shorts and his jeans.
Randy said, “The whole point of this was to paddle Christie for losing the football bet. Now it’s her turn and I think we’ve waited long enough. Zipper, love.” He gave the familiar command to Christie.
She looked at the two spectators, then back at Randy. “Aw come on, they’ve seen butts before,” he said.
She unzipped her pants without a word, and then laid down on the sofa on her stomach. Just like she always did, she lifted her hips letting him pull her pants down. Just like always, she pulled down her lacy underwear. He raised the paddle and brought it down hard and fast on Christie’s buttocks. CRACK! CRACK! He gave her twenty-five on the right side, then he paused before turning his attention to her left cheek. He gave her the final twenty. The blows with the paddle were given faster and much more severely than the swats he had given her with his hand. They were much harder, more deliberately laid on. Each blow hurt more than the one before it, and the whole paddling was given ruthlessly right from the start.
Although the paddling made Christie’s butt glow red and feel hot to the touch, she didn’t make any outcry except faint moans. She squirmed quite a bit but she knew enough not to tense up her buttocks. She kept her cheeks relaxed throughout the whole paddling, even though it was given severely and hurt quite a bit.
“Boy! You really took that well, Christie,” Bill said. “Can I?” At her nod, he patted her butt. It was warm to his touch.
“Well, we started it out slow and easy during baseball season and, you know, lower scores. Hockey hardly seems worth it,” Christie explained.
“What about basketball?” Bill asked.
“The scores are too high!” Christie exclaimed at the same moment as Randy said, “Maybe next year.”
“And back to how I learned how to take it well, we started without the paddle. Then we built up as I got used to it and began to trust Randy to know my limits. We bet for fun and a little excitement, not to inflict pain.”
“I don’t want to be rude,” Randy said, “but don’t you two have some place to go? I sure do hate to waste a glowing ass!”
Ignoring the other couple, he gave Christie a quick kiss on her bright red butt!
“Well, I can tell when we’re not needed. I guess we better leave. Maybe we can go home now and find something to do,” Bill said, patting Vicki on her fanny. “Something fun and sweaty and very, very sexy.”
“Dream on, sadist.” Vicki moved away from him, but she had a sly smile curving her lips. “You’re going to pay for getting me into this.”
“I didn’t even hit you, all I did was help hold you in place,” Bill protested his innocence.
“That was enough, more than enough.” Vicki told him sternly, “You are in deep trouble now, mister.”
“Make him pay, Vicki,” Christie said, laughing. “For the pain and humiliation. I’m sure you can think of some interesting ways to do it.”
“Oh, he’ll pay all right.” Vicki smiled as only a woman could, a wicked smile that made Bill fear for his safety.
“Good night. I’d walk you to the door but I’m busy,” Randy hinted. “Don’t let the door hit you in the butt on the way out.”
And indeed, as soon as Vicki and Bill left, Randy put her ass and her whole body to good use. They made love right there on the sofa, fucking fast and furiously. They came to a tremendous climax and lay there for several minutes recovering before Randy took her to bed and made long, slow, tender love to her far into the night. Good night. Long night. No sleep!
My lover read this. I got a reward. His hand, tongue, belt and two paddles on my bare butt hard enough to sting (I pushed him a time or two) but not too hard (I eased him off a time or two). Can that guy give great rewards or what?
Two Jesse: The Hard-Handed Janitor
Do you ever wonder about those anonymous men? You know the ones I mean, the janitors, deliverymen and window washers, all the men who serve us and keep us comfortable. Especially the ones with average looks. How far can one of these faceless men be pushed before he pushes back?
Jesse Guerrero, the building’s head janitor, always came in late in the afternoon to straighten up the swank Law Offices of Eldrich and Tremain. He wasn’t really there to clean, it was only an excuse to take a break and visit a friend. During the day, with the offices still busy and fully staffed, he only did light touch ups: Just wiping off tables and desks, emptying trash cans, re-shelving books and straightening the chairs in the law library, wiping off the table in the conference rooms, and sponging up the small kitchenette and the tables in the lunch room. Most of the staff hardly noticed him. He prided himself on being polite, quiet and unobtrusive while the staff was busy.
Later in the evening when the offices were deserted, except of course for the occasional late working law clerk, paralegal or junior partner, Jesse and his cleaning crew did all the major work. He and his crew polished the offices to a high luster. Every surface was completely cleaned. All the wood was polished, the counters sprayed and wiped completely clean. The desktops were carefully cleared, cleaned, and any papers and anything else was put back so that they were in the exact place they were before cleaning, although the office rule was that all sensitive papers were to be locked up every night.
Jesse noted if there was a clerk leaving things out he or she should not, without reading the confidential papers. He reported to one of the firm’s senior partners if he felt there was a problem, although he and his crew had all signed confidentiality agreements.
He knew the firm could be open to a major lawsuit if any information were to be leaked. After the desks were cleaned, all the floors were moped, vacuumed or scrubbed; he searched out dirt and grime until the offices were gleaming and perfect.
For about the last week, getting everything perfect had been easier said than done. There was a problem with a paralegal or young lawyer working in the law library late every night that week. She was beautiful and haughty, looking down on the cleaning crew as if they were insignificant bugs. She acted as if Jesse should feel honored to clean up her mess, and she really made a terrible mess. The law library was disorganized, with books and papers strewn all over, and wads of paper near the trash can but not in it. The small kitchenette had crumbs and spilled coffee covering almost every surface, even after he had cleaned it once that evening. The ladies room had to be cleaned twice. Even her desk was all cluttered, including several files marked “confidential” with papers peaking out of them. There were scraps of food in her office and the law library, and coffee spilled everywhere. Food and coffee both stained the carpet. Not only that, but in the smoke free building, there were cigarette butts and ashes everywhere. There was a cigarette burn on the side of an expansive coffee table. Jesse was livid.
“Ma’am, could you please try not to spill food on the carpet?” Jesse asked politely, controlling his temper. “And remember, it’s against the law to smoke inside the building, not to mention disgusting.”
“If you don’t like cleaning up after people, why are you a janitor? Is it because you don’t have enough brains to get a real job?” she snapped back at him, eyes flashing. “Maybe I’ll complain to one of the senior partners about your attitude and get you fired.”
“You want to complain about me? Go ahead,” Jesse said in a tight voice. “I’ve been cleaning these offices for six years. I think my record will stand up to your accusations. Bitch.”
The sheer nerve of a janitor calling her a name left her speechless for a moment. He was long gone before she muttered under her breath, “Bastard!”
Jesse