“Don’t worry, Joe,” Bernice broke in, “There are definite consequences Marianne faces besides the loss of her bike. It’s that cute little butt you like so well that’s going to pay them. She won’t sit for a month.”

“Allaaan! You didn’t have to tell him!” Marianne was morti­fied. For Linda to know was bad enough, but Joe. My God, he’d never look at her as a woman now.

“That’s okay, Marianne.” Joe smiled for the first time. “I was thinking along the same lines myself. Glad to hear Bernice and I feel the same.” Handing his sunglasses to Bernice, he started to roll up the sleeves of his light blue shirt, exposing his for­midable looking forearms. “Bernice, you won’t mind then if I do the honors. After all, I was the one left sitting in her dust.”

Bernice contemplated for a second then answered, “Okay. That seems fair. Just make sure your do a good enough job.”

Marianne was speechless as she stared at first one then the other in disbelief. Then when Joe took a step forward, she found her vocal cords. “No. No. Noooo!” She would have run but as soon as she turned to go she got tangled in the hammock.

Joe grabbed her upper arm and helped her to stand only to be the near recipient of a blow to the face as she swung her fist at him. He ducked in time but the attack did nothing to soothe his temper, only barely kept in check the last few hours. He pulled her writhing body back against him, ignoring her stocking clad feet pounding against his shins as well as the curses she was screaming at him.

A quick flick and he had the button of her jeans undone. He paused to look at Bernice who was watching the scene with interest, arms folded across his chest. “May I?” Joe asked. Bernice nodded and Joe proceeded to strip the tight jeans down and off the squirming woman. Then he straddled the low hammock and flung Marianne over his lap. Lifting the top edge of her panties, he glanced back to get Bernice’s permission once more only to find Marianne’s brother nowhere in sight. With a shrug, he followed his own inclinations and slipped the flimsy black triangle of material down to Marianne’s knees, again ignoring her struggles and curses. Joe wasn’t surprised at all with her sexy underwear. They suited this sexy, more than a little wild, lady. After this les­son, Joe planned to teach Marianne how to be daring and adventurous in safer, more controlled ways. First she had to learn that there were more dangers to contend with than losing her life when she lived too close to the edge.

Marianne couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Teetering on the unstable webbing and the hard, angled shelf of Joe’s knees, she clutched the swaying hammock above her with her right hand to steady herself. Her left hand smacked the grass to kept her from falling forward. She called Joe every vile name she could think of then screamed in rage as she felt her panties slid irrevocably down her thighs. “You have no right!” She was furious that a near-stranger, someone she had hoped to impress and attract, was stripping her bottom bare and planned to punish her exposed flesh. Punish it in the most humiliating way possible.

In her anger, Marianne didn’t quite remember why she was in this position. Joe reminded her. “No right?” She heard him ask. “I think I have every right.” A biting sting spread on her right bottom cheek, flowing outward like ripples on a pond. She felt her buttock compress and rebound. Another sting, sharper, landed atop the first. SMACK! A blossom of fire grew on her left cheek. “I think this is going to be even more satisfying than being able to arrest you.” Three more, another to the left then two dead on center. Joe’s hand was hard and firm, unyielding against her soft flesh. She could imagine the way she looked with her wriggling bottom turning pink.

“Stop!” Marianne pleaded, her feet kicking ineffectually in the air. “Please stop!”

Joe paused. “Why should I?”

“It hurts.” Marianne couldn’t believe the whimper in her voice. Always before, when Bernice spanked her, she was feisty and defiant to the bitter end. At least until he had her broken and weeping. Certainly she never felt this little girl feeling she felt now, especially at the beginning of the spanking, before she felt any real pain.

“It’s supposed to hurt. That’s what a spanking is all about.”


Joe paused again. “What now?”

The Pain Files

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