“Did he use anything other than his hand?” Marianne froze, unwilling to answer the question. “Marianne.” She never heard anything as chilling as the way he had just said her name. “Did Bernice spank you with anything other than his hand?”

“No.” The word came out in a squeak. What did Joe have with him? she thought in a panic. “Are you going to use your belt?”

“No. I’m going to use this paddle that Bernice has conveniently provided.”

“Paddle?” Marianne scrambled, fighting frantically to look over her shoulder. Or get up. She wasn’t sure. “What paddle?”

“This one.” The rigid wood came up hard against both buttocks, catching them along the lower edge. “Owoooooaaaaoooow!” Her feet flailed the air as Marianne tried to run off Joe’s lap. “Noooo! Joeeeee! You can’t!”

“Oh, yes I can. And am going to. You deserve every lick you’re going to get.” Again the paddle connected with the fullest part of both cheeks.

“Owoooooaaaaoooow!” She let go of the hammock, madly seeking a way to block the paddle’s next shocking wallop. She missed but Joe didn’t. With a loud WHAP! the paddle landed on the tender crease at the bottom of her right cheek, overlapping the top of her right thigh. “Owoooooaaaaoooow!” Griping the hammock again, she steadied herself.

WHACK! “Owoooooaaaaoooow!”

Joe continued applying the paddle with a skill he had never learned but seemed to come by naturally. He plied it surely and silently, concentrating on the tops and lower under-curves of the rounded mounds before him. He wanted her to feel the effects of this spanking every time she sat down – for a long time to come.

Each WHACK! was accompanied by a heartfelt “Owoooooaaaaoo-oow!” The in-between ( and he made sure there was an in between) was hardly quiet. Hiccups and wailing sobs filled the air, ever louder as the paddling progressed. Occasionally, a plea for mercy or cry for Joe to stop managed to find its way through Marianne’s contorted lips, though the words were barely recognizable.

The Pain Files

After what seemed to Marianne to be an eternity, the next blow didn’t fall. Minutes passed before she could catch her breath. As her heart rate slowed, she noticed that her buttocks were throbbing incessantly, a deep rhythm that underscored the burning sizzle of her bottom skin.

This time Joe let her stand. Unmindful of modesty, Marianne’s hands flew to her backside. Her fingers just barely skimmed the surface. It hurt too much to actually touch the skin, let alone rub.

Joe swung his leg over the hammock and pulled Marianne to stand between his knees. He hugged her soothingly until finally Marianne’s hands left her scorched rear and she returned his hug with a vehemence she hadn’t expected. Sheepish, she stepped back.

Joe sensed her embarrassment. Not mentioning it, he helped her replace her panties, his lips twitching when she yelped at the contact of the flimsy material and her sore bottom. Gingerly, she bent over to retrieve her jeans from the grass.

“I can’t wear these.” Marianne sounded surprised.

“I know.” Joe wasn’t surprised at all. He knew what her bottom looked like. Scarlet wouldn’t even begin to describe the color. Neither would maroon. Or purple. He’d have to invent a new color just for this occasion.

Marianne was clutching her jeans and looking ever so much like a shamed little girl as she stared at the ground. “I guess this means I won’t be seeing you again.”

Joe lifted Marianne’s chin and smiled into her face. “And why not?”

“You can’t want to see me again after the way I’ve acted.”

“Yes, I do. If I didn’t care enough to see you again, I wouldn’t have cared enough to blister your cute little butt.”


“Really.” He kissed her lightly on the tip of her nose. “The next time you think of doing something risky, remember that.”

“Don’t worry! I will!” The throbbing in her bottom insured that she would.

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