Rick and Linda: Round Robin

Four wives plot group spanking night.

We were four couples, all but one of us in our mid- or late- 20s. Linda & I, KeeKee & James (a 35 year old), Ellen & Danny, and Arundati & Karam. James, Karam, and Ellen were, like me, professors at the university. Danny was a construction site manager. Linda, KeeKee, and Arundati worked at the university’s library. I remembered KeeKee and Arundati vaguely from the library’s last staff Christmas party to which Linda took me. The rest I’d never really met.

Tonight’s group outing had been organized by the three librarians, mainly KeeKee. It was a getting-to-know you evening for four couples that were still relatively new to town and looking to make friends. She’d met Ellen only a couple of weeks before at some kind of women-in-academia conference on campus. None of the husbands knew each other. We had dinner at a culturely-confused restaurant called “Viva Curry,” then seen a movie, and we were now gathered in the living room of KeeKee and James’s home, having drinks.

I wasn’t much of a drinker myself, so I sipped a single vodka while the others became tipsy. Linda hadn’t been much of a drinker since her college days when she needed alcohol as an inhibition-reducer, so I was surprised tonight when she accepted a whiskey straight only minutes after finishing a glass of wine. Linda is only 4 feet, 11 inches, and weighs just 95 pounds, so she can’t hold much.

We sat around a large square coffee table. The three other men were all to my right, slumped in easy chairs, a bit pink-faced with booze. Linda sat to my left on a love seat. Ellen was perched on the front edge of an easy chair facing the men across the table. Arundati sat on a couch directly across from me and KeeKee sat beside her when she wasn’t up fetching bottles or pouring drinks.

Ellen, a tall English-born brunette, was the beauty of the group without a doubt. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’d take Linda in a second, over Ellen, or anyone else for that matter. I flipped for Linda the moment I saw her 9 years before, with her long golden curls, her tiny upturned nose and her eyes, one blue and the other green. And as I like to tell her, her small size makes her sexier. It’s as though her sexiness is more powerful because it is compressed into a small package.

But I’m bound to admit that by conventional measures, Ellen was the most beautiful woman on the campus, in the town, and probably in the state. She is 5′ 8″, slim, athletic, brown-eyed, with a small pointed chin and a spray of light freckles across her nose and upper cheeks. Her complexion was flawless and she never wore makeup.

Ellen had managed the rare trick of being both beautiful and cute at the same time. The beauty I’ve already told you about. The cuteness came from the hair. It was brown and cut very short in the style of Peter Pan. Best of all was the cowlick near the top back of her head. Most short-haired women with cowlicks cut them off at the base. Ellen was clever enough to keep her’s. Whenever she walked or lectured in class or moved her head at all, that cowlick waved and bounced like an errant feather. It was heart-meltingly adorable. If you need to picture Ellen, I’d liken her to the actress Kate Beckensale in the movie “Uncovered.”

Although some men would not agree with me, I found KeeKee and Arundati just as sexy as Ellen. (All three of them are also-rans compared to my Linda). KeeKee had come to this country from Japan to attend college and learn English. She was only 2 inches taller than Linda, had black shoulder length hair, a smooth complexion, perfect figure, a mischievous grin and a bubbly personality. James, 7 years older than she, had been one of her professors. Like many Japanese, she mixed up ‘r’s and ‘l’s and had been calling me “Lick” all evening. I found it adorable.

Arundati and her husband had come from India just 2 years before. Like most women from that very conservative culture, she always dressed in baggy, figure-hiding clothes. Her skin was a wonderful smooth brown. She had long jet black, curly hair, a heart-shaped face, and huge deep brown eyes; so darkly brown that, unless you were very close to her, the iris and pupil merged into a single large dark spot, giving her eyes a depth such as I’d never seen on anyone else.

The conversation had turned giggly and a little naughty. Someone had mentioned couples who met for regular bridge games, then someone else made a joke about couples meeting for strip poker. There was much tittering from the women and stripping became the topic of conversation for a while as the women blushed and giggled. My Linda just smiled wanly and looked pale. I wondered what was making her so nervous.

A little later KeeKee and Ellen told us how they met at the women-in-academia conference when they found themselves sitting at the same table for the conference lunch with a woman who inadvertently revealed that her husband spanked her regularly when she overspent. There was nervous, giggly talk of spanking in marriage and speculation on the details of such acts. Linda and I were quiet during this talk: we did not need to speculate, we knew the details about spanking in marriage.

The conversation wandered, as conversations do, to houses, mortgages, gossip about colleagues, and the town’s best restaurants; but every few minutes it would somehow wander back to either couples strip poker or spanking. James suggested that it would be impossible for a loving husband to really spank his wife with more than symbolic spanks. (Linda and I kept poker faces.) KeeKee, his wife, suggested that two men in need of disciplining their wives could spank each other’s wives; thereby ensuring that each errant girl got a good licking when needed. And, thus, the two topics of couples-strip-poker and spanking became merged into one and we found ourselves talking about hypothetical couples who would meet to switch partners for spanking. Everyone would begin every sentence with something like “This is all purely hypothetical, of course … ”

There was much talk about the practicalities of such a system. (All purely hypothetical we assured ourselves.) Where and when and how frequently would it occur? What sins were truly “spankworthy”? Would spankers use bare hands or some kind of implement. Would the spankings be on the bare skin or over underwear? (“Bare!” the three inebriated men all chorused when Arundati asked the last question.)

But, the main roadblock we agreed was the danger of infidelity or rape. People would simply not allow their spouse to be alone with another either to spank or to be spanked. The situation was just too erotically tempting.

I tuned out the conversation in boredom because I’ve had years of very unhypothetical experience spanking Linda. It was then that I noticed that, other than Linda’s whiskey, the women had been drinking only wine and none of them had finished even a single glass in the two hours we’d been talking. They weren’t drunk at all. They were faking it.

As the conversation droned around me, I replayed as much as I could remember of the night’s conversation. It was no accident, I concluded, that it had kept coming back to strip poker and couples and spanking. KeeKee had always been the one who had brought it back to those subjects. KeeKee was also the one who effectively merged the topics with her suggestion of wives being spanked by other women’s husbands. Ellen, and sometimes Arundati, and been extending the talk about these things too. It had always been one of the men who had pointed out the practical difficulties in implementing such a scheme, but all the suggested solutions had come from the women.

A slow smile grew on face as I realized that those three women had an agenda. Each of these women wanted a spanking, and not from their husbands. And they wanted it tonight. Then I looked at Linda and thought about how nervous she’d been all night and that she’d had a long gulp of Ye Old Uninhibitor for the first time in years. She was in on it.

I sat back and listened in amusement for a few more minutes of “this is strictly hypothetical, of course” talk, then I spoke up about the one roadblock the women had not solved: the danger of infidelity or rape.

“The main problem can be solved by a combination of time limits and allowing only semi-privacy for the spankings.” I said. All eyes turned toward me.

“The couples meet in a house with several rooms that are very close to each other,” continued. “Each husband and the woman he’s supposed to spank go to a different room. But the doors are left open, so everyone can hear what’s going on in every room. Then somebody sets a timer for say 3 or 4 minutes. Long enough to administer a spanking, but not really long enough for cheating on one’s spouse, especially with the doors open.”

I paused, and then looked KeeKee directly in the eyes, smiled, and said “Purely hypothetical, of course.”

Her eyes grew big and she blushed and looked away. No one else seemed to notice that, but I knew that she knew that I had figured out her little game.

There was a long silence as everybody contemplated my suggestion. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Ellen give KeeKee a subtle kick on the ankle that no one else saw. The two women looked at each other a moment and then KeeKee cleared her throat to get everyone’s attention.

“There’s a question of fairness here, however,” she started (pronouncing it failness he’ah, howevah.). “It’s inevitable that some men will spank harder than others. There could be a really naughty little schoolgirl- uh- I mean really bad wife who gets a gentle spanker. Yet, another wife gets a really harsh spanking.” (In her pronunciation, ‘harder’ was ‘haldah, ‘really’ was ‘learry’, ‘harsh’ was ‘hahsh’, and, of course, ‘spanker’ was ‘spankah’.)

Ellen, of course, had the answer. She was not a natural actress and if the other men had not been so drunk they would have heard how obviously rehearsed she sounded when she said: “Well, they could just do a round robin. Each woman is spanked by every man for an equal amount of time.”

“Yes,” Arundati chimed in well-rehearsed support. “Every woman spanked by four men.” she said in her sing-song Hindustani accent (think of Apu on the Simpsons television show).

“Why do you say ‘four’, Arundati?” I asked as smiling as innocently as I could. “Why would there necessarily be four couples?”

She blushed and then stammered, “Uh. Of course. Um. I meant. Um. I meant four hypothetically. It wouldn’t always be four.”

The women, having solved all the problems facing their “purely hypothetical” scheme now faced their Rubicon. Someone had to move the conversation out of the realm of the hypothetical. Someone had to say “Let’s do this. The eight of us. In real life. Tonight.”

I knew my Linda would be too shy and inhibited to do it and Arundati had spent her life in a conservative and repressed society. No way she was going to overcome that in a single conversation. That left KeeKee and Ellen. KeeKee was the outgoing talker but that did not necessarily translate into courage which is what the situation called for now. I’d picked up some signs during the evening that Ellen might actually be more the leader than KeeKee and I did sense that there was a boldness inside that adorable Peter Pan head.

The two of them, Ellen and KeeKee, kept glancing at each other while saying things like “Well…” and “Um…” and “So…”. I took pity on them and decided to help out.

“So, KeeKee,” I said, “besides this room, I know there’s a bedroom and the kitchen off the hallway. Is there another room past the kitchen?”

“Yes,” she said, puzzled by the question, “there is schoolroom- uh- I mean James’s study.”

Ellen and Arundati and their husbands looked puzzled at the hastily corrected reference to the “the schoolroom” but James himself shifted nervously in his chair and KeeKee was blushing. I concluded (as did Linda, she told me later) that some “naughty schoolgirl” games had been played in “the schoolroom.”

“So,” I continued, “there are four rooms so close to each other that anything happening in one can be heard in the others.”

“Yes very tlue [true],” said KeeKee happily, suddenly realizing that I was an ally. Ellen looked at me with wide-eyed surprise. Only now did she realize that I was onto the whole game. She smiled and looked at me with, false modesty aside, real admiration.

“So” said Ellen, picking up on my gambit, “this house would work well for the system we were describing … hypothetically.” She and the other women were all now looking at me expectantly, hopefully, eagerly.

“Indeed, it would be perfect,” I replied, “which makes me wonder if anyone present here would object to such a system.”

I looked at the other three men. They blinked, stirred, and began to sit up. For the first time that night, the possibility that this might not be a purely hypothetical scenario was dawning on them. Both James and Karam seemed to get the same idea at the same time: they both looked at beautiful Ellen. She looked right back, unblushing, and a small smile spread her lips. James’ and Karam’s eyes widened. Message received.

They both allowed as how they had no objection to such a system, Danny chimed in assent as well.

“Well, then,” I said. “Perhaps we should conduct an experiment tonight to see if this would really be feasible. Anyone object to that?” This is the way to get agreement on something that everyone in a room is too embarrassed to ask for: make it a negative question “Does anyone object?” This way, nobody had to say ‘I want to be spanked’ and no one had to say ‘I want to spank so-and-so.’ Everyone could just stay silent.

Danny, looked from Linda to KeeKee to Arundati, and pursed his lips in thought. I could guess what he was thinking. From his point of view, he was the guy who brought the football so he could make the rules. His wife was the great beauty. It was her behind that other men would most want to see and smack. He was considering how he could leverage this to get more than an equal share, more time perhaps with the other wives or perhaps fewer clothes on the other wives when he spanked them.

Karam and James, drunk and lusting for Ellen, would probably have agreed to such a deal, but their wives might not have, and I would definitely have said ‘no.’ Watching Danny, I picked up Linda’s hand possessively in mine, prepared to walk out if necessary.

Ellen saw this, and correctly surmised what I was on my mind. Thinking fast, she said, “You know, the great thing about marriage is that you have this partner who always helps you see all your dreams come true. And when they do that it just makes you want to help them with all of their desires too.” As she finished this sentence, she looked Danny in the eyes.

Translated, she said, “This evening is important to me Danny. Don’t fuck this up or you’ll sleep on the couch for six months.”

Danny understood. He sat back, smiled, and said, “Well, I certainly don’t object.”

After 10 more seconds of quiet, KeeKee, now furiously blushing, said, “Well- uh- how about that? No one object.”

There were some details to be worked out, but we finalized plans quickly. It was decided that each man would spank each woman just once. Spankings would last 4 minutes. All four women would be spanked simultaneously, so there would be a total of four 4 minute rounds. No touching was allowed other than the spanks themselves and touching that was necessary to hold the woman in place (or put her in place to begin with). Doors to the rooms would stay open throughout. Each woman would stay in her assigned room while the men rotated between rooms.

A kitchen timer was placed on a table in the middle of the hallway. It was decided that whatever man was rotating to the kitchen would set the timer to 4 minutes and then call out “Start.” When the timer bell rang, all spankings would stop immediately and men would rotate.

It was also decided that on the first round, each man would spank his own wife. After the fourth and final 4 minute spanking, there would be another rotation which would bring the men back to the room with their wives for five minutes. That was my idea: I figured it would be a good idea for each husband and wife at that time to reassure each other of their love and fidelity. After the 5 minute debriefing we would all meet again, fully dressed, in the living room.

The women would have to pull up skirts or push down pants, but each woman would decide whether to take her spankings on panties or on the bare skin. A woman could not choose underwear for some men and bare skin for others. Whatever choice she made for the first spanking applied to all of them.

The others seemed to think of me as the leader, so I assigned Linda to the living room, Arundati to the bedroom, Ellen to the kitchen, and KeeKee to James’s study. (It took all my will power to not call it “the schoolroom” so I could see KeeKee blush.)

The other couples left for their respective rooms. Danny set the timer and called out “Start” before continuing to the kitchen.

There was no suitable spanking chair in the living room, so I sat on the arm of a couch while Linda, after a blushing glance at the open door, pulled down her jeans and panties. I pulled her over my lap and gazed at her familiar milky white globes. It was a sight that never grew old for me, but there wasn’t time to indulge myself in gazing at it tonight. On the other hand, I didn’t start spanking either. Instead, I inserted one finger into her vagina and reminded her that over the next 16 minutes, three men she’d never met before tonight were going to see her naked bottom.

“I know,” she said, “I’m scared and I’ll be embarrassed, but … for some reason when KeeKee told me her plans for tonight … about being spanked by other men … men we hardly knew … and she invited me … well … ”

“I understand,” I said. No point in trying to force Linda to confront her desires. I knew them better than she did anyway. She is aroused by embarrassment and humiliation. She doesn’t like humiliation, mind you. It’s more complicated than that. She is a proud and modest person. But, like it or not, it turns her on. Spanking, for Linda, is just a means to the end. If done properly, it can arouse her by virtue of embarrassing her.

Within seconds of my reminding her of what was going to happen tonight, I felt her love juices cover my finger. That is what I had been feeling for. It confirmed for me, that for Linda, tonight, the spankings, strictly speaking, would be almost beside the point. Letting her bottom be seen by strangers, voluntarily lowering her own panties and voluntarily putting herself over their laps, these things would humiliate her and, thus, arouse her. But I knew that she didn’t entirely recognize this herself.

“Alright, Linda, I said, “offer your bottom to me.” She promptly arched her back which caused her bottom to stick up more prominently. She then stood on tiptoe which caused her rear end to protrude toward the ceiling even higher. This was a position I had taught her years before, on our 10^th date.

I spanked her right buttock medium hard. She bucked slightly in surprise but made no sound. I continued with the medium blows at a moderate pace. Before long her bottom was turning light pink and her hips began to twitch from side to side while her buttocks began to clench. She was emitting soft little ‘ow’s with each spank.

I paused and for the first time we heard barely audible rhythmic sounds coming from the other rooms. The others, inhibited, had apparently been waiting for us to start. But we heard no ‘ouch’es. I thought it would be a good idea to signal to the other women that it is OK to cry out, so I gave Linda one really hard one on the base of both hills. She twisted, grimaced, and called out “Owwwoooo” loud enough to be heard in the other rooms. This must have startled the other men, because all sounds stopped for a few seconds. I knew this would send another fresh flow of juice in her sex. Only rarely has Linda ever been heard by others getting a spanking and it is always extremely embarrassing, and thus arousing, for her.

I returned to more moderate spanks after that. The other spankers resumed, too, but we never did hear any other woman cry out.

I can, if I want, get Linda shouting out her pain and gyrating manically during a spanking. But I decided that wouldn’t be appropriate tonight in a house full of new acquaintances.

The bell rang and I help Linda to her feet. She pulled up her panties and jeans and winced when the cloth wrapped her pink bottom. There was just a touch of moisture in her eyes. She smiled and whispered her thanks. “Same to you,” I said, “and good luck. Call out if you need me.”

I walked into the hall. Karam was setting the timer, Danny crossed the hall from the kitchen into the James’ study and James would be going to Linda in the living room.

When I entered the bedroom, Arundati was standing by the bed. We nodded hello and I sat on the end. When Karam shouted “Start,” I gave her arm a firm tug on the wrist and pulled her over my lap. I raised her knee length skirt and bunched it over her back.

“I have decided. Keep underwear on,” she said in her sing song voice and somewhat pidkin English.

“That’s fine,” I said, but I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to see more of that beautiful brown skin or find whether the hair on her pubis was as wildly curly as the hair on her head.

“Arundati,” I said, “arch your back; that is, make your lower back curve down toward the floor. Make it concave.” She did. She was now offering her bottom to me properly.

I paused to marvel at what I was seeing. Even encased in the plainest white cotton briefs, her firm and round bottom was pretty sexy. What made it even more delicious was the thought that this was a colleague’s wife; a wife who was voluntarily draping herself over my lap, offering her bottom salaciously, and inviting me to spank her in a most private place.

I decided to begin with several blows of increasing strength to find out what she could take. I started with soft pats and steadily increased the power of the smacks. Not until I reached medium strength blows did she start to react. First it was clenching of the buttocks which was somehow all the sexier because the visible undulating surface was cotton instead of skin. As I continued she also began to buck her hips and gurgle “unh” with each spank.

I gave her a hard one on the left buttock and she cried out a loud “unhhhhhhhuh” and froze. A half second later, as if on a time-delay device, her hips suddenly pushed down hard on my lap and bucked on it frantically several times in just a second or two. Her cry had been audible in the other rooms and, once again, the other spankers apparently stopped for a few seconds when they heard it.

I gave her another on the right side with the same results right down to the odd time-delay effect. This seemed to be the right level of strength for Arundati, so I continued with a slow but steady rhythm. Before long, the rapid fire bucking was nearly continuous. It was remarkable actually that human hips could even move that fast. She was bucking faster than once per second. The volume of her “unhhhhhhuh” cries of pain was also increasing and each one lasted longer than its predecessor.

I returned to more moderate spanks. I wanted to treat all the women as I’d treated Linda, which meant stopping short of spanks that were hard enough to cause real maniacal kicking and twisting or real shouts of pain. Arundati had reached her limit. The bucking slowed and the exclamations of pain shorted to “unh” after each spank.

After a few seconds of this, to my surprise the hip movements actually stopped completely. As I continued the steady moderate spanks, she started up again with a new pattern. Now, she slid her hips slowly forward and back the whole width of my thigh. She was massaging her pubis on my leg. Her ‘unh’ sounds now correlated with these slides, not with my spanks (which were at a faster rhythm). The ‘unh’s became progressively louder and longer again.

I stopped to rest my hand but she continued on, oblivious. After about 15 seconds she noticed I was no longer spanking. She said nothing, but she stopped her sliding, planted her feet, and pushed her bottom in the air at me as if to say, “Hey, this is my 4 minute spanking! Rest on your own time, Bub!”

She was right, but I was slightly annoyed anyway so I gave that high, accusing bottom a hard smack right on the top. Again, the funny half second delay, after which she gasped loudly and slammed the hip down on my lap, wildly clenching and unclenching her buttocks for several seconds as she shifted the hips rapidly from side to side.

In a few seconds, I went back to my moderate spanks and she went back to her sliding massage of her pubis. Her upper body rose up and I could see the side of her flushed face. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open as she emitted her ‘unh’s with each slide.

The bell rang.

She ignored it and continued sliding. I tried to lift her to her feet with my hands under her armpits. For a moment, she actually resisted, but then gave in and stood up, her dress falling back into place. She immediately turned her back on me. As I stepped away she whispered “thank you, Rick sahib.”

In the hallway, I passed James coming out of the living room. He nodded but then looked down and away, embarrassed and maybe guilty that he had just been spanking my wife. As I stopped at the timer to set it, Danny passed me headed for Linda and the living room and Karam crossed the hall to visit KeeKee in James’ study. When the timer was set, I called out, “Start,” and headed into the kitchen.

As soon as I entered, I stopped in surprise. Miss Peter Pan was already naked below the waist and leaning on a tall stool in the middle of the room. She looked over her shoulder at me, blushed, and shamefacedly turned away again. I realized that we had never specified how the women were to wait between spankers and Ellen apparently thought she was supposed to wait in position. “Rookie mistake,” I laughed to myself. “Never deprive the spanker of the unveiling.”

“No, no, no, no,” I said as I strode over to her, “this is all wrong. You are practically standing straight up.” I slapped her moderately hard on the left buttock to punctuate my irritation. She jerked, yelped, and put one hand back to rub the spot I’d smacked while she stared at me in wide-eyed fear. It was then that I noticed that aside from the spot I’d just whacked, her bottom had very little pink in it. Danny and Karam must have gone easy on her. I wondered if they just didn’t know how to spank. Its not brain science, but there is some technique to it.

“Don’t put your hands on the stool and hold yourself up,” I instructed like a stern teacher. “lay your forearms crisscross on the stool and rest the side of your head on your arms.” She did, and that put her head lower than her bottom. It also caused her dress, which she had been holding above her waist, to slide down to her armpits, exposing breasts in a skimpy bra that was translucent enough to expose her nipples.

“Now step forward about 12 inches, but move only your feet forward, not the rest of you.”

She did, and that put her heels closer to the stool than her rear. Now her bottom was protruding up and back the way to-be-spanked bottoms should be. I then instructed her, as I had Arundati, about arching her back and when she’d done that I also had her stand on tiptoe, as Linda had. I emphasized this last instruction with an upward sweeping smack on her right buttock.

She obeyed with another yelp and now the combination of arching and tiptoe standing caused her bum to roll up about 45 degrees and point towards the intersection of the ceiling and the wall behind her, instead straight back toward the wall. It also brought the wispy hairs around her lower pubis into view between the tops of her thighs.

When I’d entered the room the tableau she presented said “Don’t you think my ass and legs are beautiful?” Now, after my rearrangement, it said simply “Spank me!”

So I did.

I stood to one side of her. She rested her head on the stool where she could see me and the door beyond. I told her that if her legs got tired she could come down off her tiptoes whenever she wanted. Linda had been “offering her bottom” to me for so many years that she could stay on tiptoe for long periods of time, but I knew this was difficult for beginners.

I started in with light smacks and built the strength of the blows slowly looking for the level that she could endure for four minutes without outright crying or excessive gyrations. Before long her buttocks were clenching and her hips jerked away from each blow. (The cowlick waved with each jerk.) For a while I swatted alternate buttocks, forcing her into a kind of lewd hip dance, each buttock clenching in turn and her hips shifting back and forth.

Then I switched to uppercuts which brought gasps from Ellen and she lifted her head from the stool and held it up. After the third uppercut she was twisting her face into a grimace of pain after each gasp. At the sixth, her gasps turned into ‘ungh’s pushed out between gritted teeth. Her whole body kind of stiffened and shivered with each blow.

As I continued, I switched from uppercuts to a mixture of blows, mixing up the targets and the angles. The ‘ungh’s got progressively longer and louder, audible in the other rooms. The grimaces got tighter and her teeth gritted harder and harder. Her head began to turn from side to side mussing her hair as sweat broke out on her face and flanks. She’d reached her limit.

I stopped completely to give us both a brief rest. She noticed right away, but unlike Arundati, she didn’t object to a bit of rest. Instead, she just looked back over her shoulder at me, staring wide-eyed.

The stare was of a type I have seen occasionally before. I’d first seen it high school. Whenever two boys got into a fist fight, other students in the vicinity would crowd around to watch. The girls, I noticed, after giggling nervously a bit, would become absolutely still and stare at the fighters. I saw it again on the faces of women in the lobby of a hotel a few years ago. They were staring at a businessman loudly and angrily chewing out a subordinate (also male). I’d seen the Stare on other occasions, too, always women looking at men. And the men were always being violent or angry or somehow displaying physical or social power over other men.

But now the Stare was directed at me. The Stare is about 10% surprise, 10% fear, and 80% fascination. But there was no other man in the room. “I’m not displaying power over other men,” I thought to myself, “what gives?” I decided to ask Linda about it later. For the moment there was work to be done.

I resumed but kept the pace and strength moderate. The first smack startled her out of her reverie of staring and she laid her head back on her arms. Although my spanks now were only moderately painful, they had a cumulative effect and before long she was beginning to clench and unclench her buttocks and kind of bounce up to her tip toe on first one foot and then the other in a futile attempt to shake away the building pain. The deep burning of cumulative spanking had a different effect on her voice than the sting of individual spanks. She began to emit high-pitched breathy ‘ah’s in an irregular rhythm, some of them were short outbursts, others were long drawn out keens rising and falling in pitch. It took a while, but eventually they became loud enough to be heard in the other rooms.

I knew the bell was about to ring, so I decided to finish by “calling my shot.”

“Up on your tip toes, now, Ellen, and keep that back arched. The next one will be an uppercut like the ones that stung you so much earlier.” She obeyed my first sentence before I’d finished the second and I saw by how the light glinted off of them that the hairs of her pubis were now damp.

She looked back over her shoulder. Not at me, but at my hand. Tears streaked her face and her eyes were a little swollen, but there was bright excitement in them, too, as she watched that hand. Till now, her thighs had been together; but, spontaneously, she lifted one foot moved it out about 18 inches from its partner.

My spank wasn’t really very hard, but her bottom was so sensitive now, it stung as badly as a hard one anyway. Her upper body jerked up, her hips jerked forward, and her teeth gritted so hard she could have bitten through an iron rod. She made no sound at first, but as she relaxed and lowered herself back into position, she let out a very long, very loud, and very low guttural exhale “Ohuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuungh.”

The bell rang.

As I left I looked back at her and saw that the Peter Pan hair was now wildly mussed and tangled. The cowlick waved triumphantly over it all like a mischievous English schoolboy who’s just led his fellow students in a decorum-smashing rebellion. She was positioned exactly as I had arranged her 4 minutes before except that she’d spread her legs. The caption of the tableau still said “Spank me!” but now there was a subcaption:

“Then take me from behind!”

I hoped for James’s sake he could resist temptation. Her husband, Danny was a younger and stronger man. Ellen smiled at me and mouthed the words “thank you.”

As I crossed the hall to James’s study where KeeKee awaited me, I saw James setting the timer. I envied him the experience he was about to have. When he entered the kitchen, he would see the most beautiful woman in town, a colleague, nearly naked, bent over with her very pink bottom in the air, legs slightly splayed, pussy slightly damp, Peter Pan hair mussed adorably, waiting for his firm chastisement.

KeeKee was standing beside a big leather desk chair, annoyed and frustrated about something. I plopped myself down in the chair and looked around while we waited for James to call “Start.” The office was impeccably neat. Even the desktop was bare. All pens, pencils, scissors, and other tools had been put away. With one glaring exception: in plain sight on the end of the desk, where it couldn’t possibly be missed by anyone sitting in the chair, was a wooden ruler.

At that moment James yelled “Start.”

As KeeKee pulled down her trousers and underwear and stepped out of them, I picked up the ruler. The name and date of the women’s conference where she had met Ellen was stamped on it. This wasn’t James’s ruler, it was KeeKee’s, a “gimme” that she’d pick up at the conference. That explained why it hadn’t been put neatly away.

With her back to the door, she bent over one of the thick padded arms of the chair and rested her forearms on the chair’s other arm. She laid her head on her arms facing me, saw the ruler in my hand and the look of annoyance melted away. The chair arms were so high, her body crossed over me several inches above my lap. The lack of support caused a kind of sag to her mid-upper-body, and this, in turn, arched her back and raised her bottom naturally. There’d be no need for me to teach her that. Nor would I have to tell her to stand on tip toe: she was such a small woman and James and cranked up the adjustable chair so high, her legs actually dangled off the floor.

Her body was more impressive than I’d hoped. In fact, I’d have to say that it was flawless as far as I could see. Not a mole, not a wrinkle, not a mark anywhere to mar that expanse of soft curvy white, and her proportions were actually better than Ellen’s. Gazing on her perfect white bottom, I noticed that it did not have the tell-tale crisscross marks of a ruler spanking. In fact, it wasn’t pink at all.

“KeeKee,” I said, “you obviously haven’t been spanked with the ruler. It doesn’t look as if you’ve been spanked at all. What’s going on?”

“Other men not notice ruler,” she replied. (Pronounced “Uh-thah men not notice lurrah.”)

“Well, they must have seen it,” I pointed out. “They just didn’t think to use it.” To myself I added the thought “What lunkheads! They had this gorgeous bottom lying before them, four minutes to spank it, and a ruler barely 15 inches to the right of their hand and they didn’t think to use it?”

I could guess now what she had been irritated about when I came in.

“So, as I understand it,” I said, “you laid your ruler here in plain sight, but none of the others got the hint. Is that about the size of it?”

Her face flushed red and she turned it away from me, which I knew meant “Yes.”

I laid the ruler against her bottom for a moment. With a flick of the wrist and forearm, I smacked it against her buns. Her head jerked up as she let out a “owooo” I waited for a few seconds as I always did after the first spank of a ruler to watch the stripe slowly emerge. It seemed to come from somewhere down inside, like a submerged pink log slowly floating to the surface of a thick milky lake.

Hard strokes are unnecessary with a wooden ruler because they pack such a sting, so I continued simply snapping it against her bottom. And I spaced out the spanks more than I would have hand spanks. After every 10 spanks I stopped and gave her a 10 second break.

As I continued snapping the ruler, her noises became longer, lower, and louder.

Snap

“Owwwoooo”

Snap

“Arrrreeee”

Snap

“Oh! ow! OW!”

Snap

“Innnggggghhhh!”

Snap

“NahUhahhhhh!”

Snap

“Unnnnnnahhhhhh!

Snap

“Ahh! Ohhh!”

Snap

“Oh! Ah! Arrrr!”

Snap

“Un Ohh! Oooow!”

Snap

“Nnnnuuhhh! Urrgh! Ahan!

Snap

“Ooooowwwwwwwaaaahhh!

The other rooms were hearing her soundtrack, but only I was getting the floorshow.

As I continued, those dangling legs became increasingly active, as she impulsively jumped and jived trying to shake away the pain. At first, her body simply rocked from side to side, as she sifted her weight impulsively from one hip bone to the other. As the pain built up, however, she began a kind of horizontal dance. First one leg would kick back, then the other. After some snaps her legs reflexively spread wide, giving me a close up view of her dampening genitals, only to slam together again with the next snap.

By the time we were well into the fourth minute, she was lifting both legs into the air with some smacks, making herself literally horizontal. At one point, she bent both knees to their maximum, pulling up her legs into a kind of frog leg position. This splayed her genitals and her buns, too, enough for me to see her small pink pucker. She held herself like that as I continued to snap the ruler, alternating hills. Unexpectedly, she quieted too, emitting only deep long ‘oooo’s that followed a rhythm of their own, unconnected to the pace of my snaps.

KeeKee was a true masochist. Unlike my Linda, for whom the spanking is only a means to the end of erotic embarrassment, for KeeKee it was all about the pain.

The bell rang for the fourth and final time.

At first, she made no move to stand up, so, as I had with Arundati, I lifted her under her arms, until she responded and stood, opening her eyes briefly for the first time since the first snap of the ruler. She whispered “Thank you, Lick-san” huskily.

No sooner had I stood up from the chair, than she laid herself right back down across the chair, legs dangling as before. But now, as she held herself up with one forearm, she reached back with her other hand and began to stroke her own bottom, alternating circular rubs that covered nearly the whole of her butt with long straight rubs that began above her waist and ended on an upper thigh. Rubbing where it hurts is, of course, common post-spank behavior; but such rubs are usually fast and jerky as the spankee frantically tries to rub away the pain. KeeKee’s rubs were long and sweeping like a confident artist covering a large canvas. It occurred to me that that was exactly what she was: an artist of sensation, her hand creating swirls and rivers of sting along the surface of her rearward erogenous zone.