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The Guest(2/3)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
THE GUEST (part 2) (3/3)
All of this flashed through her mind as her pyjama bottoms
were lowered further, right to the ground, Mr Newton able now
to take in Polly's luxuriant curves, and the secret part of
her they framed.
"Open you eyes," he said softly.
Polly opened them as instructed and looked at the kindly-faced
man who was sitting before her bare pussy.
"I am still prepared to excuse you from this if you wish.
Debbie will probably have told you how much good some solid
discipline has done for her. I hope that you will weigh that,
together with your agreement to abide by my rules, and submit
to what you deserve. However, I'm giving you a last chance to
back out."
Polly looked at him and found that, with this offer to free
her from her bond, Debbie's father had actually succeeded in
washing away the last traces of horror from her mind. This
was, she told herself, a case of someone seeking to chastise
her, following an infringement of clearly stated rules, in the
genuine belief that such punishment would benefit her. She
looked straight at him.
"Thank you for offering," she said, "but I feel honoured to be
treated by you the way you treat your daughter and I accept
that my behaviour has been unacceptable and that the
consequence of that is that I have..." She couldn't think the
words without getting wet, still less say them. She felt the
heat well up in her again and completed her statement, "...
is that I have my bare bottom spanked."
"Thank you for your positive attitude. I hope that this will
help to ensure that your treat my rules a little less lightly
for the rest of your stay with us."
"I'm sure it will, sir," she told him truthfully.
"Yes, I believe it might. Now, there are a number of rules
which have been broken. Perhaps you would like to work
through them and I'll tell you the tariff for each one."
Polly was still aware of her nakedness and kept her legs
pressed tightly together in an attempt to prevent Debbie's
father becoming aware of her wetness.
"Yes," she answered. "Firstly, there was being out of bed
after hours."
"Hmm, Debbie got fifty smacks with the hand for that. I will
give you rather less as you're new to the regime so... thirty
smacks!"
Thirty smacks already, Polly thought with alarm. And that was
the most minor rule broken.
"Then, there's smoking."
"Correct. That is something I abhor, I'm afraid, and always
punish severely. Forty-two strokes with the slipper."
She knew that, terrible though this sounded, it was still less
than Debbie got for most things and she considered herself to
have got off lightly.
"There is something else, I believe," he said.
"Yes. I lied to you."
"Yes, indeed. Now that I take extremely seriously. I cannot
sanction untruthfulness. I must tell you that if it were
Debbie who had lied to me she would expect a very harsh
caning!"
"A caning!" Debbie could hardly believe her ears.
"Yes. A caning on the bare bottom!" Mr Newton emphasised.
"However, you are not Debbie and I will give some thought to
the matter. Before you go to your concert, let us say at four
o-clock, we will meet in the sitting room, all three of us,
and you will receive your punishment, in front of Debbie, for
lying then. Do you agree to my setting the tariff for that
offence as I see fit?"
Tears were rushing down Polly's cheeks now, but she knew that
they would have no effect on Debbie's father. She began to
nod and then, instead, tried to check her tears and answer
properly.
"Yes, sir. I do."
"Very well. Let us despatch the rest of your punishment now.
Bend over my knee please."
As if inhabiting one of her own fantasies, Polly could almost
see herself as if from outside as she walked round to the side
indicated and lowered herself into this undignified position
with as much composure as she could manage. Mr Newton noticed
this and, despite feeling pleased that she should make such an
effort for him, smiled to himself as he looked forward to
spanking her self-consciousness from her.
Her deliciously well rounded rump was perfectly placed now and
Debbie's father laid his hand ever so gently upon the girl's
bare bottom, always mindful of the power of contrast. He
lifted his hand high then and watched as Polly first tensed
and then, slowly, relaxed when the expected smack failed to
materialise. Once he was sure he could take her by surprise
(well, by as much surprise as you can take someone who's bent
over your knee with the bottom bared) then, only then, did he
begin - just as soundly as if it were his own precious
daughter - to spank her.
Although physical punishments at Polly's school had been
severe, they had stopped when the girls entered the sixth form
at sixteen. In their final two years, only the headteacher's
cane was permitted to mark their flowering bottoms and, in the
majority of cases, where such harshness would have been
inappropriate, the girls had to take on housekeeping tasks.
For that reason, it was for Polly over three years since her
last spanking and this, combined with her ignorance of the
superior corrective potency of bare bottom beating, ensured
that she was extremely ill-prepared for the chastisement Mr
Newton was now beginning to apply with his tough hand.
Down the hallway, in her bedroom, Debbie heard the screaming
and smiled to herself a little guiltily. She wasn't someone
to delight in the misfortune of another, but Polly had watched
her being spanked the day before and this seemed only fair
recompense. She didn't realise, at that time, that she was
going to have the opportunity later in the day of witnessing
the punishment of her friend more fully.
Her father, meanwhile, had his hands full. He realised that
Polly was not being intentionally wilful, of course, and
treated her kicking and screeching rather differently to that
of his own daughter who would have undoubtedly earned extra
smacks. Right from the first hard thwack of his full hand
across the girl's pale bottom, Polly had begun to cry out
loudly in pain and to struggle to get free. Mr Newton
however, assured of her consent from her last statement, had
put his left hand on the small of her back to keep her bent
down and swung his right leg out and over the backs of her
knees to keep her mulish legs still. Even then, holding her
in place took a major effort - Debbie's father gritted his
teeth and just kept the smacks coming down hard and fast on
Polly's restless bottom, knowing that if he could just keep
the spanking going he would finally break her.
Polly realised, even as Mr Newton's hand fell for the first
time, that her fantasies had been inaccurate in one very
important respect. Undoubtedly being put gently across Mr
Newton's knee had been a very erotic experience. And feeling
his hand stroking her bottom gently in advance of her spanking
had made her juices flow as if his actions had opened a tap.
And, as he spanked her, she was dimly aware that there was a
brooding passion growing between her legs. However, as her
bare buttocks received the full weight of his hand - first her
right, and then her left - Polly realised that her in none of
her fantasies did being spanked really hurt very much!
At school, spankings and canings, for Polly, had been a form
of punishment, pure and simple. She didn't begin to eroticise
spanking until she left (unlike Debbie who had been aroused by
her spankings from a younger age). For that reason, she now
associated being spanked with pleasure - not pleasure mixed
with pain - but on its own.
Now, she discovered, that association was proving to be sorely
mistaken.
"No! Oww! Stop, please! Arggghh! Ohmygod! Ouchh! It
hurts! Please, please Mr Newton! Nooo!"
As the smacks battered her poor cheeks, turning them first
pink, and then red, she writhed around on the firm lap she was
bent over, she kicked her legs (until they were carefully
trapped), she tried to protect her bottom with her hands (but
they were just slapped harshly away), and she shouted -
pleaded - for him to stop.
Still he spanked her. She felt a fire roaring behind her as
his hand worked its cruel progress over every inch of her
buttocks, not missing a spot. She felt tears running down her
cheeks as he landed six nasty slaps on the back of her thighs.
She felt her embarrassment and humiliation at being punished
in this way rising up and choking her.
And then, very suddenly, and without any alteration in the
speed or weight of her paddling, she felt a soothing calmness
wash over her. Her legs ceased to kick. Her arms stopped
flailing about but hung loosely to the floor. She stopped
screaming for Debbie's father to stop - although, to be sure,
her tears and crying carried on as before.
Suddenly, instead of resisting her punishment, Polly began to
submit to it. The tranquillity spoke to her. She had been
naughty, it said, and now she was being punished for it.
Polly agreed. She had a wilful, unpleasant side to her
character, it said, and a good spanking of her bare bottom
would do her the world of good. Polly agreed. She had taken
this hand-spanking very badly, it said, and she was lucky that
she had an opportunity in the slippering to follow to prove
herself. Polly reeled as she'd forgotten about that - but
then, again, she agreed.
This conversation inside her was taking place at the very same
time as Mr Newton was winding up this preliminary spanking -
at the same time as Polly was weeping with suffering and
shame. Shame, no longer, at being in this degrading position,
but shame at not taking her spanking with the grace she'd
promised.
SMACK! "Ouchh!"
WHACK! "Arrhhh!"
SLAP! "Oooh!"
It took Polly ten seconds or more to realise that her spanking
had finished. When she did, she began to weep all the more
bitterly at the way she had failed to honour herself.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she repeated, while Mr Newton stroked
her hair, waiting for the girl to cry herself out.
"That's OK," he said, understanding her meaning. "This was
your first time and it hurt didn't it?"
"Yes. So much," Polly wailed, though a little less noisily
now.
"But by the end, you were ready to accept your punishment
weren't you?"
It began to dawn on her that this was true. She had begun
badly but by the end she had learned to submit and she
experienced a sudden joy at the discovery.
"Yes," she affirmed. "I did need to be spanked. I'm sorry I
asked you to stop and I'm glad you didn't. I will try to take
my next punishment with better grace."
"I certainly hope so," Mr Newton retorted. "I wouldn't want
to have to go through that game again. Once is acceptable;
now I expect you to submit."
He looked at her sternly.
"I expect you to count out your strokes and I expect you to
keep reasonably still. I expect you to do nothing to try to
prevent your punishment continuing and I expect you to take at
least the first few strokes without a sound." He looked at
her more kindly now. "Can you do that?"
"I... I think so."
"Good. You may prefer to remove the rest of your clothing
before I slipper you."
Although this would have sounded outrageous ten minutes
previously, now she understood completely and, once she had
managed to stand, unbuttoned and removed her pyjama top,
finally standing naked before her friend's father.
"I'm ready," she told him.
He nodded and Polly took up her position over his knee once
more. Mr Newton, seeing her voluptuous figure for the first
time in its full glory, found himself hardening, but managed
to guide the girl away from his penis. He placed her "just
so" and then reached for the slipper.
Debbie, now listening outside the door, heard the second part
of her lover's beating begin now and heard with some pride:
WHACK! "One!"
THWACK! "Two!"
As the blows respanked her nakedness, the weight of the
slipper making up in strength for what it lacked in intimacy,
Polly closed her eyes and pushed hard against the pain for as
long as she could, winning a smile from both Debbie and
Debbie's father. She reached twelve before her wails of
torment began again, and even then she managed to keep
counting.
Debbie, feeling a little guilty at eavesdropping (and guessing
that her father would probably reward her with a caning if he
caught her) made her way downstairs to wait for the others for
breakfast. As she reached the bottom of the staircase she
heard:
WHACK! "Arrggh! Thirty-six!" and smiled
"Well done, Polly," she said out loud. "Welcome to our home!"
THE END
Hope that got you going. Now, I really must go off and do
some "proper" work, so I will probably not be posting again in
the near future.
Having said that... knowing my previous record, if there was
an outcry from ASSville residents desperate to find out what
fate awaits Polly later on in the afternoon... well, I guess
I'd feel honour bound to put finger to key once more.
Love to you all
Rosewood.
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