Skirt Lifted Vol. 2 (2 page)

First thing first, Kaela discarded her moist
panties in a wad, flopped down on her opulent, cushioned bedding
with a breathless exhale. Out of a nightstand drawer, Kaela
produced a jar of aloe vera cold cream, began to knead it into her
bruised hindquarters, as well as between her thighs where the cane
tip had bit, leaving nasty blemishes. The cool lotion removed a
portion of the burn, yet not by a much. Pain gnawed her booty.

Other needs required her attention.

On her luxury linens Kaela writhed, her hand
crept in the direction of her pussy. What Kaela really wanted was a
rock hard cock jammed into her snatch.
Oh well
, Kaela
thought, her fingers would have to provide for now. Maybe she could
fuck the supply clerk, a new hire in the supply closet on Monday?
He'd been given her glances. Though, she didn't exactly know how
she'd explain away the welts. Maybe it'd turn him on? A few guys
got off on that kink. Parting the folds of her slit, Kaela began to
masturbate. Her two finger caress elicited a husky moan. Kaela
contorted, increased the movement of her fingers, in-out she
pushed, welted hips raised. Using her freehand, Kaela lifted her
camisole, in order to fondle her nipples. A spasm, her back arched.
Damn!
Kaela didn't want to be aroused by the images of her
own caning. On the brink of her climax, as she started to cum,
Kaela rolled over, so as to muffle her orgasmic holler into a
costly, bulky, goose down pillow. Exhausted, both from the wear
inflicted onto her body, as well as from masturbation, Kaela
reached for a plush Paddington Bear, yawned off to sleep.

[Rebecca Fox & London Tarkenton, 19 and
18]

London Tarkenton remained in a state of
culture shock. Her visit, with her college roommate, Rebecca to her
family's rural North Dakota farm had proven to be a great deal more
different than her cultured New York City life.

The girls had come to Fox farm on school
break, though it wasn't turning out to be the vacation that London
had in mind when her friend first floated the notion of going back
with her to North Dakota. First, the chores that Rebecca's brother,
the very tall, muscular, and rather handsome – for a country boy,
Buck roused them to go about, did not turn out to be London's idea
of fun. She had expected a few weeks away from New York to be
relaxing, not waking at the crack of dawn to feed chickens very
much of a vacation. London would've preferred her biology books
over this, and she was not that great in science.

Not that Rebecca's family were anything but
gracious to her. Certainly her friend’s mother made sure London
felt right at home, just like one of the family. And the meals were
great, nice and hearty. Sort of the scrumptious comfort food you'd
expect on a working farm.

Things got a little weird... Awkward, however
when one evening, Rebecca had gotten bratty with Buck. At first it
had been just good humored, little sister teasing of a big brother,
yet it crossed the line (in Buck's mind) after Rebecca had begun to
engage in foul language when Buck tried to ignore her. Rebecca
didn't like being ignored. One too many swear words too far, and
Buck ordered Rebecca to get ready to go to the barn.

Rebecca had looked at him mortified, and even
tried to protest, appealing to her mother, who made it quite clear,
just as always, Buck being the eldest, and 'man of the house' was
still in charge of discipline, what he said went. London had
watched confused, while her friend could only stare at her, beet
red, and weeping.

Soon thereafter, Rebecca had stripped down to
her underwear, a pretty matched pair of lavender lace bra, and
panties. London had watched her lovely brown haired college
roommate stoically march across the yard, all swaying country girl
curves, and knolls, which were scantily concealed underneath skimpy
pastel lingerie.

Buck had followed his nineteen year-old
little sister as she walked, barefoot toward the barn, one of a
couple located on the farm. Though none of the family had
explained, London deduced her friend was going out there to get a
dose of corporeal punishment, a completely foreign notion to her,
as London had never been spanked in her entire life. Well it soon
became clear, when poor Rebecca could be heard yelping, and
hollering from the old structure, followed by the whistle of supple
leather traveling through the air, and making sharp connection on
girl flesh.

After what seemed to London a good half hour
of the leather's whistle, and Rebecca's crying, her friend emerged
from the barn, to walk somewhat more stiffly back toward the main
house, lavender panties lowered just above her knees. When Rebecca
reached the porch, Buck told his little sister to stay outside,
nose pushed into the corner hands on head, sniffing, tears running
down her cheeks beside the outside door, where she remained for the
rest of the night until bed time.

London gasped when she got a good look at her
friend's swollen backside, covered with raised welts, which went
down to the crease where her butt joined her legs. It had been a
ferocious walloping, the sort that stayed with Rebecca for the
remainder of the vacation. All Rebecca had said about the incident,
when she and London were getting ready for bed was: “Buck spanks
real hard!” As if it'd been nothing.

It wasn't more than three days later that the
incident with the Fox's old blue ribbon winning billy goat
happened, or more to the point, London happened to the Fox's prize
winning bovid. This whole farm thing had turned out to be a drag,
London went about her chores somewhat mindless, thinking of all the
things she could be doing instead of farm work. Going to feed
Brutus, the billy goat, London forgot to latch his pen after she
left his feed. Of course, the animal had wandered out. As if the
blue ribbon winning goat getting lost hadn't been enough to get
London into hot water with the Fox's, Buck had finally returned
home after many hours of delayed work in search of Brutus, the goat
had broken its leg.

That had done it. Before anything could be
said over what took place, London became a ball of sorry tears.
Apologizing profusely to Buck, and saying how stupid, and careless
she had been to leave the gate to Brutus's pen open. Buck agreed
that London had been quite neglectful in her chores, and then
proceeded to inform her how they were going to deal with it. In
retrospect though, London could have seen it coming, in fact she'd
been daydreaming about it for a good chunk of the day when the
search was on for Brutus. London sighed, and agreed, she had been a
naughty girl.

Buck did not say much, only “Get ready to go
to the barn,” which came out like a growl. He expected for London
to recall Rebecca's example and strip.

Hesitant, as all eyes were on her, including
those of the hired hands, London began to undress. In the middle of
the yard, she pulled off her T-Shirt, perky suntanned tits jutted
out from a sheer white nylon bra, and to London's great
embarrassment, she realized her tawny nipples pushed hard against
the gossamer fabric. Kicking aside her designer, wedge mules,
London started to peel down her Guess jeans, leaving all her
clothes in a pile on the lawn.

Pleased, perhaps even a little turned on by
the sight of his sister's college roommate standing in the late
afternoon sun, all but naked, as her sheer white panties, and bra
hardly hid those generous boobs, or spectacular buttocks, Buck sent
her in the direction of the barn with a firm swat on her right ass
cheek, which caused London to jump.

London had never been in what she now thought
of as 'the punishment barn'. There weren't any animals inside,
mostly just a bunch of equipment, some of it old. What jumped right
out at her was a tooled saddle, slung over a sawhorse. The whole
getup seemed to her, meant to be bent over, it reminded London of
something she'd seen on a BDSM website. It looked to be a nice
sturdy support in order to whip a young woman over. The somewhat
obscene image of herself bowed across the saddle flashed in
London's brain. At the thought, which would soon become a reality,
she felt herself blush. More so because of who would be doing the
spanking.

Hung from a support post, a long piece of
leather loomed before the condemned young woman, London went over
to the razor strap, which had been split into two strikers, more a
homemade martinet than a belt, and ran the oiled, well used leather
through her fingers, trembled at the thought of it whipping into
her buttocks.

Where was Buck? He hadn't followed her into
the barn, just left her there to wait. All London could do was
remember the horrible cries that Rebecca had bellowed from this
very place three days before. She couldn't take her eyes off the
frightening implement that hung nearby.

“Get over the saddle; hold the stirrup with
both hands.” Buck gruffly ordered as he at last arrived inside the
barn, holding a long, thin switch in his right hand.

“Wh – What...” London stammered, discovered
it hard to form words of any sense as her punishment started to
become a reality. She thought maybe she should protest, but the
idea faded no sooner than London had thought it. “About my...” She
almost broke down crying. “My underwear? Should I take those down?”
London really had no reference for the proper code of conduct in
regards to this sort of thing. Oddly the idea of doing a
striptease, to maybe distract Buck from his goal occurred to her.
Though London had doubts sexual innuendo would make Buck change his
mind. It seemed to her that he might feel cheated not getting to
whip her behind.

“Never mind those.”

Not entirely sure why he let her keep her
panties on, it seemed a given to London that her spanking would be
on the bare ass, she went over to the sawhorse, touched the
weathered saddle, stepped up and reached for the other stirrup.
This pulled her feet right off the ground, and tipped her panty
clad buttocks fully upward. Stray black hair fell wild around her
face, the tips dangled inches above the husk strewn floor.

London caught her breath, felt Buck's solid
hands take hold of a leg.

“I'm securing your legs,” said Buck simply as
a formality. “It’s for your own good. “ He snickered. “Just like
this whipping. As long as you keep hold of that stirrup London, and
don't jump about like an unbroken mare, I'll not fasten your
hands.” He added. “My sister takes a whipping without being bound
at all – but I'm sure a city girl like you won't be able to do the
same.”

Buck's binding of her legs onto the
sawhorse's lower crossbar spread her cheeks in a somewhat uncomely
manner. London felt her pussy begin to get wet, glad that she'd
been allowed to keep her panties on, for what had begun to be a
undignified experience. Perversely London considered thanking Buck
for securing her legs, but instead she bit her lip too afraid to
speak. At least she wouldn't have her pussy on display for this
good looking guy getting ready to tan her hide. Guys normally
didn't get a peek at the goods until on a third, or fourth
date.

To London's horror, Buck yanked down her
gauzy underwear, which ended up in a bunched mess halfway near her
knees. “Wait!” She objected shrilly, knowing the bud of her pussy
had blossomed. Cool air prickled at her slit. “I thought you were
letting me keep them on?”

“Whippings are on the bare butt, just like
Rebecca.”

Not intending to argue the point, Buck
removed the razor strap from its place on the post. He moved to
London's side, raised the leather, and brought it down, all the
strength of his body behind the blow. The two tongued strap lashed
down onto London's bared hindquarters, wrapped around her contoured
haunches, two broad crimson welts appeared instantly on London's
lower thighs. Buck worked the razor strap upward, reached the peak
of London's wobbling bubble buttocks; he paid no mind of the
imploring screeches and yelps from the gorgeous girl tied over the
saddle as he then worked the razor strap back downward.

The razor strap's impact compressed London's
crotch against the tooled saddle, each wallop made her butt cheeks
jiggle in a lewd ripple. The worn saddle pressed rough on her pubic
hair. London could feel moisture between her legs. “Oh no!” She
thought, humiliated. “I'm getting wet!” The leather licked into
her, each time preceded by that fearsome whistle, which seemed to
only make a tingle grow in her cunt.

Then, Buck abruptly halted his onslaught with
the razor strap. He had to have given her twelve good lashes,
though with the strap slit as it had been, it felt double that to
London. Huffing, choking back tears, London tried to see what went
on over her shoulder. She felt Buck's hand on her buttocks,
massaging her hurt girl globes.

Confused, London managed to demand: “This
isn't a date.” She said snidely. “Hands off!”

“That's a good blistered ass. I don't need it
to go all numb before I'm done with it.” This was all he provided
as an explanation. “I'm not treating you any different than
Rebecca.”

Disgusted, not to mention in pain, which she
couldn't fix, London grunted, defeated, lowered her head, an
quavering anticipation of the strap's biting tongues on her
mind.

Done manhandling her buttocks, Buck continued
on with the razor strap.

London soon began to cry, and holler, even
more louder. During the second half of the strapping, she began to
perspire under the toil of the thrashing. Her translucent bra clung
tauter to her wobbling tits, and black hair stuck onto her tear
stained face. The fire in London's buttocks bad become like nothing
she'd ever felt before. For a brief moment, a pause between strokes
from the razor strap, then the hurting changed, became a thousand
hornets stingers. London realized that Buck had started to use the
switch.