The Bottom Line (18 page)

‘Ho, that's cheating,' Jack protested, but the ladies had obviously rehearsed their moves, as they both did a mock flash, flinging open the robes to reveal all and then quickly wrapping themselves up again.

‘Come on,' said Sharon, ‘stand up the pair of you and let's see what you look like.'

We did as instructed and Barbara said something about how we were standing up even when we were sitting down and, during the general ribaldry, they both divested themselves of their cloaks. Sharon was less statuesque than Barbara but very pleasant to look at. Her breasts were tempting handfuls, and her dark pubic hair was curly and luxuriant. I wondered whether I'd get to see what it covered up as the evening progressed, but my reverie was cut short.

‘Make-your-mind-up time, Graham,' said Jack to me. ‘You'd better decide where and how you want her, if you know what I mean.'

I'd already decided that. ‘I'm going to sit in the middle of the settee with a cushion on my lap,' I said to Sharon. ‘I want you to lie across me with your legs slightly apart and your head resting on your hands.' I sat down and Sharon took up her position without demur, though with a slight sideways glance at Jack as she did so. ‘Is it all right if I, sort of, test the target?' I asked, although whether to Jack or Sharon I wasn't quite sure, as I rested a hand on the plump bottom just below my face. Jack nodded and I moved my hand from one cheek to the other, testing.

Then I raised my hand and, without warning, brought it down twice on the right cheek and twice on the left cheek. There was a quiver each time as the blow landed, but no other reaction. I raised my knees slightly to bring the target even closer and then smacked each cheek once in turn, much harder. There was a satisfied purr from beneath me and Jack said, ‘That's more like it. But may I make a suggestion?'

I looked up and said, ‘Of course.'

‘Well,' he said, ‘don't get the wrong impression. I know we agreed no swapping in the usual sense and no sexual interference, if you get my drift, but Sharon likes to have a hand underneath her while she's being spanked. I don't mind, so if Barbara doesn't, why don't you hold her properly?'

I looked up at Barbara and received a nod, whereupon I slid my left hand between the settee and Sharon's body. She raised herself a little and I was able to take a breast in my hand as she sank down again. It felt large, warm and comfortable, but I was careful not to disturb the nipple or to squeeze deliberately hard. ‘Four to go, Sharon,' I said. ‘I'm going to smack each cheek in turn and then give you two beauties right across the middle.' I was privately thinking to myself that ten was nowhere near enough for a spanking. A couple of dozen was the minimum needed for both parties to be satisfied.

Nevertheless, I enjoyed the sensation of striking hard against the soft flesh and Sharon clearly enjoyed being spanked. When the punishment was over Sharon pushed herself back onto her hands and knees, looked me in the face, kissed me quickly on the lips as if to thank me and then stood up, her bottom faintly pink on both cheeks.

Jack had brought in a large stool and asked Barbara to kneel on it, but with her hands on the floor in front of her, so that her bottom was high in the air and he could punish her from a standing position. The glove was a large kid one, which he took out of the bowl of water in which it had been immersed. He squeezed out the excess water and turned to Barbara. ‘This should sting quite a bit, young lady,' he told her, in that surprisingly avuncular way that we learned to ignore. ‘I'm going to give you four to start with and you can tell me what it feels like.'

He brought the glove smartly down across the centre of her bottom twice, and then once on each cheek. There was no reaction from Barbara. ‘Right then,' he said. ‘If that's how you want to play it, get ready for this.' He hit her twice more with considerable force and stood back. There was a faint pink discolouration on each cheek, but nothing more. Now he changed his angle, striking more from above and finishing with two blows hard across the middle. The pink marks were slightly darker when Barbara stood up, but she wasn't even breathing hard.

‘Thank you, Jack,' she said, ‘but you'll have to try harder than that.'

Jack grinned. ‘Don't forget that you get the very last beating in this little game, so any cheek will be severely dealt with,' he warned, and cackled at his own wit.

Ignoring these remarks, I turned to Sharon and asked what her pleasure was. ‘I'd like to go into the bedroom, if you don't mind,' she instructed me.

‘I want you to put the pillows on the middle of the bed and lie down on them,' she explained when we were all in the bedroom. ‘Spread your legs and keep them like that.'

I did as I was told and lay down on the pillows, waiting. There was some shuffling as Barbara and Jack waited to be told by Sharon where to stand so as to avoid getting in her way, and then a pause. When the first two strokes landed they were so gentle I thought Sharon was simply positioning the slipper. Another four came, slightly harder and apparently landing randomly on either cheek or across the middle. Then came the sound of movement.

‘I'm coming from below now,' she told me, ‘and this may hurt quite a lot so you'd better be ready.'

The change in position was obvious as the next stroke was barely above the tops of my legs, and was followed by three more the same. It seemed odd that these glancing blows should be more painful than the more direct ones earlier, but the treatment was still comparatively gentle. I began to wonder whether Sharon and Jack were really in our league, but Sharon finished with two really hard strokes right across the middle, which I certainly felt while reflecting, nevertheless, that for Barbara they would just have been warming-up blows.

Barbara, too, decided upon the bedroom and had Jack lie in an identical position.

He had opted for a very heavy quota in the first round and I could tell that Barbara was deliberately taking it quite easy as she delivered the first eight strokes. The spatula she was using was too short to be capable of serious damage, though the business end was pleasantly hard and the four long slots in it would, in different circumstances, have allowed the creation of interesting patterns. Jack took his punishment like a man, and though Barbara was obviously pulling her punches he was the most seriously marked of the four of us, as we compared damage back in the living room.

‘What now?' said Jack. ‘Do you need a rest, or shall we get straight on with round two?'

‘I'd prefer to go straight to round two,' I said. Barbara agreed with me and Sharon said something about getting it over with as quickly as possible, with another sideways look at Jack as she spoke.

Jack said nothing but disappeared in the direction of the bedroom and returned a moment later with two pillows and small wooden-handled hairbrush. ‘We're quite proud of this,' he said. ‘It's a vicious little instrument, this one, and needs a bit of know-how. Just watch this. It has to be exactly right.'

He placed the pillows on the floor about two feet in front of a large dresser, before opening the top drawer a couple of inches. Sharon then lay down so that her shoulders and upper back were resting on the pillows, and placing her hands under her hips she raised both legs in the air as though practicing cycling, then bent her legs back over her body and tucked her toes under the bottom edge of the opened drawer. Then she clasped her hands behind her knees so that only her shoulders and upper back were in contact with the floor, while Barbara and I caught one another's eye in astonishment.

Any speculation about what Sharon's thick pubic hair might conceal was superfluous now as the outline of her sex and the slight glistening of moisture on the hair were equally visible.

‘There we are,' said Jack. ‘We found this almost by accident, trying to work out how to administer a hairbrush spanking that made the target so visible and the other bits perfectly safe. As I said, it's a vicious little instrument, this one. You don't want to be landing it in the wrong place and yet you've got to get the skin taut to have the right effect. Nine strokes was it? Right then, here we go.'

All nine strokes were delivered from close range and with pinpoint accuracy, I'll say that much for Jack. The first three or four brought a gasp from Sharon, the next two a sob and the last salvo a series of positive shrieks as Jack brought the brush firmly down upon her tightly exposed buttocks. Even as he had finished there was evidence of some bruising and, as though she was stuck in position, Jack had to disengage her hands and help her back to her feet. Then he bent over to pick up the pillows, but Barbara stopped him.

‘I rather like the look of that,' she said and, turning to me, ‘how about it, Graham? A good spot for a bit of carpet-beating?'

‘You're in charge,' I said. ‘As long as you're as accurate as Jack was, I expect I can oblige.' Rather questioning the wisdom of the arrangement, and knowing how vulnerable I would be when fully exposed in this position, I nevertheless lay on my back, copying Sharon's earlier position. Not liking it and feeling slightly vertiginous, I rested my elbows on the floor with the palms of my hands thrusting my buttocks upwards. This felt much better and, although my erection was sticking uncomfortably against my belly, I was satisfied that my tackle was safely out of the firing line. I looked at Barbara who stood there, carpet-beater in hand, and nodded to signify readiness.

‘I'm going to enjoy this,' she said, as she flourished the carpet-beater prior to striking the first blow, fairly hard, right across both cheeks. Breathing in such a cramped position wasn't easy and I realised that I was going to have to hold my breath in readiness if the strokes got much harder. The next two were about the same, painful but easily bearable but then, as if having got the range, Barbara gave me two beauties, driving the breath right out of my body and leaving me gasping. Sensibly she saw I needed time and waited until my breathing was back to normal. ‘Two more,' she said, ‘and you're really going to feel these so you'd better take a good, deep breath.'

I did as I was told and waited. Nothing happened. I sucked in my breath again and waited, and this time the first blow landed almost immediately, numbing the whole of my bum, and then a second one landed straight afterwards showing me that it wasn't numb at all. Knowing better than to get up too quickly, I waited for my breathing to recover and the posterior feeling to shift from an icy cold to a raging heat and again to a rich warm glow suffusing the whole area. Very slowly I uncoiled my legs and lay on my back, resting for a few minutes until Barbara offered a hand and I pulled myself upright.

‘Right,' I said to her, ‘where's that paddle? Think you can take nine strokes?'

‘I can take nineteen if I have to,' she said. ‘Just tell me where you want me and stop showing off.'

‘I want you in the doorway,' I said to her. I asked Jack to wedge the door open, which he did, and showed Barbara that I wanted her about two feet from the door and leaning towards it, her hands gripping the top of the frame and her legs apart, which meant that she would have to be on her toes. Next I turned to Jack and Sharon and asked whether one of them would be prepared to stand on the other side of the door and hold Barbara round the waist to keep her stable. Jack asked whether it had to be round the waist, but Sharon told him to shut up and that she would do it.

‘You can't hold her tight with your paws on her knockers,' she said, rather scornfully.

The ladies took up their positions and I inspected the paddle, an instrument with a wooden handle and a leather blade, curved and not unlike a small shovel. It felt solid and unyielding. I rested it on Barbara's bottom and moved it around a little. I knew she could take this all right, whether nine or nineteen, but I thought she might play up a bit to excite Jack.

So I gave her three strokes in a crescendo. She grunted at the first, gasped at the second and squealed at the third. ‘Like that, do you?' I asked her. ‘We'd better make it a bit harder, then, hadn't we?' I struck the fourth blow as I finished speaking and delivering another series of three, harder but still well within myself. Barbara knew her stuff, squealing like a stuck pig for all three and shimmying so energetically that Sharon's grip was broken and Barbara's hands slipped down from the doorframe. ‘Any more of that and you get a double punishment,' I warned her.

‘I'll try,' she whispered, ‘but it's too easy to wriggle. Ask Sharon to hold me really tight, will you? I need holding properly so I can't break loose.' I made a cupping gesture to Sharon, who grinned back at me and took a firm grip on Barbara's breasts, pushing them up slightly from underneath and digging in her fingers so that any attempt to break away would be painful. I stood back slightly, rubbed Barbara's bottom with the paddle to tell her that I was ready, then drew back my arm and delivered the last two strokes.

Firmly held in front by Sharon's obviously willing hands, Barbara had no choice but to ride slightly with the blows, screeching as each one landed and, when it was all over and Sharon had released her grip, clutching her bruised bum with both hands and giving me a murderous look and successfully concealing the wink.

Sharon was in slightly conspiratorial mood, too. ‘We'll have a ladies only round next time,' she whispered as she walked past.