textfiles/sex/EROTICA/B/bob&lin.txt

                      Bobby & Linda get spanked
                            Author unknown


     Bobby and I were on my bed.  School had ended at noon that
     day, and my mom would be at work till 5.  Bobby had driven me
     home, the way he did two or three days a week, and we'd gone
     into the living room and kissed some and made out some, the
     way we usually did.  Then Bobby had said he wanted to see my
     room, to see if it was the way he imagined it.

     I knew why he really wanted to see it, of course--he wanted to
     see my bedroom, where I got undressed, for both of us to
     picture me naked, because maybe there he could get me to go
     all the way.  He'd suggested that before, and I'd said no.
     But he hadn't been too pushy about it, and the more we kissed,
     and talked, and made out, the more I'd begun to think it
     sounded like a pretty good idea.  After all, Bobby was 17, and
     I was almost 16--in a lot of countries girls my age would
     already be married and have a couple of kids.

     So we went up to my room.  Bobby looked at my things, my
     books, my desk with its straight-backed chair where I did my
     homework, some stuffed animals, and he really stared at my
     nightgown hanging in the closet.  Then he put his arms around
     me and started kissing me, squeezing me against him, and we
     sort of slow-danced across the room until we bumped into the
     bed and fell on it.

     We kissed some more, and pretty soon my blouse was untucked,
     and some of Bobby's fingers were inside my bra but other
     fingers were inside my panties.  I unbuttoned my blouse and
     unhooked my bra so Bobby could kiss my nipples, but while he
     was doing that those other fingers were inside of me, and I
     slipped my hand down the front of his pants, where I found
     something that felt about the size and shape of a flashlight
     only it was hot to the touch.

     We were both moaning and panting pretty hard, and I guess
     that's why we didn't hear a thing until the door opened.  We
     spun around, and there was my mother standing there, with a
     really grim look on her face.  Bobby and I jerked our hands
     out of each other's pants, and Bobby wiped his fingers on the
     bedspread while I tried to button my blouse with my bra still
     pulled up above my boobs.

     Mom stepped back into the hall and I thought for a  minute
     that she was going to leave us alone long enough for us to get
     ourselves together and for Bobby to get out of the house.
     Then I heard the hall closet door opening and closing, and
     mom's footsteps stalking back toward my room, and my heart
     sank right to the bottom of my stomach.  "She couldn't," I
     thought, but my stomach--and my ass--knew she was going to.
     Sure enough, when mom walked back into my room she was
     swinging the paddle.  It was a board a little over a foot
     long, about two inches wide and a little under an inch thick.
     It had a small hole in one end, with a long leather thong
     through it so the paddle could be hung on a hook in the
     closet.  Dad had used the paddle on me a few times when I was
     9 or 10, but not too hard and only through my jeans.  For a
     while after Dad died it just hung in the hall closet, and I
     thought once or twice about throwing it in the trash but never
     did.  A couple of years ago, mom found the paddle and since
     then she'd developed a real fondness for using it.  She didn't
     do it the way Dad had, though--she did it real hard, and long,
     and always on my bare bottom.  After the Brooke Shields ad for
     Calvin Klein jeans came out, she even made a joke about it:
     "Nothing comes between you and my paddle!" I thought it was a
     sick joke, but when mom was using the paddle her jokes were
     the least of my worries.

     Bobby looked at the paddle, then at my mom, then at me, and
     then back at the paddle.  "I guess I probably better go,
     Linda," he said, and I said "yeah, you better."  He started
     for the door, but my mom moved into his way.  "Not so fast,
     Robert," she said.  "Go back where you were!"

     Bobby walked back toward the bed, and mom said "Let me explain
     something to you.  In this house we believe in corporal
     punishment, and that means punishment of the body.  You and
     Linda are both guilty and you both deserve the same
     punishment."  Bobby didn't say anything, so she went on.
     "Now, you're free to leave if you want to, but let me tell you
     what's going to happen if you do.  Linda's going to get her
     punishment, and after we're through with that, she's going to
     get your punishment too."

     I almost fainted at the thought.  I'd spent more than one
     night sleeping on my stomach because my ass was too sore to
     sleep on my back, and I knew that this beating was going to be
     much worse than anything I'd ever had before.  The thought of
     having it doubled made me want to die right there, before it
     could even start.

     "'I'll stay," Bobby said quietly.

     "No!," I shouted.  "Bobby, you don't know what it's like!"

     " have to stay," Bobby said angrily.  "I can't let you suffer
     that much, and besides it was my idea to come up here!"

     Part of me was proud of Bobby--probably my ass, since that was
     the part that would suffer more if he left--but I wondered
     whether he would ever speak to me after my mother paddled his
     rear.  I knew she'd do it, but I wondered how.  Probably take
     him into her room, make him undress and paddle him in there,
     I decided.  I wondered for a second whether he would scream,
     but then I knew he would; he couldn't help it, the way she
     used the paddle.  Then I tried to picture how she would hold
     him still if he tried to struggle.  I'd learned not to move,
     because if I did mom would put me on the bed or the floor, sit
     on my back and paddle my butt extra hard and long, but I
     thought Bobby was probably too strong for her to do that to
     him.

     "All right, then," mom interrupted my thoughts.  "Stand up,
     Linda."  I stood up, and she turned to Bobby.

     "Well, Robert, you wanted to undress my daughter.  Go ahead
     and do it."  He stared at her unbelievingly.

     "Go on, undress her.  Now!" she snapped.

     Bobby walked slowly over to me, looked at mom again, and then
     started undoing the buttons on my blouse.  I lifted a hand to
     help him, but mom knocked it away with the paddle.  "Let him
     do it!" she ordered.

     Bobby pulled my blouse off, then my still-unhooked bra, and
     turned to put them on the bed.  I lifted my arms unconsciously
     to cover my boobs, but mom ordered me to put my arms down.
     "He's going to see all of you there is to see", she hissed at
     me.

     While Bobby worked at the button and the zipper on my jeans,
     I stood there trembling and wondering if she was going to have
     him watch while she pounded my ass.  Then it struck me that if
     she did, that meant I would get to watch his paddling.  For
     some reason, that thought made me stop trembling, and I felt
     the tiniest hint of the warm glow between my legs which had
     been so hot just before mom walked in on us.

     My jeans slid down my hips, the panties coming with them, and
     once Bobby had them down around my ankles, I stepped out and
     stood there in my birthday suit.  Bobby put my pants on the
     bed and stood with his back mostly toward me.

     "Turn around! Look at her!" my mother ordered him.  "That's
     what you wanted to see, isn't it?"

     Bobby obeyed, but didn't answer.  He really looked miserable.

     "All right, Linda, it's your turn," mom said.  "Get his
     clothes off."

     I wanted to start with his pants but decided I'd better do his
     shirt first.  Bobby stood absolutely rigid while I unbuttoned
     his shirt, threw it on the bed, and pulled off his undershirt.
     I knelt on the floor in front of him to unbuckle his belt and
     unzip his fly, and had to struggle a bit to get the zipper
     down past the bulge in the front of his pants.  His eyes met
     mine quickly, then glanced away in embarrassing. I pulled his
     jeans down to the floor and he stepped out of them.

     Then I pulled his underpants down and he stepped out of them
     too.  I stared with interest at what I'd uncovered.  His
     penis--"dick", I guess boys call them--didn't look as big or
     as hard as the "flashlight" I'd touched earlier, but it was
     still sticking straight out from his body.  I'd never seen a
     naked boy, or man, before.  I'd played doctor with other kids,
     of course, when I was four or five, and I'd seen drawings in
     sex-ed books and movies, but they didn't look anything like
     this.  At the base of his dick, Bobby had a pouch, and
     suddenly I understood what boys meant when they talked about
     "balls", because I could see them inside Bobby's pouch.

     Mom noticed my interest.  "Take a good look," she said,
     "because I don't think your going to want to see any-thing
     like that again for a long time!"  She reached out and touched
     Bobby's dick with the end of the paddle.  "He seems to like
     seeing you naked.  But it won't look like that when we're
     through!"  Then she lifted his balls up with the paddle.
     "I'll show you what those are good for in an hour or two."

     I had no idea what she meant.  "An hour or two" sounded like
     the paddling might go on that long, and my ass burned at the
     thought.  On the other hand, the thought of learning more
     about Bobby's balls excited me, and it wasn't my ass that
     burned at that thought.

     My mother went over to the desk and brought the chair out to
     the middle of the room.  I expected her to sit down, and
     wondered nervously which one of us would go over her lap
     first.  Instead, she told Bobby to sit in the chair.  He
     obeyed, and she announced "I want this to be an unforgettable
     occasion for both of you.  Considering what the two of you
     were doing when I walked in, I think it is appropriate for you
     to administer the punishment to each other."

     My heart leapt at the thought.  Maybe it wouldn't be so bad
     after all.  Bobby and I wouldn't paddle each other hard, I'd
     be able to sit down at school tomorrow, and maybe Bobby would
     still be speaking to me.

     "You know where you belong, Linda," my mother said. I went
     over to the right side of the chair and lay across Bobby's
     lap, my head and arms hanging down on his left side, the lower
     side of my boobs against his left thigh and my pelvis on his
     right thigh.  I'd wanted my naked body against Bobby's, I
     thought to myself, but not quite in this position.

     "Here, Robert."  Mom handed him the paddle.  "Now, maybe you
     think you're going to give her little love pats, but that
     won't do.  You're going to smack her hard, and for every one
     that isn't hard enough, I'm going to give her three, and I'm
     going to give you five.  Do you understand?"

     I realized with horror that this paddling was going to be even
     worse than I had first thought!  Bobby would have to hit me at
     least as hard as mom would have, or his strokes wouldn't count
     at all.  And I'd have to do the same to him.  I started to
     cry, and begged mom to do it herself, but she just ignored me
     and told Bobby to get started.

     "How many times?" he asked.  "I don't count," she replied, "I
     go by the color of her ass.  By the time I tell you to stop,
     it'll be dark purple."

     I pictured what my ass was going to look like and my cheeks
     clenched together involuntarily.  I clutched at the chair legs
     and started crying even harder.

     "By the way, Robert," my mother said, "every time I count out
     a number, you'll know that you've been too easy, and Linda has
     three more coming from me--and don't forget that means five
     more for you, too!"

     I could feel Bobby's body tensing as he raised the paddle, and
     I knew he was trying to decide how hard he had to bring it
     down in order to satisfy my mother.  Then I felt his arm start
     down and I screamed just as the paddle smacked into the right
     side of my ass.  It stung, but not like mom's.

     "One," my mother said.

     I knew the next one would hurt more, and it did.

     "Two."

     The third one landed back on the right cheek, lower than the
     first, and much harder.  I screamed.

     "Three."

      I was in despair.  My ass was already hurting, and now I had
     nine coming from mom.  "Harder, Bobby," I yelled.

     I don't know whether he started worrying about my ass or his
     own, but the next one was a real zinger.  It burned into the
     left side of my ass, right in the middle, and I shrieked and
     jerked.

     Mom didn't say anything that time.

     Up till then the smacks had been several seconds apart, which
     gave me time to clench up the cheeks of my ass and take in
     enough breath for another yell.  Now that Bobby knew what my
     mother expected, though, he really went to work.  The smacks
     started coming faster, and my screams turned into sort of a
     gasping wail.  Sometimes as I struggled to catch a breath I
     could hear the loud crack of the paddle as it landed.

     There wasn't time after each blow for me to anticipate the
     next, and I never knew where the next fiery blossom of pain
     would bloom.  Bobby really covered the territory, moving at
     random from the middle of one cheek to the base of the other
     to the top of the first to the tops of my thighs.  He rolled
     me toward him to land the paddle on the outside of my right
     cheek and away from him to do the left.  Sometimes the paddle
     would come down in the same place twice in a row, and that was
     even worse.  A couple of times the paddle didn't land
     squarely, and I heard mom count "four" and then "five".

     I don't know how long it went on like that. It seemed like
     hours, but I suppose it was only a few minutes.  My whole ass
     felt like someone had poured gasoline over it and lit a match.
     It hurt so much everywhere that I hardly noticed the separate
     pain each time the paddle landed.  Somehow I gathered the
     strength to beg.  "Please!" I gasped out.  "Let him stop!"

     Bobby stopped.  "Isn't this enough?" he asked.

     "Six," my mother announced.  "Don't stop again until I tell
     you to!"

     The paddle came down again--harder than ever, it seemed.  I
     screamed and started kicking my legs, trying to throw myself
     off Bobby's lap.  He dragged me back against him without
     missing a lick, and paddled the backs of my thighs until I
     stopped kicking, then started in again on my ass.

     Once I was still I could feel something poking me hard in the
     side, and I realized it was Bobby's dick, as big and hard as
     it had been in his pants a while ago.  "The bastard!" I
     thought to myself.  He has getting turned on by this!"

     Finally mother told him to stop and took the paddle from him.
     I started to crawl off Bobby's lap, but mom told me to stay
     where I was.  "Hold her leg--tight," she ordered Bobby, and he
     grabbed my left leg just above the knee.  Then she came and
     stood in front of the chair, facing toward my feet, and took
     hold of my right leg, pulling it up and away from the other.

     My legs were being pulled so wide apart I thought they were
     going to tear me in two, and I knew I was totally exposed to
     both of them.  "Please, mother," I begged.  "Please don't, not
     there, don't paddle me there!"

     "I ought to," she snapped, but I'm not going to." Then she
     raised the paddle and swung it down to land on the inside of
     my right cheek.  I howled and tried to kick, but they were
     holding my legs too tightly, and all I could do was flop like
     a fish on Bobby's lap.  So she paddled, and I howled and
     flopped.  She concentrated on the places Bobby had missed,
     along the crack of my ass, the insides of my thighs, the
     out-side of my left cheek which had been too close for Bobby
     to hit.  Those places hadn't hurt so much before, but now the
     fires rising from them were just like the fires from the rest,
     and I was sure that my ass, from mid-thigh to the tops of my
     hipbones, looked like a steak that had been left on the
     barbecue grill too long.

     Finally she stopped.  They both let go of my legs, and I slid
     off Bobby's lap and lay on the floor, sobbing and burning.

     "Well, Robert," my mother started to say, "it's time for
     your--".  Then I heard her gasp.  "Why you pervert!  So you
     liked that!"  She was looking at Bobby's dick, standing
     straight up, dark red and swollen-looking.  "Well let's see
     how you like this!"

     I'd never seen anyone move as fast as she did, grabbing him by
     the dick and jerking him to his feet--unless it was Bobby
     standing up at the same time.  His face was as red as his
     dick.  In one motion she sat down on the chair, dragged Bobby
     off his feet and across her lap, letting go of his dick as he
     fell, clutched him across the small of his back and raised the
     paddle.

     The paddle had landed with a tremendous "SMACK!" in the middle
     of his ass before Bobby even knew what was happening.  It came
     down again and he bellowed like a mad bull and started
     kicking.  Mom gave him a couple more, but it was clear that he
     was going to pull himself off her lap and onto the floor.

     Mom stopped paddling and stuck her right hand, with the paddle
     still in it, between his thighs.  "Watch this, Linda!", she
     ordered.  She rolled him toward her, onto his side, and
     reached over him with her left hand and grabbed his balls.
     Her hand turned white as she squeezed, and Bobby screamed.

     "Hold still and shut up!", she commanded, "or next time I'll
     really crush 'em."  Bobby moaned, but he stopped struggling.
     Mom looked up at me.  "See," she said, "I told you I'd show
     you what those are good for."  Then she rolled him back down
     on his stomach, her hand underneath him, still clutching his
     balls, and went to work again with the paddle.

     Bobby jerked each time the paddle landed, and cried out every
     three or four "SMACK!"'s, but he didn't struggle and he didn't
     yell while mom finished his thirty.  Then she dropped the
     paddle on the floor and told Bobby to stand up.

     Bobby scooted backward across her lap until his feet touched
     the floor and then stood up.  I noticed right away that his
     dick wasn't hard any more.  It was hanging down, and not much
     bigger than his thumb.  Mom noticed too, and reached out and
     tweaked it with her forefinger.  "Didn't like that quite as
     much, did you, Robert?"  Bobby didn't say anything.

     Mom stood up and said "All right, Linda, it's your turn."  I
     went over to the chair and sat down as gingerly as I could,
     but I couldn't help moaning as my ass touched the hard wood.
     "Back you go, Robert," my mother directed, and gave him a
     push.  Bobby lay down across my lap, and I got my first
     close-up look at his buns.  I noticed that there were little
     blond hairs growing everywhere, but mostly I noticed that his
     ass was bright red from about what I was about to do.

     "Hold his balls, the way I did," mom said, "or he'll never
     hold still."  Bobby started to protest, but I slid my hand
     under him, found his shriveled-up dick and then got my thumb
     and a couple of fingers around the pouch that held his balls.
     "Give them a squeeze, just to let him know you mean business,"
     my mother ordered.  I could feel Bobby's balls, sort of
     squishy under the skin of his pouch.  Bobby had just started
     to say "No, do--,"  when I clenched my hand.  He screamed out,
     and I relaxed my fingers some.

     "Good," mom said.  "Do that again if he starts fighting you."
     "The rules are the same," she went on, "keep going till I tell
     you to stop--and for every one that's too soft, he gets three
     from me and you get five."

     I reached down and picked up the paddle, and sat studying
     Bobby's ass for a few seconds, trying to decide where to
     start.  After what he'd done to my ass, I wasn't about to go
     easy on his, even if my mother hadn't been standing ready to
     keep me honest.

     Hunched over the way I was, to keep my left hand around
     Bobby's balls, I decided to work on the right cheek for a
     while and then move around.  I lifted the paddle up high and
     brought it down hard.  Bobby's ass jiggled and he let out a
     groan.

     "One," my mother counted.

     I swung the paddle harder.  Bobby's right cheek bounced again,
     and a new, redder mark formed where the paddle had landed.

     "Two."

     I crashed the paddle down as hard as I could, and Bobby yelled
     out and jumped, so I squeezed with my left hand, and he got
     very still.  Mom didn't say anything, so I went on.  Bobby was
     pretty muscular everywhere, including his ass, but each time
     the paddle landed, his ass would flatten out under it, and
     then bounce back, throwing the paddle up into the air.

     Whenever I got in a really good lick Bobby would cry out--and
     usually when I didn't, mom would count out another number.  I
     got kind of a rhythm going, taking advantage of the way
     Bobby's ass bounced the paddle back into the air, then
     swinging it back down to land in a new place, leaving a wide
     red strip to mark the place.

     It became almost hypnotizing, and then I realized that
     something else was happening too.  I was sitting naked on the
     chair, bending forward to reach around Bobby's waist, and the
     lips of my pussy were right against the seat of the chair.
     Every time I swung the paddle down I was forcing my clit
     against the chair, and I was getting more turned on than I'd
     ever been when I played with myself in bed.

     The harder I paddled Bobby the hotter I got, and I knew I was
     going to come--unless my mother made me stop too soon.  I
     swung the paddle faster and harder, until Bobby was really
     yelling, and then I felt my orgasm start.  Bobby was kicking
     and really struggling, but I wasn't about to let him stop me
     then, and I squeezed his balls with all the strength in my
     left hand.

     Bobby screamed and stopped struggling, but I was too far gone
     to notice.  I squeezed harder and paddled faster as the
     delicious waves rippled through me from head to foot.

     I finally stopped coming and realized my mother was saying
     something.  I let the paddle rest on Bobby's ass and looked up
     at her.  "You can stop, now," she said, looking at me
     strangely.  I dropped the paddle on the floor and forced my
     left hand to relax.  Bobby slipped off my lap onto the floor,
     and lay there moaning and clutching his balls with both hands.

     "All right," mom said to me.  "You gave him nine easy ones, so
     that means you've got 45 coming from me.  And he gets 27."

     "Please," I said, "don't give us any more.  We'll never do it
     again."

     "Don't bother to beg," she snapped.

     "Having you over my knee doesn't work all that well," she
     added.  "We'll do it differently this time.  I want you to go
     lie on the bed, face down, with your legs hanging over the
     corner."

     I started to whimper as I struggled to my feet and limped over
     to the bed.  My ass was still burning, and it throbbed with
     every step.  I stole a glance at the mirror and saw that my
     backside looked just the way it felt--an angry reddish-purple
     from waistline to mid-thigh.

     I threw Bobby's jeans out of the way and lay down the way my
     mother had told me to.  She grabbed me by the ankles and
     pulled me backward until my soaking-wet crotch was just off
     the corner of my bed, my feet were on the floor, and one knee
     was along the side of the mattress and the other against the
     end.  And my ass, of course, was sticking out right where she
     wanted it.

     "Get off the floor, Robert, and come over here," mom ordered
     Bobby.  "Sit on her back--I don't want her squirming around,"
     she explained.  "Facing me," she demanded, as Bobby knelt on
     the edge of the bed and started to swing a leg over my back.

     Bobby's weight crushed the breath out of me as he settled his
     butt below my shoulder blades.  I groaned at the thought of
     how helpless I was, and the sensation of Bobby's balls resting
     on the small of my back wasn't enough to relieve the feeling
     of terror that started in my ass and ended in the pit of my
     stomach.

     I heard the floorboards creek as mom moved to a position
     behind and to the side of me, and I gripped the edges of the
     mattress with my knees.  Then I could sense motion as she
     swung the paddle back and up, and the "whish" as it sped
     toward its target.

     The paddle landed with terrible force in the middle of the
     left side of my ass, and the pain was indescribable.  My rump
     should have been numb from the treatment it had received
     earlier, but this was five times as bad.  I screamed for all
     I was worth, and without even thinking about it I braced my
     feet on the floor and pushed with all my strength, trying to
     move before the paddle could descend again.

     Bobby's weight was just too much, though, and all I could do
     was tense up my muscles as the paddle crashed down again and
     again.  I shrieked until my throat was raw, and pleaded with
     mom to stop, but there was no escape.

     Somewhere around 25 or so, the paddle suddenly felt different,
     and the next time it landed almost softly.  I caught myself in
     mid-scream as there was a clatter across the room, and it
     suddenly dawned on me that mom had actually broken the paddle
     against my ass!

     I'd started struggling again, trying to roll out from under
     Bobby, when mom said "Stay where you are.  We're not done
     yet!"  She tossed the broken stub of the paddle onto the bed,
     picked up Bobby's jeans, and jerked his belt out of the belt
     loops.

     I could see what she was doing out of the corner of my eye,
     and it didn't look encouraging.  Bobby's belt was an old,
     hand-tooled leather one that had been his dad's, and it was
     heavy enough and supple enough to hang straight down once mom
     had pulled it free of Bobby's pants.


     Mom moved back behind me, and I heard the belt whistle through
     the air in the middle of the room as she took a couple of
     practice swings with it.  I hoped that maybe the belt wouldn't
     be as bad as the paddle; it shouldn't be, I thought, because
     it's softer and lighter.

     What I hadn't considered was how fast the belt could move.  I
     had barely heard it start to hiss through the air when my ass
     lit up like fireworks on the 4th of July.  I was so shocked
     that I didn't even scream until the second time the belt
     slashed across my ass, but then I got down to some serious
     noise.

     The paddling had been a heavy, bruising kind of pain, but
     mostly in one spot at a time.  The whipping now felt more like
     a knife cutting long strips out of my ass, as the end of the
     belt wrapped around first one cheek and then the other.  Mom
     swung the belt from right to left on one stroke, and back from
     left to right with the next.  Some went diagonally from the
     top to one cheek to the base of the other, and some followed
     the opposite route.

     I gave up trying to push off the floor with my feet and began
     kicking crazily--anything to keep that leather from biting
     into my butt.  That was a mistake, because then mom swung the
     belt from bottom to top, straight up the middle, just as the
     momentum of my legs lifted me slightly off the edge of the
     bed.  The whistling end of the belt curled itself around my
     pussy and then sliced its way up along the crack of my ass,
     leaving a trail of liquid fire everywhere it touched.

     If anyone thought that I couldn't scream any louder than I had
     been, they were wrong.  I stopped kicking, but still the belt
     kept slashing into me.

     Finally the belt hissed for the last time, and I realized
     that--for me--it was over.  As Bobby rolled his weight off me,
     I could feel all of the muscles in my ass quivering, the heat
     radiating outward in waves which kept time with my pulse.

     Mom was breathing pretty hard, but she wasn't about to let up.
     "Out of the way, Linda," she ordered.  I eased myself backward
     off the bed and got shakily to my feet.

     "All right, Robert, same position."  Bobby lay down
     kitty-corner across the bed, and mom grabbed him by the ankles
     and dragged him back until his balls and dick hung down off
     the corner of the mattress.

     "Sit on his back, Linda."  I clambered into the position Bobby
     had been in a few minutes earlier.  His bony shoulder blades
     bit into the throbbing flesh of my ass, and I could feel his
     backbone pressing into my pussy as I held onto his ribs and
     looked over the tops of his purple ass-cheeks.

     Mom took a step back and raised the belt.  "If you move,
     Robert," she warned, "you're going to be very, very sorry!"
     She began her swing, and I watched Bobby's ass in fascination
     as the end of the belt whistled toward it.  It was like seeing
     a movie in slow motion--the belt coming down and across, the
     skin and muscle of Bobby's ass giving way under it, the crack
     between his cheeks opening wider as the belt caught the other
     cheek and pulled it sideways.

     All at once things were happening much faster.  Bobby was
     bellowing like a mad bull, and I was sliding down his
     back--which had suddenly become vertical--and landing on my
     hands and knees on the floor.

     "Get out of here!," my mom yelled.  "If you're going to be
     such a pansy, Robert, take your clothes and get out of this
     house.  Linda will get the rest of yours!"  I held my breath.
     Going back under that belt was the last thing in the world I
     wanted.

     Bobby just stood there, rubbing his ass and looking undecided.
     Finally my mom said, "All right, if you're going to stay, get
     back down on the bed."  Bobby stood there a few seconds
     longer, then turned and lay down on the corner of the bed
     again.  This time mom grabbed him by the balls and started to
     tug him backward.  Bobby yelped and pushed himself back with
     his arms.

     Mom went over the to bed and picked up the broken stub of the
     paddle.  She untied the leather thong from which it used to
     hang in the closet and walked back behind Bobby.  I watched,
     puzzled, while she made a little noose with a slipknot in one
     end of the thong, and then I realized what she was about to
     do!

     "I warned you not to move," she said to Bobby, "and this time
     I think you'll obey me."  She grabbed his balls again with one
     hand, slipped the noose in the thong over them, and pulled it
     tight.  The sack holding Bobby's balls looked like a balloon
     about to burst.

     Bobby started to plead and squirm, but mom jerked on the thong
     and he shut up.  She pulled the thong down along the corner of
     the bed, looped the bottom end of it around the leg of my bed
     a couple of times, stretched it tight and tied a square knot
     in it.  Then she told me to get back on Bobby's back.

     While I was doing that mom walked over to the window and
     picked up the watering can I kept on the sill to water my
     plants.  "I told you you'd be sorry if you moved, Robert," she
     said.  "Now you're going to learn what this belt feels like
     when it's wet!"  She dribbled water out of the watering can
     until the last foot or so of the belt was dark.  Bobby begged
     and pleaded with her, but she just ignored him, stepped back
     behind him and put the watering can on the floor.

     I could see Bobby's ass-cheeks clench together as the belt
     started toward them.  It landed with a vicious wet-sounding
     "SLAP".  Bobby yelled out and started to straighten his legs
     to stand up again, but quickly sank back on the bed with a
     groan.  The thong was obviously doing its job.

     Again and again the belt slapped into Bobby's ass, first from
     the right, then the left, across the top, middle, bottom.
     Each time Bobby cried out, but he didn't try to move again.
     After about 15 of those, my mom stopped and picked up the
     watering can again.  She kept dribbling water onto the belt
     until it was soaked through and dripping wet.

     The next time the belt landed it hit with a heavy "SPLAT" that
     sprayed me with water and knocked Bobby's hips sideways.
     Bobby screamed that time, the way I had.  The belt splatted
     again, on the other side, pushing Bobby's ass back in the
     other direction.

     Bobby cried and pleaded for mom to stop, rolling his ass from
     side to side in a futile effort to avoid the sopping wet
     leather.  Mom teased him with the belt, changing her rhythm,
     letting his ass twitch back and forth a few times and then
     landing the belt just as he moved in the direction she was
     coming from.

     Finally she stopped and tossed Bobby's belt onto the bed
     beside him.  "Let him go," she said to me.  I climbed off
     Bobby's back, got off the bed, and knelt behind him.  I tried
     to loosen the noose around his balls, but the thong was
     stretched too tight.  The knot holding the other end to the
     bed leg was tight, too, but I finally picked it loose, untied
     it, and freed Bobby's bursting ball-sack.

     Bobby's ass was a mass of purple stripes of different shades,
     and I was thankful that mom hadn't had the idea of soaking the
     belt before she was done with me.  Both of us, I thought,
     would have to think up some excuse for not taking showers in
     PE for a while.

     Bobby got up and didn't look at either of us while he put on
     his clothes.  He winced and gritted his teeth as he slipped
     his underpants on, trying to stretch out the wasteband as he
     pulled them up.  I went to my closet and got out my robe; I
     couldn't stand the thought of putting on even my flimsy
     panties.

     Bobby finished dressing, jerking his soaking belt through the
     loops on his jeans and stepping into his loafers, and left
     without a word to either of us.  Mom put the watering can back
     on the window sill, picked up the two pieces of the broken
     paddle, and headed for the door.  She stopped and said "We'll
     talk later," then pulled the door shut behind her.  I lay down
     on my bed, on my stomach, and thought about the way Bobby's
     ass had bounced as I paddled it.

                              * * * * *

     Bobby and I never went out after that.  It wasn't that we
     broke up; we saw each other at school, and talked some, but
     neither of us ever mentioned that afternoon.  It seemed that
     Bobby always had something to do after school, so he couldn't
     drive me home, and I got used to the fact that he didn't call
     me at night or on the weekends.

     Because there was this kind of strain, you see. I don't really
     understand it, but it has something to do with the fact that
     both of us knew that we'd really gotten turned on by seeing
     the other one completely vulnerable and in pain, and neither
     one of us really knew how to deal with that.  That afternoon
     was pure hell for me, but now when I lie in bed and play with
     myself, the pictures in my head are from my mom's position,
     watching me paddling Bobby, or lashing the belt into his ass
     myself.  It always makes me come, and I'd gladly go through
     the experience again for the chance to hear Bobby beg and see
     his ass jerk and twitch as I slashed at it with a leather
     strap, while his ball-sack ballooned out from the noose which
     held him still.  I can't help but wonder what pictures are in
     Bobby's head when he jacks off at night.

     As for my mom, well, we had our talk about high school sex,
     and I promised her that I'd behave.  I'd thought that maybe I
     was done with paddlings forever, since the paddle was gone.
     But last week I was putting something away in the hall closet,
     and there, hanging from the hook where the paddle used to be,
     was a shiny new bamboo cane.  My buns started tingling at the
     sight, and I rushed to my room, locked the door, pulled off my
     sodden panties, closed my eyes, and really went to work on
     Bobby's ass with that cane.