An Autumn date with a paddle

Posted in: BDSM | Humiliation | Torture

We meet at a Subway shop around 1:00 for lunch. I’m wearing a pretty, flowered, sleeveless sun dress and sandals because it’s still summer-like, even though the calendar says late September. The dress slits up the sides….but modest slits, only going to the knees.

I’m a sweet girl…a good girl. Somewhat average looking, well proportioned. Brownish-red hair (Scottish heritage), blue eyes, creamy white skin.

As your eyes scan down my body, you notice and approve of my figure, a classic, timeless hourglass shape of the 50’s. I am VERY feminine and walk like a woman should walk, hips swaying, making the material of the dress move provocatively. I don’t gimp along, but neither do I falter in my stride, which does amazing things to the appearance of my bottom as I walk.

After we’ve enjoyed a nice light lunch, I can see (and you can feel) that your cock is making a tent in your trousers and straining at the zipper. So we decide that a nice drive out to the country would be in order.

I follow you in my car as we cruise along the two lane highway. I get lost very easily, so I’m depending on you not to get us lost. We turn down a dirt road and head into a somewhat wooded area. You know of a little place that will most likely be deserted now that the kids have gone back to school. A perfect place with a little lake, some picnic tables and maybe a barbeque or two.

Once we pull into the deserted area and kill our engines, the only noise we hear are birds chirping. The air is fresh and fragrant with the smell of the lake and wildflowers that are still blooming.

We both get out, and I shyly go back to my trunk and open the hatch. You come around and look over my supply of toys……wooden paddle, small riding crop, small leather slapper, rubber spatula, leather ping-pong paddle with the fur on one side and STINGING leather on the other, and LARGE leather slapper/paddle (for when I’m REALLY bad…..but not today) I love my collection and am always adding to it.

“Very nice”, you say. “Now get to the back of my truck”.

I’ll meekly go there and wait for you, hands behind my back – subliminally rubbing my behind, knowing it’s about to be on fire. My bare toes are squeezing and kneading my sandals, nervously waiting while you choose your weapon. Ah….here you come. You’ve chosen the wooden paddle and the small rubber spatula.

You drop the tailgate and place your punishment
tools on it. Looking at me you take my wrists in your hand and guide me over the lip of the tailgate so that my upper body is resting on the gate and bed, rubbing my behind with your other hand.

My backside it firm, but there’s some bounce to it as you slap my cheeks lightly and playfully through my dress, until I’m in position.

“You were 5 minutes late”

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t find a parking space”

“Then you should have left earlier, shouldn’t you?”

“Yes, sir”

“What should I do with you?”

“uhhhhh…….”

**WHAP!!**

The first paddle shot echoes through the area as you’ve delivered an impatient swat to my covered behind. I didn’t see you pick THAT up!

“OOOHH!!! I’m sorry! Please paddle sir for being late, sir! I deserve correction for making you wait!”

“That’s better. I think one stroke per minute late is the going rate, don’t you?”

Mentally I try figure that out….does he mean one **CRACK!!** per cheek, five on each cheek? Or one **WHAP!!** across BOTH cheeks, 5 strokes? Oh God….I’m taking too long and I suddenly feel…..

**WHAP!!!*** **WHOP!!**

“OWIE! OWIE! OOOOOHH NOOOO!!”

One stroke across each cheek burns through my dress and I’m thinking “Holy shit if he’s hitting THIS hard on my dress, how am I gonna feel when he paddles me bare?! ”

“I’M SOOO SORRY SIR!” I moan.

“YES, OF COURSE one stroke per minute is what I deserve!”.

I’m squirming now, much to your delight, trying to bring the sting under control by grinding and undulating my hips and butt.

“Good……but it won’t be 5 strokes to your ass, my naughty girl”.

???????? What does THAT mean?

“Uh…..sir”?

“QUIET! or I’ll gag you”

“Yes, sir”. Guess I’m just gonna have to wait and find out what punishment you had in mind.

You put down the paddle and reach down to the hem of my skirt. You start raising it slowly and I can feel the cool air on the backs of my knees, then the backs of my thighs, finally my pale bottom is exposed, quivering in the breeze.

DAMMIT! Why did I have to wear this RED thong. That’s like waving a flag in front of a bull!

After you’ve raised my skirt and folded it on the small of my back, you stand back to admire the view in front of you. Large derriere with some pink on both cheeks from your first ministrations, split up the middle by the red material of the thong. You see the backs of my thighs are muscled from walking with just a hint of fat between them, enough for a pillow for your body for later when you’re between them.

Moving your eyes down from my backside, you notice the hamstrings on the backs of my knees, then the fullness of my calves and finally the backs of my ankles, already shivering from me trying to keep my fanny in the air while on my tip-toes.

Sighing….you go back to the work at hand and pick up the paddle once again.

Placing your left arm around my waist, you start **WHAP!**ing and **WHOP!!**ing and **SMACK!**ing my bouncing cheeks with the hard wooden school paddle in your right. I’m crying and begging and pleading all the time that “I’m sorry, sir! OW!! It won’t happen again, sir! OH!! PLEEEEASE sir….EEEYIIII! My bottom’s so sore!”

Until finally…

**WHAPPO!!*

From the ground you swung up that time, right on the sit spot, making my bottom jiggle and jump and dance for you. That final blow made me cry out;

“MERCY, SIR! PLEASE MERCY!”

And that’s it. You’ve made me safeword out, you’ve made me beg for mercy. And while I cry, you put down the paddle and rub my back, my behind (oh gently!) and take down the red thong that so encouraged you to beat my naughty ass. My cheeks are scarlet and blotched red to match the thong you instructed me to wear.

Once I’ve calmed down and you’ve finished soothing me, you tell me I haven’t paid for my five minutes late yet.

“Yes, sir. I remember. One stroke for each minute” I sniffle. “But my butt huuuuurts so bad!”

“They won’t be applied on your backside”

Thank God. While I’m not happy about my thighs being spanked, it’ll be better than any more torture to my already punished fanny.

You reach forward and gently lift my upper body up, hands kneading my breasts, so that I’m standing again, although shakily because my knees are trembling. I feel like a small child as you cradle me to your chest, hands on my my breasts and your strong forearms pressing against my ribcage to support me.

I could stand like this for hours in your embrace with my warm behind nestled against your crotch, putting out heat that you can feel through the fabric of your trousers.

You help me to sit (!!!) on the tailgate and I wince from the pain of sitting on my hot bottom. The steel is cool, though, and that comforts my burning cheeks.

You leave me for a minute to get something out of the cab and come back with black, velcro restraints. My eyes widen with suspicion and alarm as I wonder what you’re up to. You’ve never had to tie me down before for a mere thigh paddling.

Working carefully, you tie one nylon end to the tailgate support on first one side, then the other nylon restraint to the other side, not speaking to me, just looking at me from time to time. When both ends are tied, you come around to the front of me and wrap a velcro restraint to each knee.

What are you up to?

Pressing me down so that I’m laying on my back, you take my right knee and pull it toward the clip that’s attached to the nylon tether on the right hand side. Once that’s secured, you take the other knee and, splitting me wide open, you attach it to the left hand side.

Now I’m on my back, red, swollen buttocks peeping out and almost hanging off the tailgate. I feel as though I’m at the gynecologist’s office, legs wide open, bare shaved pussy on display open to the air and your probing fingers. Bottom scootched forward (you can never be too rich, too thin or too close to the end of the table)

My private area is lined up so that, should you want to take me, there’d be no stopping you. Perhaps you’ve changed your mind about punishing me and will, instead, fuck me in this exposed and vulnerable position to reinforce your dominance over me?

“Remember the five minutes late you were?” you ask as you pick up the small, rubber spatula.

” Yes, sir. I remember” I say in a small, meek voice. This isn’t looking good for me. I’m now starting to tremble because I think I KNOW where those five strokes are going to land. My open and drooling cunt finally realizes this as well as my clit tries desperately to hide.

But there’s no hiding from the punishment strokes to my pussy. The spatula zings into my shaved lips as you quickly flick your wrist and deliver;

**THWACK!**

For a moment, I can’t breathe! The blow wasn’t an especially hard blow, but we’re talking uncharted territory here and the firey sting on my bare lips takes my breath away.

But you’re patient and stand there awaiting the response to your first kiss of the spatula.

I don’t disappoint and as I inhale again, my first scream frightens birds out of the trees.

“AAAAAIIIIIEEEE!!!!”

The pain of that first blow floods my cunt lips, turning them pink in the shape of the spatula. My hips buck and wiggle, grinding my red ass into the bed of the truck….the heat of my ass is now forgotten in the wave of fire that has overcome my pussy.

“You have four left…..one for each minute” you remind me.

How am I ever going to keep my hands from covering the target? I KNOW I’m supposed to be trained to not block your punishment to my derriere, but this is my sensitive PUSSY, made oh-so-more sensitive by your requirement that I never have any pubic hair on it.

So I do the only thing I can do….sit up slightly, cross my wrists behind my back and lay back down on them. I’m completely in your control now, legs secured far apart, cunt laid open and bare to you, arms behind my back and held down by the weight of my body. I know that I deserve this punishment for disappointing you by being late.

“I-I-I’m ready, Sir”

Then, without a word and more quickly than I expected;

**FWWAAAAP!!**

Another zinger right to the my exposed pussy lips, and my body bucks and jumps as I howl to the sky;

“AAAAIIIEEEEE!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

You know that this far out in the country, no one will hear my screams. You take pleasure watching my pussy turn a deeper shade of red, seeing my futile attempts to close my legs and comfort the wounded area, and hearing my moans and crys of pain.

Then, before I’ve had a chance to accustom myself to the latest sting, you whip into my cunt again with the rubber spatula;

**FWAPP!!**

and I’m twisting, turning, begging and crying. All I feel is the horrible sting on my hairless mons and the velcro straps digging into the flesh on my knees. This is torture! Oh GOD I can’t take much more of this!

You see that my pussy lips are now scarlet. While rubber doesn’t bruise or break the skin like wood or leather, it does have a certain texture and surface that is harsh on my most sensitive area, especially when applied three times.

But, aside from my desperate screams and twisted body that tells you I want to get away and close my legs, you also notice a great deal of moisture coming from the damaged area.

Curious, you put the spatula down on the tailgate and slide your fingers along my hot, red lips (being very careful NOT to touch my clit. I’m being punished, after all) My moans of pain begin to change to different moans….moans most decidedly of lust and desire.

I’m arching my back as you continue to gently brush my outer lips with your fingertips, feeling the heat and wetness that YOU invoked with your paddling. I want you to take me now, and I have a feeling that you’ve barely restraining yourself from doing just that.

But there is still some unfinished business at hand and I stop moaning and become apprehensive when I feel you stop touching me and hear you pick up the spatula again.

You’ve decided to end this quickly because you have OTHER needs you must attend to as well. I start to beg you;

“Please, just fuck me now, sir! We can change the last two swats to two more spankings later! With the hairbrush! Please! I promise I won’t be late again! Please don’t paddle my pussy anymore! Punish it with your cock, sir!”

But YOU’RE in charge here. You decide the punishment, not me.

Saying nothing and concentrating on your target, you deliver the last two strokes to my bare, split open pussy. They’re close together and MUCH harder than the first three “love taps”.

**FWWWAP!!**
**WWHHHAAAAAAP!!**

and my cunt lips first turn white, then fill in deep blood red as I, once again, have lost capability of breathing.

My whole being is concentrated on the sting between my legs and the firey burn that your last two blows have caused. My eyes and mouth have flown wide open in a rictus of silent scream!

For a full 15 seconds, I can’t breathe, then take in so much air that I fear the hooks on my bra will come apart. And that’s when I scream long, loud, and hard:

“AAAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

My upper body arches and the top of my head is pivoted on the hard bed of the pickup truck as I scream toward the cab. I can’t move my hips as they’re still immobilized by the straps holding my knees to each side of the bed.

My whole body shudders and, even though I’m screaming and crying, I can hear you chuckle at the “show” I’m putting on for you in the midst of my pain.

You can see my red bottom peeking out and bouncing on the tailgate. The red color that you’ve painted on my cunt with your terrible implement of punishment continues to turn darker and more scarlet.

My body is bucking and trying to accustom itself to the firebrand you’ve turned my pussy into because, while it hurts furiously, it’s also spasming and orgasming. You see not only moisture creeping down from my gaping hole into my butt crack, but you can also see evidence of my pleasure squirting out from my clit that has erected itself now that the punishment is over.

Will you kiss my poor pussy now that it’s been made unbearably hot and wet from your paddling? Will you calm it with your cool hands and tease the wet nub of my clitoris with your finger?

Or would you not be able to restrain yourself and simply unzip, shove your trousers down and plunge your engorged cock into my tight, hot, oily hole, impaling me and filling me up as I lay helplessly tied and hopelessly drained from my punishment?

I’ll not be late in the future! I can heartily promise you that!

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No Responses to “An Autumn date with a paddle”

  1. Anonymous

    really beautifull. if I am woman I will desire to try it. The most erotic

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  2. Anonymous

    PLEASE finish that story. It was good. I’ve had my sex tortured by a favorite “master” & HE ALWAYS made sure I felt SOOO good in the end. PLEASE finish it… Kim

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  3. brislav69

    I loved this story. I just had to write and tell you that I got really turned me on to the point i had to go into the restroom at work and give myself some relief. keep up the good writing.

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  4. stormlover

    Thank you for your kind comments. I tried to thank you a long time ago, but wasn’t able to leave a message under paddle-me-please. As far as finishing the story….that’s left up to you. I write for me, but I also hope other women see themselves in this position and fulfill the fantasy for themselves in any way they want! If you have additional comments, please don’t hesitate to write me at stormlover@voyager.net

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