Cindy: Last Two Parental Spankings

Cindy had never given a blow job before; but, almost mesmerized by this beautiful penis, she leaned forward and gave it a little kiss on the tip. Then she did it again, this time making a kissing smack sound loud enough for Jake to hear.

With her left hand, she held the penis up to his belly so she could see his scrotal sac. She kissed this, too; and then working entirely on instinct, she licked it. She did not use just the tip of her tongue. Having grown up with barn cats, Cindy knew what real licking was like. She licked with the entire top surface of her tongue, slathering her saliva over nearly the whole front surface of his scrotum. Then she held it up with her right thumb and index finger so she could get at the underside, which she also covered in one long wide lick.

Cindy could not have explained why she felt the urge to do this. It was partly to please Jake, of course, but it was more complicated than that. She wanted to do it for herself: she wanted to lavish attention on his beautiful sex organs in this uninhibited, almost shameful, way. Just knowing that she was on her knees making herself a submissive tool for his pleasure, turned her on.

She continued licking in this way, stopping occasionally to work up more spit in her mouth, until she had thoroughly washed every square millimeter of his balls several times over. Then she tried to take the whole of it into her mouth but it was too big, so she settled for sucking alternately on each gonad.

This put her nose almost into the cleft between his penis and sac and she experienced a smell that she had never known before but which she instinctively dubbed "man" in her mind. She didn't know why, but the man smell made her feel weak, almost helpless. "It makes me," she thought, "feel ... oh, what's the word ... obedient. Yes, Obedient! It makes me feel like submitting, like lying back and spreading my legs and letting this man do whatever he wants with me."

As she continued, her sucking made little smacking sounds and she unconsciously murmured "mmmmmmmm" like a starving man eating a steak dinner as she ran her tongue around the gonad in her mouth.

When she finished with the balls, she let the penis drop to the front again and began to kiss it all over. With each kiss, she made a little smacking noise. This wasn't a side effect of the kisses: she had to make a conscious effort to produce the sound. She did it deliberately because she thought it would please Jake.

When she'd finished with the top, she lifted it and kissed down the length of the underside from tip to balls, then she moved it to the side and kissed along one side back to the tip and, finally, down the other side till she reached his hairy crotch. She kissed and licked here, too, until all his pubic hairs had been thoroughly shampooed.

Then she returned her attention to the now erect penis. She gave it the same complete bath she'd given his balls, again using the whole top surface of her tongue, not just the tip. When she'd licked it up and down several times, she felt an urge to put it inside her mouth.

Holding it to one side with her left hand, she placed her wide open mouth around one side of it at the base as though she were eating a hot dog sideways. It was too big for her to get her mouth all the way around, but her mouth covered most of the top and bottom surfaces as well as the side. While holding it in her mouth this way, she whipped her tongue rapidly back and forth along the part in her mouth. Then, after working up some more saliva, she slowly slid her mouth along the side of the penis from the base to the tip, thoroughly coating it in spit and licking madly each inch of penis as it slid through her mouth.

When she reached the tip, she moved the penis to the other side and repeated the mouth-slide along the other flank of Jake's prick. Then she gave the underside the same treatment and, finally, the top surface. This time when she reached the tip, she sucked the knob into her mouth and began to alternately suck on it and lick it. As she did this, she looked up at Jake to see what techniques he seemed to enjoy.

Jake helped out the silent communication by leaning forward and putting his hands on her. Not on her head as if it were some masturbatory toy. Rather he gently gripped her upper arms, just below the shoulders. Using his fingertips and thumb, he would press one way or another to signal when she should move her head forward or back. He would grip hard to signal when she did something wrong and she would stop and try something else. When he wanted her to work faster or slower he would tap his fingers on her arm in the rhythm he desired.

Sucking seemed to please him more than licking, so she sucked harder and harder, as if she was trying to suck a thick mild shake through a straw. Audible sucking noises came from her mouth as her cheek muscles visibly contracted around Jake's prick with each suck.

When her lips grew tired, she concentrated on trying to get more of him into her mouth. It took some practice, but after a few faltering, choking attempts she was able to get nearly three inches in. She began to bob her head forward and back, sliding her lips along the shaft and licking its undersurface. Her naked breasts bounced and shook with each bob. To give herself some leverage she put her hands on his buttocks to grip them. His buns were rock hard.

After about two minutes of bobbing, she could tell by his noises and the look on his face that he was near climax. Instinctively, she put both hands behind her to the small of her back and tilted her head up to look up at him submissively, waiting for his orgasm while she held his penis in her mouth. At that moment he seemed to her to be a magnificent muscled stallion. He looked back at her with bright but heavy-lidded eyes and pulled her ever so slightly forward by her upper arms as he pushed himself a bit further into her mouth. She understood that this signal meant that he wanted her to swallow his sperm. "I was going to do that anyway," she thought.

Seconds later, he gasped and spurted into her. Still looking up at him with her hands behind her back, she swallowed big twice, then sucked on his knob trying to get every last drop until he gently pushed back on her arms to signal her to stop.

Jake lay down in the grass breathing hard, and she busied herself by taking off her pants, panties and sandals, all of which she flung into the darkness of the night.

She knelt beside him and ran her hands over his trunk, shoulders, arms, hips, and legs, reveling in the sheer hardness of the man. At one point, she leaned down to his crotch to kiss his pubis so that she could smell his "man smell" again. When she did, she felt an urge to lay across his lap and ask him to spank her just as, in her imagination, his two older brothers had done. But she refrained because so far tonight she hand Jake had not actually spoken aloud to each other and she wanted to see how long they could go without words.

After a few minutes, Jake grew hard again and he knelt up beside her and pushed gently on her shoulders. Guided by his hands, she lay down. "I'll do anything he asks," Cindy thought to herself, "absolutely anything."

As it happened, he did not have a chance to ask her for much before they were interrupted.

Cindy was lying naked on her back, legs apart and knees up on the very spot where so many previous Patterson conquests had lain in the same position. Jake was kneeling between her thighs, his penis at the ready, and was seconds away from entering her.

Something crashed through the bushes at just that moment and Cindy sat up in a bolt, too breathless with surprise to scream. Jake, on the other hand, was still permanently imperturbable and he straightened slowly to rest on his haunches and look behind him in the direction of the noise. In the darkness, Cindy saw over his shoulder that the intruder was too big to be a fox and it walked on two legs. For a brief heart-stopping moment, Cindy thought the black bears had returned to these woods after an absence of 100 years; but then the creature spoke.

"Jake?" it was his mother's voice.

"Jake, what are you doing out here by yourself on your first night home? We were all worried and- Oh! ... Oh, my God ... Oh I see ... oh my dear."

Now Cindy screamed, "Mrs. Patterson!" These were the first words she had spoken out loud since the party. She threw one arm over her breasts and a hand over her glistening crotch, and began looking around frantically for where her clothes had been tossed.

Even on hearing his mother's voice behind him, Jake did not lose his cool. With an annoyed look on his face, he grabbed his own uniform shirt, draped it around Cindy, and began to button it. Since the only light was from the three-quarter moon, and his back was to his mother and he was resting on his haunches she could not see much of him that she shouldn't see.

"Its not what it looks like, Mrs. Patterson," Cindy repeated a cliché she'd heard in a thousand bad TV shows and movies.

Jake chuckled softly at this and Cindy immediately realized the absurdity of it.

The shirt was large enough that it served as a kind of miniskirt dress for Cindy and she stood up and began walking around the area looking in the dark for her khakis and underpants. When she stood, the moonlight caught her long straight blond hair. To a neighbor who had known her since birth, she was unmistakable.

"Cindy Johnson!" Jake's mother exclaimed in surprise. "I thought it was that tramp Laurie or one of those girls in that punk band. I would never have thought that you ... Barbara's and James's daughter ... I always thought you were such a nice girl-"

"Mom," Jake interrupted firmly and calmly but not loudly, "Go back to the house ... now." These were the first words he had spoken out loud since the party.

At that moment, Cindy, while squatting and feeling around ground in the dark, felt the zipper and fly button of a pair of an empty pants. She didn't wait to see if Mrs. Patterson would obey her son. Cindy simply grabbed the pants and ran barefoot down the trail leading to her house, leaving her socks, shoes, panties, and tank top behind.

Corporal Cindy

After sprinting nearly a quarter mile, she stopped to put on the pants shortly before entering her back yard.

As soon as she stepped into them, she realized they were Jake's.

This meant she had left all her own clothes behind. It also meant, Cindy realized, that Jake would have to go home in only his shoes, socks, and underwear, since he could never fit into her pants.

But Cindy was not worried about anyone as cool as Jake. She knew he would take this in stride, like he took everything else since his return from battle. He would probably make some effort to sneak in the back door and up the back steps, more to spare his mother embarrassment than himself. For someone who has had a grenade blow up beside him, being seen in your underwear by your mother, father, and brothers, or, for that matter, even complete strangers, wasn't any great trauma.

The pants were too big, but she could get them to stay up by treating the army-issue canvas belt as a rope and tying it tight. Even then she had to roll up the pant legs several times over to keep from tripping over them. Cindy then waited on an old swing set in her backyard for thirty minutes until the light in the living room went out and the light in her parent's bedroom went on. After five minutes more, the bedroom light went out. Cindy then figured she could sneak in the back and up the stairs to her room without being seen.

Had it been a heterosexual man waiting for Cindy in the kitchen when she entered by the back screen door, she would have looked sexy as hell, or adorable, or both: a lanky barefoot blond in an oversized corporal's uniform.

But it wasn't a heterosexual man waiting for her. It was her mother, Barbara.

Barbara snapped on the light when Cindy had tiptoed halfway across the kitchen, and Cindy froze in surprise.

"Mom!" she said guiltily when she caught her breath, "you're, you're, ... still up!"

Barbara did not reply. She simply stood there, glaring, in her bathrobe and slippers, with her arms folded imperiously over her chest, like a queen confronting a disobedient servant. She slowly looked Corporal Cindy up and down, taking in the uniform which she immediately recognized as Jake's, and the bare feet.

"Well, well, well," she said sardonically, "I didn't know you'd enlisted."

"It's not what it looks like, Mom," Cindy gamely tried the same cliché that she'd given Mrs. Patterson.

It didn't work any better this time than it had earlier.

"Oh, well, of course," said Barbara with exaggerated sarcasm, "there are so many perfectly reasonable explanations for why a girl your age would be sneaking into her own home in the dead of night wearing a neighboring man's clothes."

Cindy just hung her head.

"Well," said Barbara with the overly controlled tone that always signaled to Cindy that her mother was enraged, "this explains the incoherent phone call I got from Betty Patterson about 25 minutes ago. She was ranting about Jake and you and good girls who become tramps. Then she hung up on me. When I couldn't find you in your room, I was worried. I put on my robe because I was going to drive to the Pattersons to see if you were there. But when I came in here to get the keys off the hook, I saw you on the swing. I've been waiting here ever since."

Again, Cindy said nothing. After a few seconds of silence, Barbara ordered Cindy to follow her to the old nursery room.

"Why the nursery room?" asked Cindy.

"Because it's the room farthest from our bedroom and I don't want your father to hear your punishment," Barbara explained. "He is never to know of what happened tonight. Do you understand?"

"Yes," said Cindy as started for the door to the hallway.

As she walked past her mother she realized that her breasts were shaking visibly under the uniform. Her mother, too, saw it and the realization that her daughter was braless caused her to compress her lips in anger and turn a bit purple.

Arriving in the room that had been Cindy's nursery eighteen years before and her playroom during her girlhood, Barbara ordered Cindy to strip off the uniform, hand it over, and then kneel on the cot where she had once taken her naps. Facing her mother, Cindy pulled the shirt over her head without bothering to unbutton it. When she pulled down the pants, her mother's eyes grew big at the discovery that Cindy wasn't wearing underpants. Barbara's face turned an even darker purple.

"She can't possibly get any angrier," Cindy thought.

But Cindy was wrong.

When Cindy handed over the uniform, her mother turned around to hide it in a old toy box. ("So your father won't see it until I get a chance to return it tomorrow," she explained.) While her mother was doing this, Cindy turned her own back on her mother to kneel on the cot. She bent forward at the hips to rest her head and arms on the familiar old quilt with Winnie the Pooh characters on it. Her bum pointed up and back.

In the few months that had gone by since her outdoor spanking, Cindy's upward growth had stopped and her breasts and hips had a chance to catch up. As a result, the breasts that rested upside down on the cot that night were full and round, so was the butt she stuck up into the air, and no one anymore would call her hips "boyish."

Cindy heard her mother shut the toy box. But for a long minute her mother said nothing and did nothing. Curious, Cindy looked back over her shoulder past the naked flank of her own hip to see that her mother had turned around from the toy box and was now facing her once again, staring at her bare bottom, her face a deeper purple than ever. She was so angry, Cindy felt real fear. She could see her mother's jaw working as she ground her teeth.

"What is Mom seeing on my butt?" Cindy wondered, and she put both hands back to feel her bum. There was something stuck on it and Cindy picked it off and looked at it.

It was a blade of grass.

She felt all over her bottom and picked several more blades off. Then she felt the back of her thighs.

"No," her mother interrupted her searching. The overly controlled voice was back and now it was so controlled it was almost zombie-like.

"There's none on the backs of your legs, Cindy," she continued. "There's grass on the bottom of your feet and on your ass and your back and in the hair on the back of your head. But there's none on the back of your legs. I wish I could say this pattern was puzzling, but I understand it all too well."

Cindy, too, understood how she'd gotten that pattern of grass on her body. She considered telling her mother that Jake had not actually penetrated her, but the pattern of grass revealed to her mother what Cindy's intentions had been and that was all that would really matter to her mother.

Barbara reopened the toy box and furiously rummaged for a suitable spanking tool. The best she could come up with was an old plastic baby doll missing its clothes and one arm. (Two years later when she learned a little Freud in a psychology class, Cindy realized that old Sigmund would have been fascinated at the symbolism of a mother spanking a sexually reckless daughter with one of the daughter's old baby dolls.)

Barbara stepped up to the cot and stood to one side of Cindy's protruding ass.

"I want you to know that I'm not spanking you for having glands, Cindy," she explained as her zombie voice became a tiny bit more human. Cindy looked back at her as she continued. "Sexuality isn't something to be ashamed of, and I understand the effect a man like Jake can have. He reminds me a lot of your father."

"But," her mother continued, "I'm spanking you for the irresponsible way that you expressed your sexuality. If you had to let yourself be seduced in a matter of minutes by a boy you've hardly known for several years, you should at least have done it behind locked doors. You put your own and your family's reputation at risk. Do you realize how lucky it is that Betty Patterson found you and not Jake's father or brothers? She has no more desire than you to be a figure in a gossipy story. She'll keep the secret. But his father and either brother would have bragged all over town how Jake nailed the Johnson girl his first night back from the army."

With that, Barbara swung the doll, which she was holding by one leg, out to the side and then smacked its nearly flat plastic back against Cindy's proffered bum.

Smack!

"Oww!" Cindy said, jerking her head up at the sting.

Barbara continued the spanking without giving Cindy any breaks.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Barbara was relentless and in less than a minute, Cindy was sniffling and her hips were jerking in response to each spank. Her fists gripped the quilt.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

By the end of the second minute, Cindy was crying openly and twisting. "Aaaaahhh!" she wailed.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Halfway through the third minute Cindy was kicking back spasmodically and thrashing her head from side to side on the quilt. Her wails had become louder and longer and they seemed to rise and fall in pitch as though she were singing an unholy ode to pain from some long forgotten medieval self-flagellation cult. "Unnnoooowwwwweeee!"

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Fearful that she would wake her father, Cindy stuffed a handful of the quilt in her mouth as a muffle. Clamping down on a picture of Winnie, she now sounded as if she were only humming the ode to pain. "Mmmmmnnnnnrrrrrrr!"

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

At the five minute mark, Cindy could see that her mother showed no signs of weakening and she removed the quilt from her mouth to beg, between her sobs, that her mother relent.