Rick and Linda: The Beginning

Spank! "Oh! ow! ThanksRicky"

Spank! "Unahhuh! ThuksRickee"

Spank! "Ah! Ah! Ah! sanksRickeee"

Spank! [Big gasping inhale] "Oh God! Oh! Thunks, Ruckeeee!"

Spank! "Unnnh! Oh please, no more! No, wait, I mean- I mean- Thank you, Thank you, Ricky.

Spank! "Owwwwwwoooooo! Un! Un! Please stop! Just for a moment! Thank you, Ricky, but please give me a few moments!

Spank! "Argggghhhhhhhh! [gasping whisper] th-th-th-thank you, Ricky, but please no more!"

Spank! "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! [shouting] Thanks! Thanks! Thanks! Ricky! Will you please stop now?!"

As this was going on her body was churning like a cement mixer. The side-to-side jerks started with the second blow. The butt rise and fall was added with the third. When the fifth landed, her upper body jerked up, not just her head this time, but her whole upper body. On the sixth, she involuntarily kicked out with one leg when she said "Oh God!" This was the first time all night that she had failed to stay in the "offering" position.

With the seventh, eighth, ninth, and tenth, her gyrations were too complicated to describe: she kicked; she twisted; she humped; she bucked; she ground down on my lap; sometimes one buttock clenched, sometimes the other, sometimes both; her legs scissored out with one blow (stretching her panties) and slammed shut again with the next. At one point, she rose up partly on her knees, pushing her bottom several inches above my lap. Since her thighs were spread a few inches at this moment, I got a glimpse of a little pink bud between her buns.

I was under no delusions that this performance was a result of my rubbing her sex. This was the classic reaction to spanking pain: she was spasmodically trying to shake the pain away. Even if she'd been aware of what she was doing, she'd have been powerless to stop.

The gyrations continued a few seconds after her final shouted thanks. With the last spasm, she twisted to her right side and at the same time, her right leg pressed down into the bed and her left leg lifted completely off the mattress as she kicked back with it. It hit the footboard loud and startled both of us. She looked in the direction of the sound and realized that she had kicked the footboard.

Since she was looking back over her shoulder at this point, I could see her face clearly. I could watch as she recognized the implications of her kick. I watched as the realization dawned on her that she had been putting on a debased but sexy show for me. I watched as she replayed the last few spanks in her head before her short term memories dissolved. I watched as she pictured herself as I had seen her, legs opening lewdly, butt rising high, twisting, bucking, clenching and unclenching. I watched as her eyes grew huge with embarrassment exceeding anything she'd felt before.

I watched, too, as she realized that she had been shouting her exclamations of pain, and that she had shouted out her last thanks to me, and that anyone who had been in the dorm hallway would have heard her. I watched as she buried her face in the sheet, utterly mortified.

I pulled my hand out from under her, being careful to clench a fist first. She had leaked fluid onto my hand towards the end. I deliberately stopped rubbing at that point. I didn't want to spread the fluid to her external skin where she would feel it. For the moment, it was humiliation enough that she knew she was powerfully aroused. It wasn't necessary for her to know that I knew it, too.

We waited in silence for a full minute as she sniffled and rubbed her bright pink, nearly red, bottom with both hands. I gently whispered that it was time for a kiss.

Again, she slipped off my lap and knelt before me. Only when her hot behind came to rest on the cool back of her ankles, did she realize she had not pulled up her panties. She did so at once, but winced with pain as soon as the fabric wrapped tightly around that very sore bottom. She kneeled there for a long moment with her hands griping the sides of her panties, her eyes screwed shut and her mouth grimacing in pain. Finally, she relaxed a little and I sensed that a decision had been made.

To my great pleasure, her hands moved to the back of her panties and she peeled down the back so that the waistband was under the buttocks, just where they meet the thighs. She gave a sigh of relief as the cool air of the room soothed her hindquarters and she remained kneeling, but she held her sensitive bottom up rather than rest it on her ankles. Understandable, but this forced her to lean forward to keep her balance, and that, in turn, caused her bottom to stick out.

The front of her panties stayed up high enough to barely hide her furry treasure, but since the waistband was no longer around her waist, she had to spread her knees to get the panties tight enough to stay up on their own. She was facing me so I could not see her rear; but somehow just knowing that she would be sticking it out bare and pink and spread open while she kissed me, was sensationally erotic.

With her weight no longer resting on her ankles, she had to wrap her arms around me to hold herself up, even if I had not required it. We were both so distracted with thoughts about her bottom, we forgot that she was to ask for a kiss. We just started in.

Still drained from her gyrations, she didn't put as much energy into the kiss as she had in the previous several rounds. I compensated by letting it go on a long time, interrupting now again to give little wispy kisses to her face and neck. My hands roamed over her. During one of these excursions, my ear was next to her mouth and I heard her utter a little "uh" of arousal. I turned my head enough to see her face. She was looking up with her eyes closed and her mouth open as if in rapture.

When I finally broke the clench, she continued to hold onto me, to hold herself up. For a brief moment, she looked in my eyes. She was no longer crying, her eyes were dilated and heavy-lidded, her lips parted, and she breathed slowly and heavily. To hide what she was feeling she looked down and away. She's nearly there, I thought, I don't think we'll even get to the tenth round; maybe not even the ninth.

She slowly rose, wincing as she lay herself across me again. She pulled the panties down to her thighs and assumed the "offering" position she had come to know so well.

Finally, she spoke in a deep husky voice "Please spank me, Ricky."

The color in her bottom had abated a bit, but it was still very pink. I slipped my hand between us and gripped her mound again.

As I stroked her bottom with my other hand, I heard her ask in a high, keening, barely audible, voice "Rick, please don't spank me as hard as you did in the seventh round."

It was almost a wail of self-pity.

I smiled that she'd thrown in that "Rick" in place of the artificial "Ricky." By calling me by my regular nickname, she was revealing that she had given up trying to put me in the category of monster, pervert, or molester. We had come full circle. I was her friend, again. No doubt a part of her was still furious at what I was putting her through, but part of her was feeling more complex, more complicated emotions, too. Mostly, she was just confused; but calling me "Rick" meant that she now assumed that however the rest of this evening played out, she and I were going to continue to have some kind of complicated, confusing relationship.

Her plea gave me an idea.

"I'll tell you what," I said. "We don't want the rest of this dorm to know our business. Why don't I give you a clean sock? You can hold it in your mouth when I give you a spank and it will muffle your reaction. What do you say?"

She looked back over her shoulder at me and for the second time that night, I got the "I just won the lottery!" look of joy from her.

But since I was protecting her from one source of humiliation, I wanted to compensate by opening another, so I continued:

"From now on, I'll wait between spanks as long as you want. When you are ready for the next one, you just tell me you'd like another. And from now on, you can use your own wording for both the 'thank you's and the spanking requests, and the kiss request, too. Just be polite and don't repeat yourself. You can even ask for a soft spank sometimes, but for at least five of the ten in each set, you must ask for a hard spank."

She again looked back at me with gratitude. She considered all this another act of mercy on my part. She would soon learn the truth, but in the meantime, I'd extract another concession from her, since she didn't think that I asked for any yet.

"One more thing," I said. "For the remainder of our business, the last three spanking rounds and the kisses between them, I will also be bottomless."

She stiffened, but I stroked her back and reiterated my assurance that I would not penetrate her in any way. She nodded her assent and I instructed her to rise up on her knees and elbows. With her weight off of me, I slipped off my pants and underwear and kicked them way. While she was still on knees and elbows, I leaned far enough to reach the middle drawer of the dresser that was beside the head of the bed. I pulled out a clean sock and laid it beside her face. I then pushed down on her butt and she lowered herself down on my lap again and resumed the "offering" position. I then slipped my hand under her and back onto her pubis.

Time for the eighth round.

"Remember now to thank me for each spank in your own words and then ask me for another when you are ready."

She waded up the sock and stuffed about half of it into her mouth. Not a second later, I slapped my hand down fast and hard on her left buttock. She jerked, and a muffled ummmmmm sound came from her gagged mouth. For several seconds her buttocks clenched and unclenched and her thighs rubbed together frantically.

Small tears were forming at the corners of her eyes, as she pulled the sock from her mouth and said "I appreciate that, Rick."

There was a longer pause and I began to massage her love triangle again.

Finally, she said "I'm ready for another spank, Rick."

"Maybe so," I replied, "but that's not quite the same as asking me for one. Also, you forgot to specify hard or soft."

She sighed in frustration and said "I would like another spank now, Rick. Soft please."

I obliged with a light pat and she promptly thanked me with another "I appreciate that, Rick."

"No, no," I said. "You're not allowed to repeat yourself, remember?"

She sighed again and tried to think of other words to thank me. She was now discovering that it was no favor I did her when I told her to use her own words. As long as she was simply repeating a mantra I had given her, she could psychologically distance herself from it -- tell herself it was only a chant she had to repeat to please me. But now that she was using her own words, it sounded more sincere, more like she really wanted the spanks. This was significantly more humiliating. She tried to think of another stock phrase like "I appreciate that," a phrase that was so banal it would seem meaningless.

Finally, she said "I am grateful for that spank, Rick."

She had four more soft spanks and four more hard ones left in this round. She opted for a hard one and tried to think of a way to ask for it that wouldn't be too humiliating.

"Try using another word or phrase in place of 'spank'." I hinted.

After a moment's pause, she replied "Rick, please smack my bottom hard."

She then burst into humiliated tears. Asking for a spanking was humiliating. Asking for one in your own words was doubly humiliating. Having to add that adjective "hard" doubled the humiliation again. For some reason, having to specify the type of spank, in this case "smack," was exquisitely embarrassing. It sounded so much more sluttish and perverted, as though she were a connoisseur of spanks placing an order; like a wine lover asking not just for a Bordeaux, but for a particular vineyard and year.

I had to remind her to insert the sock.

I positioned my hand vertically just above her right thigh and swept it fast and almost horizontally until it smacked hard into the lower peak of her right buttock. The globe flattened for a fraction of a second, then rebounded and shook like jello. Her head snapped back and her upper body jerked up as she reflexively pushed down on the bed with her forearms. From the gag came a long groan that sounded almost like a gurgle:

"arrrghhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmmm!"

As her upper body was going up, her hips pushed down hard onto my lap as if she could somehow pull away from the pain and leave it behind. Those hips then began spontaneously sliding left and right about half an inch very rapidly. But she was oblivious to the massage she was giving my penis. Her world contained only one thing at this moment: pain in her bottom.

Her body --and it was her body that was in charge here, not her mind-- switched tactics: Her hips rose and her upper body sank. For a second, her hips pumped up and down as she moaned in a matching rhythm "muh! muh! muh! muh!"

Then her hips crashed down to my lap again as her lower legs kicked alternately, but very rapidly, pounding her toes into the mattress. Her sounds turned into muffled tears: "uh uh uh."

Finally, a good four seconds after the blow had landed, the sock fell from her mouth and she lay whimpering and still except that the offended right buttock continued to clench and unclench spasmodically.

I resumed my massage of her sex while she tried to think of words to thank me. I gave her a hint that I learned from my mother: "When you want to thank someone for a gift, pick out some particular aspect such as its color or some particular feature of it and tell them that you especially like that aspect."

She thought a bit more and stammered "Th-thank you, Rick. I- I- I espec- sh- sh- ially enjoyed the burning st-sting of that smack."

She turned her face into the mattress and resumed embarrassed weeping, but as I continued my finger massage of her mons venus, her tears were interrupted by occasional gasps and small jerks of her hips.

Linda could not take two that hard in a row, so she chose a soft one, asking for it with "Please give me a soft slap on my bottom, Rick," and thanking me afterward with "Oh, Rick, I'm so grateful you included both sides of my bum in that one."

Still dreading the hard ones, she next opted for a second soft one in a row. This time her words were "Another please, Rick, just like the last one" and "Oh my, Rick. That was exquisite: your best yet!"

By now she was whimpering continuously from the humiliating nature of these little speeches.

"I'd like a hard one next, Rick if you please," she said before plopping the sock in her mouth.

She got it, and once again I was treated to a Radio City Music Hall show put on by her legs, hips, and butt.

When the show finished it's last encore, she lay still and managed to gasp out breathily "Thank you, Rick, that one was very educational."

She needed a long time to recover from the last spank, so I spent the time rhythmically squeezing and unsqueezing her mound. After about 45 seconds she began to make those involuntary sideways hip jerks. This confirmed for me that when she had first started these back in the early rounds, they were spasms of arousal, not pain. She lay with her mouth open and her eyes closed and suddenly let out a little "oh" of arousal. The sound of this startled her and in an attempt to prevent me from knowing how aroused she was, she shouted out a panicky spanking request.

"Spank me now! I mean please! I mean a soft one! Yes, a soft spank please, Rick."

I gave her a pat but it did nothing to stop her growing arousal and she realized she'd need a hard one to get her mind off her sexy feelings. Thus, within a second of my soft pat, she lifted onto her elbows, turned her face to look back over her shoulder toward me and shouted out hurried thanks and a request for a hard spank, spoken so fast her words merged almost into one:

"ThatWasGreatRickThanks! NowGiveMeAHardOne! Please! Now! AHardSmackOfYourPalm! OnMyButt! RightOnTheLowerCurve! WhereItsMostSensitive! Now! Hurry! Hurry! Please! ... "

All through this rapid fire request she was starring at her own reddened bum as if willing my hand to strike it and cut short the growing arousal in her that she now feared more than pain.

She was still shouting her demand when my curved hand landed just where she'd requested it. It was the hardest spank yet. Her hips jammed down on my lap with incredible force, her back arched and her head snapped back so far she was actually facing the ceiling.

She let out a long loud "owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! unh! unh! ohh! Oh God! unh! unh! hurts! hurts!"

As she was saying this, her hips began bucking wildly on my lap and her feet kicked spasmodically back against the footboard. After a few seconds her legs pounded the mattress and for a few seconds more they alternately opened wide and scissored closed as body sought madly to shake away the pain.

Her body finally collapsed and she exhaled her gratitude: "Ohhh, thank you, Rick."

It was not her own words, but I decided to accept it since it was so obviously sincere. After all, from her point of view the spank had done its job. It had reversed her growing arousal before it advanced so far that she could no longer hide it from me. (Of course, I did know she was aroused, but she was not aware of her fluid leaking onto my hand. Neither did she didn't know I'd heard the little "oh" of arousal she'd emitted a few minutes before or the "oo" she whispered when we last kissed.)

"Well," I said, "that was quite an enthusiastic request, and quite loud, especially since you forgot to gag yourself."

She jerked and her eyes stretched wide as she realized I was right. She had once again shouted her request loud enough to be heard in the hallway. But on that earlier occasion she had shouted only exclamations and 'thank you's. A listener in the hallway might have thought he was hearing a round of good sex rather than a spanking. But this time ...

She frantically tried to remember what she had said and her face turned redder and redder as she remembered: she had explicitly asked for a "smack," she had specified where on her bum it should land, she'd asked him to hurry, she'd said "please," and she said all this in a rush as if she were in a desperate, lusting, hurry to get spanked.

She hung her head and sobbed at the realization that anyone who heard would have known they were hearing a spanking and that she was requesting it. Her sobs got renewed energy a moment later as she realized that her cries of pain following the smack were also audible in the hallway. She could only pray that no one was out there at the time.

The effect of the spank, however, was only temporary as I resumed my squeezing of her vaginal bulge. As the heat rose in her again, so did the panic. She tried to think of a way out of the situation. She had two softs and one hard spank remaining. The softs would not help; they might even increase her arousal. The last hard spank would have only a temporary effect: she'd soon be back in her current situation, her bare red bottom offered up submissively, nearing orgasm, over the lap of a man who had humiliated her. She was determined not to let me know that I had aroused her. She was prepared to endure almost anything else to prevent that final defeat of her pride. She knew now that it had been a critical mistake to let me rub her pubis. She tried to reverse that deal.

"Rick, instead of finishing this eighth round, why don't we start it over? But let's go back to the original procedure. I understand that I must take off my panties completely and that I may not cover myself when we kiss. You can spank me as hard as you want, no softs unless you want to give me one. Instead of 12 soft and 11 hard spanks left, I'll have to take 30 hards. And I'll count each one and thank you for it. But you have to put your pants back on and you can't touch my privates."
"Awww, I don't know ... we are so close to the end. I think we should just finish up with the current procedure" I replied.