Up
Close and Personal by C Allen
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C
Allen is one of the most talented writers of spanking erotica
that I've read in a long time. This wonderfully unique story is
more that just good spanking erotica; it's good fiction! Lizbeth
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From:
Angel Paperback
Angel Ebook
(c) 2002, all rights reserved
I
was anxious to get things underway, and then again I wasn’t.
What had I gotten myself into? I was to be spanked, but by whom
and with what severity I had not a clue. It was time for Sieg to
tell me. He cleared his throat. Ignoring me, he explained to the
others my immediate fate.
“Angel is, indeed, a neophyte with respect to our games.
Tonight we will help deliver her from such a shameful state.
When we are finished I hope that she will appreciate a stinging
bottom and where it might lead. I expect all of you to
participate in her indoctrination.” He stressed
indoctrination. “ I know that her ‘virginal’ condition
will not long survive in your capable hands. She should go home
tonight with something to think about when she sits down to
breakfast tomorrow. Let’s give her a toast.” He raised his
glass. The others followed suit.
“Here, here,” came a chorus from the others as they
toasted me with their drinks.
“And now Tom, what problem are you having with Belinda?”
asked Sieg.
“She has seen fit to disobey me on several occasions since
our last meeting,” said Tom. “I have been able to overlook
most of her willfulness, but last night she refused me when I
requested a striptease. She needs to be reminded to obey me.
Tonight she will be properly punished and humiliated. Tonight
she will perform for all of us.”
Belinda for her part glowed crimson as she listened to her
husband’s explanation of her fate. It was delicious to watch
her; despite knowing she was a willing participant.
“I’m sure that will interest us all,” commented Sieg.
“David, what is the situation with Mary Margaret?”
David took Mary Margaret’s hand. “This lovely and refined
lady wants to learn the fine art of performing oral sex, but she
has reservations—hang-ups—that need to be overcome. I have
every intention of helping her achieve her goal tonight. I hope
each of you will assist if called upon.”
Mary Margaret, sophisticated lady that she was, stared at the
floor and reddened prettily. David, you devil, I thought.
“I think we’re in for an interesting evening,”
concluded Sieg. “May I freshen anyone’s drink before Angel
takes center stage?”
Several of the others spoke up and my mind raced while Sieg
collected glasses and worked the bar. Well, he was right about
one thing, I wasn’t the main attraction, not with the promise
of explicit sex on the program. Still, I suspected that I would
provide plenty of entertainment to the others. I just hoped that
I didn’t act like a baby and make a total fool of myself. But
maybe they would like a bit of pleading for mercy and heartfelt
sobbing. I’d know soon.
“Stand up, Angel, and take off your dress,” ordered Sieg
as he handed out the last of the drinks.
Why not? I thought. I had expected to lose the dress
eventually, just not so soon. I stood up, unzipped and
unbuttoned and slipped it off. There were some appreciative
murmurs.
“Fold it if you like,” Sieg said, “then stand in front
of the fireplace where we can see you.”
I was covered better than any modern-day bather at the pool,
but I found being put on display in panty girdle and bra in
front of strangers was difficult. Sieg’s comments made it even
worse.
“Very nice,” he said in a male-to-male voice. “Now take
off your bra and show us your tits.”
Wait a minute, I thought. This was going much faster than I
had ever dreamed. “Breasts,” I said, “there’re
breasts.”
“Angel,” he said coldly, “come here and get over my
lap.”
I hesitated, but finally did as he asked. I was awkward
lowering myself and almost lost my balance. He proceeded to pat
and fondle my bottom through my girdle.
“Angel, did I asked for your comments?”
“No, but…”
I didn’t get any further. His hand came crashing down on my
right bottom cheek. Before I caught my breath he had smacked me
a dozen painful times. The sting surprised me.
“During your punishment you will speak when asked to speak.
Do you understand?”
“Yes….sir.” I quickly added the sir when I thought he
was going to resume spanking me.
“Good. Now stand up and take off your bra so we can see
your tits.”
I scrambled off his lap and quickly unhooked my bra and freed
my breasts. It was embarrassing, but nothing I found I could
accept this.
“Turn around. Yes, very pretty. Now back over my lap.”
This time I hurried to do as I was told. He pulled me closer
and wrapped his left arm around me. Again he alternately patted
and caressed my hindquarters. When he stopped. I knew the moment
had come.
He began spanking methodically, concentrating on the lower
portion of my girdled bottom. The first few didn’t make much
of an impression, but as he continued my cheeks soon started to
sting in earnest. Before long I was squirming in discomfort.
Occasionally he would stop and massaged my behind. It helped
momentarily, but as soon as he started smacking me again the
burn returned. Well, I’d asked for it, I thought. But for the
life of me I didn’t know why. There was nothing the least bit
erotic about it.
When he finally stopped at the end of several minutes, my
eyes were damp. He massaged me again, then asked David to hand
him the hairbrush.
Sieg took the brush. He rubbed the back of the brush over my
bottom. I was curious, but also frightened. I knew that the
severity of my spanking was about to escalate significantly. I
gritted my teeth and tensed my muscles.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
From the very first smack of the hairbrush on my already
smarting flesh I felt a deep burning pain unlike anything I had
ever experienced. No wonder my friend Donna had been so afraid
of her mother’s hairbrush all those years ago. This was real
punishment!
Of course, Sieg was a very experienced spanker and he knew
how to take me to just short of my limit before giving me a
respite. He would spank very slowly for a while, give me a
flurry of half a dozen, then run the back of the brush over the
areas he had just paddled.
Early on I was oohing and ahing and squirming like an eel.
When I put a hand back, he deftly grabbed it and captured it
with his own. I was, as the pulps say, burning up back there.
Finally, he stopped and instead of using the back of the
brush to massage my bottom, he gently used his hand. It did
little to put out the fire until he allowed his fingers to probe
between my legs. Everything considered, I briefly thought I had
gone to heaven. I disappeared into a fog. Unfortunately, he was
not about to let me spend enough time there for what I wanted.
When he stopped and had me stand, I still felt the pain.
“You may rub, if you like,” he said.
For the slightest moment I thought how unladylike I would
look. Then I thrust my pelvis shamelessly forward and began to
massage my flaming bottom through my girdle. Slowly the pain
lessened, to be replaced with a growing, pleasant warmth that
focused between my legs. I can say without fear of contradiction
that the only thing that kept me from tending to my itch was the
fact that I was standing I front of five other people. Little
did I think that in a few minutes my current inhibitions would
appear ludicrous.
Sieg brought me up short “It’s time to continue your
education, Angel.”
I looked at him as if he were mad. Hadn’t I had enough?
What was he going to do to me now?
Seeing my surprise he calmly said, “You surely didn’t
think that we were finished did you? Stand over here at the end
of the couch and bare your bottom.”
Baring my bottom meant baring a good deal more, and I could
feel the blood rushing to my face. I’m no prude, as you have
guessed, but I still have inhibitions.
“Be quick,” Sieg ordered, and to give me an incentive he
whacked my poor bottom hard with the hairbrush.
Slowly my hands moved to my panty girdle. I hooked my thumbs
on either side and worked it down my thighs. Equally slowly, I
lowered my pantyhose as far as the girdle allowed. The air felt
momentarily soothing on my bare backside, but I was quite
conscious of the salacious looks at my nearly naked body.
“Bend over the arm of the couch. Feet on he floor and torso
on the seat cushions.”
I did as I was told. Of course my butt was sticking up in the
air, and I rather suspected that I was showing at least a
glimpse of my femininity from behind. Well, I had
asked for this.
Sieg
cleared his throat. “Each of the other guests will now treat
you to two strokes of their favorite instrument of correction.
You will remain in position throughout unless you would like an
encore from everyone. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, my head turned to the back of the
couch to avoid looking at my new appointed disciplinarians.
“Good. Belinda will begin with a split-tailed Scottish
tawse,” announced Sieg.
Smack! She apparently had been ready. She delivered a
fearsome stroke that stung like crazy and left me mewling and
scissoring my legs. She delivered the second just as quickly,
before the pain of the first had subsided. I groaned and gnashed
my teeth.
“Happy you’re not a Scot’s lassie?” Sieg asked.
“They use that on girls?” I gasped. I writhed over the
padded arm, knowing I was showing myself to the world and
suddenly not really caring.
“Next, Tom will introduce you to the paddle.”
I turned my head to look. Tom held a thin plywood paddle with
holes neatly drilled down its length. It looked like the one in
the video. I hoped Tom was a gentleman, and perhaps he was. He
gave me two good stinging whacks that hurt like hell, but I was
sure he could have made them worse.
Mary Margaret was next with the cane. Common wisdom says the
cane is the worst (or best, depending on one’s perspective) of
all common “tools of the trade.” I can vouch for that. Her
first stroke was so painful that I literally saw stars. I cried
out and beat my fists on the couch in my effort to stay in
position.
“Oh, god,” I cried as the initial pain seemed to grow for
several seconds after the stroke.
The second stroke was not much better, but at least I knew
what to expect. Again I howled and pummeled the couch. Bitch I
thought, I hope you get yours later.
“And last, David will introduce you to the martinet,”
concluded Sieg.
David was indeed a gentleman and a friend. His blows hurt,
but I was sure he had gone somewhat easy on me.
Over, please let it be over, I prayed silently. I wanted to
rush my hands back and try to rub away as much of the pain as I
could. But that wasn’t to be. It seemed that everyone wanted
to feel my spanked bottom. One by one they let their hands
wander over my backside. At first I was humiliated, but the soon
the touching became erotic. Unfortunately, it ended all too
soon.
“Stand and rub,” said Sieg.
I haltingly obeyed, finding my leg muscles had cramped. I
stood unsteadily at first. Tentatively, I felt my bottom. I
could feel the hard ridges from the cane weals running across
both burning hemispheres.
“You did very well,” said our host. “You may pull up
your panty hose if you wish, but I suggest you lose the
girdle.”
“And my bra?”
“I think we’d all like to see more of your tits,” he
replied with a smile. “They are quite lovely. Oh, and you may
stand in the corner for ten minutes with your hands on your
head.” He pointed to a nearby corner.
One final humiliation; one awesome
awakening. As my pain subsided, the warm glow that took its
place stoked my lust. I had never known such desire. It would
have taken every man there to satisfy me at that moment. No
wonder I had sought this out. No wonder the pain and
embarrassment were worth enduring. I knew I could never be the
same.
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