6 comments/ 90986 views/ 4 favorites Rick and Linda: Natural Conclusions By: TruthAndLove This story picks up the characters and events of my story "Rick and Linda: Round Robin." You'll understand this one a lot better if you read that one first. There are also references to the "tenth date" in this story. That event is described in "Rick and Linda: The Beginning" but you don't need to read that one to understand the other two. The phone rang and I let Linda pick it up on the kitchen extension. She was, after all, standing right next to the phone in the open refrigerator door. Her pants were off and her underwear was pooled around her ankles as she stood slightly bent with her bare bum pushed far into the frig. I should explain that we had just finished a session of discipline with Linda over my knee for a spanking. She had discovered over the years that thrusting a burning bottom into the cooling air of the refrigerator was the fastest way to cool it off. I do not object because it adds only a little to the power bill and it is kind of adorable. It always reminds me of the time several years before when I had gone shopping shortly after giving Linda a really severe chastisement. I got several blocks away before I realized I'd left my wallet at home. I turned around and when I got back in the house I heard cooing sounds from the kitchen. Walking quietly I looked in the open kitchen door and saw Linda bent over a kitchen counter. In each hand she had a frozen microwave dinner and she was pressing each against a bright red nether cheek while sighing in relief. To this day, she doesn't know that I saw her; and she always remarks with puzzlement on my fondness for Lean Cuisine Spaghetti. She had not been behaving badly, by the way. The discipline was a leftover from a session months earlier. When Linda has earned more spanks than she thinks she can take in a single session, I let her split her punishment into two or three parts. She has one part right away and the remaining parts are assigned to randomly chosen dates sometime in the following twelve months. Each day I check my calendar to see if any leftover discipline sessions are scheduled for that day. Since the makeup days are chosen randomly, every once in a while two or even three makeups get scheduled for the same day. When that happens, she can again postpone all but the first. But if a spanking is postponed a second time, it is doubled, split into two, and assigned to two future dates. The effect of this system is that Linda finds herself bent over lap or furniture on a pretty regular basis. Even after the frig has cooled her heinie enough that she can think about other things, it still hurts too much for her to wear clothes, sit, or lie on her back. For an hour or two at least, she must avoid having anything touch her behind. Standing that long is hard. She can lie on her stomach on the bed raised up on her elbows, but this makes her back hurt after a while. Accordingly, she usually throws a comforter across the dining room table and bends over it, resting her upper body on the comforter and laying the side of her head down. She is so small, her legs don't reach the floor so they dangle. Since the television can be seen from the dining room through double doors, she often just watches. But sometimes she puts a phone or her laptop beside her and works while bent over naked from the waist down. I've seen her make phone calls, pay the bills, and do other paper work in this position. I've even seen her sew on a button and mix cookie batter while draped over the table. Somehow the fact that she is doing perfectly ordinary things makes the scene more erotic. Anyway, I heard her side of the phone call dimly while I read the paper: "... You did? I'm so glad ... Oh? ... natural conclusion? ... Gee, I don't know. I have some misgivings about that ... Oh. I'll be in the room. Well, still, I need to think about this ... This Friday. I see ... Yes. He has no classes in the afternoon ... What? Some Saturday, too? ... Yes, I understand ... tips and pointers ... demonstrate ... on me! Oh my, I don't know if I could do that ... Yes ... Yes ... OK ... I'll discuss it with him and we'll think about it ... I'll call you back. Bye." "That was KeeKee," said Linda, referring to the better half of one of the three couples we had spent the evening with two days before. As a result of careful planning by the four women involved, the evening had turned into a round robin of spanking in which each man spanked each of the four wives. As she spoke, Linda waddled from the kitchen into the living room where I sat. I usually insisted that she keep her panties on, one way or another, after a spanking. If it hurt too much to pull them up, then she left them around her ankles which forced her to waddle from place to place. This added an extra element of humiliation to the punishment and no matter how many times Linda had had to do it, it never failed to embarrass her. Halfway across the room, as she saw me watching her waddle, she blushed and stopped. She bent and pulled up the panties and stood there a moment with eyes closed, testing whether she could stand the pain of wearing them. She decided that she could and she walked gingerly over to the couch and sat down sideways with her weight on her flank instead of her behind. "KeeKee has talked to the other women," Linda continued, referring to Arundati and Ellen, the other two wives. "They all agree that they were somewhat disappointed with their spankings from the other men," a reference to KeeKee's husband, James, Arundati's husband, Karam, and Ellen's husband, Danny. "They enjoyed their sessions with you," she said, not particularly surprised. "However, they each felt that your four-minute spanking felt incomplete. They want to continue with you, with no artificial time limit. KeeKee said they want spankings that continue until they reach a natural conclusion." "Natural conclusion?" I raised an eyebrow. "That was her phrase," said Linda. "They want to do it here Friday afternoon when you don't have any classes to teach at the university. Ellen doesn't have any either at that time and the other three of us can leave our jobs at the library a little early that day." "What about James, Karam, and Danny? Are they available?" I asked. "Well, actually, they aren't and ... they won't be here," she smiled uneasily. "I get it," I replied cynically but accurately, "their husbands don't know about it." "I'm sorry," I continued, "but that's not acceptable. We are not going to help those three play around behind their husbands back, even if it is just spanking and not intercourse. That kind of trouble we don't need and besides I like those three guys. I don't think we should even consider it unless the husbands are present or at least give their OK." "I agree," Linda said, "I'll call back and tell her." "In the unlikely event that the husbands sign off on this, how do you feel about it?" I asked. "KeeKee said that I could be in the room, so I think I'm alright with that," she said. "It was one thing for you to see their naked bottoms the other night when their husbands were just down the hall and could hear everything. But the thought of you alone with them for an unlimited time without their husbands around, well, I had a problem with that." "OK. There's another issue," I said. "This business of continuing a spanking until its 'natural conclusion' is a pretty obvious euphemism. KeeKee and the other two want to be spanked to orgasm. Well, as we know better than anyone, that's darn near impossible. You need to make it plain to KeeKee and the others that they are setting themselves up for disappointment if they make that a goal. If they want to climax, there's going to have to be some more direct stimulation along with the spanking." "OK. I'll pass that on to her, too," Linda answered, "but I'm also going to the tell them that it isn't going to be you who is doing the extra stimulating; because it isn't. We're agreed on that aren't we?" "We are," I smiled. "Good," she grinned, "so, moving on, KeeKee also told me that the wives want an instructional session with their husbands some Saturday in the near future." "Instructional?" I asked, raising the other eyebrow this time, for variety. "Yes," she explained, "they want you to teach their husbands how to give a spanking. She thought that you could use me to ... uh ... demonstrate things." Her voice quivered a little on 'use' and 'demonstrate,' and I knew that she would be a mass of conflicting emotions about this suggestion. Linda's desires exist at several different levels of consciousness and sub consciousness, and the desires of different layers conflict with each other. At the conscious level, she is a modest and rather conventional woman who is mortified at the very idea of being spanked. When I have to discipline her, there is usually some struggle and resistance, and always tears and real pain. But subconsciously she needed the spankings and they had been a regular part of our lives since our tenth date. It wasn't the pain, so much as the fact of being controlled and commanded by a man. She was aware of this, and over the years she can come to learn that pretty much all women were the same way. They are all turned on by men who are commanding, especially in the bedroom, and nothing establishes who is in command better than a spanking. Nevertheless, her needs embarrassed her enough that she usually needed the face-saving rationale that she was being disciplined for misbehavior. But at an even deeper level, the embarrassment itself was the most powerful turn-on for Linda. Humiliation, properly paced and doled out gradually over the course of a session, would bring her to shattering orgasms even as it was bringing the conventional Linda at the conscious level to tears of mortification. This is what we discovered on that tenth date, although to this day she is only intermittently and dimly aware of this deep level in her nature. So, at one level, Linda was mortified, even outraged, at the very idea of baring her bottom to be the object of a spanking demonstration for three other couples. But at a much deeper level, the prospect was powerfully erotic for her. "I don't mind teaching those guys a technique or two; but I have reservations about using you as a live demonstration," I told her, "Let's see if the plan for Friday comes off and then we can talk again about this 'instructional' session." Linda called KeeKee back and conveyed our insistence about the husbands being told. I could tell from Linda's half of the conversation that KeeKee resisted this. Linda also advised her to be realistic about "natural conclusions." The next day, when I got home from work, Linda surprised me with the news that the other three husbands had agreed and they did not see any need to attend themselves. KeeKee had told Linda that what convinced the husbands was the fact that Linda was going to be in the room. They figured that that would keep me from screwing their wives. Friday afternoon at 3 pm, Linda arrived home early from the library with KeeKee and Arundati right behind her in a separate car. Ellen and her cowlick pulled up five minutes later. Coffee was offered and declined. Small talk was exchanged. After a few minutes, I decided it was time to start. "Come into the bedroom with me and Linda, KeeKee," I said, and I turned abruptly and walked down the hall, leaving no time for dissent or hesitation. It is important that the spanker be commanding. That's what female spankees want, and they want it as much or more than they want the spanking. I sat on the end of the bed and Linda took a chair on the far end of the room facing me. Her eyes were bright with curiosity. KeeKee, blushing, but smiling, followed us. She was wearing blue jeans and a loose, billowy, summery, flowered pullover blouse that hung down to a few inches below her waist. She stood in front of me and kicked off her platform shoes, dropping down to her real height of 5 feet, 1 inch, and for a moment Linda, who is two inches shorter, took more interest in the shoes than the kinky scene playing out in front of her. Then KeeKee opened the oddly large purse she was carrying and took out the ruler from the other night, handing it to me. After putting the purse on the floor, she glanced back at Linda once, took a deep breath and began to unsnap her jeans. "Wait, KeeKee," I said. "First, I want you to tell me why you are here." "But you know why," she said, puzzled. "Never mind what I know," I said sharply, "I want you to tell me why you are here. Use complete sentences please and call me by name." My tone made the smile drop from her face and she looked at me with a tiny bit of real fear. "Well, uh, um," she stammered, "I want to get a spanking that lasts until, um ..." She hung her head before continuing, "well ... longer than the one last week." With her Japanese accent, 'well' came out 'werr' and 'longer' was 'rongah'. "Call me by name!" "Yes, Lick-sama, I mean Lick," she said in fright. 'Lick' was as close as she could come to 'Rick' and I found it kind of cute. "So you want to be spanked until you feel ... satisfied. Linda spoke to you about this, did she not? About being realistic?" I asked. "Yes, Lick-sama," she said. I decided to let her add the 'sama' to my name. It's a sign of respect in Japan and she was saying it compulsively. If she'd been raised in America, she'd be compulsively calling me, "sir." "And you want this spanking so badly that you brought this ruler with you and left work early to come across town and get a spanking from me, on your bare bottom. Is that right?" "Yes, Lick-sama," she whispered and stared at me now more in fascination and curiosity than fear, but with some fear, too. "Good. Now put it all together in one smooth complete sentence," I ordered impatiently. She hung her head again and whispered "Lick-sama, I left work early and I brought this ruler across town because I badly want you to spank my buh- bare bottom long and- uh- hard." She began to choke in embarrassment near the end. "Fine," I said. "Now ask me politely to do this." I knew KeeKee was not really into the embarrassment aspect of spanking as much as Linda. I was putting her through this because I knew Linda would be aroused imagining herself in KeeKee's place and I figured Linda deserved some fun too. She sighed and, while her eyes watered a little in humiliation, she said "Lick-sama, please sp- spank my bare bottom long and hard with the ruler." With her accent it sounded more like "Lick-sama prease spank my bail bottom rong and hald with the lurah." I looked at Linda and I could see her face was flushed. "Now ask Linda to grant you permission to be spanked by her husband," I said. She did and Linda, staring glassy-eyed, simply nodded in the affirmative. "Good. Now take off those jeans and your underwear and get over my lap, right now," I ordered. My tone caused her to hurry and she pulled pants and panties down as a unit and stepped out of them, then she laid herself over my lap at a slight angle to the end of the bed so her upper body could rest on the bed instead of hanging down. Once, again, I was treated to the sight of that small, but perfectly proportioned body with its flawless expanse of creamy flesh. "Now, KeeKee, arch your back and rise up on your toes a bit, like you were standing on tip toe," I instructed. "Why-" she started to ask. "Do it!" I interrupted. She obeyed. The effect was to raise her bottom higher and, more importantly, to roll it forward so that the curve that is usually the outermost was now closer to the top of the butt, almost pointing to the back of her head. The curve that would normally be the lowest curve of the behind was now rolled up to point almost straight up at the ceiling. As she must have realized, she was offering up her bottom for my spanks as if it were on a serving platter. With Linda watching, I couldn't indulge myself in the long lingering look I'd prefer, so I started in immediately with three sharp snaps of the ruler against that glorious bottom. Spank! Spank! Spank! KeeKee's head jerked up and she gasped, but she also smiled, pleased that the spanking was finally underway. I paused to watch three pink strips slowly appear on her bum and I realized that Linda, who had never spanked anyone, had never seen this phenomenon before. She stared in fascination. I settled in to a steady rhythm of spanks all over her bum. Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! I continued for several minutes, sometimes I alternated cheeks, other times I'd hit the same spot three times in a row. Spank! Spank! Spank! Before long, KeeKee was making "ow!" and "ah!" sounds with increasing volume. As I continued, her upper body became restless as she turned her head back and forth and gripped the bedspread in both fists. Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! But, of course, it was the lower body that was getting the real work out. She began to twist at the waist, moving her weight alternately from one hip bone to the other. Spank! Spank! Spank! With a few more minutes of spanks, she began to buck along with her twisting as she tried to shake away the pain. Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Her cries had grown loud enough to be heard by Ellen and Arundati in the living room. "Ahhhhhhhyyaaa!" "Oooowwwww!" "Oh, oh, oh, that hurts, Lick-sama!" "Unnnh! Not so hard!" I ignored this last request because I knew she didn't really want me grant it. Also, she didn't say 'please'. I continued for another minute or two. Spank! Spank! Spank! She began to kick every which way; up, back, to the side; first one leg then the other. Linda's eyes were huge as she watched. Spank! Spank! Spank! Suddenly, KeeKee lifted both legs, spread them widely, and bent them sharply at the knee, bringing her heels almost up to her bottom. She held this frog leg position giving Linda a complete view of all her secrets and giving me a glimpse of her anal pucker. The hairs of her pubis were quite wet. Inspired by the frog legs, I switched to sharp upper cuts, the ruler sweeping just barely above her raised heels to smack the lowest part of her now bright pink bottom six times in a row. Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! This sent KeeKee into new paroxysms. She jerked her upper body up, pushing down on the bed with her hands, straightening her elbows. With her head back and her eyes closed, she emitted a long "OOOOhhhhwwwweeeeeeuuuunnnnnhhhhh!" Then, in exhaustion, her frog legs dropped but she let one of them fall to the front of my knees, thus keeping her privates open. Her upper body came down, too; but not back to the bed. Instead, she let it fall to the other side of my lap with her weight resting on her left forearm on the floor. This caused her top to slip down to her armpits. She was wearing no bra and her flawless breasts hung down shaking with each spank, the nipples as hard as stone. I slowed and throttled down the power of my spanks. My arm was getting tired. KeeKee then demonstrated that she had taken to heart Linda's warning that being spanked to orgasm was virtually impossible without some further stimulation of her genitals. She lifted one hip bone briefly to slip her right hand under her crotch. With the two little fingers curled into her palm, she began to rub the other two from side to side over her clitoral hood. The sheer speed with which a woman can make this two-fingered side-to-side always amazed me. At top speed, the fingers were almost a blur. As I spanked, I watched her vaginal lips swell and open as her entire mound became wetter and wetter. Her noises became deeper, almost guttural, and rhythmic "unnnh," "unnnh," "unnnh." But the rhythm no longer matched the pace of my spanks. It started out slower, but then caught up and passed my spanking speed, becoming a rapid fire "un," "un," "un," "un," as her body began to rock against my lap, to her rhythm, not mine. Rick and Linda: Natural Conclusions She pushed those two indefatigable fingers into her vagina to rub her G-spot while the thumb took their place on the clitoris-rubbing work crew. She raised up, straightening her left elbow to push herself off the floor with her left hand. Her head went back and her eyes closed. Her sounds changed from 'un's to higher pitched cries like a sea bird. As she neared orgasm, she slipped into her native language, "Iku, iku, iku, wa!!" she squealed. It means roughly "I'm coming!" When her climax came, her legs came back up to the frog leg position and her body shook in place for several seconds. Finally, she fell exhausted over my lap and I stopped. After twenty seconds of rest, she got up with a beatific grin on her face. "Thank you, Lick-sama," she whispered, smiling. It was almost a purr. "Make it a complete sentence," I commanded. She smiled even bigger and said "Thank you, Lick-sama, foah spanking me rong and hald with my lurah. It was wondelfah!" I made her thank Linda, too; and then she stepped into her panties and pulled them up. She winced when the silk wrapped her bum, but with gritted teeth, she pulled on the jeans and fastened them. "Send Arundati in," I told her. Moving gingerly and with little gasps of pain, she slowly walked from the room and down the hallway. As Arundati was entering the room we overheard Ellen talking to KeeKee in the living room. "Aren't you going to sit down?" Ellen asked. "No, I'm not!" KeeKee choked. "Just a moment," Linda said to Arundati and I. She left the bedroom and soon we heard snatches of conversation from the living room and the kitchen: "What? ... the refrigerator ... my bottom inside ... seriously? ... suppose it wouldn't hurt to try ... oh! That does feel good ... stop laughing Ellen ... you're going to get yours ..." All of this was said with a Japanese accent. When Linda returned and took her place in the chair, I noticed that Arundati was already looking at me with that scared/fascinated stare. "Is anything the matter?" I asked. "No, it's just that we ... uh ... heard KeeKee's cries." As she said this, her stare moved from my face to my hand. She was dressed in a bulky wraparound skirt and baggy top blouse so conservative, she might as well have been living in the 1950s. She needed no special coaxing to obey my order that she tell us why she was here and ask politely for her spanking. She spoke in her sing-song Indian accent; and she left out most 'a's and 'the's, while using the present tense all the time. "I leave work early and I am coming across town to ask you for longer spanking than spanking you give me last week, Rick-sahib." Looking down with a blush, she added "This time on my bare skin. So please give me long spanking." Interestingly, she asked Linda's permission for the spanking without my telling her to. Apparently, to her, this seemed the natural thing to do under the circumstances. She unwrapped her skirt and tossed it on a chair. Miss Modest India of 1955 was wearing the same kind conservative white cotton underwear she'd had on the previous week. I'm sure it was the only kind she owned. She put her hands on the waistband of the underwear, but then stopped and looked anxiously back over her shoulder at Linda. Neither of them said anything, but the international female-to-female telepathic messaging system was working, just as it has since Neanderthal times, and Arundati's message got through. (Scientists should look into this.) Linda got up, turned her chair to face the wall, and sat back down. Arundati accepted that Linda had to be in the room, but she wasn't ready to put on a show for an audience. Miss Modest turned back to face me, put her right hand into the underwear to cover her pubis, and then she used the left hand to laboriously pull the panties down to her ankles. She stepped out of them and, with a small squeal of embarrassment; she rushed over to me and lay across my lap, being careful not to remove the hand from her forest until after she was face down. She lay, as KeeKee had, with her upper body and arms on the bed. "Arundati, remember how I taught you to arch your back last week?" I reminded her. "Ohoh!" she cried. Clearly she had forgotten this when she decided to have today's spanking on the bare. Knowing the conservative culture from which she came, I knew that I was the first man other than her husband to see her bare ass. (I'd actually seen it last week, but she didn't know that.) I could imagine how embarrassing this was going to be for Arundati; more importantly, so could Linda. Nevertheless, after a brief pause, I saw Arundati arch her back and rise up on her toes, offering her behind to me for her first ever bare bottomed spanking. Since Linda was not literally watching, I indulged myself a longer inspection than I gave KeeKee. My eyes swept slowly over that beautiful brown flesh so intensely it I felt as if I were actually stroking it with my hand. I noted the full, but not fat, hips, the long, smooth brown thighs, and the firm bottom that seemed to stand up tighter and harder than any I'd seen before. Her pubis, peeking now from between her tightly clenched thighs was a riot of short curly black hairs. Curiously, they were not kinky, but gently curly, indistinguishable from the luxurious, silky locks that cascaded down her back. This was a hand spanking and I started slow and built up speed and force. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Except for a reflexive jerk on the first blow, she did not react except to close her eyes and smile broadly. I continued my slow build up for several minutes. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Soon her buttocks were clenching and unclenching fetchingly as she tried to squeeze away the pain. The tiny muscular movements that her panties had hidden from me last week were now visible as her bottom churned and squirmed. Smack. Smack. Smack. A couple of minutes more and she began rocking from side to side and emitting the little gurgling "unh" sounds I remembered from the previous week. I picked up the pace and the strength of my spanks. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Her cries became longer and louder and were soon audible down the hall. "unhhhhhhhuh, unhhhhhhhuh, unhhhhhhhuh" I continued for another full minute at near top strength. Smack! Smack! Smack! She rose up on her elbows, her face twisted in pain. I gave her a very hard one on the base of both buns. Smack!!! "Aaaaaaahhhhhhhhh" was her response through clenched teeth as her hips bucked rapidly on my lap. I gave her another just like it and then two more. Smack!!! ... Smack!!! Smack!!! "Owwww!!! Oh!!!! Oh!!!! Unnnh!!!!!" she cried out as she bucked wildly and twisted on my lap thrashing her legs up and down. Smack!!! Smack!!! Her brown bottom didn't show pink as much as KeeKee's, Ellen's, and Linda's, but it was now a pinkish brown and it gyrated wildly beneath my hand. I slowed and lightened the blows just a bit. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Her sounds and jerks no longer correlated with my spanks. He body was incapable of reacting to individual pains anymore because they had all merged into a single stinging throb that encased her entire bottom. To a rhythm of her own, she began to slide herself forward and back across my lap; rubbing her pubis on my thighs as I she did so. With her palms pressing against the bedspread, she would push herself back the full width of my lap. Then she would push herself forward with her toes and feet. At first the slides were luxuriously slow and she held her eyes closed. But they became faster and her eyes opened halfway revealing a glazed look. Smack. Smack. Smack. I thought she might just rub herself to orgasm this way, but she had other plans. She stopped suddenly and, like KeeKee, snaked her right hand between us until it reached her love lips. Unlike KeeKee, however, she did not rub. No. Miss Modest India surprised me by spreading her legs as she pushed a finger into her vagina and began to move it in a twirling motion it as if it were a swizzle stick stirring a drink. With each circle, she was stretching the vaginal walls. After a few seconds of this, a second finger joined the first. Then a third joined its brothers. Finally, the baby of the family joined in and all four fingers pushed into her vagina up to the last knuckle. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Soon she began sawing those fingers in and out. She increased her speed and strength as she began emitting little 'eh' sounds in time to the rhythm of her pumps. As I continued to spank, she continued to plunge her fingers in and out of her vagina with ever increasing strength. Soon her bottom was shaking like jello with each pump. I'd seen the jello bottom phenomenon many times, of course; but only when another person was pounding into a woman. This was different: Arundati was making her bottom shimmy with just her own arm muscles alone. I wouldn't have guessed that it was possible for someone to masturbate themselves with such force. The other night when Linda and I had seen Karam taking Arundati from behind, I had noted that there was no variety in his strokes, he was like a monotonous robot. I now realized, watching how Arundati masturbated that he was probably giving her exactly what she wanted. At that moment, Linda sneaked a peek and her eyes bugged out at what she was seeing. (Later that night, Linda commented on how strong Arundati's forearms were. "You can say that again," I replied, "I wish she was pitching for the Mets.") Smack. Smack. Smack. Smack. Her sounds became louder and deeper "EH, EH, EH, EH ... ". Her head thrashed from side to side, and she saw that Linda was watching, but she no longer seemed to care. She got the glazed, heavy-lidded look again and I realized she was near orgasm. But Miss Modest India of 1955 had one last surprise before she was stripped of her title. She slipped her left hand between us and the Right Brothers were replaced in her vagina by their cousins from the Left side of the family, who immediately picked up the pumping where the Right's had left off. She pulled the right hand out from between us and reached back over her butt with it. Then, as Linda's mouth gaped in amazement, Arundati spread her legs as wide as she could and plunged the four soaking wet Right Brothers one after the other into her own anus. When the fourth went in to join its siblings, Arundati gasped. Then she resumed the pumping, this time with both hands. They alternated direction, so one was pulling out of its cave when the other was pushing in. Finally, her body stiffened and she cried out her husband's name, "Ohhh! Karam!" She bucked hard in orgasm and then collapsed exhausted over my lap. (Later that night, Linda remarked on how romantic it was that Arundati was so in love with her husband, she pretended she was with him when she climaxed over another man's lap. That was a strong marriage, we agreed. It was going to last.) She rested for nearly half a minute, then got up to her feet. Her hair was a black, storm-tossed sea. "Thank you for giving me long spanking on bare bottom, Rick-sahib," she gasped, still a little out of breath. She said this on her own without being asked by me. She was a quick study, I thought, who had grasped shrewdly what I wanted to hear. The ability to read the minds of university males would serve her well. She'll go far, I thought, and I paused to picture the two of us ten years in the future: she is now the Provost and we are alone in her wood-paneled office. But I'm the one sitting in the plush leather desk chair and she is lying half naked over my lap, tearfully thanking her Rick-sahib for another stinging reminder that just because she's a Provost, she's still no better than any humble professor. "Earth to Rick, Earth to Rick, Come in please." It was Linda's voice interrupting my thoughts. "Please try not to space out when we have guests," she scolded playfully. Arundati bent to put on her undershorts, but as soon as they touched her sore butt, she yanked them right off again. She put her skirt back on and stuffed the underwear in a purse. Linda led her to our bathroom to wash her hands and then she left the room saying "I am sending Ellen." As Ellen was headed our way, we overheard KeeKee instructing Arundati in the finer points of post-spanking therapy. "Just open the refrigerator door, lift your skirt and push your bottom in. It works wonders." In KeeKee's pronunciation, this came out as "Just open the refligelatah do'ah, rift yoll skilt, and poosh yoll bottom in. It wolks wondahs." Ellen's cowlick entered the bedroom, with Ellen attached beneath it. She glanced around the room and smiled big with approval to see that Linda was seated in a chair facing the bed as though she was an audience. That's exactly what Linda was, of course; but that fact was somehow emphasized more by her sitting in a chair instead of standing while she watched, or sitting cross legged on the floor, or perched on the edge of her makeup table. And an audience is just what Ellen wanted. She wore a simple form-hugging red tank top, white Capri pants, and sandals. There was no bra strap. She approached me smiling, but clearly nervous. While I had been spanking Arundati, KeeKee had briefed Ellen about my requirements, so I didn't have to tell her what to say. She spoke in her clipped British accent, but she stammered on the words that were especially embarrassing. "I've come across town today because I- I- en- enjoyed the sm- smacking you gave my n- naked behind and I'd like to ask you, Rick, p- p- please to give me another, longer this time." For American spankers, there is often an extra benefit to spanking someone with a British accent, because we tend associate such accents with the arrogant aristocracy. And the only thing better than seeing a woman sniffling humbly over one's lap, while she furiously tries to rub the pain out of a pink bottom, is seeing an arrogant woman brought to a sniffling, bum-rubbing humiliation. I've been around enough British accents that I no longer automatically associate them with intelligence, good taste, or even good manners. But even I could not entirely disassociate Ellen's accent from my notion of snobbery, so hearing her stammered plea for a spanking had an extra thrill for me, and for Linda, who flushed at Ellen's performance. "You're nervous," I pointed out needlessly. "Well," she said, "the sound effects coming from this room were quite, uh, impressive, but also a little scary. You aren't going to spank me that hard, are you?" Her voice rose half an octave at the end and quavered. I stared hard into her eyes, trying to read her, trying to figure out what she wanted me to say; not what her conscious mind wanted me to say, but what she wanted deep inside. I made a decision. "Yes, Ellen, I am, just as hard as I spanked the others. It will hurt and you will cry." Her eyes grew big with fear and she instinctively stepped back from me. I continued to hold her stare. As the seconds ticked, her stare changed. It became less a stare of fear and more one of fascination. Her face muscles relaxed and her mouth opened slightly and I could sense her surrender. From somewhere deep inside, her instinct to be controlled and commanded by a man took over. With a little sigh, she kicked off her sandals and stepped back to me. Remembering her briefing from KeeKee, she turned to Linda and asked "Would it be alright if your husband spanked me?" "Yes," Linda answered. I wondered if Ellen detected Linda's flushed face and the breathiness of her voice. Ellen dropped a small black handbag on the floor by the end of the bed. Then she unzipped the Capri pants and snaked out of them. She lowered the wispy, nearly transparent panties to her ankles and stepped out of them. Unlike Arundati, she covered nothing with her hand and she was in no hurry to get over my lap. She moved slowly, giving me a long look at her triangular treasure and her long lean thighs before she draped herself over my lap, her upper body resting on the bed. It came as no surprise to me that this exhibitionist remembered what I'd taught her the previous week about arching. She pushed into the carpet with her toes and arched her back, offering her bottom up to me. Taken in isolation from the rest of her, it was not a great butt, but it was pretty damn good. It was too small to be called perfectly proportioned relative to her height (5 feet, 8 inches), but it wasn't so small that you'd say she had "boyish hips." Yet, taken in combination with the rest of her slim athletic body, it contributed to the spectacular vision that made her the most beautiful woman in town (except my Linda, of course). I noticed, too, for the first time that near the top of her ass, just below the waist was a spray of light freckles that seemed to match the spray across her nose and below her eyes. I looked hard at her bottom and the urge to cup one of those smooth, pert, English hills was nearly irresistible. But Linda was watching, so I had to settle for the next best thing. I cupped my hand, pulled my arm to the side, and smacked it hard into the left hillside holding it there for as many fractions of a second as I could get away with before arousing Linda's jealousy. Ellen jerked, gave out a little "oo," and gripped the bed spread in both fists as if she were getting ready for a roller coaster ride. I gave the right side the same treatment. It felt like catching a softball except my arm was moving and the ball stayed in one place. There was another jerk from Ellen. My cupped hand trapped more air as it made contact than a flat hand, so the sound was lower than the flat-handed spanks I'd given Arundati, more like a 'clop' sound than a 'smack'. I decided I liked the feel and sound of spanking her with a cupped hand, so I continued catching softballs for the next few minutes. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. These were just soft pop flies and grounders, but Ellen's bottom began to pinken. (Is there such a word as 'pinken'? If not, then I'm inventing it now as a service to spankers everywhere. Please don't thank me. I do this for my fellow man with no thought of reward for myself.) Clop. Clop. Clop. She began to twist a bit and clench her buttocks. I speeded up for the next couple of minutes. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop. Her rapid breaths turned into little cries "Ah, ah, ah, ah, ... " and she twisted vigorously, shifting her weight every half second from one hip bone to the other. I decided to catch some line drives. Clop! Clop! Clop! Clop! After a full minute of these, her upper body reared up and her face twisted into a grimace as she called out "Ooww! Oh! Uh'ahn! Uuuuh!" Both buttocks clenched furiously and she held the clench for ten full seconds as she jerked herself rapidly on my thigh trying to escape the pain. I increased the force. Clop!! Clop!! Clop!! "Arrrrreeerrrrggghhhh!!" she exclaimed loud enough to be heard throughout the house. Her left leg alternately bent and kicked back repeatedly. Her elbows were straight now as she held herself off of the bed, her head back, her teeth gritted ferociously. Clop!! Clop!!! "Ohhhhhhhhh!!!! Oh, God!! Rick!! Please!!!" she wailed. But she did not rise, nor did she put her hands back to cover her agonized red bum. She couldn't. I commanded and she obeyed. I straightened my hand and slapped the base of the left hill where it meets the thigh. Then again, just a quarter inch higher. Smack! Smack! I continued my rapid climb up Mount Left until I reached the summit where I pounded my palm in triumph. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!!!!! Rick and Linda: Natural Conclusions She bucked and squirmed wildly in a lewd horizontal dance. Tears poured down her face as she emitted low guttural moans. "Unnnnhhh! Unnnnhhh! Unnnnhhh! Unnnnhhh!" I moved downhill again and across the Humid Valley to Mount Right, which I climbed until I again planted a flag on the peak. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!!!!! Her body churned. There were bucks and kicks, shimmies and shakes, twists and turns. Her legs spasmodically spread wide and then snapped shut again. Her arms clawed at our bedspread and her head bobbed. "Unnnnhhh! Unnnnhhh! Unnnnhhh! Riiiii! Unnnnhhh! Ruuck!" She was trying to call my name but could not get the words out. I finished the hike by moving down Mount Right till I arrived at the Great Plains of the Thigh. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! I rested and, after several more seconds of gyrations and groans, she collapsed, her legs on one side of my lap and her head hanging to the other side. I noticed that her sex was wet and glistening. After she hung there for half a minute, she stirred and pulled off her tank top. I'd been right about the absence of a bra. I glanced at Linda to see if she'd object, but she was watching the scene in rapt attention, fidgeting a bit herself. The show was as erotic for her as it was for me. Ellen lay over me now, naked from toe to cowlick. She fumbled for the small handbag she had dropped by the bed earlier. Unzipping it, she removed a vibrator and handed it back to me. This surprised me only momentarily, but it made sense that Ellen would use a vibrator, not her own hands and muscle power. Ellen was a princess, a princess of sex. Princesses did not engage in manual labor. They had servants for that sort of thing. Ellen wasn't really a snob in her daily life, but she'd been ogled and fawned over by males since she was fourteen. In the domain of romance and sex, she was the equivalent of the idle rich: everything was handed to her. Masturbating herself would have been beneath her, so she would lie more or less passively while a servant did the work, or the closest facsimile to a servant that she could afford. I slipped Mr. Belvedere halfway into her front canal. "It has to go all the way to the hilt or it gets in the way of the spanking," I advised. She nodded her understanding and then gasped as I pushed it in the rest of the way. "There's a switch on the bottom," she said. I turned it on and heard a low hum as the lips of her sex shimmied to a blur. I resumed the spanking, alternating sides and striking with only moderate force for a few minutes. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. I kept up a steady pace and soon she was again "ow"ing and "ooh"ing to the rhythm of my spanks. Spank. Spank. Spank. After a minute more, she was squirming and twisting a bit, but now it was the erotic motions of arousal not the manic gyrations of pain. She wasn't aware of it, but she had started to rub her pubis from side to side on my lap. Her 'ow's became deeper and breathier and seemed to match the rhythm of her rubs rather than the rhythm of my spanks. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Spank. Vibrators promote lubrication and Ellen leaked copious amounts from around Mr. Belvedere and her fur became clumped and soaked. As I sensed her arousal approaching its peak, I throttled up the power of my blows. Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Her cries of pain and pleasure merged into hybrid exclamations. "OooooohhhhhAhhhhh! Mmmmmmmowwwww! Ehehehunah!" Breathing hard and fast, she fumbled in the little purse again and pulled out a dildo, about four inches long and an half an inch in diameter. She handed it back to me and spread her legs as wide as they would go. Hmmm, I thought, if the first one is Mr. Belvedere, this one must be Jeeves. I coated it with the juice from her hairy mound. Then I inserted it full length into her anus in a single hard push. She grunted and stiffened at the invasion, but then resumed rubbing herself on my lap as I resumed the spanking. Spank! Spank! Spank! With each blow her red bottom flattened and ripples radiated outward from the point of impact. Before long her climax was upon her. She came powerfully as she jammed her battery-powered hips into my lap and shook there as she nearly screamed out "Unga, Unga, Unga, Unnnnnn!" After resting over my knee, she slowly pushed herself up to her feet, still breathing hard. Her body glistened with sweat and her hair, in both places, was soaked and matted. Even the cowlick drooped damply. Although her face was tear-stained and her eyes red, those eyes shown with excitement and she seemed to glow in wonder at what she had just done. It's a look I'd previously seen only on athletes who have just won the championship. They are too tired to even cheer, but their faces glow with a triumphant satisfaction. She was staring at me, again; but this time there wasn't a trace of fear. It was all fascinated curiosity as if to ask "how did you do that?" Her open mouth was smiling slightly even as she continued to pant for breath. "Thank you, -gasp- Rick, for spanking me -gasp- long and hard. I thought it was -gasp- glorious, and thank you, Linda, -gasp- for letting him do it." She reached for her Capri pants and both Linda and I spoke at the same time, saying pretty much the same thing: "Wait! The vibrator, the dildo!" "I'm leaving them in," said Ellen as she pulled up the tight pants. She winced in pain when they reached her bottom, but she gritted her teeth and fastened them anyway. The pants completely smothered the sound of the vibrator. She stuffed her panties in a pocket and pulled the form-fitting tank top over herself. Her stiff nipples pushed out the fabric prominently. She picked up the purse in one hand and her sandals in the other and we walked toward the living room. After just three stiff steps, however, Ellen let out a groan of defeat and frantically undid her pants and pulled them down to her thighs, re-exposing her red behind. Then Linda and I watched as the tall, cool, beautiful, British professor waddled ignominiously and rapidly to the kitchen while holding her pants at thigh level. We heard the refrigerator door open followed by a loud sigh of relief. I didn't have to look at Linda to know that this sight would touch something deep inside her and bring a flush to her face and a light to her eyes. KeeKee and Arundati had pulled up their pants and they were both seated in easy chairs where they had been listening to Ellen's spanking, but they were positioned so as not to actually put any pressure on their bottoms. Each woman leaned sideways as she sat, with her weight on the flank of one hip. They called out smiling greetings to Linda who was ahead of me; but when I entered the room, they instinctively stood and became more serious; and each of them unconsciously moved a protective hand to her bottom. Both gave me The Stare again, KeeKee at my face, Arundati at my hand. This time the stares were leavened by the slight smiles on their faces. We chit-chatted amiably about nothing, as if this had been a coffee klatch. I smiled, letting go of the stern professor persona. Ellen participated as well as she could from the kitchen, calling out her contributions to the conversation. After about ten minutes, we heard the frig close and she joined us stiffly in the living room, her pants up and fastened. The way the women were beaming at me, I felt like Brad Pitt, Leo DiCaprio, and George Clooney combined into one supremely manly hunk. Linda saw how they looked at me, too, and she crossed her arms in jealous annoyance. "I must say," I mused aloud at a lull in the conversation, "I would never have agreed to let Linda be spanked by another man unless I was nearby. You three all have remarkably trusting husbands who seem free of any jealousy at all." Ellen and Arundati looked at me with surprise and a look of guilty panic came into KeeKee's eyes. I looked back at them in bafflement. It was Linda who connected the dots first. "Oh, my God! KeeKee!" she exclaimed angrily, "You told us the husbands had all agreed!" "She told you what?" Ellen was nearly shouting, "Danny would never have agreed to this! And he must never ever know!" "Yes, yes," sang Arundati in agreement, "Karam not be understanding at all. He not be agreeing to me being spanked by another when he not being here." "I'm solly," KeeKee began to cry, "I had to. I leery [really] needed this and I knew James would not aglee. We have been malleed [married] for seven ye'ahs. He is very sweet and genter [gentle] man. But sometimes I want ... I give him hints, but he not undelstand ... seven ye'ahs a long time ..." We understood her, even if we didn't yet forgive her. We all calmed down and after much discussion it was agreed that telling the men now would only hurt them and their marriages. KeeKee had created a fait accompli and we would all have to live with it. In truth, Linda and I were to blame as well. We should have insisted on hearing directly from the three husbands that they approved. I had allowed a secret desire to see, again, those three women naked below the waist to cloud my judgment. I now recognized that it was inherently implausible that the other husbands would have agreed. Even if they didn't mind having their wives get a prolonged spanking and climax over another man's lap, they would at least have wanted to be in on the fun and have a chance to reciprocate with my wife. We said our goodbyes at the door, and when they had gone, Linda grabbed my hand and started pulling me to the bedroom, saying "For some reason I'm really horny." "Really?" I said, "I can't imagine why, but by a strange coincidence I am, too." Later that evening, when we were discussing the day, Linda pointed out that by leaving Jeeves and Mr. Belvedere in place, Ellen had ensured that the two of us would be thinking about her body. "I see what you mean," I said, "I myself found myself wondering if the toys hurt when she walked, wondering if they would arouse her when she was driving home." "I don't mean just the rest of today," Linda explained. "I mean for years. As long as we live in the same town with her, whenever we see her on campus, in a committee meeting, at a restaurant, in the grocery store; we'll always wonder if she's wearing a battery-powered toy in her privates." "You're right," I said. "For an exhibitionist, it's a brilliant move. Now, whenever she's around, our attention will be focused just where she wants it: on her body."