1 comments/ 45455 views/ 4 favorites June and the Washing Machine Ch. 01 By: notecraig June wiped a tear from her eye as she felt the arms of her husband wrap around her. Her arms, pressed between their two bodies were trapped up near her face, her hands clasped as though in prayer. She wasn't thinking about the pressure this put on her breasts, rather she was thinking about the pain in her bottom. The pain, soothed somewhat by the comfort and love she felt towards the man who had finally placed the thick, black leather belt back onto the bedside table next to his bed and was now holding her. He reached down and caressed her angry welted bottom and thighs. She started crying again. "Shhhh....little one." He comforted. June sniffled. "Does that hurt?" He asked. "No. It feels good. It...it takes some of the sting away." She looked up into his eyes and continued, "I....I...just..." Another tear rolled down her warm cheek, her composure melting away once again. "You know, I worked awfully hard at putting that sting there. I don't know if I should take it away." A tiny laugh, something just past a giggle, escaped June. The man stepped back and looked down at his bride. "Now you're a rainbow -- tears and a smile." June laughed a little more. As he freed her from his embrace, she wiped away the tears and sat down on her bed. "I'm crying not just because it hurts. Not now anyway. It's just that I feel so safe. So safe and cared for." Her husband adjusted his tie and looked at her in the bedroom vanity's mirror. "Well, that's good. But just don't forget the laundry again today. I wouldn't want you to have to go through this again tomorrow morning. Besides -- I don't want to be late for work two days in a row." Finished with his tie, he made his way to the bedroom door. Passing his naked wife, he cupped one of her breasts in his hand, rubbed the hardening nipple with his fingers and looked past her and at his bed. "Perhaps tonight, little one. Don't forget the laundry though, OK." He looked so smart in his grey flannel suit, thought June as she heard the Studebaker start in the driveway. The chastised wife drew a silken robe over her naked body, picked up the laundry basket of his clothes and made her way through the house and down the stairs. There, in front of her, was her pride and joy -- a brand new Maytag washing machine from Sears. She loaded the machine, added a scoop of detergent, closed the lid and turned the big center dial to "wash" and pulled it on. Her hands rested on the lid a few seconds as she thought of that black belt hitting her rounded buttocks again and again. The steel of the lid felt so cold to the touch. So cool and comforting. Below her fingers the machine chugged and hummed as it began the first wash cycle. June removed her hand from the lid, pulled her robe up over her scarlet cheeks and hoisted herself up onto the machine. Hot flesh met frigid metal and the relief swept through June. She closed her eyes and relished the sensation. She thought about the Reds having the Bomb. She thought about how strange it was she was thinking about the Reds and the Bomb at a time like this. She thought again about how good it felt -- the coolness of the metal against her punished bottom and the vibrations of the machine as they worked their way up and into her. She thought about her husband and the belt punishing her for her failure to do yesterday's laundry. She spread her legs. The flesh stuck and squeaked against the metal of the lid. She licked her index and middle fingers. She touched herself. The machine hummed beneath her. She rubbed up and down. She was wet. She began to make motions practiced and perfected in the dark, under the covers of her adolescent bed. The machine changed cycles and began to shake. She twisted the dark hair of her pubes. She saw the belt. The disapproval in his eyes when he discovered the laundry still in the hamper. The feel of his hands roughly pushing her down over her bed. She remembered the silk of her panties making their way down her thighs. She felt the horrible pain of the first strike as leather wrapped around barred flesh. Two fingers entered her. She moaned. She pushed aside the robe and pinched her nipple. She tugged on it. She pulled the fingers out, dragging a glistening and manicured nail over her special spot. And again. And then in tiny circles around that spot. She was vibrating. The belt was falling. Again and again on her up-thrust bottom. Her nipples hardened. Her chest flushed. She jerked, opened her mouth and threw her head back and shrieked. June's cry filled the basement, bouncing off the hard concrete floor, rattling around her husband's golf clubs and finally came to rest in silence. In this silence, the sound of the pebble hitting one of the windows up high was what caused June to open her eyes. Her robe had fallen free and lay in a puddle of silk on the cover of the washing machine. Her legs were spread. Her sex was swollen and wet. Her breasts heaved, nipples pointing skyward. The washing machine stopped. Looking up at the window, she saw the young man's face looking down at her. June and the Washing Machine Ch. 02 (This is a continuation of a previous story, where June - a 1950s housewife - caught a young neighbor watching her pleasure herself upon a washing machine.) * She hung the laundry to dry. Went around to the front of the house, opened the gate in the white picket fence and began walking down the tree-lined street. A few minutes later, June was knocking on her neighbor's door. After a moment, Monica answered. "Hello Monica." "Oh June, do come in. May I get you some tea?" "Oh, that's too kind of you. But I've actually come to see Jeremy. I was wondering if I could borrow him for a moment. My husband is at work and I need a strong young man to help me lift some boxes into the attic." Monica turned to the interior of the house, "JEREMY!" she bellowed. Not hearing a response, she called again. From inside the house, a young man yelled back, "Whaddya want?!" Jeremy Stevens was eighteen. A bit of a pushover at James Madison High School, he was the frequent target of bigger bullies. He had never kissed a girl and didn't play sports. He came bouncing down the stairs, a flushed look on his face. "Ma, I'm busy --" He stopped midway down the stairs when he saw June. "What is she doing here?" It was more accusation than question. June thought she heard a note of panic in his voice and he seemed somewhat out of breath. Monica waved a finger at her son, "Manners, Jeremy! You're going to apologize to Mrs. Smith for being so impolite and then you are going to go help her lift some boxes into her attic." "But...but...I can't! I've got homework to do!" The words fumbled out of him. "It's been summer vacation for the last two weeks. You don't have any homework." Monica looked at June and sighed, "I'm so sorry, June, I just don't know what's gotten into him." "It's OK," June said. "Yeah, ma -- it's OK." "No, no it's not. You will apologize to Mrs. Smith. You will go and help her. And when you return, you and I might have to have one of our special conversations." "BUT MA!" "Would you like for us to have that conversation here in front of Mrs. Smith?" Silence. "And don't think I wouldn't do it young man. You may be going to college in the fall but I AM still your mother. " There was steel in her voice. More silence. Monica shrugged, "Ok -- go get my hairbru --" "No! No! I'm sorry Mrs. Smith." The boy took a deep breath. "Let's go." They walked in silence the two blocks to the Smith house. In the backyard, laundry hung drying over the clothesline. June looked down and realized that the fly to Jeremy's pants had been unzipped since he came down from his bedroom. Neither she nor his mom had noticed it before. Once inside June locked the front door. Jeremy looked around hopefully, "Where's the boxes? "You were spying on my this morning, Jeremy." The young man looked away from June. "No, no I wasn't. That was somebody else." "No, Jeremy, that was you. I saw you in the window. You were looking in our basement window. You were looking at..." June slapped him. Hard. The sudden anger surprised her and she slapped him again. Then she began pounding her small fists against his chest. "Stop! Stop! Mrs. Smith! I'm sorry -- I didn't want to see you, but I did and then I couldn't not look and I'm real sorry and don't tell my mom!! Stop, please!" The teenager, being slightly larger than June pushed the small woman away. His words continued to come out in a torrent, "Don't tell my mom about it. I'm already in trouble 'cause I what I said and I'm gonna get it when I get home. She'd kill me if she knew. Especially since you were...you know." He stopped. He looked at June. He saw her on the washing machine. Naked. Wanton. Legs spread. Fingering herself. June blushed. "What's your mother going to do to you, Jeremy?" He looked at the floor. The grandfather clock in the hall began to strike noon. "Tell me. The phone is right over there. I'll call her right now." Jeremy looked up. "You can't. Cause then you'd have to tell her what you were doing." "No, Jeremy. No I won't have to. You see, I don't have to tell her about the spying. I'll just let your mother know l caught you taking a pair of my underwear and one of my brassieres off of the line in the basement. That you were down there getting the boxes and I came down and caught you." He was beaten and he knew it. "So what is your mother going to do to you?" "She's going to spank me. Probably. That's what one of her 'special conversations' means." "Will it be on your bare bottom?" June thought of her husband removing her nightgown that morning for her own punishment. "Yes." "Will she use her hand? Or something else?" "Dunno. Depends upon how mad she is. Probably her hand - maybe her hairbrush." It was then June noticed the young man's erection pushing the white of his underwear through the open fly. A horrible thought came to her about what Jeremy had been doing when she showed up at his house. About who and what he had been thinking about. She knew then what she had to do. She had known it at some level when she cleaned herself up, dressed and hung the laundry on the line. She had known when she had lied to Monica about the nonexistent boxes. "Come with me." Taking Jeremy by the hand, she led the quaking youth into the master bedroom. She pulled his pants down. Lifted his underwear over his erect penis and pulled it down his thighs. She then picked up her husband's belt. "But..." "Shhhhhh...." Doubling up the belt in her hand, June felt more than a little trepidation. "Bend over Jeremy." END Epilogue: That night, June's husband came out of the bedroom. He held the belt in his hand. "Little One, why was this on the table next to your bed?"