The Health Club was one of my very first stories ever. I’ve revamped it over the years but I’ve left it essentially the same. To be blunt about it, it’s a spankfest. It lacks the plot and character elements that I tried to include in later works, but I think it still works as unvarnished retro spanking erotica. You be the judge.
This excerpt is the part of the story that details a “charity auction,” where wealthy patrons bid to see health club members in various punishment tableau’s. The orientations are F/M, F/F and M/F, so it’s a mixed bag this Sunday.
“I’m hosting a charity auction for a number of charities and causes that I support. It’s a unique affair I put on annually for a select group who support the same things that I do. Each year I try to think of some interesting and novel way to auction some things that are donated by benefactors to raise money.”
“But what does that have to do with us?” said Danny.
“Well, this year I am not going to auction off things. Rather, I have in mind a kind of ‘performance’, if you will. I am going to present a series of tableaus or little skits depicting scenes of punishment for the enjoyment of this, well, somewhat unique crowd. The scenes will be acted out by the instructors on my staff and by club members, such as yourselves. Participating in one of these little skits will square you with the club, and as an added incentive you will each get a whole year’s membership, free. So, what do you say?”
“Just what kind of ‘skits’ are you talking about?” said Danny
“There are several, and they will be assigned by lot. For example, if you are female, you might have to act the part of a naughty schoolgirl who has been sent to the principal’s office. You will be on stage in a little pleated skirt and knee socks, saddle oxfords and a white blouse. Let’s say Chrissy is the principal — she is holding the school paddle. What is offered for bid is the number of swats the girl will receive with the paddle. Let’s say each swat is two hundred dollars. The bidding begins at three swats and goes up from there; that is, assuming that some bidder wants to see our naughty girl get a good paddling. And depending on the implement, each stroke could be more expensive or less costly. Obviously a birch rod would command more per stroke than a little paddle or a hairbrush.”
“And are these swats on the bare?” asked Tracy, breathlessly.
“My dear, at my auction, and at these prices, yes, bottoms will be bare!”
“Can we talk for a minute?” said Tracy.
“Go right ahead. Step outside, and come back when you decide.”
“What do you think?” said Danny when they were alone.
“It can’t be as bad as another paddling down in that room,” said Tracy, “and think — a free year’s membership.”
“Yeah, and at two hundred bucks a lick and up, you’d have to bid thousands to get the count up high. I say we go for it. Anyway we don’t get paddled today if we take the deal.”
“Ok let’s do it. I can’t take licks with that paddle today…brrrrrrr,” said Tracy, physically shivering at the thought.
“Ok,” said Danny, as they reentered, “we’re in.”
“Wonderful!” said Vicky, “and just remember, the brief pain and embarrassment will all be for a good cause. You two are plucky kids, you can handle it.”
On the way out Chrissy pulled Danny aside. “I’m disappointed that I didn’t get to paddle your cute butt today,” she said chuckling,” but I’m a stern English governess in one of the scenes, and I get to pull a naughty boy across my knee and spank his bare fanny with a hairbrush. I hope it’s you, and I hope the bidding is hot and heavy.” She gave him a pat on the bottom and with a wink she turned and walked away.
“What was that all about?” said Tracy.
Danny shook his head. “I have no idea.” Actually he did. He was convinced that these instructors were turned on by paddling and spankings. They really liked dishing it out to members. Did they also get off on the receiving end like Tracy did? That was food for thought.
Two weeks before the event, all the participants were called together in Vicky’s office. There was the club’s staff including Chrissy and Sandra, and eight club members who, now that the day of reckoning was fast approaching, looked a little glum. Vicky, however, was as cheerful as could be.
“Well, I’m excited. I know we’re going to have a great event and raise lots of money for charity! Now we are here today to draw lots for the skits and to measure everyone for costumes. Our staff already have their assigned roles, so after today you will know who is going to ‘do’ you, so to speak. Now each of you draw one slip of paper from this bowl, please.”
Nervously, each member stepped up and drew a slip. It contained a brief description of the scene and the implement to be used. Matt, a sandy haired young man, drew a stable scene with the riding mistress in command. He was to be bent over a trestle to receive the riding crop. Jane, a pretty and slender young woman with long straight chestnut brown hair, would be tied to a whipping post and given the martinet in a medieval type of motif. Mary, a slightly plump strawberry blonde was down for a prison strapping. Tina, a redhead with athletic legs and a prominent ass would be birched in a pillory. Jim, a slightly juvenile-looking young man, would get the school paddle.
By contrast, Danny and Tracy got off lightly, or so they thought. Tracy was to be a naughty daughter due for a spanking with a novelty store paddle from a 50’s mom to be played by Carla. Danny drew. Damn if he didn’t get Chrissy playing a Victorian governess. Had she fixed this somehow?
Chrissy grinned openly at Danny and Carla gave Tracy a wink. When everyone had been measured for costumes, the meeting ended.
“Be at my residence at 6:00pm on the 17th,” admonished Vicky, “and don’t be late!”
For the unfortunate club members, the two weeks flew by all too swiftly, and on the appointed Saturday night, they found themselves arriving at the opulent mansion that was the home of Victoria Tarpley. Danny and Tracy marveled at the house as they drove up. Located well out of town, the manor was situated on a large acreage at the end of a long driveway and out of sight of the main road. A spacious hall was set up with buffet tables covered with food at one end. At the hall’s other end there was a raised stage with a curtain. Next to the stage was a podium where Victoria herself would hold forth as the mistress of ceremonies. There was a door behind the stage where props could be brought on and off.
Tracy, Danny and the others were dispatched to upstairs bedrooms to dress. Danny’s costume turned out to be highly embarrassing. It consisted of a little boy’s sailor suit with short pants that were a bit tight, and white knee socks. Tracy wore 50’s style pedal pushers that were so tight they felt painted on.
“My, but you’re cute,” said Tracy with a laugh.
“You won’t think it’s so cute when your tail is getting tanned,” growled Danny.
“Oh don’t be such a baby,” said Tracy.” It’s for a good cause. Did you see those people downstairs? I’ve never seen such gowns and jewelry. These people must be loaded!”
“Yes, and that worries me. They have money to burn, and what they will burn it with is our rear ends!” Then he added, “You have to wonder what kind of ‘friends’ Victoria Tarpley has. I mean, who would pay big money to see ‘performers’ getting their tails whacked?”
Tracy had no answer for that one.
The participants were assembled in the room behind the stage. Everyone was in costume. But to Danny’s alarm it was not Chrissy wearing the long black governess skirt and the crisp white blouse. It was Sandra, and she was holding a wide oval shaped flat-backed hairbrush. Oh my God, he thought. How did this happen?
“Hello, Danny,” she said, meaningfully tapping the hairbrush on her palm. “I understand you’ve been a bad boy,” she laughed, “and in such an adorable outfit too. Aren’t you cute?” She reached up and pinched his cheek. “I just know the female patrons are going to bid like crazy when they see you in that sailor suit. And when the bidding is done I’m going to peel down those little shorts, put you over my knee and just tan that little fanny good.” She gave him a big wink.
Danny could only gaze at Sandra in her English governess costume and gulp. Her hair in a tight bun, and towering over him, she looked every bit as formidable as a governess of old – strict, uncompromising and a true believer in the benefits of corporal punishment. At the same time he became aware of a tightening in the front of his shorts that he hoped was not noticeable. She did have that effect on him.
“Ok, but hey, let’s take it easy. It’s just for show, right?”
“Just for show?” said Sandra, cocking her head. “Oh, I think not. Besides,” she whispered in his ear, “we never had a chance to say goodbye properly.”
Danny could only stand there in shock.
Meanwhile Chrissy approached Tracy and said,” My, but aren’t you the bratty teenager tonight? I can’t wait to get you over mama’s lap and tan your little butt with mama’s paddle. See,” she said, brandishing the little paddle, “it says ‘for the cute little dear with the bare behind’. That’s you”.
Tracy looked around. “But what about Carla?”
“Oh,” said Chrissy, “When you guys drew, we swapped all around. I wanted you. It will be like old times.”
Danny overheard, and wondered what she had meant by ‘old times.’
Tracy, meanwhile, just stuck out her tongue, getting into her role.
“Ooh…just you wait young lady,” laughed Chrissy. But then she said, more seriously, “You know, we are going to have to give these folks their money’s worth. I have to make it real — we all do. No hard feelings?”
Tracy shook her head as if to say she was ok with it, but her face wore a grimace.
The place was beginning to fill with people dressed in expensive evening wear mixed with younger men and women in costumes that mimicked those worn by the “condemned” backstage. Later Danny and Tracy would notice that some of those in costume were other club members.
The richly dressed crowd was milling around the bar and buffet when Vicky took the podium.
“Attention everyone, we are ready to start. This year we have a very unusual treat for you. I know you are all law and order types, so I know you have a special interest in retribution.”
That drew a big laugh from the assembled guests.
“So tonight, The Health Club presents some very naughty members of our club who must, unfortunately, atone for some past misdeeds. And it is you, my dear patrons, who will decide their fate. Each of these young men and ladies have been paired with an instructor at my club. Each pair has been dressed and equipped to enact a scene of well deserved chastisement. But how severely will each be punished? That is what you will decide. You will bid against each other to determine the number of strokes, licks, spanks or lashes each of these naughty lads and lassies will get. The dollar amount of each one will be based on the severity of the implement. So, let’s get started. The winning bidder will be entitled to sit in this chair or stand if they wish, right in front of the stage to observe the action up close.”
A hush fell on the crowd as Vicky continued.
“First up is Mary, a prisoner at the Badham County Women’s Farm. It seems that Mary has tried several times to escape.”
The curtain opened to reveal Mary in tight denim short shorts and a work shirt knotted under her ample breasts. She stood, fidgeting nervously, by a padded trestle. Marcy, a tall brunette in an abbreviated “prison guard” outfit stood behind her holding a leather strap.
“I think what we have here is a failure to communicate” said Vicky.
The classic line from “Cool Hand Luke” drew laughter.
“We call the strap that Marcy is holding ‘the persuader’. We are going to pull down Mary’s shorts, and bend her over that bar. So how many licks with ‘the persuader’ does she get? Each lick will be priced at $300. What am I bid?”
“$900” shouted a voice from the back.
“$1200” countered another
“Am I bid $1500?” said Vicky.
“$1500” said a wealthy looking silver haired gentleman.
The bidding continued until it reached the outrageous price of $2700. Poor Mary was in for nine licks of the heavy strap. There was cheering and applause as the winner came up to the podium.
Vicky turned to Marcy. “Deputy, carry out the sentence”.
“All right, Mary,” drawled Marcy, doing her best imitation of a Southern sheriff, “drop them britches and git over the bar.”
Nervously, Mary complied, tugging down her tight denim shorts.
“That’s right, girl, get ‘em right down. This here is a bare butt lickin’,” she drawled.
Having worked the tight shorts down to her knees, Mary bent over the bar. The motion caused her ample bottom to bulge obscenely. A pair of brawny “attendants” fastened her hands to a ring at the bottom of the trestle and tightened a strap around her knees. Marcy stepped up behind Mary and peeled down her panties to reveal a full, fleshy bottom which she patted.
“My, my. Now ain’t that a sight?”
That drew some chuckles from the assembled guests whose attention was riveted on the stage. You could hear a pin drop.
Taking her position to Mary’s left, Marcy hefted the strap and brought it down with a loud crack that caused a distinct ripple in the proffered hind cheeks, leaving a band of red. Mary howled.
Another crack a few seconds later had the same effect. Marcy was an excellent whipper, taking her time to deliver the strapping. She was slow and methodical, getting her stance just right before lining up for each lick. The harsh smacks landed flat against the crowns of Mary’s bottom, each producing a loud crack. The crowd was strangely silent as, for the next few minutes, the strap smacked Mary’s wobbling rear cheeks and she yeowled in anguish. As the ninth stroke was delivered, the crowd broke into cheers and applause. Mary was released and stood with her mouth wide open, furiously rubbing her rear while, to the delight of the crowd, Marcy took a bow. Once Mary had regained her pants Marcy tucked the strap under her arm, and taking Mary by the hand, led her from the stage.
The next participants were Matt, as a negligent stable boy, and Amanda as a severe riding mistress. Amanda was dressed in jodhpurs and black knee-high boots. Matt was bent over the trestle, his pants were removed, and he was given 11 sizzling licks with a riding crop. The strokes had gone for $350 apiece. Once again the crowd turned silent for the hiss of the crop, the thin sharp sound of it smacking bare flesh, and Matt’s yells of distress.
Following Amanda and Matt were Tina and Betty. Betty was a puritan-garbed town beadle and Tina was a maid sentenced to the birch for failing to attend church. A pillory was wheeled on stage to set the scene. Prior to the bidding Tina was stripped down to a short camisole and white bloomers that fit snugly, outlining her delicious figure. The birch also went for $350 a stroke, but the crowd was getting loosened up now, and a wealthy looking matron drove the bidding to 12 strokes—a hefty forty-two hundred dollars.
Tina let out an anguished “nooo…” as the “sentence” was pronounced:
“For failure to properly attend the Lord’s Day ye shall be locked in the pillory and given 12 strokes of the birch rod upon your naked bottom,” intoned Vicky solemnly. “I give you Betty and her naughty charge, Tina.”
This time the audience applauded as Tina was fastened into the pillory and her bloomers were lowered to her knees. The birch was a freshly cut bundle of thin willow switches bound in twine. Betty took up the birch and, swishing it once or twice, delivered a full swipe to Tina’s nubile backside. The effect was immediate. Tina let out a screech as the rod swished and thwacked against her resilient fanny. Each stroke was given with slow deliberation. Betty carefully lined up the rod, drew back her arm and then whipped the birch around in a flat arc. The rod whined as it flew, landing with a sharp whick against bare flesh. Tina’s prominent derriere quivered each time the rod struck, and she yelled out without restraint.
Locked in the pillory, Tina could only waggle her bottom lewdly in a vain attempt to alleviate the burning sting. For the audience it was an utterly captivating sight: an ancient pillory holding an attractive 22 year old woman, her bloomers around her ankles, voluptuous nude bottom jutting out as a result of her bent-over posture, and a robust, athletic “beadle” swishing the birch against her defenseless rear. Shrill cries accompanied the swish … thwack of the birch rod. When the twelfth stroke had been administered, Tina’s buttocks were a hot shade of red. The yoke of the pillory was lifted and a tearful Tina was allowed to rise. She was escorted off the stage by both Betty, and by the attractive matron who had paid to have her whipped.
But still to come were Danny and Tracy.
The auction continued. From the room behind the stage Danny and Tracy could see the action on stage and the crowd’s reaction. There was a palpable sexual tension in the air inspired by the various scenes of punishment that were being enacted for the benefit of wealthy patrons. These people, whoever they were, were shelling out thousands of dollars to see the attractive club members put to the lash and the paddle. In the restless, excited crowd, furtive hands began to stray to the bodies of partners and dates, and in some cases total strangers, gently patting, caressing and squeezing. Mingling with the patrons in evening wear, Danny noticed a number of young men and women in costume similar to what was being worn onstage in keeping with the theme of the evening. Danny also noted that he recognized some of them as club members.
The next scene featured Jim, a youngish looking man of 23, as a schoolboy in trouble. Playing the part of his strict teacher was Jennifer, a statuesque woman in a tight short skirt and a white ruffled blouse. With her hair pulled back in a bun, and wearing black horn rim glasses for effect, she looked every inch the stern but beautiful schoolmistress of many a boy’s fantasy. Jim’s imagined offense was snapping rubber bands at girls in class and he was to be paddled for it. In truth, Jim was very much taken with Jennifer. The attention he was about to get from her, even for the purpose of such a shaming ritual, was worth it as far as Jim was concerned.
Vicky had Jen hold up the paddle for all to see.
“This is the terror of many a naughty schoolboy like our Jim here. It is 15″ long in the business end, 3″ wide and 3/8″ thick. Notice the pattern of dime-sized holes to cut down on air resistance. Just a few licks on the bare behind with this implement will instill immediate contrition for misbehavior. So ladies and gentlemen, what am I bid at $500 per swat?”
Even at this price the bidding was heavy, and eventually a young woman in a designer gown purchased Jim’s punishment at the whopping sum of $6000. That meant12 licks with the dreaded paddle.
The couple, who had been standing on stage waiting for the bidding to finish, began their skit.
“All right then Jim, you bad boy,” said Jen. “Imagine. Snapping rubber bands at the girls in my class. I won’t have it, do you understand?”
Jim nodded, not sure of how to play this.
“Very well, young man, you will pull down your pants and briefs this instant!”
Jim gulped visibly. Now that the moment of truth was at hand, he wasn’t so sure. That paddle looked serious. He nervously fumbled with his belt, and lowered his pants to his knees.
“The underpants too, Jim. You are to be taught a good lesson in proper behavior at this school,” said Ms. Jennifer, now clearly relishing her role.
Jim turned, back to the crowd, and dropped his white jockey shorts to his knees. There were whistles and catcalls, mostly from females as his bare bottom was revealed.
“Now bend over and grip behind your knees, young man, while I teach you a lesson with this paddle that your mother obviously neglected.”
Jim assumed the position, displaying his rear end for the painful kiss of the paddle. Jennifer cocked her arm and delivered a full swipe of the wooden implement. It landed with a loud crack on Jim’s bare bottom.
“Ow!” yelled Jim, half rising out of position.
“You stay right there, young man,” admonished Jennifer.
Jennifer swung the paddle again with a full arm swing, connecting each time squarely across the crowns of Jim’s rear cheeks. With each solid smack his fanny would flatten momentarily, only to spring back an instant later leaving a sploch of red where the paddle had struck.
For poor Jim, the pain was incredible. He tried desperately to stay in position, but at the fourth swat, he bolted straight upright and clutched his aching buttocks.
“Get right back down, young man!” said Jennifer. Reluctantly Jim did so. Each crack of the paddle produced a plaintive wail. His buttocks turned a fiery red. Despite his best efforts, tears began to well up in his eyes.
“Please stop, please stop, I can’t take any more!” Jim pleaded.
Jen bent over and whispered, “Are you going to be a baby or take your licks bravely?”
“I can’t, I can’t! It hurts too much” Jim blubbered, now completely humiliated at having broken down in tears in front of the object of his affections.
“You have six more coming … take them like a man,” said Jen. “I’ll make it up to you later,” she whispered coyly. That gave Jim some resolve.
The excited crowd urged her on, and Jennifer did not let up to spare Jim’s beet red buttocks.
The last six swats were given full force, landing solidly across Jim’s thoroughly reddened backside, each producing a loud crack and pitiful crying from Jim.
When Jennifer finally gave him permission to rise, Jim shot upright and vigorously rubbed his rear cheeks, oblivious to the display his nudity presented. After a moment, he managed to pull his pants up over his enflamed rear and was escorted from the stage by Jennifer.
Wow, that was the worst one yet, thought both Tracy and Danny. Tracy was up next.
Tracy and Chrissy emerged onstage. The only prop was a solid-looking straight-backed chair. Chrissy was the epitome of a 50’s mom in a long print dress. She was holding a small novelty store paddle bearing the inscription “For the cute little ‘dear’ with the ‘bare’ behind.” Artwork on the paddle showed a deer and a bear and stars. Chrissy held it up for the audience to see while Vicky explained the inscription.
Tracy was certainly a “cute little dear” in her blouse and tight pedal pushers that emphasized the curves of her rounded fanny.
“Tracy has been bratty”, Vicky began, “and we all know that in the1950’s a teenager was bratty at the risk of a painful lesson over mom’s knee. This little paddle Chrissy is holding was commonly sold in souvenir shops all over the South in the 50’s and 60’s and some can still be found to this day. It doesn’t look like much but I’ll bet Chrissy will be able to give Tracy here a lesson that it doesn’t pay to sass mom. Each smack is only $50, so open your pocketbooks and let’s start the bidding!”
In no time at all the bidding reached 35 spanks, but then a surprise bid of $5000 from an attractive 50ish lady accompanied by an older dark-haired gentleman stopped everyone else cold.
“My dear Marion,” said Vicky, “I believe the honors are yours. Come on down.”
When the couple had taken their places to observe the action up close Vicky said, “Chrissy, the floor is yours.”
A microphone was placed on stage so that dialogue could be heard.
Chrissy crooked her finger. “Tracy, get over here right now! I will not tolerate your brattiness any more!”
“Awww….mom, lighten up willya?” said Tracy, determined despite herself to get into the act and put on a good show. Even at 100 smacks the little paddle did not look too formidable.
“That’s quite enough, young lady. You are about to get a good spanking with my paddle to teach you some respect,” said Chrissy, grasping Tracy by the wrist. She proceeded to sit and pulled Tracy to her side. Tracy stomped her feet and protested loudly as Chrissy unsnapped Tracy’s pedal pushers and lowered them to her knees revealing her cute bottom in white cotton panties.
“No, mom, no,” wailed Tracy as Chrissy pulled her over her sturdy lap. “I’m too old for a spanking!”
That line produced some genuine laughter from the crowd.
Inserting her fingers into the waistband of Tracy’s panties, Chrissy peeled them down to Tracy’s knees. Tracy’s bare bottom was now perched over Chrissy’s right thigh, which she raised slightly, cocking it in optimum position for a sound spanking.
And sound it was. The little paddle cracked and smacked as Chrissy applied a steady volley of unhurried spanks on Tracy’s quivering fanny.
Crack! Smack! Smack! went the little paddle.
“Ow…ouch ….yeowww….mom…please!” went Tracy.
Tracy now understood that the little paddle meant business, as the relentless smacks began to build up the heat in her sit-spots. The count approached 50, Tracy’s bottom cheeks were a hot pink.
As Chrissy raised the paddle for the 50th lick, the winning bidder, Marion said, “Stop … stop!”
Chrissy halted, arm upraised in mid smack as Marion approached Vicky and whispered in her ear. Vicky nodded and returned to the microphone.
“Our dear friend Marion says that she thinks Chrissy is doing an excellent job of disciplining Tracy, but she believes she can do better. She proposes to finish the job and will double her donation for the privilege of doing so.”
This proposal met with wild applause. Vicky nodded to Chrissy who stood Tracy on her feet, rose, and offered the paddle to Marion. Tracy took this opportunity to rub the sting out of her bottom.
The sturdy matron who took the stage was a heavy set woman in an evening gown with her dark hair fixed in a stylish coif. Marion took the paddle, seated herself and wasted no time picking up where Chrissy had left off.
“Don’t you dare rub, young lady. And put yourself right across my knee. Now you will see what a sound spanking really feels like!”
Grabbing Tracy’s hand, Marion yanked her across her lap and raised the paddle. With an arm motion that had plenty of wrist snap in it, Marion began to rain down crisp hard smacks of the paddle on Tracy’s bare bottom. Tracy’s anguished yelps leapt to a new level. There was no doubt by anyone in the audience that they were witnessing the real thing. Tracy flopped around in genuine distress as sharp spanks rained down on her bare bottom.
Offstage, watching this spectacle, the knot in Danny’s stomach began to grow. Letting the bidders get into the act was an ominous development, Danny thought. This was no sexy love spanking.Tracy was emitting high pitched yelps with every brisk spank, while Marion scolded her imaginary charge with relish, obviously enjoying every minute.
“You naughty little miss(crack!). I’ll show you what a real spanking is (smack!) You won’t talk back to your mother after Aunty Marion is done with you! Three spanks fell in rapid succession.
“Owwww……yeoww….ouch…!” wailed Tracy.
When the last smack had been administered to Tracy’s beet red fanny, Marion let her up. She then stood up, and to the delight of the crowd, took a bow.
“Now, that’s how you spank a naughty girl!” she exclaimed to the laughter and hoots from the crowd, who were simultaneously observing Tracy’s frantic” spanking dance” and attempt to soothe her flaming backside. Tracy gingerly pulled her pants back up, and trying to be a good sport about it, gave a plucky wave as she departed the stage. The audience applauded loudly.
“Wow,” Tracy said to Danny backstage. “She really spanked me good. I think I’ll be standing for a while. Uh oh! Looks like you’re on.”
At that precise moment, Sandra was beckoning to Danny with a crooked finger.
At the microphone, Vicky said, “I would now like to introduce Danny, a very naughty lad, and his governess, Sandra.”
Danny could not help but blush as he walked onto the stage amid cheers and catcalls. He felt acutely embarrassed to be wearing the juvenile sailor suit with white knee socks accentuating the short pants that were way too snug.
“Would you get a load of those cute buns in that little sailor suit?” said one very attractive 40ish tall and svelte platinum haired lady to her younger companion. “I like to get him bottoms up over my knee”.
“Then go for it,” said her equally lovely friend. “I’d like to help,” she giggled.
Sandra followed Danny onto the stage, tapping a large oval-shaped wooden hairbrush against her palm.
“And here is the lovely Sandra, his governess. Danny has been very remiss in his studies, and there is about to be a reckoning at the hands of Sandra and her sturdy hairbrush. As you know, the hairbrush is a ladies’ instrument of correction, and no self-respecting Victorian governess would be without one. Danny is about to find out that, wielded by a determined feminine hand, it can really light a fire in a naughty seat. Ladies, this is your chance to see a cute but very naughty boy get a good sound bare-bottomed spanking. I know you have husbands that you can easily imagine in Danny’s position (laughter) so use your imagination and let’s start the bidding. $75 per spank. Ladies, come on. I know you want to see Danny get his cute buns tanned, but good. Turn around, Danny, and let the girls inspect the merchandise.”
More laughter erupted.
As Danny attempted to smile Sandra spun him around so the crowd could see him from the rear. There were whistles and hoots as the women admired Danny’s tush, packed into the juvenile, too tight short pants. The bidding was competitive. It was one society matron versus another for the privilege of a front row seat at Danny’s bottom warming.
At 80 smacks, $6000, the platinum-haired woman and her younger companion placed the final bid.
“Congratulations to Yvonne, everyone. Yvonne, come on down to see this naughty boy get his just desserts. And, Sandra, be sure to give him a good one!”
“That I will, ma’am,” laughed Sandra.
Sandra bent over slightly, putting herself right in Danny’s face to give him a scolding. “Now, Danny, you know you have neglected your studies and you’ve been very disobedient. I think you know what happens to bad boys who don’t obey. Master Danny, I think it’s time for a spanking!”
With that Sandra sat in the chair and pulled Danny between her knees.
“We’ll just have these little pants right down!” said Sandra undoing snaps and tugging the pants down to Danny’s knees, baring his bottom. Danny blushed beet red at the embarrassment of being partially denuded in public. In private was one thing, but this…
Sandra upended Danny across her lap. His nose nearly hit the floor as he was put over her knee. His legs were too short to find purchase on the other side, and they waved in the air. It was a helpless feeling. To make matters worse, and despite the humiliation of his position, he felt his penis getting stiff as a result of the contact with Sandra’s thighs. He felt the cold hard surface of the brush tapping his rear cheeks, and he tensed, waiting for it to start. He did not have to wait long.
Smack! whack! smack! whack! Sandra brought the brush down forcefully. Left cheek, right cheek, smack! smack! The sting took Danny’s breath away.
“This should teach you to mind me, young man!” she said. Sandra briskly paddled Danny’s upturned fanny. “I’ll have no more disobedience and more diligence in your studies.”
“Yeoww — owww — owwww!” Danny could not believe the atrocious heat imparted by the hairbrush. She was really giving it to him. As Sandra continued to spank, he flutter-kicked his feet in an uncontrollable reaction to the awful blaze ignited on his rear end. His legs were fettered at the knees by his short pants and he imagined that he looked almost comical, like the reactions of a ten year old, kicking and squirming over the lap of his gorgeous young governess, who was quite determined to teach him a stern lesson in deportment.
“Ouch! Ouch!” yelped Danny. Was this payback for the scene in Vicky’s office? The hairbrush continued to rise and fall, connecting with resounding smacks against Danny’s burning buttocks. He felt like squalling like an eight year old.
After 40 searing spanks, Sandra halted. Danny looked up. Sandra had responded to a signal from Vicky. Thank God, thought Danny. In the nick of time, too. Her upraised arm was poised for another hard smack. Her disappointment at the interruption was evident from her annoyed expression.
Yvonne strode to the podium.
“I will go one better than Marion,” said Yvonne, the stately platinum blonde. “Laura and I will donate $15000 to finish Danny’s spanking ourselves…..” she paused for effect …”in private!”
There was a collective intake of breath followed by murmuring in the audience.
Vicky did not drop a beat. “Well, I think that’s fair,” said Vicky. “We all got to see Sandra give Danny a good tanning, so let’s leave him now to the tender mercies of Yvonne and Laura. What do you say?”
The audience applauded with assent.
“Vicky dear, do you have a bedroom we can use?” asked Yvonne.
“Use any room you wish, Yvonne. My house is at your disposal”
Sandra set Danny on his feet and whispered, “Don’t think you got off lightly, Danny. I know those two. You are in for a hot time. Enjoy yourself, my boy. I’ll see you at the club later.” Sandra took a bow and exited the stage.
Yvonne turned to Danny.
“Come with me, young man. Let’s see if we can’t instill some manners in you by way of your bare behind and this hairbrush!”
Danny heard her threat and winced.