The Spanking Club
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Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: Spanking fans rejoice! Colin, whose tales of tickling and foot worship have already garnered an enthusiastic following among discerning eroticists, now turns his tender attentions to the perverse pleasures of paddling. THE SPANKING CLUB is the sexy tale of Lauren, a girl whose tastes in pleasure run to dominant men and a well-warmed bottom. Her unconventional desires lead her to a most unusual institution, run by a most unusual couple. Before long she's convinced her two best girlfriends, Miki and Kimber, to join her on an adventure into the outer reaches of anal discipline. The gals are dubious at first, but soon they realize they have submissive fantasies of their own?and a good hard spanking is the perfect way to explore them!
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler,
eBookwise Release Date: June 2012
1 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [141 KB]
Reading time: 89-124 min.
Bud's hands were big and rough; the palm of one, set on Lauren's ass, neatly covered both her blistered cheeks. The size of those hands -- and the strength with which he wielded them -- was a large part of what kept Lauren seeing him, even though he was far from the most considerate of clients. Today, for instance -- a blistering day in July -- Bud had kept her waiting at a deserted highway rest-station for the better part of two hours before he'd finally gotten around to picking her up in his truck.
"Goddamn, that's nice," he whispered, letting the tips of his sausage-like fingers whisper over her ass. "You got a nice little butt, Georgia. Anyone ever tell you that?"
Lauren -- AKA Georgia, AKA Li'l Sweetcheeks, AKA (to her friends) the Bitch-Princess of Rodeo Drive -- gritted her teeth and managed something that sounded pleased and at least somewhat flirty. She hated it when Bud played with her ass like that; doubtless he thought he was being gentle, but the sensation of his calloused paws scraping against her swollen, freshly-spanked cheeks was sheer agony.
For distraction, she stared at herself in the floor-length mirror Bud had set up against one wall of his filthy bedroom, taking in the spectacle of herself squirming on his knees in a classic spank-me-daddy pose, both feet in their sweat-soaked ankle-socks helplessly kicking the air. She had her blonde hair in pigtails and had worn her best schoolgirl outfit (and sitting around the sweltering rest-stop in that get-up, being ogled by every creepy bastard who drove by just was a delightful experience, thank you ever so). The starched whites had been soaked through with sweat, then dried in the freezing cab of Bud's truck, then soaked again on the walk up to his cabin. Now they were dried and stiff yet again, and after the ordeal Bud had put her through they were stretched badly out of shape. Her smart little tartan skirt and fragrant, silky panties, having been ripped off her and tossed to the floor practically the moment they arrived, had escaped any noticeable damage.
But despite the damage to her blouse, Lauren didn't regret coming out here today. Not for a minute. Her nipples were sticking straight up and her little blonde pussy was sopping wet, doubtless making a nice little stain on the lap of Bud's jeans. This was the life for a girl like her, a hell of a lot better than giving one of her social peers a half-hearted blowjob in his daddy's car. And the best was yet to come.
Oh, yeah ... here it comes.
Bud's fingers, apparently tired of exploring the smooth terrain of her butt-cheeks, decided to try some spelunking. He reached for the small jar of Vaseline on the floor and did what was necessary. Then the horny pad of his index finger wormed its way into the damp little jungle between her ass-globes, teasing the tight puckered ring of her sphincter.
Oh, shit. Oh, Christ...
It tickled unbearably, made her think about sitting on a toilet and letting loose. But she was empty inside as she was clean (her preparations for a session involved no less than an hour of scrupulously careful ablutions). Even so, she didn't let Bud's greased-up finger enter her back door, not immediately.
A couple of things had to happen first. First, she had to look at herself in the mirror. A good, hard, full-on stare, not the teasing little glances she had taken a moment ago. She had to really look at herself; take in the red, no longer quite so pretty face, with its streaked mascara and overdone eye-shadow, the eyebrows looking darker than the tousled blonde hair, mouth hanging open to reveal wet, lipstick-spotted teeth. A face made stupid with pleasure, the face of a spoiled, ill-mannered girl who treated everyone around her like shit.
A bad girl. A girl who deserved the very worst spanking in the world, one that went on and on, until it seemed it would never end.
She loosened her sphincter just as Bud was starting to get a bit irritated with her (making this known by a series of perplexed grunts). His fingertip slid into her by the merest fraction. With a growl of triumph, he forced it in the rest of the way -- not hard enough to damage the delicate inner walls of her ass, just hard enough to hurt a bad girl the way she needed to be hurt.
Even so, the bad girl cried out, arching her back and yowling like a cat with a trod-on tail. Lauren liked getting fucked, but the sensation of having her asshole filled was, to her mind, even better. She felt as though she could feel every callous, every dirt-filled whorl on the pad of Bud's thick finger, registering through the inner walls of her finely-tuned girl-ass. The same butt that excited boys on the most exclusive dance clubs, that made middle-aged executives sweat as she paraded it through the business district, was now making a dirty old redneck very happy indeed. And Lauren herself was as turned-on as she had ever been in her life.
"Lemme alone!" she wailed, beating her fists at the empty air. "Get it out, get it out! Oh, god, it's dirty!" A hot, roseate glow was building up in her middle, leisurely sending out tendrils into her arms and legs, all the way up to her hair-roots, all the down to her sweaty, pedicured toes.
"Yeah, it's dirty," Bud gloated. "You bet that little asshole's dirty. Dirty little bitch..." His cock hadn't been all that hard tonight -- Lauren could feel it's half-solidity against her belly, and thought her client had probably been at the bourbon a little early today. The smell of him bore that out, as did his lateness picking her up. But now the sensation of "Georgia" squirming on his finger, wailing and damn near crying for real, was enough to give him the king of hard-ons. Lauren made the lump in Bud's dirty jeans the momentary center of her universe, rolling on and around it, caressing it with the wild moves of an incompetent breakdancer.
Eventually her ministrations got the better of poor old Bud. He tore his finger out of Lauren's ass and stood up, sending her toppling to the floor in an untidy heap. He smiled down at her, showing yellowed stubs of teeth as he began undoing his zipper.
"Fun-time," he grunted.
Lauren watched him over her shoulder, lips parted, already sliding into position on the tatty rug. Her bare ass was glowing like a beacon, beckoning to him.
"C'mon," she grated. "All fuckin' afternoon I've waited, now gimme!" She wanted it alright, but she was a little afraid as well. She knew this would be a lot more intense than taking his finger; his finger filled her up, but Bud in ass-fuck mode would rock her world.
He was on her the next moment, all two hundred-plus pounds of him flattening her against the rug, holding her pinned while his hips stabbed at her ass with his rigid cock. Lauren had to help him finally, turning over and using her hand to guide him inside rather than risk him doing damage battering his erection against her legs and thighs. She didn't like facing him when he fucked her, but she had learned that Bud sometimes got a little overexcited when they went doggy-style. Looking into her eyes seemed to have a calming effect on him.
His thick cock slid inside her, and her eyes rolled up in her head.
Oh, God ... oh fuck, oh shit...
The air grew thick with the peculiar, earthy smell of fucked ass, mixing with the scents of their respective, less-than-clean clothing. Bud found his rhythm easily, and Lauren quickly followed suit. The friction of Bud's meat slamming into her ass quickly dissolved all sensation in her body. She felt nothing but a messy combination of almost-pain and a dull, constantly moving pressure.
Using the toilet's gonna hurt like a mother for a week ... but it's so worth it...
Bud pulled out of her abruptly. He never came inside her, apparently taking it for granted that this was unacceptable behavior. Or maybe it was out of some vestigial sense of taste and/or hygiene. Either way, Lauren had never felt inclined to challenge him on the practice. As it was, the backs of her legs received a stray dripple of cum as Bud withdrew his cock, something that made her shudder with simultaneous disgust and pleasure.
Lauren lay on her belly, inhaling the nasty smells of Bud's much-abused carpet (she didn't thinking about the substances and fluids it had absorbed over the years). Bud had cum, but the glow inside her was burning fiercer than ever, demanding release. She arched her back slightly, pulling one leg towards her until she was almost kneeling, then sliding it back and pulling the other forward. The sight of her doing that would have driven any man back to her pussy for a second helping ... middle-aged alky rednecks apparently being the exception. Bud had pulled his jeans back up and zipped them, and now sat rubbing his face, looking weirdly like some huge, hairy animal cleaning itself.
Things could go one of two ways now. Bud might be too tuckered out for further play, in which case he would probably opt to cool down with a can or two of the brand of watery domestic beer he favored before driving her back to the rest stop and her car. Or he might still be feeling a little horny, in which case...
Oh, yeah ... here it comes.
Lauren squealed as one meaty paw clamped around her ankle, pulling her back across the carpet.
"Guess you thought you were gonna get away from Daddy Bud without the rest of your punishment."
Oh, god forbid, Daddy. God and heaven forbid.
She was hauled back over his knees, and barely had time for a quick glance in the mirror before his hand hit her ass.
The second spanking was always the most intense, not least because her ass was already hurting from the previous one, as well as the intense fucking it had just received. Then too, Bud always seemed a little more into it the second time round -- probably just hell-bent on getting his money's worth. He swung at her round little ass like he was beating a carpet, grunting with each cheek-jiggling blow he delivered.
Because it was more intense, it gave Lauren much more of what she needed to untie that glowing knot in her belly. Her body jerked a little as Bud's palm slammed into her; several times she had to reach for the floor, lest he knock her back onto the floor.
The pain ... the burn in her ass turned everything in her vision to a white blaze of heat. It eclipsed every other sensation, made her tits feel like they were shooting sparks out the nipples, made her pussy feel like one of those time-lapse films of flowers opening. She could have taken Bud's fist and most of his beefy forearm into her twat at that moment, little as he knew or cared about the fact...
All the disparate parts of the moment -- Bud's grunting, his smell, the massive solidity of his body, her own smelly, uncomfortable clothing, the pain (most of all) in her ass -- fused into a single delicious agony. Her cheeks were incandescent with shame, her lips wet and parted, mouth working idiotically, sobbing with the pain, the indignity of it. It was a shame totally in conflict with her usual haughtiness, her self-control and ironclad sense of privilege. But it was a shame she remembered very well from many years ago
She was a bad, wicked, dirty girl, and she was being punished. She had to take her punishment, no matter how much it hurt, no matter if people saw her (O, a terrible thought!) and laughed at her.
The orgasm unfolded inside her, the glowing lines of energy she had imagined earlier catching fire and burning through her nerves. Her weeping changed suddenly, morphing from sobs to a guttural coughing as an unthinkable pleasure seemed to take her apart and put her back together in a subtly different form.
When it was over, when she stopped gasping and shaking, she didn't even mind Bud's rough paw caressing her blistered buns. She shut her eyes, letting her old self gradually return, flowing back in to her through invisible channels.
"That was good as shit," Bud grunted, scratching himself. "Y'want a beer?"
Lauren shut her eyes, not quite smiling. "Sure," she said. "What the fuck?"
Her red Corvette was right where she left it, parked behind the long, low building at the rest stop where the toilets and snack-machines were. She was always a little afraid she'd return from one of her sessions with Bud to find it gone. It was as if the loss of her car meant she'd be stranded forever at this highway, sucking trucker dick for coins to buy the vending-machine candy bars she'd then have to live on.
She pulled out onto the highway, thinking of nothing but a hot shower and a cocktail. Maybe several cocktails. She could call Miki and Kimber and hit the clubs. They'd get smashed and play lesbians, dancing together and rubbing tits to get the boys hot. Kimber and Miki might take the boys into the toilets eventually and take their dicks into their cunts and mouths, but she, Lauren, would not.
She wanted nothing to do with sex now, not for a good long time. Eventually the hunger for fucking would return, and with it a hunger for spanking. Then she'd go meet Bud again, or one of her other regulars. But that day was not today. No fucking way. She lifted an arm, smelling herself, and grimaced.
Her cell-phone rang.
She started, then relaxed. The ring-tone told her it was her regular phone, not the little cheapie model she'd bought at a mall expressly to take calls from clients. The number showing up wasn't one she recognized, but sometimes her girlfriends used the phone of some boy they were with to call her.
"Hello? Am I speaking to Li'l Sweetcheeks?" The voice on the other end was smooth and masculine, with a hint of a smile underneath the words. Under other circumstances, she might have found the voice charming, even sexy. But the caller's question made her blood go cold.
This is my regular phone. How the fuck does he know about Sweetcheeks?
"Don't hang up," the voice warned, as though reading the very thought flashing through her mind. "If you do, I'll call back. And if you won't take my calls, I'm sure your father, Mr. Patrick Thomson of 4531 Valley Way, will."
Lauren kept driving, her eyes fixed numbly on the highway unrolling before her. Other cars, whose drivers didn't have a strange caller with knowledge that could destroy their lives on their cell-phones, moved smoothly past her Corvette.
"How do you know all this?"
"That's an interesting story, but not as interesting as the fact that I have the information in question, don't you agree?"
Lauren bit her lip. "Okay. I'm listening."
"Delighted to hear it. Lauren, this needn't be unpleasant for you. In fact, I think you'll very much enjoy the proposition I have for you. But I need to see you in person to discuss it."
"When?" Her mind was moving quickly. Stall him. Get him to set up a meeting. Then get hold of somebody. That big guy from the club, the football-player? What's his name? Cliff? Tell him some weird guy is bothering you...
"I need you here immediately. Right now. Wherever you are, I need you to drop everything and come to me this minute."
"Uh ... no. I can't. I..." I'm dirty. I'm dirty and I smell and look like a teen whore who just finished getting gang-fucked by the hometown football team.
"You can and will. I promise you will come to no harm. I'll need you to come alone, but feel free to share the address I'll give you with anyone you like." The voice paused for a moment. "Anyone you can trust with knowledge of your secret life, that is."
"Go on," Lauren grated.
"I've already emailed the address to you ... your work account, just so you know I'm serious. I'll expect you within the hour."
With that the voice clicked off.
Lauren bit her lip. She could still call Cliff ... couldn't she? But he didn't seem like the sharpest knife in the drawer -- the truth was, he made Bud look like a Rhodes Scholar.
Well, fuck it. The guy doesn't sound like a psycho. I've been taking chances ever since I became Georgia. Something -- perhaps the lingering sexual euphoria from her session with Bud -- was taking control of her, making her feel cool and confident rather than scared.
She put on her favorite pair of shades and her favorite rock station. Then she accessed her work account on her smartphone and took off for adventure.
* * * *