New story: Samantha's Revenge Part 2/2
She was moaning loud..
🕑 Added 2022-12-04 01:37:30 +0000 UTC
New story: Samantha's Revenge Part 2/2
She was moaning loudly now, still in disbelief at what I had planned to do, but I was committed. I was old enough that I didn’t have to live there at all, and I figured worst case I could just stay with friends until her anger subsided. I knew that she wouldn’t actually press the case either because of how embarrassed she’d be to tell anyone how she got tied down in the first place! Nope, I had a feeling that no matter what this little incident would stay between us, and I was going to use that fact to my full advantage!
I lined the heavy paddle up with her bottom. She was in a nylon-like shinny set of lingerie, clearly chosen for her little naughty game with her boyfriend. That could stay, I thought, one as I had no desire to see her nude, and two because I knew that the skimpy little pieces of fabric would offer virtually zero protection from the heavy wooden paddle I currently was wielding. Without further teasing, and mindful of the limited time I had, I got right to work. SLAM SLAM SLAM—with all of my strength I started p-addling her sit spot again and again. She instantly started to moan and yell into the sock, “mmmmmmmppppppp” was all I heard. “What’s that?” I asked, “Oh you want more is that it?” “NNNNNNNNNNNN” was all I heard in reply. “Yes?” “Okay then” I responded. SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM , a rapid volley of strikes erupted as I set to work reddening her bottom, first rendering it pink, then red, then a darker shade of magenta. 10 strokes, 20 strokes, 30 strokes, one after the other until all that remained was an angry daughter with 20 years of rage to exercise. I’m not sure why therapists don’t try this for people with mommy problems, I thought to myself, this was more effective than any counseling could have been!
I put the paddle down. She breathed a huge sigh of relief, but that’s only because she wasn’t aware of my true intentions. As I started to unbuckle my belt behind her the clear sound of the clasp being undone spelled her doom and she knew it. “UUUMMMMMMMGGGGHHHH” she let out a sound of sorrow as she realized that her bottom was not done and that it would soon be roasted. “So, I know how much you like giving out the belt, let’s see if you can take it as well as you can swing it!” I chided. And again, without much more ceremony, I reared back and let the leather fly. I doubled it up, that was always my favorite technique, it hurt a lot more than a single lash and it was a bit easier to control. And aim was the name of the game for me as I crashed the leather into the tender spots around the sides of her bottom, the inside of her legs, the tops of her thighs, constantly searching out new pale skin to explore like a 15th century conquistador searching for gold. Thawck! Thwack! Thwack! The belt searched and explored her backside, cracking across it again and again. Her moans had transformed into deeper guttural noises like a buck staking its ground, I knew I was getting to her, but I was going to ride this pony for all it was worth.
After about five minutes of that I put the belt down and laughed at her predicament. I turned and walked out of the house. After the last implement switch, I think she was a bit more weary of me leaving, at least she didn’t quite breathe the same sigh of relief as before. And she was correct to be worried! I came back inside with a large hickory switch, from the same exact tree she would pick them from to use on my sister and I growing up. I was gleeful, I virtually skipped over to her, whisking the switch through the air back and forth to make loud “WHOOSH” sounds. SWISh SWISH, I tried it out again and again, heightening her anxiety in receiving it. And once again without delay I line the stick up on her bottom.
“Alright, you are going to get 20 of these across the thighs and then I’m going to drive back to school and you and your boyfriend can figure out what to do from here!” I laughed and began to administer. SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! The first three drove white hot streaks of lightning across her ass and made raised welts which quickly turned blue. SWISH SWISH SWISH! Three more, right over the same spot but offset just enough to criss-cross and exacerbate the welts. SWISH SWISH SWISH! Again I agitated the switch up and down, stinging her skin over and over. But as I pulled back for the tenth stroke my heart dropped as the front door burst open! It was her boyfriend, and I can only imagine his thoughts as he walked in on the scene. My mom shot him a look and a muffled sound that could be translated as “GET HER!” or “STOP HER!” He didn’t hesitate, he lunged at me and grabbed the switch from me. And before even attempting to untie and tend to my mom he bent me over quickly and pulled down my pants. I let out a loud protest and started to squirm. “This is going to be the worst switching of your life,” he started, lining the switch up across my bottom. I closed my eyes, I tensed all of my muscles and then…..
I woke up in shock. My room? My bed? It had all been a dream! Nothing more than my subconscious desires working them out within the deep depths of my REM cycles. Alas, I sighed, I guess it was for the best as I surely didn’t want to have to deal with the consequences of all of that, and hey, I guess I still got the pleasure of playing it all out—it surely felt “real.” Oh well I sighed and headed downstairs for breakfast. Once I came down the steps though my heart dropped. The kitchen table had a strap, paddle and switch laying there. Had it been real? Had I not imagined it? “Um, mom?” I hesitantly inquired. And there she was, white glove in hand, pointer finger raised with an ever-so-slight amount of dust on it. “What did I tell you about cleaning this house Samantha!?” She demanded, and quickly motioned for me to go over the table for a thorough punishment. UGhhhh I thought, I knew there was something I was supposed to do last night!
The End
