by Louis Woodley
Brandon Taylor waved the heavy belt menacingly in front of Angela Blackburn's face.
"Please, Brandon, just let me explain..."
"I told you I don't want to hear anything from you. Keep your butt over the couch! You lied to me and you deserve what you're about to get!"
"Okay," she said, keeping her eyes averted.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you."
"I'm sorry." She complied, tried again to mollify him.
"You don't know what the meaning of sorry is yet. How dare you make me look like an idiot. Did you see the way he was looking at me, like I was speaking Swahili or something? You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"I am, believe me." She let out a dramatic sniffle.
"Oh, 'believe me' is not what you should be saying right now. And don't even try those crocodile tears; you deserve every bit of this whipping."
The two of them were in the den. She was currently naked below the waist, and her ample backside was thrust high in the air from resting on the arm of the couch. As she awaited her chastisement, her fingers were knotted together under the throw pillow her head was currently resting on.
She was painfully familiar with this particular belt, which was the most lethal weapon in Brandon's growing armory of implements to redden her bottom with and was reserved for the most heinous of offenses (such as repeated lies). It had already roasted her bottom to a crisp on a previous occasion and was about to be pressed into duty again.
"I'm going to work out some of my frustrations on your butt with my hand before I turn the belt loose on you. But by the time I finish whipping your ass it's going to look like it got chewed by a Rottweiler and you'll be sleeping on your stomach for a week. I can't believe you would ever betray me like that. You're going to regret ever seeing this belt, because I promise that every dog in two blocks is going to hear you howling. And that is the very least that you deserve, right?"
"Yes Brandon." She struggled to maintain her composure even though she knew the thrashing she was about to receive was well deserved.
And with no further ado his right hand began to rise and fall, striking the plump buttocks and making them quiver with every smack. He worked methodically, starting with her right cheek and working in a circular pattern from the middle all the way up to her crown, then around to her hip, down to her sit spot and back up along the cleft between cheeks before ending back up in the middle of her cheek.
The spanks were delivered a couple of seconds apart, with him raising his hand about a foot above her and then snapping it back down. He was attempting to ensure that every square inch of her right buttock was pink and prepared to absorb a beating from his belt. There were still some white patches where fingers didn't happen to land, but this was only the first pass and he'd make sure they got caught up. After all, he had plenty of time to dedicate to the task and wasn't going to rush matters.
Meanwhile Angela was trying to remain calm and not make Brandon any madder. She couldn't believe things had fallen apart so abruptly and now her misery was only just starting. So she was forced to grit her teeth and huff as he began giving her left butt cheek the same treatment her right one had just undergone. Up and down and all around; soon both cheeks were tingling but before he was through they'd be thoroughly scalded.
Brandon then made another complete circuit of each cheek, concentrating on filling in the blanks from the first round. Each circuit had been around 15 smacks to ensure that the entire surface was covered, so Angela had already absorbed around 60 hand spanks and he was just getting started.
Next he made sure that her sit spots were equally warmed up since the leather was going to be saying hello to that tender skin quite frequently within a few minutes. He used his left hand to push up her plump right buttock to give his right hand access to the flesh it was covering. He started all the way on the right by her hip and worked his way towards the middle. In the interests of efficiency he immediately repeated the process. By now Angela couldn't help squirming and moaning as he went to town on her.
Then he switched hands, using his right hand to force her left cheek out of the way, and then using his left hand along the length of her left sit spot. Two trips on the unprotected flesh gave the impression that Angela was whimpering because it hurt. While it was certainly true that the hand spanks did sting, she was really whimpering about what was coming next.
She hated having her thighs spanked, especially since his hand would strike all over both her inner and outer thighs. She tried to keep her legs together but knew that momentarily he would order her to spread them far apart and he would be able to see everything. And although it was strictly look but don't touch, his fingers often came within a few inches of the Promised Land when he smacked her inner thighs. But he knew just how far he could push his luck and never crossed that boundary.
And tonight was no different; he was treated to a view of her spread legs upon command, although he didn't seem to spend any time gawking. Instead he focused his attention on making sure that the skin halfway down to her knee was prepared for the belt. The vast majority of wallops would be delivered to her butt cheeks, and then her sit spots, but it wasn't a full belt whipping if it didn't involve wrapping the leather around her legs at least a few times. The fact that she didn't want him to do so was irrelevant; he was the one administering the whipping and he'd do it on his terms.
She kept up a steady stream of "ow" and "ah," along with a "dammit" when a particularly painful spank snuck through to her inner left thigh. He seemed to take an inordinate amount of interest in assuring that her thighs were properly turned hot pink.
He announced that her warm-up was completed with a couple of scorching smacks to her butt cheeks.
"Alright, now it's time to start getting serious about curing somebody's lying. Hold on tight, Angela, and don't you dare move or I'll start all over from the beginning." He doubled over the belt in his hand.
The first time he'd spanked her he'd been so nervous it had taken him several strokes to build up enough force to make her yelp. But now he was a seasoned veteran and knew just how to turn a disobedient backside red-purple and throbbing.
CRACK!
Angela flinched, but he was only tormenting her by making warm-up swings of the belt against the couch. Once he was ready to roll there would be no notice provided before the belt slashed into her backside for real. And as much as she dreaded it, she knew that she deserved this punishment for deceiving him. At the time it had seemed the perfect solution to the issue, but she'd had plenty of time to correct her lies since then but had elected not to do so. And now that decision had come back to literally bite her in the ass.
CRACK!
"Ahh!"
Brandon was ready to get down to the business of turning Angela's backside as red as the stop sign he could see from the den window. The house was well insulated, so she could shriek her head off. He'd looked like a prize idiot spitting out the garbage she'd told him like it was gospel truth. And he'd been fuming the whole time, from the moment he realized that he'd been betrayed, and her attempts to explain away her actions had fallen on deaf ears. The only thing that mattered to him at the moment was how hard and how long he could thrash the backside in front of him.
CRACK!
Part of him wanted to be methodical and take plenty of time between strokes to give her time to think about her deception. But the angrier side of him that she had kindled just wanted to thrash her butt and legs hard and fast until she was wailing at the top of her lungs. So far the controlled side had the upper hand, but as she started to rock and throw her head back to howl, the temptation to go into overdrive increased.
When she wasn't yelping she was apologizing, claiming that she hadn't mean to mislead him. But considering that her deception negatively impacted three people and could have been corrected at any time, meant he had no recourse other than to scorch her backside with the heavy belt used to deal with dishonesty.
The belt was almost three inches wide and looked more like it belonged around a cowboy or boxer's waist. So the strokes he delivered overlapped with one another to paint her buttocks and thighs an ever darkening shade of red. She rewarded his efforts with a flood of tears and further apologies and expressions of remorse for not being honest with him when she'd had so many chances to do so. But he'd blurted out the tale he'd been told, only to be looked at like he was speaking a foreign language. And he was determined to have Angela speaking in tongues by the time he finished walloping her hindquarters.
But that finish was still a ways away. The first time he'd ever spanked her had certainly been memorable, but he wanted this to be the one she remembered years from now. So he crossed around to the other side of the couch.
For a moment Angela thought her prayers had been answered and he was finished with his thrashing; but that turned to whimpers when she realized that he was only changing the angle of his attack to insure that not an inch of her butt and legs went unscathed. She managed to bleat out another "I'm really sor... OWWW!" After that her commentary consisted of shrieks and supplications for him to please spare her bottom.
Finally he stopped and she assumed that her spanking was finally over. She'd long since lost count of the number of blows she'd received, so she had no idea that they'd currently reached 40 strokes with the belt after exactly 100 hand spanks to get things started. It was already the most ferocious punishment he'd given her, but it wasn't quite over yet.
That was when he informed her that she'd been sufficiently punished for lying to him (for now). But before he left there was the matter of her father who she'd unfairly denigrated for months. Therefore she would be receiving a final set of punishment swats on his behalf, since her dad wasn't here to administer them himself. And if she dared to argue about the need for them the count would double. It was all up to her.
The next-to-last thing that Angela wanted was additional penalty swats from that damned belt. But the absolutely last thing she wanted was a double helping of penalty swats for a second incidence of non-compliance. She wiggled her way back onto the top of the couch arm; then she gritted her teeth and reminded herself that it would all be over soon. Once Brandon left she would be slathering her backside in aloe lotion, grabbing every icepack out of her freezer, cranking her ceiling fan up to 'high' and having a pity party for herself and her scalded rear end.
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