by Carlton Kristain
NOVEMBER 1982.
The tableau I was witnessing was clearly not without a certain sense of fascination to me, my best friend Bonnie seated on her living room sofa with her boyfriend Rupert bent over her left knee while her right leg was pressing down across the backs of his thighs and her left hand was pinning his upturned right wrist to the small of his back. Equally intriguing was the fact that the stocky, black-haired young man was wearing only three clothing items, all of them white in color - a pair of thick athletic socks, a cotton t-shirt and an athletic supporter, the bands of which neatly framed his meaty, muscular and fully exposed posterior.
Bonnie, whom her close friends sometimes called 'Flip-Flop' or 'Flippy,' was known for being a good-hearted and caring young woman, and that she dearly loved Rupert was an unchallenged truth - yet in her right hand she tightly gripped the handle of a sturdy, flat-backed maple hairbrush, and in her eyes glinted an iron resolve to employ it with extreme prejudice right where it would sting her lover most effectively.
It was my time to speak, I realized. "All right, Bonnie and Rupert, you've both accepted that I will be the arbiter of this bare-bottomed spanking and its outcome, and I promise to be a fair and impartial judge. I've known your girlfriend longer and better than I've known you, Rupe, but I hope that you'll trust me not to be biased anyway."
He wasn't in much of a position to object at that point, his body partially restrained by Bonnie with his naked butt cheeks pointed at the ceiling, but he wouldn't have anyway. "Yes, Bets, I know you're trustworthy."
Before continuing, I couldn't help smirk at the childish sight he presented, like a naughty little boy about to be spanked good and soundly by his strict, no-nonsense mother. "You've been unhappy with the spankings that Flippy here has been giving you, even since she agreed to use a hairbrush rather than just her open hand, claiming that they're 'half-assed' and pretty much half-hearted, because she won't paddle your bare behind long enough or hard enough to make it hurt as much as you want it to... Is that a full and accurate summary of your complaint?"
"That's right, ma'am," he responded.
"You don't have to call me - well, never mind, I'm in judicial authority here so I suppose that 'ma'am' is acceptable." My gaze met that of my long-time girlfriend. "On the other hand, Bonnie, you never wanted to spank Rupert at all and first did so only reluctantly in order to please him. You believed that physically hurting someone you loved was wrong, even if he desired it, so you admit to not hitting his naked fanny all that hard - either with the palm of your hand or later with the hairbrush that you're holding right now."
She nodded ruefully. "It stung my hand more than it did his hiney when I tried just slapping his bare bottom. I wanted to give it up, then but Rupe said that my using this hairbrush would provide an 'equalizer' so that the butt-smacking would hurt him a lot more and me not at all."
My eyebrows arched. Although slim, my light brunette friend was in excellent physical shape and only a couple inches shorter than her lover, and I knew for a fact that she could swing a sorority-style paddle at an upthrust exposed posterior, male or female, with a highly impressive effect. "So that didn't happen when you tried whacking him with the brush, Flippy?"
Bonnie shrugged. "Well, not enough to suit him anyway. My hand didn't sting, of course, and his rump got quite a bit redder than it had when I was simply slapping it with my palm, but Rupe still wasn't satisfied."
My lips pursed pensively. "So what was the problem, Rupert?" I demanded pointedly. "Were Bonnie's spankings not long or hard enough for your taste?"
"Both," he muttered. "They were namby-pamby, they barely made me react and she'd only give me twelve or fifteen wimp strokes before stopping; it was so damned frustrating that she wouldn't whack me with any authority."
"So do you want her to make you cry, is that it?" I inquired calmly.
Rupert sighed. "If it comes to that, okay, but she should at least have me squirming and squealing, feeling a serious sting with each swat and ending up with my ass cheeks bright red and burning hot."
I couldn't help reflecting that his description was precisely how I preferred my romantic partners to be on their south sides, except somewhat more severely spanked - deeply glowing and magenta-hued, that was how I best liked naked masculine buttocks to look, and of course I also wanted to be the strict disciplinarian responsible for their being in such a well-punished state.
"I don't want to do that to you," his girlfriend countered. "I've paddled some people pretty solidly in the past, but I'm done with that - it strikes me as mean and sadistic these days. I only went along with spanking you at all, even with just my hand at first, because you were bugging me about it for months; I was afraid that our relationship would fall apart if I didn't give in a little bit."
"However, you were half-hearted about it, weren't you?" I asked her. "Rupert is correct about that, isn't he?"
Bonnie's visage was grim. "Yes, Bets, he is... But now I'm determined to give him exactly the kind of bare-assed blistering he keeps insisting that he truly desires, until he begs me to stop - and when he does ask me with a whimper to end his spanking, I'll do just that, but it will be forever."
My head nodded slowly. "That's the understanding here. However, if he doesn't use the safeword to stop the fanny-whacking before you're finished administering his chastisement, you've agreed to regularly give him all-out, seriously stinging bare-bottomed spankings with the punishment brush from this point onward."
"Oh, he'll use it all right," my long-time comrade insisted, "because a sturdy hairbrush like this one isn't just an equalizer, it's actually quite an 'unequalizer' when your naughty boy is bare-bottomed and bent over to receive his butt-blistering comeuppance for as long as you decide to deliver it." She patted each of her victim's helpless, quivering nether moons with the hairbrush's wide, glassy-smooth back. "I'm going to break you completely, sweetheart, then this 'please-spank-me-ma'am' foolishness will be over and done with for good."
I had to concur with her, since a resolute spanker employing an effective instrument of corporal correction will always have an overwhelming advantage over even an extremely stubborn bare-bottomed spankee - the human posterior can endure only a limited amount of intensely stinging pain and fiercely blazing heat before its owner's will to resist is overcome. Smiling softly, I addressed Rupert. "Do you remember the safeword?"
"Yes, it's 'strawberry'," he affirmed, his vulnerable bum cheeks trembling.
My lips pursed. "It's the deal-breaker, Rupe," I reminded him. "Once you say it, Flippy doesn't ever have to spank you again and you've agreed not to ever ask her to do so."
Bonnie raised the spanking brush over her right shoulder, gripping it tightly as she took aim at her boyfriend's broad bare backside. "You can bet your bottom dollar that he's going to end up saying it, or probably sobbing it, I'm going to make certain of that much." She grinned at the way his body had shivered in reaction to her words. "Well, here comes your last ever and worst by far fanny-smacking from me, dear boy..."
She swung her arm swiftly in a downward arc, cracking the hairbrush's hard, flat back atop the summit of Rupert's right buttock round-WHACK!! He gasped sharply as an oval-shaped pink blush appeared where the brush had struck, seemingly realizing that the odds were heavily weighted against him in the contest of will power against his ladylove.
I chewed my lower lip in uncertain anticipation, figuring that it was merely a matter of minutes before my best friend proved triumphant. "So how long can your rear end hold out, Rupert?" I queried quietly, speaking mostly to myself.
"Not nearly as long as my arm can, I guarantee it!" Bonnie replied enthusiastically to my rhetorical musing as she continued to lustily wallop her hapless lover's defenseless derriere in a right-left-center pattern, targeting the fatty 'spank spot' marginally above his thigh creases and delivering the stinging swats of the punishment brush at five-second intervals. She was clearly pacing herself to administer a lengthy chastisement, correctly calculating that a deliberate yet intensive spanking would be most effective at breaking her victim's will to hold out.
By the end of the first minute, the young man's gasps had become yelps, which became increasingly high-pitched during the next couple minutes of that hard-hitting brush's steady whacking of his reddening rump, which had started to wriggle under his girlfriend's relentless chastisement. Before the four-minute mark his jet black eyes were brimming with tears, then ninety seconds later the teardrops began trickling down his facial cheeks, at which point his yelping had turned into outright howling, which encouraged his loving lady to plaster his gluteal globes, which were glowing with a brilliant crimson coloration, even more emphatically with that maple brush's back.
"Damn, that's got to sting like a son-of-a-bitch," I murmured.
"He can end it anytime he wishes to," Bonnie pointed out while continuing to swing away at her boyfriend's blistered bare behind with that solidly thick spanking brush. "Then our relationship will be purely affectionate and I'll be giving him hugs, kisses and comforting - and I won't ever make him bawl like this again."
As I witnessed the intensive corporally punitive contest proceeding toward its inevitable outcome, my attention wandered and I started wondering why my close friend was so dead-set against spanking her boyfriend even though he desperately wanted her to do so, long, hard, often and on the bare. As a high school freshman, she had certainly enjoyed paddy whacking the naked buttocks of Paul Royalton, the good-looking wrestling team captain, with a heavy, sorority-style paddle - in fact all of us girls had swung it baseball-style with a two-handed grip - when we had convinced him to accept a "good luck" walloping from each of the wrestling cheerleaders before competing in the state tournament.
Bonnie's mother had frequently given her sound bare-assed strappings until she'd moved away from home. I'd even been present to witness several of them and had actually received one myself from the strict middle-aged woman, but never had I heard my childhood playmate refer to any of her numerous chastisements with the maternal razor strop as either abusive or undeserved - in fact she and her mother had often joked affectionately about those past seat-scorching sessions.
So I was feeling somewhat puzzled while I watched Rupert's hips shifting and his ravaged rump bucking as he desperately but futilely tried to avoid his girlfriend's blistering-hard hairbrush swats. Even more perplexing was the supremely self-satisfied expression on his spanker's face, she was smiling delightedly and her eyes were sparkling with excitement; that young woman didn't look like someone who was determined to complete a distasteful task, not at that point in the punitive proceedings.
As the spanking reached the ten-minute mark, it was obvious to me that its recipient was close to breaking and using the safeword; his freely flowing tears were splattering onto the glossy hardwood floor below his flushed face, his upturned, wide-open ass cheeks were evincing a deep magenta hue and he'd been reduced to an almost continuous loud wailing as the chastising brush crisply smacked away at his plump 'sit spots' with metronomic regularity, producing reverberating pistol-shot cracks.
"Ahhhhowwww! Struh-waaaah! Waaaahhowwww!" Her spankee's frantic attempt to say "strawberry" was cut off by Bonnie delivering a frenzied flurry of rapid-fire swats which impacted with devastating force against his sensitive 'spank spot' at two-second intervals, leaving him blubbering incoherently after two dozen of them had connected in less than a minute's time.
Abruptly she stopped swinging the hairbrush, setting it next to her on the sofa. "You win, Rupert honey, you've outlasted me," she stated calmly as her right hand began massaging his fiery-looking exposed ass cheeks. "Boy, are you ever blazing hot on this chubby caboose of yours, dear boy... Well, get used to having a burning, throbbing stark-naked tushie, because it's going to happen to you on a very regular basis from now on. I'm going to make sure that sitting comfortably will be nothing but a fond memory for you, lover boy, starting as of this moment. You wanted to be spanked really long and hard on your bare bottom, now your wish is going to come true IN SPADES!" She slapped each of his enflamed nether moons very smartly with her palm, in response to which he groaned. "Do you understand me fully, young man, and agree with everything I've just told you?"
He hiccoughed, trying to get his breathing under control. "Yeh-Yes, mah-ma'am, Boh-Bonnie."
She snickered. "That's my boy-but it's MISTRESS Bonnie to you during a spanking session, and this one won't be over until you do ten minutes of commemorating the New Deal." Her grip on his right wrist was released as her right leg lifted away from the backs of his thighs, then both of them rose to their feet, Rupert first but rather unsteadily as his legs were quivering. His ladylove gripped his left bicep and led him to the nearest wall before stopping to reach into the right pocket of her tight blue jeans and take out a new-looking dime, which she pressed with her finger against the faux brick surface at the level of his solar plexus.
I couldn't help chortling. "Oh my, are you doing what I think you are?"
Bonnie flashed me an impish grin. "If it's making this naughty boy hold F.D.R. up against this spot with his nubbin of a nose, then I most certainly am." Her open hand briskly slapped her boyfriend's left buttock. "Get your feet a yard apart, then bend forward and push your snout against this dime with your hands together behind your back."
He gulped. "Yes, ma'am, Mistress Bonnie." He promptly obeyed her instructions, his nose replacing her finger in keeping the small coin from slipping downward, assuming a position that forced his thoroughly thrashed, sizzling-hot bare derriere to jut backward in an amusingly exposed manner.
My wolf-whistle resulted in tinkling laughter from my girlfriend. "Dear me, Rupe, you're quite a cute sight with your dark red rump sticking out at us so brazenly like that." I turned to his girlfriend, who had walked back to stand beside me appreciating the view, which reminded me of a twin Hawaiian sunset turned perpendicular to the horizon. "So what happens to Rupert if he lets old Franklin fall to the floor before you've released him from his stance, Flippy?"
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