Short Stories and Poems by CF-Members

[Stungiskhan]

Here’s another short fantasy story of mine. It’s a bit different version compared to original one with crosses and some levels more violence, but the basic concept is the same.

If you like to find your Siren, Creek archipelago in foggy dark autumn evening is a good place to start. Be sure you are prepared.




To capture a Siren

Sirens, those mystical creatures from stories and tales. They have a voice like an angel and body like a goddess and with their divine singing and dancing lure men and ships to the shoal and then rip they apart and eat their hearts and leave their souls to the devil. Sirens are told to be tormented souls of drowned seamen who lure others to same faith.

Sirens are real, but beliefs of their origin is false or at least inaccurate. They are actually souls of abused and drowned slaves, who the devil himself has put to do his work above the ground.

A siren can be captured and the curse can be broken, but it is very hard. They are vicious by nature and they have strength of ten man. Slightest mistake, and they’ll rip you apart. Not only that, but it takes other kind of strength to do what needs to be done.

First you have to brake their spirits. You have to bring them through the hell of a torture, far beyond what they ever experienced in their lives. The devil knows his job and chooses his servants well. They are worst of the worst what comes to the treatment and abuse they were put through while they lived. They can’t be killed and any damage to their bodies will be healed overnight.

Once you brake them, they are yours forever, unless you betray them with another woman. They respond to your kindness with love and gratitude which only a woman is capable of. They bodies remain same over the years and only after you die by a natural death, the curse will be completely broken and they are free to live their lives as they wish and die when it’s time.

How I know all of this, I’ve been lived and bedded with one for fifty years. I never thought I could love but I have loved her and she have loved me.

I must tell you the whole story so you believe, because there are still sirens out there and the knowledge can’t be lost.

Thieves killed my parents when I was 16. My country was at war, so I was sent to fight with enemy. I was full of hate and became very good at killing. My abilities were not left unnoticed and I was left in charge of questioning, which meant brutal torture and sometimes death.

When the war ended, I was left hanging without any meaning for my life. Once on my journeys I saw a bunch of thieves robbing an old man and his wagons. I couldn’t care less for the man but I really hated thieves, probably because the faith of my parents.

So, I drew my sword and slain them all, whole dozen of them. The man was grateful for me for saving his life but also shocked by the violence he have just witnessed. He said I can take anything as a payment but I said I need nothing.

Then he told me about sirens, what they are, where I can find them and what I need to do. Of course I didn’t believe him at the time, but his words were left to haunt me, so I finally made the trip and got my siren.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t easy. I almost died and I lost one eye and a ball in that fight. My blood has never been drawn in a fight before. I don’t regret anything, because at the end, it was her body which was finally cuffed and in chains, and my life once more had a meaning.

I nailed her on a cross, whipped her with the most vicious and brutal whips known to a man. I cut her with hooks and knives and pushed hot glowing spikes to her flesh. For all of this, I did to even the most sensitive parts of her body. Still it took over two weeks to brake her, but when I finally succeeded, It was worth it.

I had this the most beautiful woman I have ever seen on my arms, forever grateful for braking the curse and saving her life.

The curse wasn’t only thing what was broken. She had broken me. There was no hate left in me and I was ready for her love and ready to give her mine.

By the way, I didn’t abandon the lash or a cross but they were only to satisfy sexual lust, mine and hers. There are some obvious benefits since all her wounds still healed overnight.

I’m an old man and I die soon but I have never cheated her in my life. Soon she’ll have her final release from the curse and have one more life to live. As the old merchant once said to me, she won’t remember anything from me or from the time she was tormented as a devil’s minion. I hope she have a good life and I know she will.

 

[Madiosi]

Here’s another short fantasy story of mine. It’s a bit different version compared to original one with crosses and some levels more violence, but the basic concept is the same.

If you like to find your Siren, Creek archipelago in foggy dark autumn evening is a good place to start. Be sure you are prepared.




To capture a Siren

Sirens, those mystical creatures from stories and tales. They have a voice like an angel and body like a goddess and with their divine singing and dancing lure men and ships to the shoal and then rip they apart and eat their hearts and leave their souls to the devil. Sirens are told to be tormented souls of drowned seamen who lure others to same faith.

Sirens are real, but beliefs of their origin is false or at least inaccurate. They are actually souls of abused and drowned slaves, who the devil himself has put to do his work above the ground.

A siren can be captured and the curse can be broken, but it is very hard. They are vicious by nature and they have strength of ten man. Slightest mistake, and they’ll rip you apart. Not only that, but it takes other kind of strength to do what needs to be done.

First you have to brake their spirits. You have to bring them through the hell of a torture, far beyond what they ever experienced in their lives. The devil knows his job and chooses his servants well. They are worst of the worst what comes to the treatment and abuse they were put through while they lived. They can’t be killed and any damage to their bodies will be healed overnight.

Once you brake them, they are yours forever, unless you betray them with another woman. They respond to your kindness with love and gratitude which only a woman is capable of. They bodies remain same over the years and only after you die by a natural death, the curse will be completely broken and they are free to live their lives as they wish and die when it’s time.

How I know all of this, I’ve been lived and bedded with one for fifty years. I never thought I could love but I have loved her and she have loved me.

I must tell you the whole story so you believe, because there are still sirens out there and the knowledge can’t be lost.

Thieves killed my parents when I was 16. My country was at war, so I was sent to fight with enemy. I was full of hate and became very good at killing. My abilities were not left unnoticed and I was left in charge of questioning, which meant brutal torture and sometimes death.

When the war ended, I was left hanging without any meaning for my life. Once on my journeys I saw a bunch of thieves robbing an old man and his wagons. I couldn’t care less for the man but I really hated thieves, probably because the faith of my parents.

So, I drew my sword and slain them all, whole dozen of them. The man was grateful for me for saving his life but also shocked by the violence he have just witnessed. He said I can take anything as a payment but I said I need nothing.

Then he told me about sirens, what they are, where I can find them and what I need to do. Of course I didn’t believe him at the time, but his words were left to haunt me, so I finally made the trip and got my siren.

Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t easy. I almost died and I lost one eye and a ball in that fight. My blood has never been drawn in a fight before. I don’t regret anything, because at the end, it was her body which was finally cuffed and in chains, and my life once more had a meaning.

I nailed her on a cross, whipped her with the most vicious and brutal whips known to a man. I cut her with hooks and knives and pushed hot glowing spikes to her flesh. For all of this, I did to even the most sensitive parts of her body. Still it took over two weeks to brake her, but when I finally succeeded, It was worth it.

I had this the most beautiful woman I have ever seen on my arms, forever grateful for braking the curse and saving her life.

The curse wasn’t only thing what was broken. She had broken me. There was no hate left in me and I was ready for her love and ready to give her mine.

By the way, I didn’t abandon the lash or a cross but they were only to satisfy sexual lust, mine and hers. There are some obvious benefits since all her wounds still healed overnight.

I’m an old man and I die soon but I have never cheated her in my life. Soon she’ll have her final release from the curse and have one more life to live. As the old merchant once said to me, she won’t remember anything from me or from the time she was tormented as a devil’s minion. I hope she have a good life and I know she will.

collected too

 

[Miras]

A simple spanking story for a quick joy of passionate spankos and DD people.


My name is Augusta, and after my twentieth birthday, I became famous with the book series Hardworking Coleen. It is about a soap facotry girl who solves mysteries. Before that, I married Albert, the most handsome specimen in the class. Half the girls in the class wanted to feel his arms on their backs, lay their heads on his chest -and see what he was like down there.

However, after seven years spent in the same house with Albert and five books written, it feels like an endless traffic jam. It concerns my career but also my family life.

Like this Saturday morning - I couldn't finish the chapter yesterday and was all the more sensitive to Albert's mistakes.

"You men are all either blind or stupid!" I yelled, picking up the box with the eyebrow hair and letting it land on the table again. "Why would I want to be blonde? I'm proud of my blackness. You should have taken this to Miranda!"

Albert sighed. "Darling, she's your girlfriend. Unlike me, you don't drive but can go to her. No offense, but you can't write. Your ass sits in the study instead of moving around the city or being at my disposal at night to caress."

I showed him the most pissed-off face of my life and locked myself in my study.

Yesterday, the creative part of my brain was wooden, and I was hoping there would be at least termites and worms today. When you fill your system with various neuroses and shaking-ups, you can suddenly get inspiration. But at most, I had tunnels full of cobwebs. I stared blankly at my computer monitor.

"It's only normal if you haven't lived in Virgin Rocks for two years," Coleen mused. "Tourists love the Wellington statue, and primary school boys get excited when someone asks them to. A keen history buff like Rowley would stop by, so I don't think Christopher Jr is giving us a true account of his day."

David shrugged. "He doesn't share his father's hobbies. Maybe he even forgets what he just heard about..."

I desperately wished I had written more original dialogue, but I was replaying lines I had heard somewhere. I felt like there was not enough air in my author cave, and opening the window wouldn't fix it. I returned to Albert, who still hadn't gone to Miranda's and was stuffing himself with gingerbread cookies in the shape of ballerinas and drinking the rest of his tea instead.

I waved my hand at him. "Sorry for earlier. Wanna coffee?"

He bit down on the other slender legs. "Sure. And make it sweeter than your words, honey."

In retrospect, I should have been wary of his tone.

However, ten minutes were enough, and we were laughing. I even began reminiscing episodes from my childhood, joy followed by torment.

"My dad always emphasized that bro and I can be very active and passive, but like most kids, in the opposite times than we need it. Fortunately, good parents know that we have the switch on our asses." I savored my coffee. "Whenever there was snow outside, we made angels in it, and whenever there was mud, we woke up the devils inside us. Then we were trembling while cutting the switches."

Instead of looking sympathetic, Albert smiled. "What did it look like when you were passive?"

"That was a little better but still unpleasant. If I got homework and didn't do it, it didn't matter how old I was. Dad just bent me over the knee and smacked me with that steel hand of his for over two minutes. If he thought I behaved inappropriately, he pulled down my pants and panties, and my bare ass paid the price. If he checked out on me and I still hadn't done anything, he unbuckled his belt."

"I suppose it was a successful strategy." My husband stopped drinking and stood next to me. I didn't understand it. He was looking at me so eagerly only when we were supposed to have sex.

“Get up, Augusta.

I listened to him, but his words confused me.

"You have writer's block. Maybe you need someone to motivate you. As I told you earlier today, I haven't touched your ass in too long."

I turned to him. "You want to spank me?!"

He came to me and unbuttoned my pants. "I want, and I will. Who knows, maybe you'll write a few chapters. Don't worry, you won't get on the bare. Yet."

It seemed that he wanted revenge on me for that morning, but I recognized that he would have the right to do so. And I was willing to explore if a spanking would help me find my lost inspiration.

I pulled my pants down to my knees, and in the middle of the drab dark clothes, the panties glowed - red like hot lava. I was glad I didn't wear thongs today.

Albert squeezed my hand mercilessly and, in a "Now you'll see" style, led me to the giant sofa from where we watched TV in the evenings. He sat down and let go of me.

"Over."

I had to bend my legs a little to relax on his lap.

I didn´t miss this in my life. When Albert stretched out his hand to my behind me, I probably jerked away. He wrapped his other arm around my waist, and for the first time in years, I painfully received a life lesson.

SMACK!!!

"AAAHHHHH!"

The intensity of the stroke made me horrified. What it would feel if the panties didn´t protect my ass? The first stroke was followed by the second, next to which the first seemed gentle. The third was even worse, and by the fourth, I started apologizing to Albert for how I had behaved before. It must have convinced him that the procedure was paying off because his hand whistled through the air, my cheeks were shaking like the landscape in an earthquake, and he couldn´t understand my pleas through my crying.

“Six of the best wouldn't be enough, of course, so you got four times that, dear.

Was that only twenty-four shots?

"Now Ms. Writer can go back and create."

I was grateful that he ended the spanking and thus received a kiss on the cheek. In the process, a few of my tears fell on his lips, and I received them back on my forehead. I ran from him to the study. Not very fast.

My bottom burned like a stove, but it reminded me to focus. So be it. I put a wet towel on the chair and tried to think of the best words that Coleen would say and those that David would say. I planned the reactions of false suspects and people who denied that a crime had happened. I wrote part of the scene with the discovery of the body.

I started well, but now I wanted to convey somehow that the people of Virgin Rocks, who turn up to the corpse in huge numbers, are amazed - even more - horrified. Because of this, I needed to watch some intriguing crime series where something similar happened. I took my favorite DVD and played it on the computer while the text of my book was waiting on the bar. At first, I wanted to choose a crucial scene, but then I dreamed and watched it from the beginning.

Of course, all dreams come to an end, and in this case, it wasn't waking up that ended it, but Albert's hand over my eyes.

"Mrs. Writer spends too much time on her study material!" He patted my shoulder and stopped my video.

"I needed to get an idea of the scene," I defended myself.

Albert laughed. "You've been watching this for eleven minutes, and I can't hear you typing. I think you need to realize that procrastination is bad. Stand up!"

The order screamed in my ear. It would be hard for me to talk back. But I also screamed when I saw Albert taking my computer from my desk. "Hey, why are you doing this?"

"You lie down there. After you pull your pants back down."

I gasped. "No! Not so soon! I don't want to experience that again!"

"Darling, you won't have it again. This time, you'll get a belt!"

It finally dawned on me."You mean like..."

"Yes, just like your dad used to do. Since the first ass-whooping wasn't enough, you need not only to be motivated but also punished for being lazy. Fortunately, you have another guy who can arrange it for you. And by the way, if you resist, I'll pull your panties down and give you three times as much as before."

Before he could touch my clothes, my pants were gone. I reached to the opposite side of the table and flashed my ass, hopefully at least a little seductively, to show that I wasn't that scared. I was glad he couldn't see my face. I swore I wouldn't scream right from the start because it was clear I eventually would.

SLAP!!!

"Owwwwwiiieeee!"

The leather of the belt kissed my panties with terrifying force, renewing the pain Albert's palm had left there before. I have howled, hoping my husband would take mercy on me.



In vain, of course. The throbbing of my butt returned with tenfold intensity. When I started to move, I got hit under the butt, so I better not do it again. When I felt a cold metal buckle on my scorched thigh at the seventh blow, I cried out loud. It was at that moment I felt like a little girl still going to school. I knew that Albert's parents also raised him strictly. I bitterly realized that, at home, I am still at the level of a child.

However, now I was a big girl, and after twenty-four wounds, I had perhaps the sorest bottom in my life. I hoped this was where the spanking could end because that's how much I got by hand.

"This is where I finished last time, but it didn't do you any favor, my dear, so I'll add one more."

I wanted to scream "unfair" but instead had to scream an erratic "Owwowowoewow" as soon as the strap held in my husband's powerful arm hit my sit spot. I didn't straighten up and caress my cheeks, but even that hurt, and I jumped in front of the table for a while.

"You'll probably have to lie down, but you'll mainly be writing. If you can't do that, I want you to clean the house."

Albert took me on his lap, locking my leg between his. He kissed my neck and stroked my hair. He made my distress go away, even though the pain would stay with me for a few days.

He then went to see Miranda, and I followed his instructions. I wrote lying down for a while, focused on the text itself. When I didn't know what to do next, I tried to improve a little, and since it was getting late, I prepared the ingredients for chili con carne, which I wanted to fill tonight's dinner with.

Once Albert returned, we rocked each other with our tenderness and enjoyed a dinner for which he complimented me. I went to change before he did. I put on my nightgown and made our beds. All you had to do was get under the covers and go out.

Albert came up to me and smiled slightly. "I think you can stop. Come to me and take it off."

Now I smiled again. I gently grabbed the nightgown´s hem and pulled it all over my head. I spread my legs a little and pushed my round breasts towards my husband. The round creatures called for a caress and the hardening nipples for a pinch.

"Turn around, dear."

Oh. I opened my mouth and turned around to show my bottom. Out of curiosity, I turned and looked in the mirror. It was unbelievable, but that's how I felt. My excellent ass, which I'd twirled around with since puberty, was red, sometimes blue to black, and a few lines indicated where a belt had attached itself to it through my panties. The pain came back under Albert's gaze.

"You can touch me everywhere else today," I promised him.

He took a step forward and pulled me by the arm.

“Today was good, but I'd like you to promise me a few things.” He pulled something out of his pocket that I wouldn't have expected this evening. A red hairbrush and waved it around.

"I want you to say: 'I will either write or work.'"

I obediently repeated it. "Look, there's no need for you to point it out to me, I'd-"

WHACK!!!

I tried to free my hand from his clutch, twisting it, but I couldn't. "I would have known this already without you!" My buttocks would be playing the painful tunes as the brush hit the affected area and penetrated the bare skin even further than the belt.

“Say: "When I'm writing, I will focus on that." “

“Yes, when I´m writing, I will focus on that."

WHACK!!!

This time, he aimed a blow at the other buttock. I staggered, but Albert held me and bent me forward.

“Now tell me, I will never be rude to my husband.

"I promise I will never be rude to my husband!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"If you ever forget that, dear, you'll get four strokes next time. At the beginning."

He let go of my hand, and I couldn't be more ashamed. I grabbed my ass, as if I wanted to protect myself from further blows while I wasn´t in immediate danger anyway, and I tried to hide the ashamed part of my body. I realized that from now on, my marriage would be about getting as many kisses and as few spanks as possible.

 

[carloscruz]

Very good, thank you!

 

[Miras]

Very good, thank you!

You are welcome, glad to be of service!

 

[tgpan]

A short story​

The sun beat down mercilessly on the dusty streets of ancient Rome as I made my way towards the crowded marketplace. The vibrant energy of the bustling city surrounded me, but my heart was heavy with guilt and shame. For I, Marcus Lucius, soldier of the mighty Roman empire, was a condemned man.

Wearing tattered rags and shackles around my wrists, I was being led to the site of my crucifixion. The streets were lined with curious onlookers, eager to witness the punishment of a man who had committed a heinous crime - the rape of a young virgin, the beloved daughter of a high ranking officer.

My mind wandered back to that fateful night, as I had stumbled drunkenly out of a tavern and come across the fair maiden walking home alone. Driven by my lust and the influence of wine, I had dragged her into an alleyway and violated her, ignoring her cries for mercy.

But now, I was facing the consequences of my actions. A trial had been held and I had been found guilty. The verdict - death by crucifixion. Before that, however, I was to be scourged, and then forced to carry the crossbeam through the city to the execution site. It was a public display of my humiliation and punishment, meant to serve as a warning to others who would dare to commit such a grievous crime.

As I made my way through the streets, the people jeered and spat at me, hurling insults and curses. The weight of the crossbeam on my shoulders was agonizing, but it was nothing compared to the weight of guilt and shame that I carried in my heart.

Finally, we reached the site of my crucifixion. The crowd had gathered in a large open field, where a cross had been erected, waiting for its next victim. With a heavy heart, I looked upon the cross - the instrument of my death.

The beam was fixed to the vertical post which lay on the ground. I was made to stand in front of the cross, facing the crowd. An officer stood beside me, declaring my verdict and punishment to the eager audience.

'Marcus Lucius, you have been found guilty of raping the young virgin, the daughter of a respected officer. Your punishment is death by crucifixion, a fitting end for a man who has committed such a despicable act,' he announced, his voice loud and stern.

I stood there, numb and defeated, as the soldiers began to prepare me for my fate. My shackles were removed, and I was stripped of my rags, leaving me completely naked in front of the jeering crowd. My loincloth, a symbol of my manhood, was torn off and thrown on the ground.

And then, it began. I was whipped mercilessly, each strike of the lash tearing through my flesh and leaving behind agonizing wounds. My back bore the marks of my punishment, blood seeping from the cuts and running down my body.

After the scourging, I was made to carry the crossbeam once again, this time towards the vertical post. With my wrists bound tightly to the beam, I was hoisted up and nailed to the cross. It was a searing pain, unlike any I had ever felt before. The nails pierced through my hands and feet, holding me in place as the cross was lifted and set into the ground.

As I hung there, my body wracked with pain, I could feel the eyes of the crowd upon me. Some showed pity, some showed hatred, but most showed disgust and disdain. I hung there, a symbol of shame and punishment.

But my suffering did not stop there. As I hung on the cross, the young virgin whom I had violated approached her father, the high officer, and begged him for one last request - to castrate me, and feed my manhood to her dog. Her request was granted, and soon I was left without my testicles, writhing in agony.

But the girl was not satisfied. Her need for vengeance drove her to ask for one final act of cruelty - the removal of my penis as well. And so, half an hour later, I lay on the cross, my manhood completely removed and thrown into my mouth. It was a cruel and degrading end to a man who had once been a respected soldier of the mighty Roman army.

As I gasped for breath, my vision blurring from the pain and blood loss, I knew that this was my deserved fate. I had brought this upon myself with my wicked actions. And as the sun set on the horizon, casting its last rays upon my broken body, I knew that my legacy would forever be one of infamy and shame.

My crucifixion would serve as a reminder to all those who saw it - a warning to those who dared to commit such a heinous crime. And as I took my last breath, I prayed for forgiveness and hoped that my death would bring closure to the victim and her family. For I, Marcus Lucius, was a guilty man, and my punishment was just.

 

[Loxuru]

But the girl was not satisfied. Her need for vengeance drove her to ask for one final act of cruelty - the removal of my penis as well. And so, half an hour later, I lay on the cross, my manhood completely removed and thrown into my mouth. It was a cruel and degrading end to a man who had once been a respected soldier of the mighty Roman army.

Hmm! That would cause lots of blood loss, and fasten death. No good idea if you want your rapist suffer a long agony on the cross!

Nice short story, @tgpan

 

[Ramon71]

The Ecstasy and the Agony​

Here is a short story in the spirit of “Waiting for Judicial Corporal Punishment”. I hope you enjoy!

Picture by DarkFoxAI



(L-R) Ella, Madison, and Sadie

1.

“Look bitches,” Madison said to her best friends Ella and Sadie, “Are we going to take it to the next level at the prom or what? Brock gave me some pills to try. It’s one of our last times to party with the class before we get out of the shithole.”

Ella and Sadie looked skeptical, but Madison had always been a little wild. The three eighteen-year-old beauties had been friends for years and typically stayed out of trouble. They drank a little at parties, and Madison had tried weed but didn’t use it regularly.

“Brock says Ecstasy is no big deal. It will help us have a good time. You know how fucking lame the dances can be. Maybe it will even make the DJ seem cool!”

***

The night before, Madison gasped as Brock’s rock-hard pole slid deep inside her. They had almost immediately started having sex when they began dating a few months ago, and she could not get enough. Brock, with his square jaw and athletic body rippling with muscles from years of football workouts, knew how to satisfy her lust. His swarthy face gave the impression that he was in his twenties. Madison knew that he did not stay with one girl very long, but this was too good.

Brock’s strong rhythmic strokes brought Madison to an orgasm that built like a wave from her drenched vagina and crashed over her body. Lying beside him afterward, it took a while to catch her breath.

“When are your parents supposed to be home? I think they can tell when we’ve done it. They’ll think I’m a slut.”

“Fuck it. They don’t give a shit. I’ve seen my Dad checking you out!

“Perv! He is an older version of you though, and you are very hot.” Madison pressed her warm and sticky body into his side while coaxing his manhood to hardness again. “I can’t wait to see you in your tux this weekend.”

“It’s gonna be fucking lit once we leave the dance. The limo’s all set up to take us to the lake house. We’ll have everything we need.”

Brock opened the nightstand drawer and gave her a baggie containing several pills.“Take one tablet of this Ecstasy at the prom and it’ll carry you through to the lake. Give a couple to your friends. Maybe Jackson and Cole will actually get some ass too if the girls loosen up.”

Madison laughed and playfully punched him. She didn’t know if Ella and Sadie would have sex with their guys at the lake, but she planned on getting plenty from her boyfriend.

Brock enveloped the top of her small left breast with his mouth, tasting the salt of her skin and giving her nipple a swirl with his tongue. Madison’s body tingled as he ran his hand down her flat belly and over her cleanly shaven mons. Brock kneaded her yearning pussy with his thick fingers before rolling on top for another round.

2.

The music thumped at prom as the three girls danced together, tipsy from pregaming in the limo with their White Claws. Brock appeared somewhat sober due to his high tolerance, but Jackson and Cole were on the verge of being trashed and carefully tried to avoid attention from the chaperones. Madison led her giggling friends into a deserted hall.

“OK girls, here are the pills. Take one now and save the others for the weekend. The boys won’t know what has got into you. Hopefully it will be them!”

“You’re awful!” Ella laughed, grabbing Madison’s arm.

“Alright give me one of those things!” Sadie said firmly with a smile. She might give Jackson a little surprise later.

As the girls jokingly held the pills over their open mouths, they heard something that made their blood turn cold.

“One of what things?” said Sgt. Jones, the school’s resource officer from the police department. As he emerged from the shadows, the friends knew that they were in trouble.

The shocked prom goers gawked as the frightened girls were led through the crowd in handcuffs. Their dates discreetly slipped out of the auditorium in all the commotion. Ella’s boyfriend Cole had second thoughts about leaving without trying to speak with her, but Brock convinced him that he would get in trouble. The boys beat a hasty getaway in the limo.

Justice was swift for the friends. Charged as adults with possession of drugs on campus, they plead guilty to avoid long prison sentences. The harsh consequences would come within weeks.

The school was abuzz with the news after the court hearing. Three of the hottest girls in the most popular crowd would be paddled on their bare backsides. This naturally launched thousands of lurid fantasies in the minds of their schoolmates.

3.

The brief time in jail seemed like an eternity for the unfortunate trio. On what would have been their graduation day, the girls were hauled from their cells and ordered to strip naked in the punishment room. They were roughly stretched over wooden horses, bound at the wrists and ankles facing away from the gathering spectators. With heads dangling toward the floor and gleaming white bottoms positioned at the apexes of the frames, each girl awaited two dozen brutal and humiliating blows.

Ella’s long limbs trembled, and her nubile body glistened with nervous perspiration. She had been captain of the dance team and an accomplished student, but her college scholarship was now revoked. Tears stung her eyes as she thought of the concern and disappointment on her parents’ faces during jail visits.

Ella had let Cole unhook her bra and caress her firm upturned breasts, but wouldn’t let him take off her shirt, despite his attempts. Her face now burned with embarrassment at her public nakedness. Her sobs intensified at the realization of the coming beating. Her soft bottom cheeks had never even known a spanking.

The normally brash and confident Madison pitifully begged for mercy and promised to behave. She squirmed in her restraints, tiny nipples erect with fear on the breasts flattened to her chest. Why had she accepted the pills from Brock? He had quickly moved on to the class whore Gina while she was about to suffer for his drugs.

Sadie’s pale skin blushed deeply at the exposure of her privates and shapely chest. She vainly attempted to squeeze her toned thighs closed to cover her sweet pink opening and the wisps of golden brown pubic hair. Always cool and collected during her pageant competitions, Sadie now felt beads of sweat pour from her dainty underarms for the first time as panic overcame her.

4.

Officers took up their positions behind the girls as the sentence was read. Just then, a group of their classmates boisterously arrived to enjoy the show on the way to the graduation ceremony. Many had been jealous of the girls’ status and wanted to witness their disgrace. Others were just there to see them naked. They cheered and made lewd comments before being shushed by the guards.

Brock was among the group with his redheaded vixen Gina, her large milky breasts barely contained by her graduation dress. Standing in front of him in the tight crowd, she ground her ass into his massive boner. Brock felt no guilt about the girls’ predicament and strained his neck to get a better view of Ella and Sadie with their intimate areas on full display. He now wished he had tried to sleep with them too.

Three thick paddles simultaneously struck the girls’ twitching behinds at the count of one, and the force of the blows sent them bucking forward with anguished cries. The officers cruelly waited for up to a minute between strikes while the pretty victims shrieked and moaned. With time allotted for a medical check after the first dozen, the poor girls’ hell would not end for over half an hour.

 

[DaHoYoTa]

A well-trained operator

 

[Zephirantes]

Very interesting story.
And very... unusual. Weird.
But the exciting king of weird.
I like it.

 

[DjEtla]

View attachment 1067506

"911, what's your emergency?"

"Please help me! My name is Cassie! I can hear gun shots and screams all over the students dorms... I think we're under attack!"

"Yes, we are aware of the situations. Theres a large group of heavily armed men in your building. There have been several victims already, as far as I know."

"So? Why are you so calm? Send help, please!"

"There's already several units sourrounding the building, but as long as the invaders are holding students hostage, the units can't move in!"

"So, what am I supposed to do? I can hear them coming closer. I think they are down the hall. I heard screams of other girls..."

"I understand. Those girls are probably getting raped and tortured right now. One of the attackers is actually live streaming the attack on the web. I'm looking at the footage right now."

"Fuck! So, what am I supposed to do? Just wait here to get raped as well?"

"Well, that might be your best option? Are you hot?"

"What?"

"Would you consider yourself attractive?"

"I guess... but why do you want to know?"

"Well, from what I can see in the live stream, they're shooting the ugly ones immediately and force the hot ones to strip and give blow jobs at gun point. Are you good a giving, blow jobs, Cassie?"

"Fuck... what? blow jobs? What do you mean?"

"Don't be naive, Cassie. You'll have to entertain them in order to stay alive. They just shot a blond girl in her crotch because she refused to suck a guy off. But there's a brunette co-ed of yours who really knows what those guys want. She's stripping and playing with her pussy right in front of the attackers. If you have a chance, you should really tune into that live stream. That is so fucking hot... now they ordered her to lie down spread eagle on the desk so they can press their hard cocks against her tits and inner thighs. Wow... those are some huge juicy cocks. Well... no time for foreplay I gues... one of the guys slipped it right inside her shaved pussy and she doesn't look like she minds. In fact she seems to like it... her nipples are rock hard and she start's panting and moaning."

"Excuse me, that's good for her, but what am I supposed to do now?"

"Well, honey.... I suggest you just get ready for getting fucked by the attackers. If I were you, I would strip and rub myself as wet as possible. Look at those huge monster cocks... you certainly don't want one of those guys in your unlubricated vagina."

"So, you want me to masturbate?"

"Sure... why not. Rub you little clitty while you still can. Just 10 minutes ago, they completely mutilated a blond's pussy with a scissor and removed her little clitty, after she failed to cum when they forced her to masturbate at gun point. So unless you want that to happen to you..."

"I understand...."

"That's the spirit. Alright... I think they're almost done, doing that brunette girl. Two of the guys shot their hot sperm already... that might be bad news for you. If they don't feel the urge to inseminate you, then they might just torture and kill you for fun instead."

"Fuck..."

"Yes... on the other hand... they just killed the brunette as well, just because she climaxed without permission. I guess those guys are just some sadistic perverts who love to sexually torture girls like you. So, my advice to you is: Just enjoy your death fuck... and by the way: I think they are about to enter your room. Do you hear them?"

"Shit! They are kicking my door in! FUCK! NO!"

"Ah, I can see you on the live stream! Wow... you really started playing with yourself. Good for you! Now put away that phone and enjoy their cocks! I'm so fucking wet right now, I really have to rub one out while watching your death rape on my phone in the ladies room! Take care, Cassie!"
View attachment 1067506

It's an interesting idea for a story. And I'm glad you didn't let it get too long. Good job.

 

[Madiosi]

A short story​

The sun beat down mercilessly on the dusty streets of ancient Rome as I made my way towards the crowded marketplace. The vibrant energy of the bustling city surrounded me, but my heart was heavy with guilt and shame. For I, Marcus Lucius, soldier of the mighty Roman empire, was a condemned man.

Wearing tattered rags and shackles around my wrists, I was being led to the site of my crucifixion. The streets were lined with curious onlookers, eager to witness the punishment of a man who had committed a heinous crime - the rape of a young virgin, the beloved daughter of a high ranking officer.

My mind wandered back to that fateful night, as I had stumbled drunkenly out of a tavern and come across the fair maiden walking home alone. Driven by my lust and the influence of wine, I had dragged her into an alleyway and violated her, ignoring her cries for mercy.

But now, I was facing the consequences of my actions. A trial had been held and I had been found guilty. The verdict - death by crucifixion. Before that, however, I was to be scourged, and then forced to carry the crossbeam through the city to the execution site. It was a public display of my humiliation and punishment, meant to serve as a warning to others who would dare to commit such a grievous crime.

As I made my way through the streets, the people jeered and spat at me, hurling insults and curses. The weight of the crossbeam on my shoulders was agonizing, but it was nothing compared to the weight of guilt and shame that I carried in my heart.

Finally, we reached the site of my crucifixion. The crowd had gathered in a large open field, where a cross had been erected, waiting for its next victim. With a heavy heart, I looked upon the cross - the instrument of my death.

The beam was fixed to the vertical post which lay on the ground. I was made to stand in front of the cross, facing the crowd. An officer stood beside me, declaring my verdict and punishment to the eager audience.

'Marcus Lucius, you have been found guilty of raping the young virgin, the daughter of a respected officer. Your punishment is death by crucifixion, a fitting end for a man who has committed such a despicable act,' he announced, his voice loud and stern.

I stood there, numb and defeated, as the soldiers began to prepare me for my fate. My shackles were removed, and I was stripped of my rags, leaving me completely naked in front of the jeering crowd. My loincloth, a symbol of my manhood, was torn off and thrown on the ground.

And then, it began. I was whipped mercilessly, each strike of the lash tearing through my flesh and leaving behind agonizing wounds. My back bore the marks of my punishment, blood seeping from the cuts and running down my body.

After the scourging, I was made to carry the crossbeam once again, this time towards the vertical post. With my wrists bound tightly to the beam, I was hoisted up and nailed to the cross. It was a searing pain, unlike any I had ever felt before. The nails pierced through my hands and feet, holding me in place as the cross was lifted and set into the ground.

As I hung there, my body wracked with pain, I could feel the eyes of the crowd upon me. Some showed pity, some showed hatred, but most showed disgust and disdain. I hung there, a symbol of shame and punishment.

But my suffering did not stop there. As I hung on the cross, the young virgin whom I had violated approached her father, the high officer, and begged him for one last request - to castrate me, and feed my manhood to her dog. Her request was granted, and soon I was left without my testicles, writhing in agony.

But the girl was not satisfied. Her need for vengeance drove her to ask for one final act of cruelty - the removal of my penis as well. And so, half an hour later, I lay on the cross, my manhood completely removed and thrown into my mouth. It was a cruel and degrading end to a man who had once been a respected soldier of the mighty Roman army.

As I gasped for breath, my vision blurring from the pain and blood loss, I knew that this was my deserved fate. I had brought this upon myself with my wicked actions. And as the sun set on the horizon, casting its last rays upon my broken body, I knew that my legacy would forever be one of infamy and shame.

My crucifixion would serve as a reminder to all those who saw it - a warning to those who dared to commit such a heinous crime. And as I took my last breath, I prayed for forgiveness and hoped that my death would bring closure to the victim and her family. For I, Marcus Lucius, was a guilty man, and my punishment was just.

It's now in the next Cruxer's Digest project.

 

[Madiosi]

The Ecstasy and the Agony​

Here is a short story in the spirit of “Waiting for Judicial Corporal Punishment”. I hope you enjoy!

Picture by DarkFoxAI

View attachment 1449686

(L-R) Ella, Madison, and Sadie

1.

“Look bitches,” Madison said to her best friends Ella and Sadie, “Are we going to take it to the next level at the prom or what? Brock gave me some pills to try. It’s one of our last times to party with the class before we get out of the shithole.”

Ella and Sadie looked skeptical, but Madison had always been a little wild. The three eighteen-year-old beauties had been friends for years and typically stayed out of trouble. They drank a little at parties, and Madison had tried weed but didn’t use it regularly.

“Brock says Ecstasy is no big deal. It will help us have a good time. You know how fucking lame the dances can be. Maybe it will even make the DJ seem cool!”

***

The night before, Madison gasped as Brock’s rock-hard pole slid deep inside her. They had almost immediately started having sex when they began dating a few months ago, and she could not get enough. Brock, with his square jaw and athletic body rippling with muscles from years of football workouts, knew how to satisfy her lust. His swarthy face gave the impression that he was in his twenties. Madison knew that he did not stay with one girl very long, but this was too good.

Brock’s strong rhythmic strokes brought Madison to an orgasm that built like a wave from her drenched vagina and crashed over her body. Lying beside him afterward, it took a while to catch her breath.

“When are your parents supposed to be home? I think they can tell when we’ve done it. They’ll think I’m a slut.”

“Fuck it. They don’t give a shit. I’ve seen my Dad checking you out!

“Perv! He is an older version of you though, and you are very hot.” Madison pressed her warm and sticky body into his side while coaxing his manhood to hardness again. “I can’t wait to see you in your tux this weekend.”

“It’s gonna be fucking lit once we leave the dance. The limo’s all set up to take us to the lake house. We’ll have everything we need.”

Brock opened the nightstand drawer and gave her a baggie containing several pills.“Take one tablet of this Ecstasy at the prom and it’ll carry you through to the lake. Give a couple to your friends. Maybe Jackson and Cole will actually get some ass too if the girls loosen up.”

Madison laughed and playfully punched him. She didn’t know if Ella and Sadie would have sex with their guys at the lake, but she planned on getting plenty from her boyfriend.

Brock enveloped the top of her small left breast with his mouth, tasting the salt of her skin and giving her nipple a swirl with his tongue. Madison’s body tingled as he ran his hand down her flat belly and over her cleanly shaven mons. Brock kneaded her yearning pussy with his thick fingers before rolling on top for another round.

2.

The music thumped at prom as the three girls danced together, tipsy from pregaming in the limo with their White Claws. Brock appeared somewhat sober due to his high tolerance, but Jackson and Cole were on the verge of being trashed and carefully tried to avoid attention from the chaperones. Madison led her giggling friends into a deserted hall.

“OK girls, here are the pills. Take one now and save the others for the weekend. The boys won’t know what has got into you. Hopefully it will be them!”

“You’re awful!” Ella laughed, grabbing Madison’s arm.

“Alright give me one of those things!” Sadie said firmly with a smile. She might give Jackson a little surprise later.

As the girls jokingly held the pills over their open mouths, they heard something that made their blood turn cold.

“One of what things?” said Sgt. Jones, the school’s resource officer from the police department. As he emerged from the shadows, the friends knew that they were in trouble.

The shocked prom goers gawked as the frightened girls were led through the crowd in handcuffs. Their dates discreetly slipped out of the auditorium in all the commotion. Ella’s boyfriend Cole had second thoughts about leaving without trying to speak with her, but Brock convinced him that he would get in trouble. The boys beat a hasty getaway in the limo.

Justice was swift for the friends. Charged as adults with possession of drugs on campus, they plead guilty to avoid long prison sentences. The harsh consequences would come within weeks.

The school was abuzz with the news after the court hearing. Three of the hottest girls in the most popular crowd would be paddled on their bare backsides. This naturally launched thousands of lurid fantasies in the minds of their schoolmates.

3.

The brief time in jail seemed like an eternity for the unfortunate trio. On what would have been their graduation day, the girls were hauled from their cells and ordered to strip naked in the punishment room. They were roughly stretched over wooden horses, bound at the wrists and ankles facing away from the gathering spectators. With heads dangling toward the floor and gleaming white bottoms positioned at the apexes of the frames, each girl awaited two dozen brutal and humiliating blows.

Ella’s long limbs trembled, and her nubile body glistened with nervous perspiration. She had been captain of the dance team and an accomplished student, but her college scholarship was now revoked. Tears stung her eyes as she thought of the concern and disappointment on her parents’ faces during jail visits.

Ella had let Cole unhook her bra and caress her firm upturned breasts, but wouldn’t let him take off her shirt, despite his attempts. Her face now burned with embarrassment at her public nakedness. Her sobs intensified at the realization of the coming beating. Her soft bottom cheeks had never even known a spanking.

The normally brash and confident Madison pitifully begged for mercy and promised to behave. She squirmed in her restraints, tiny nipples erect with fear on the breasts flattened to her chest. Why had she accepted the pills from Brock? He had quickly moved on to the class whore Gina while she was about to suffer for his drugs.

Sadie’s pale skin blushed deeply at the exposure of her privates and shapely chest. She vainly attempted to squeeze her toned thighs closed to cover her sweet pink opening and the wisps of golden brown pubic hair. Always cool and collected during her pageant competitions, Sadie now felt beads of sweat pour from her dainty underarms for the first time as panic overcame her.

4.

Officers took up their positions behind the girls as the sentence was read. Just then, a group of their classmates boisterously arrived to enjoy the show on the way to the graduation ceremony. Many had been jealous of the girls’ status and wanted to witness their disgrace. Others were just there to see them naked. They cheered and made lewd comments before being shushed by the guards.

Brock was among the group with his redheaded vixen Gina, her large milky breasts barely contained by her graduation dress. Standing in front of him in the tight crowd, she ground her ass into his massive boner. Brock felt no guilt about the girls’ predicament and strained his neck to get a better view of Ella and Sadie with their intimate areas on full display. He now wished he had tried to sleep with them too.

Three thick paddles simultaneously struck the girls’ twitching behinds at the count of one, and the force of the blows sent them bucking forward with anguished cries. The officers cruelly waited for up to a minute between strikes while the pretty victims shrieked and moaned. With time allotted for a medical check after the first dozen, the poor girls’ hell would not end for over half an hour.

It's now in the next Cruxer's Digest project.

 

[Madiosi]

A simple spanking story for a quick joy of passionate spankos and DD people.


My name is Augusta, and after my twentieth birthday, I became famous with the book series Hardworking Coleen. It is about a soap facotry girl who solves mysteries. Before that, I married Albert, the most handsome specimen in the class. Half the girls in the class wanted to feel his arms on their backs, lay their heads on his chest -and see what he was like down there.

However, after seven years spent in the same house with Albert and five books written, it feels like an endless traffic jam. It concerns my career but also my family life.

Like this Saturday morning - I couldn't finish the chapter yesterday and was all the more sensitive to Albert's mistakes.

"You men are all either blind or stupid!" I yelled, picking up the box with the eyebrow hair and letting it land on the table again. "Why would I want to be blonde? I'm proud of my blackness. You should have taken this to Miranda!"

Albert sighed. "Darling, she's your girlfriend. Unlike me, you don't drive but can go to her. No offense, but you can't write. Your ass sits in the study instead of moving around the city or being at my disposal at night to caress."

I showed him the most pissed-off face of my life and locked myself in my study.

Yesterday, the creative part of my brain was wooden, and I was hoping there would be at least termites and worms today. When you fill your system with various neuroses and shaking-ups, you can suddenly get inspiration. But at most, I had tunnels full of cobwebs. I stared blankly at my computer monitor.

"It's only normal if you haven't lived in Virgin Rocks for two years," Coleen mused. "Tourists love the Wellington statue, and primary school boys get excited when someone asks them to. A keen history buff like Rowley would stop by, so I don't think Christopher Jr is giving us a true account of his day."

David shrugged. "He doesn't share his father's hobbies. Maybe he even forgets what he just heard about..."

I desperately wished I had written more original dialogue, but I was replaying lines I had heard somewhere. I felt like there was not enough air in my author cave, and opening the window wouldn't fix it. I returned to Albert, who still hadn't gone to Miranda's and was stuffing himself with gingerbread cookies in the shape of ballerinas and drinking the rest of his tea instead.

I waved my hand at him. "Sorry for earlier. Wanna coffee?"

He bit down on the other slender legs. "Sure. And make it sweeter than your words, honey."

In retrospect, I should have been wary of his tone.

However, ten minutes were enough, and we were laughing. I even began reminiscing episodes from my childhood, joy followed by torment.

"My dad always emphasized that bro and I can be very active and passive, but like most kids, in the opposite times than we need it. Fortunately, good parents know that we have the switch on our asses." I savored my coffee. "Whenever there was snow outside, we made angels in it, and whenever there was mud, we woke up the devils inside us. Then we were trembling while cutting the switches."

Instead of looking sympathetic, Albert smiled. "What did it look like when you were passive?"

"That was a little better but still unpleasant. If I got homework and didn't do it, it didn't matter how old I was. Dad just bent me over the knee and smacked me with that steel hand of his for over two minutes. If he thought I behaved inappropriately, he pulled down my pants and panties, and my bare ass paid the price. If he checked out on me and I still hadn't done anything, he unbuckled his belt."

"I suppose it was a successful strategy." My husband stopped drinking and stood next to me. I didn't understand it. He was looking at me so eagerly only when we were supposed to have sex.

“Get up, Augusta.

I listened to him, but his words confused me.

"You have writer's block. Maybe you need someone to motivate you. As I told you earlier today, I haven't touched your ass in too long."

I turned to him. "You want to spank me?!"

He came to me and unbuttoned my pants. "I want, and I will. Who knows, maybe you'll write a few chapters. Don't worry, you won't get on the bare. Yet."

It seemed that he wanted revenge on me for that morning, but I recognized that he would have the right to do so. And I was willing to explore if a spanking would help me find my lost inspiration.

I pulled my pants down to my knees, and in the middle of the drab dark clothes, the panties glowed - red like hot lava. I was glad I didn't wear thongs today.

Albert squeezed my hand mercilessly and, in a "Now you'll see" style, led me to the giant sofa from where we watched TV in the evenings. He sat down and let go of me.

"Over."

I had to bend my legs a little to relax on his lap.

I didn´t miss this in my life. When Albert stretched out his hand to my behind me, I probably jerked away. He wrapped his other arm around my waist, and for the first time in years, I painfully received a life lesson.

SMACK!!!

"AAAHHHHH!"

The intensity of the stroke made me horrified. What it would feel if the panties didn´t protect my ass? The first stroke was followed by the second, next to which the first seemed gentle. The third was even worse, and by the fourth, I started apologizing to Albert for how I had behaved before. It must have convinced him that the procedure was paying off because his hand whistled through the air, my cheeks were shaking like the landscape in an earthquake, and he couldn´t understand my pleas through my crying.

“Six of the best wouldn't be enough, of course, so you got four times that, dear.

Was that only twenty-four shots?

"Now Ms. Writer can go back and create."

I was grateful that he ended the spanking and thus received a kiss on the cheek. In the process, a few of my tears fell on his lips, and I received them back on my forehead. I ran from him to the study. Not very fast.

My bottom burned like a stove, but it reminded me to focus. So be it. I put a wet towel on the chair and tried to think of the best words that Coleen would say and those that David would say. I planned the reactions of false suspects and people who denied that a crime had happened. I wrote part of the scene with the discovery of the body.

I started well, but now I wanted to convey somehow that the people of Virgin Rocks, who turn up to the corpse in huge numbers, are amazed - even more - horrified. Because of this, I needed to watch some intriguing crime series where something similar happened. I took my favorite DVD and played it on the computer while the text of my book was waiting on the bar. At first, I wanted to choose a crucial scene, but then I dreamed and watched it from the beginning.

Of course, all dreams come to an end, and in this case, it wasn't waking up that ended it, but Albert's hand over my eyes.

"Mrs. Writer spends too much time on her study material!" He patted my shoulder and stopped my video.

"I needed to get an idea of the scene," I defended myself.

Albert laughed. "You've been watching this for eleven minutes, and I can't hear you typing. I think you need to realize that procrastination is bad. Stand up!"

The order screamed in my ear. It would be hard for me to talk back. But I also screamed when I saw Albert taking my computer from my desk. "Hey, why are you doing this?"

"You lie down there. After you pull your pants back down."

I gasped. "No! Not so soon! I don't want to experience that again!"

"Darling, you won't have it again. This time, you'll get a belt!"

It finally dawned on me."You mean like..."

"Yes, just like your dad used to do. Since the first ass-whooping wasn't enough, you need not only to be motivated but also punished for being lazy. Fortunately, you have another guy who can arrange it for you. And by the way, if you resist, I'll pull your panties down and give you three times as much as before."

Before he could touch my clothes, my pants were gone. I reached to the opposite side of the table and flashed my ass, hopefully at least a little seductively, to show that I wasn't that scared. I was glad he couldn't see my face. I swore I wouldn't scream right from the start because it was clear I eventually would.

SLAP!!!

"Owwwwwiiieeee!"

The leather of the belt kissed my panties with terrifying force, renewing the pain Albert's palm had left there before. I have howled, hoping my husband would take mercy on me.



In vain, of course. The throbbing of my butt returned with tenfold intensity. When I started to move, I got hit under the butt, so I better not do it again. When I felt a cold metal buckle on my scorched thigh at the seventh blow, I cried out loud. It was at that moment I felt like a little girl still going to school. I knew that Albert's parents also raised him strictly. I bitterly realized that, at home, I am still at the level of a child.

However, now I was a big girl, and after twenty-four wounds, I had perhaps the sorest bottom in my life. I hoped this was where the spanking could end because that's how much I got by hand.

"This is where I finished last time, but it didn't do you any favor, my dear, so I'll add one more."

I wanted to scream "unfair" but instead had to scream an erratic "Owwowowoewow" as soon as the strap held in my husband's powerful arm hit my sit spot. I didn't straighten up and caress my cheeks, but even that hurt, and I jumped in front of the table for a while.

"You'll probably have to lie down, but you'll mainly be writing. If you can't do that, I want you to clean the house."

Albert took me on his lap, locking my leg between his. He kissed my neck and stroked my hair. He made my distress go away, even though the pain would stay with me for a few days.

He then went to see Miranda, and I followed his instructions. I wrote lying down for a while, focused on the text itself. When I didn't know what to do next, I tried to improve a little, and since it was getting late, I prepared the ingredients for chili con carne, which I wanted to fill tonight's dinner with.

Once Albert returned, we rocked each other with our tenderness and enjoyed a dinner for which he complimented me. I went to change before he did. I put on my nightgown and made our beds. All you had to do was get under the covers and go out.

Albert came up to me and smiled slightly. "I think you can stop. Come to me and take it off."

Now I smiled again. I gently grabbed the nightgown´s hem and pulled it all over my head. I spread my legs a little and pushed my round breasts towards my husband. The round creatures called for a caress and the hardening nipples for a pinch.

"Turn around, dear."

Oh. I opened my mouth and turned around to show my bottom. Out of curiosity, I turned and looked in the mirror. It was unbelievable, but that's how I felt. My excellent ass, which I'd twirled around with since puberty, was red, sometimes blue to black, and a few lines indicated where a belt had attached itself to it through my panties. The pain came back under Albert's gaze.

"You can touch me everywhere else today," I promised him.

He took a step forward and pulled me by the arm.

“Today was good, but I'd like you to promise me a few things.” He pulled something out of his pocket that I wouldn't have expected this evening. A red hairbrush and waved it around.

"I want you to say: 'I will either write or work.'"

I obediently repeated it. "Look, there's no need for you to point it out to me, I'd-"

WHACK!!!

I tried to free my hand from his clutch, twisting it, but I couldn't. "I would have known this already without you!" My buttocks would be playing the painful tunes as the brush hit the affected area and penetrated the bare skin even further than the belt.

“Say: "When I'm writing, I will focus on that." “

“Yes, when I´m writing, I will focus on that."

WHACK!!!

This time, he aimed a blow at the other buttock. I staggered, but Albert held me and bent me forward.

“Now tell me, I will never be rude to my husband.

"I promise I will never be rude to my husband!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"If you ever forget that, dear, you'll get four strokes next time. At the beginning."

He let go of my hand, and I couldn't be more ashamed. I grabbed my ass, as if I wanted to protect myself from further blows while I wasn´t in immediate danger anyway, and I tried to hide the ashamed part of my body. I realized that from now on, my marriage would be about getting as many kisses and as few spanks as possible.

It's now in the next Cruxer's Digest project.

 

[Miras]

It's now in the next Cruxer's Digest project.

Thank you very much, I'm honored, of course!

 

[Ramon71]

It's now in the next Cruxer's Digest project.

Thank you! Definitely an honor!

 

[Miras]

I have nothing major this week written so I simply took something out of my older stuff in three parts.

Model Squabble

Part I

The coffee may have been sweet, but it didn't compare to the sound of Ronald's envelope hitting the table. I texted a few friends that I love them, putting the cell phone in front of me.

"You are at the bottom, so look at the whole collection, my little Mercury!" Ron laughed appreciatively and gripped my wrist as if he was groping my cleavage. As most guys I've met - nice ones or jerks - have wanted to do.

I looked around to see if the other girls from campus were sitting in the cafe. I opened the envelope and started looking at the first girl from the astronomy collection with bras in the appearance of planets. Black-haired goth girl Pluto still couldn't forgive her elimination, so she was pursing her lips and showing her middle fingers. The boys will still be most interested in the tiny panties with the skull. They suited her! Also, the see-through T-shirt did a fine job for Neptune, standing with mock embarrassment, puffing on the wave. Or the cap of Uranus, the only thing left of her flight attendant uniform.

The planets closest to the sun were the hottest anyway. The Native American in military panties represented Mars. She looked hard-faced, but a small toy in her hair lightened the atmosphere - the alien that appeared in the Flintstones.

"Won't there be copyright issues?" I asked cautiously.

"No one wants to remember him anyway," Ron waved his hand, a few brown drops splattering his blonde beard as he laughed.

The Earth was a model MILF with long hair dyed green. She had cities on her panties. I have to say that I was upset when Ron told me that I would not be Venus of his circle, but he always stuck to his artistic vision, despite the pleas of dangerously hot women. He insisted yellow-to-white cups looked best on young African-American endowed with sensual eyes. She was striking her ass with one hand and pointing to her golden panties in the form of the shell with the other, the index finger bent, perhaps to emphasize how easy it was to take them off.

I finally got the first planet. I saw myself, whose long legs, one straight, the other bent, were tipped with skates. Figure flaunted the slender waist and planetary breasts stretching everything, including the dirty gray surface of Mercury. But I didn't admit it in the photo. I smiled innocently and peeked out from behind the geeky glasses. Ron's hairdresser made wings from my chestnut hair, and I wore fishbones on my panties. You can say the bony motif connected me to Pluto.

"You did it!" I patted his hand. "This may be the first of many magazines we'll be featured in, and soon we'll be given fashion shows. To Ronald Fields, a photographer whose lewdness only benefits people!"

I picked a cup of coffee, but it was the best thing in my reach. Ron grinned and imitated me.

"And to Irma Benson, the hottest girl of Stamford!"

Anyway, the world will say goodbye to Irma Benson's name. Admirers of graceful curves and exclusive clothes will like her as - Salome Thunder! Perfect name. In private, her surname will change to Albany, and she will make sure that no one knows about it because Irma Albany sounds like the name of a distributor of residual mines from southern Europe.

After two hours of excited contemplation about the future, I left the park for a pizzeria, where I had an appointment with another guy. He was named Albany already. Lionel came from a higher year and studied English literature like me. He managed more with his tongue than Shakespeare did with his quill and was nicer than most embittered writers. We knew a long time ago that we wanted to be married. I sat opposite him and looked into his blue eyes, in which you could see kindness accompanied by slight frustration.The welcome kiss sorta relaxed him, but when he patted me on that restless spot above my legs, I felt the order: "sit down, or I'll kick you there." Had they brought us pizza then, I would probably sacrifice one slice and smeared tomato sauce on his glasses so he would see red literally.

"Are you angry when you see me? I was looking forward to telling you the breaking news."

“Glad you were lucky today, Irma."

Lionel spoke even those words in a pedantic voice. Our lecturers had sexier diction than him at the moment. He didn't speak again until they brought the promised ring with a spicy sauce and crumbled ingredients to our table. He cut his pieces but wasn´t concentrating on the food as if he had something stuck in his stomach. I was slowly warming my mouth, yearning for the services and experiences of the previous business.

Little by little, the mood of my fiancé improved, and he began to express himself in longer sentences. "I don't know what you did, but I had to wait at my dad's company. I sat in an office where the Bangladeshi guys forgot I was there. If I left, I'd remind them inappropriately, so I listened for over an hour to their thoughts on the export and pricing of our dysentery medicine."

I tried to look sympathetic, but only for so long before I thought I could use my simplest gift to all men - a sensual expression. "Tough day, nice night," I coaxed. "I was counting on you to make my day as well," Lionel stated, pulling his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. "When you sent me a text message, I thought you'd be on chat, and I messaged you repeatedly, hoping you would at least free me a little. Then I didn't want to call you."

"Jesus, sorry!" But it was unusual. I mostly heard the faint beeping. I would feel the vibrations from the inner pocket. I put my hand in it. "Damn it, where do I have it?" It embarrassed me in front of my man, but I had to open my purse on my lap and rummage inside. It suddenly dawned on me. The photo folder was more bulging than expected from its flat contents. I opened it on the table and demonstratively took out my cell phone.

"My bad. I took more stuff and stuck it together. For tonight you're the only one sticking things."

He nodded absently. "What did you reach for so passionately?" "That was just my triumph today!" It started badly, but it will end splendidly. "Look at the jewel of the collection. I have other girls here, but I'll show you their heads only."

He looked at the photo in amazement. He raised his head again, his eyes narrowed. "I'd love to hang it in our bedroom." He swallowed. "But to think that it might end up in the hands of horny guys who have never approached a woman in a lifetime and have a harder cock than a brain, or those who have ten of them in a day and don't ask for their permission anymore..."

I ate my slice of pizza and washed it down with mineral water. "That's one of the reasons I'm marrying you. The rich and caring husband intervenes whenever men who smile suspiciously too much approach her."He put the photo on the envelope and took my hand in mid-air. Gently, but his grip tightened.

"Irma, now you say you need me to protect you, but girls like you want to be independent. You can´t have it both ways. You are a smart and capable girl. You can lead a life without exposing yourself. My mother was just friendly to the wrong guys. They interpreted it in their way, and it encouraged them to do horrible things to her. What would happen to someone who bares her skin?"

"Oh my God," I gasped over the mother part. "But you aren't a child of the rape, are you?"

And you aren't an idiot, Salome Thunder, are you?

It was hard for Lionel to shake off his frozen smile.

"You're a capable girl," he paraphrased his earlier judgment of me. "And I'd like it if you didn't waste your parents' money and find a job where people won´t see you much."

"Let's finish it!" I pointed to a good half of the pizza between us. "'We can talk about it at your place.'

Lionel looked at the photo again and sighed. "Why, yes. I intend to show you something I thought would wait until the wedding night."Great! He's still thinking about sex. That means I can buy him.

He took me to his cozy little house. Of course, I threw my coat down in the hall, but the rest on me didn't have to wait long. I let Lionel take my hand and lead me to the bedroom. We kissed, but this time he pulled away too soon. I thought he needed some encouragement, turned my back to him, pushed out my bottom slightly, and slowly pulled my pants down, swinging my hips. I put them on the dresser next to the mirror, and now I stood on to look at my guy, into his eyes, and unbuttoned my shirt, button by button. I proudly looked at my figure in the mirror. Purple panties and a lace bra added something to the figure itself. It's like flowers. They are fine, if beautiful, but they should also smell good.

Now Lionel kissed me. Short and on the face. "Wait a minute. I'm going to get something."

He left the room, and I stopped liking it. The last time a guy said that to me, he returned with a wine bottle he wanted to shove into my pussy. When he came back, he was wielding a massive paddle in his right hand. It was a big rectangle of brown-to-orange wood, so long it looked like there was one more person in the bedroom with us.

I clenched a little. Now I didn't want to resist him but...

"Sorry, I have never been into this."

He raised the paddle a little higher to his chest. "That's not what it's about. You're not going to enjoy this, and I dare say neither am I. You're a free being, but the one acting irresponsibly, so I have to warn you." “You are not my father.” And my dad spanked me maybe once. With the hand.

It looked like Lionel had an answer ready for that. "No, but that doesn't mean I don't have a say in you doing stupid things. That's what a good marriage should be about. Not that husbands and wives will fight, but they'll say it in a way they'll remember for a long time. When it's one of them as an athlete and the other as a coach."

I got nervous and began to think it made quite a bit of sense, although perhaps it was because the absurdity overwhelmed me.

"What if I want to be photographed even after that?"

"Well, we will talk about it again, Irma. This isn't about not stealing cookies. It is about thinking about why you got spanked and thinking about it differently. Seems to me like you're only thinking about what you want right now. Which is selfish."

"Okay, yeah, thrash me!" I probably sounded a little hysterical, but I had to force myself to say it.

"Good. Take off your panties."

And today, I chose a piece with a hole. At least I gently threw the part of the undergarment on the bed.

"Grab your ankles."

The part of PE I hated maybe even more than the perspective of being spanked. I twisted so that my ass bulged obscenely, and my back ached. Lionel moved to my side.

"You will get seven strokes today. Seven is a lucky number. But I'm not going to count them unless you immediately deliver: 'I don't have to act like a slut to succeed.'

It scared me. When I felt the hard surface on my ass, most of all I wished he would give me the first blow already. When he did, I wanted him to stop.

Whack! Jesus! He had to put strength into it that I wouldn' it that I wouldn't have expected from him, even though I knew how strong his muscles were from making love.

"Aw! I don't have to act like a slut to succeed. Christ!"

WHACK!

He put more into this one, and I took a step forward, breathing raggedly. I said my sentence a little faster this time. I was afraid I might forget. Lionel held my back and stroked me for a long time. I wondered if I was hot for him that way. It must have felt good for him to subdue me like that, and I didn't mind if I made him feel good. If only hiney hurt less!

WHACK!

The entire surface of my asscheeks pulsed in protest - or perhaps acquiescence - at my additional education.

" Ido- - I don´t - I don't have to act like a slut to succeed! I'm sorry, Lionel, I'm sorry!"

"Honey, you heard me what I told you. I don't want you to feel guilty. The point is to make you think. And that takes more blows." Before he continued my thrashing, he unfastened my bra and let it fall to the ground. The sight of my naked body must have given him new energy for the fateful movement of the wrist.

WHACK!

Now I stepped back a little. The bra would have to be wet with tears in a moment, and even I thought I deserved severe punishment. This time I had to repeat my sentence because Lionel couldn't understand me.

"Enough please!"

He caressed the back of my neck, and the mercy felt like an incredible relief. "This is training. I can't stop it in the middle. But after each blow, I'll pet you nicely to make it go by faster."'

Lionel spanked my ass for the fifth time and bent over to me. He dried my tears, and this time we kissed long and passionately. A part of me blamed myself for forcing him to do this. However, it seemed like nonsense. After all, it was my beauty, my career, and my money!"

WHACK!

WHACK!!!

My beauty now suffered temporarily. I'm not going to see Ron with a black and blue ass to show him off in a bikini.

Will I even get to him? Every step hurt. If the fact that I wouldn't be able to move out of this bedroom should have strengthened the relationship with my fiancé, then the lesson served me well. Damn, it hurt just straightening up.

Lionel took my hand, which I wasn't rubbing my battered bottom with. He sat on the bed with me and let me sit on his thigh so my ass was not touching anything.

He stroked my back and breasts. "If someone wrapped the sun, moon, and stars and gave it to me in exchange for you, I wouldn't take it. Your body and soul are precious, my dear. I'm sorry if I hurt you, but I don't want someone to hurt you much more. Consider it. I wish to be your helper."

I hugged him carefully and cried softly on his shoulders. I still want to marry him and will think about every word he says.

But I will also show him I know how to manage my life.

 

[Miras]

Part II
It took me three nights til I could lie on my back at home and stop fidgeting. I thought I was the most trouble-free girl in the world, but it turned out that I had two huge problems. Both related to the person of the guy I wanted to share my life with. It bothered him how I wanted to use my beauty, which would piss off most women, but he is whacking my bare ass and calls it mentoring. How can his conscience survive the destruction of such a nice bottom?

I called Ron to say I had stretched my muscle and couldn't shoot for a while. He yelled at me, of course, and I had to remind him that I was sexier than Monica writhing in front of him with a sore instep or Katherina, now dancing in music videos, which she once managed with a dislocated leg. Thanks to that, he didn't give up on me, but I mainly swore to myself that I wouldn't give up on him or my fiancé. Of course, I was annoyed by what Ron said at the end of the call. "If you're not here in two weeks, I'll drive up to you, unbuckle my belt, and give you five lashes on bare for every day I haven't seen you!"

What is it with guys wanting to beat our asses all the time?

When I left Lionel that morning, careful with sudden movements, I emphasized something to him.

"We'll talk, but since you didn't give me much of a choice when it came to your agreement, I'll decide what our next debate will look like." Grudgingly, he agreed. What, did he think woman can´t come up with demands of her own? For a couple of days, I divided my time between college (where I took a small inconspicuous chair cushion) and surfing the Internet, where I tried to find out something about marriages where spankings are the order of the day. I just left out Christian web pages because it made me nervous.

It was plain to me that it was disgusting and that men for whom a woman was nothing more than a slightly more rebellious pet used to treat their wives like that. So why did so many wives go along with it?

"Mark used to come home late from work, and I greeted him by marching up to him, shoving a wooden spoon in his face, and yelling at him," writes Jordie from West Virginia. "Our life would have been unbearable if he hadn't run out of patience, taken the wooden spoon out of my hand, and forced me to arch my behind. I continued to be defiant. He hiked my skirt, but it didn't help much. He pulled my panties down, and it wasn't long before I promised him I would be good. I got fifteen extra strokes to get away with it so easily. Since then, I never raise my voice and cook with the wooden spoon diligently so that Mark doesn't have to use it for something else ". Should I be afraid of my man? Jordie did not enjoy her experience, and I have not heard of wives being spanked other than for pure kink until recently."It's true that being slapped by a strong man's hand is incredibly sexy," writes Stephanie from North Dakota. "But the sexiest thing for me is that my husband doesn't forgive me for everything, that he cares about how I behave, and that it doesn't go unanswered. Well, and yes, if he's not mad at me, we often make love to each other to reconcile." So Lionel said many sweet words to me, but when my ass was crying in vain for help, I didn't feel like having sex.

Some enthusiasts were far more creative."When my husband punishes me for something during the month, it's always with his hand, sometimes on my panties, sometimes on bare," confides Michelle from California. "He keeps everything recorded in The Punishment Book, and every last Friday of the month, I hand that to him, dressed only in a shirt and knickers. He then decides what my predominant problem is. For disobedience or disrespect, I get a long spanking with a belt. Trouble dealing with housework, he cures by the carpet beater. He rewards unladylike behavior in society with the hairbrush. I can defend myself, but the final decision is up to him." Well, my fiancé may not be that inventive, but on the other hand, he reached for one of the worst tools.

Negotiations had to occur far from his comfort zone. Somewhere where would I be in control and show him what I thought of his impossible methods. I betrayed myself and posted an ad titled "I want to talk about sensual alternative lifestyles" on the physical bulletin board of the university and its social network. Potential friends who answered usually wanted me in a harem or a mixed group, but I hung up the phone quickly or blocked them on the Internet. After filtering, however, I came across the cute blonde Pearl, who lived a little differently with her husband, Paul. I met her on campus, and even though she and her husband were Democrats-voting losers, I found her sympathetic to how their lives might have affected Lionel. I told her that he would be excited, and I invited him on the condition that he adapts to their expectations. He gritted his teeth, but his eyes lit up, which probably should have warned me.

I knocked on the door of the apartment. Throughout our walk, Lionel regularly lost and regained control of his limbs. Pearl opened for us, dressed only in a bathrobe, but a smile enriched her visage. It would be suitable not only for a princess but also for a queen or empress. "Lionel, will you want to help with that?" I asked, already exhausted. "No, dear. I will get over it." He overtook me and took off his socks. Before this visit, we had to shower ourselves.

Next came the jacket. Lionel folded his pants on the dresser, revealing his divine calf muscles. He still instinctively turned to the door as he removed his shirt. All the while, I eschewed everything. It was true I wasn't shy in front of Pearl, though.Even while pulling down his boxers, he was trying to show his left hip to our hostess. Underwear went down, and he resigned. I peeped back to admire his round hairy ass, but he was already adjusting the long cock towards Pearl. He gave her an eloquent pleading look.

No one had to ask her to submit to the conventions of her home for long. The robe ended up at her feet. I stood next to her and rested my head on her shoulder. Two completely naked, seductive beauties were smiling at him. And he was looking at us, his hands dangling in front of his crotch unequivocal. We both had killer legs. Although Pearl had slightly smaller boobs than me, her soccer balls must have been a curious alternative to my rugby ones.

I felt an advantage over him. I stroked his right buttock as Pearl led us away to introduce her to her husband. He touched the small of my back for that and roughly pushed me away. I tried not to think about it when Pearl introduced Paul to us at the low table in the living room. He was smaller and leaner, but unlike my fiancé, he had a toned stomach, muscular legs, and a slightly longer male member. However, his face was unusually narrow, and his playful eyes were looking at us from behind the glasses - the only piece of clothing - revealing a mind accustomed to unusual ideas.

"Welcome. With friends, a party grows, and a party can become a mixed harem!"

He waved to us, but a dismayed Lionel had already sat on the couch before the invitation, and I followed him. The sheep's fleece rustled me pleasantly down there. While Pearl set up her round backside for us to leave and bring us treats, my fiancé kept covering his tool. It was no longer clear to me if he didn't want hosts seeing it or if he was waging a futile struggle with his erection.

"Your man is still uncomfortable with our customs, I see," Paul said with a smile. Lionel was silent. I gladly answered. "He probably thinks he's the only one who can go against society's trends. He also apparently didn't understand that I wanted to show him how a bare body is normal."

Lionel objected sharply. "I'm not talking about things people do in private. Sure, go naked, but just like having sex, you're not bothering the public and putting yourself in danger!"

I cleared my throat. "Yes, dear. You gave me a sermon on how women who expose themselves are a risk to themselves. But the deviants who prey on the women they are attracted to will not discriminate and will always target us no matter how we reveal ourselves. Moreover, by what we do, we show that we are not afraid and aware of our power over men."

Lionel was suspiciously quiet, and I became annoyed that his famous eloquence couldn´t shine through. His face stayed rigid until the moment someone rang the bell. No one asked why he was smiling all of a sudden. Pearl put on her robe and went to the door. She returned dismayed. "Some redhead," Pearl said slowly. “And she refers to you.” Our host addressed my fiancé.

“Let me talk to her." Lionel suddenly came to life above his waist. He went to the door and opened it bluntly. He whispered something to the person on the other side and pulled her into the corridor.

Pearl was getting upset, and I quickly walked over to her. We stood as if we were preventing the woman from entering further than half of the entrance hall.

The woman was small, not a dwarf, but her head was at chest level with the remaining ladies. Her ample breasts were visible under the blue semi-translucent dress, and the jeans accentuated the curves of her ass and shorter but slender legs. However, I was disgusted by the poisonous pink of her lips and nails. "Should I undress, already here?" she asked in a dull voice.

"Of course, dear!" Lionel testified. That's the local tradition." The woman just greeted us briefly and began naturally shedding her clothes. As we quickly learned, she didn't even bother with underwear.

"Honey, Pearl, this is Natasha. She's a perfect hooker that I had fun with in my first year of university before I met the supposed future love of my life. My dad got to know her intimately too. Since we decided to celebrate unconventional lifestyles, I thought you might like her."

His words went from my ears to my throat, and I needed to cry. "Was this necessary, you bastard?!"

Lionel calmly pulled out a wallet from his pants on the chest of drawers and pulled out a bulging wad of dollars thick, almost like his cock. He put them in Natasha's discarded jeans.

"Irma, I used to love you, but as it turns out, you're not only unreasonable, but you also make deals with complete lunatics, and I can't make you a better wife." He looked at Natasha and then back at me. "If we're not going to be married, at least you will be the inappropriate company for a while today.”

"Did you hear that?!" I turned to Pearl and Natasha alternately. "He just insulted us all! Lionel, I think I'm beginning to understand. You have a problem with any woman who publicly expresses her independence. You think we're only good for shagging you!"

"I haven't had the honor here with madam yet." He tossed his head towards Pearl. "Now you hate me. Let me get dressed so I can leave and leave you to your shameless flock."

"No, no, no, no." I contradicted him. "No," I added. "Natasha, were you paid for anything other than to come and strip?"

"Well, I was going to stay like this for a while."

I rummaged through my clothes and found a thousand dollars. "I'll give you a bonus for helping me punish this douche."

To my surprise, she was red in the face. "A little less will do!" she declared, throwing herself onto Lionel's arm. He fought back but lost control of her anyway as Pearl grabbed his wrist, and I put in all my girl power as I clutched the other arm.

"Are you completely out of your mind? I don't want anything to do with you, and you don't need to do anything with me!"

"And you thought of me uncomprehending. Lionel, you are a boy who has forgotten his upbringing, so we must give you an extra lesson." Four unclothed persons crossed the living room, one of them involuntarily.

"Pearl, do you want to risk the trouble?" Paul asked.

"He'll never want to talk about this," I assured him.

The Lady of the house quickly agreed with me about what we needed to do with him. With his loud complaints, we dragged my ex-fiancé to the bathroom, where Pearl, after some gymnastics, managed to remove the clothesline and cut it in two. We pulled the struggling Lionel to the corridor again and stopped his wriggling hands. Natasha bound his wrists and tied the other end to the bathroom handle. We took a picture of him on my cell phone and vanished for a while.

When we came back, we each had a different instrument in our hands. We were still naked but looked like an execution squad.

"Thanks to you, I got inspired on the internet," I said, patting the plastic ruler. "You told me once that you were a big believer in the metric system, so as a proper teacher, I will give you thirty lashes, one for every centimeter this instrument measures."

"You're a total cunt!"

"Don't worry. We'll get the bad manners out of you. Me, then here's Pearl as the lady of the house..." The hostess raised a wooden spoon. “She'll honor your ass thirty-six times, and, finally, Natasha..." The hooker stepped forward with a purple hairbrush. "Natasha will remind you that we're all ladies. Forty times. And before you go out of your way to not cooperate with us, let me remind you that we have your nude pictures and know some addresses."

"The world is still so prejudiced," grumbled Pearl.

Lionel's mouth twisted, and he bent down. I always liked looking at his ass, but now I mostly remembered the moment he made me stare at the floor and think about the wood of his paddle kissing me, the tough love style.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

He bore the first three blows from me bravely. "Now you!" I said to Pearl. The wooden spoon is fiercer, and Pearl used it to punish the big guy professionally, like a little boy who let his mom down.

"Owww! Owwwwwwwww..."

He was already moaning, and his ass was changing faster than if he had sunbed him on a Hawaiian beach.

"Me again now."

"Owww! Dammit! Stop!"

I could hear him wanting to use much more profane language that he kept to himself, but that didn't mean I was going to spare him. With each blow, I gained strength and used the red patches of his formerly pale skin. It was my fertile field. Natasha did not disappoint either. In the beginning, the beating given by her was more symbolic because maybe she was used to it by customers, but in the second round, she improved. Even one stroke of her hairbrush was something that would have scared the hell out of you if you were seven years old and you saw a parent do this to a friend of yours and you realized that this could happen to you.

The punishment continued, and each blow was scorching Lionel's skin from his asscheeks to his thighs, showing no mercy. It was remarkable that he reacted differently to his punishers. He wiggled and hissed during blows from Natasha, but only the punished part of his body moved. He tried to stay in one place during the strokes from Pearl, even though he screamed every time.

But when I was beating him, he cried and wanted to get away at all costs, which didn't make sense at first sight, for I ruled with the mildest instrument. However, I also added to him, and instead of the promised thirty, he received a little over fifty from me. Of course, as he was crying there and I realized that Pearl and Natasha were already over, I started thinking again about the life we wanted to have together. I asked myself if he hadn´t remembered that too.

"Think about yourself," I said to the still-bent man, handing the ruler to Pearl. "if you want, we can still talk. About my work. About your attitudes."

I went to get dressed.

 

[Miras]

Part III
I wasn't sure if I was feeling so guilty or if Lionel's method had short-circuited my brain, but since we last saw each other a week ago, I'd been researching adult spanking online even more. Along the way, I suddenly find myself in the waiting room of that disciplinary guy.

I sat on a long bench and greeted a swarthy beauty in a long orange skirt. "Juanita," she introduced herself to me automatically. "Sixteen strokes of the cane for infidelity. What are you in for?"

A little cheeky, aren't you?

"My fianceé mistreated me. I'm depressed, and heard, that it´s possible to be cured by a belt. Twenty-five strokes." Just like with the local businessman, I couldn't accurately describe to her the events that led me here.

Juanita shrugged. It didn't sound too draconian next to her prescribed punishment. “I hope he doesn't have hidden cameras in there.”

The door of the disciplinarian opened below three minutes after my arrival. An older but still handsome lady came out of them, wiping her tears with a handkerchief. I noticed that she jumped forward as she walked out into the hallway. Someone had slapped her sore ass. Perhaps it was a humiliation for an extra charge.

"Who's next?" a shoulder-curled man looked out from behind the door. I was horrified by the idea of those palms slapping my ass and the speed with which those arms must be bringing down all kinds of tools on defenseless female backsides. Juanita signed up. "Adultress," she said meekly.

The man nodded. "I've been waiting for you." He went out. Everything about him was stunning, whether I looked at the leather shoes, the tight pants, or the green t-shirt spread across his broad chest. “I have something for you here." He handed her an orange package. The woman reluctantly unpacked the prison uniform. "Behind the screen, you'll change at my place. Now we'll go." He took her by the hand and practically dragged her to his studio.

"Do you have something like that ready for me too?" Before he closed it behind me, I managed to catch up, hold the door and catch a glimpse of his assistant in a schoolgirl uniform adjusting the straps on the penalty bench.

"Of course not. You didn't hurt anyone. I have a nice therapy couch ready for you." I nodded but put my ear to the door as it closed. Not much happened for a long time, and even then, I did not hear much as Juanita, obviously nervous, was changing her clothes. Then there was a creaking bench, and things got worse. Even the best wood couldn't completely drown out the sound as the rod sliced through first air and then the sexy skin.

Juanita's reaction started with a weak "Aww", but by the third blow, it sounded like the man behind her was whipping her. I couldn't see them, but I could vividly imagine him looking at her ass, enjoying both what he saw and heard. And while we were at it, I again heard him reproaching her for something, talking to her like the lowest of whores, with her not responding, just sobbing more and more. The most distinctive sound remained the sound of the cane, which gained intensity with each blow, to be mixed with Juanita's lamentation and promises that she would not go into bed with anyone but her husband ever again.

I sat down stunned. I suddenly couldn't understand how someone could confide in a stranger like that. To admiration, yes, that was the essence of my beloved profession. But entrusting yourself to be punished by someone, you can't know if he deserves your trust?

When I heard the scream of the caned beauty even on the bench in the waiting room, I lost my temper and decided not to wait for my turn. I got up and ran away. I stopped at every stair to turn and see if I was being chased by the over-aged schoolgirl or even by a burly alpha male. It seemed that either I was not worth their pursuit, or Juanita had not yet received her sixteenth stroke. I took a few steps outside, and my cell phone started ringing. Even though I was still worried about talking to Lionel, I picked up the phone without looking at the number. My hand and ear were shaking.

“Crazy woman…” It was the disciplinarian. "I don't know why you had to embarrass yourself. It's just a belt. Lots of dads make their kids stronger like that. I'll let your panties stay on, even though I´ll regret it."

“It is not just about pain.” I wished it would end, but I also wanted to confide in finally. "You just can't help me with this depression. I have to talk it out with my guy."

The man on the other phone sighed. "Look, I don't have anyone after you today, and I studied psychology and psychiatry. I helped people for some time until I realized that a thrashing clears the head more than 90% of conversations about unfulfilled dreams. So, if you want, we can have a discussion. Then we'll decide what will work best for you."

I returned, and the schoolgirl brought me two coffees before I told him both parts of the story. The couch was indeed firm but pleasant to the touch. Soon I imagined the blood rushing to my private parts on it. During one activity or another. Disciplinarian rolled his eyes. "So from what you're telling me, you would need to be thrashed for both the depression and a guilty conscience."

I just nodded.

"Then we won't prolong it!" he shouted. He stood up and quickly unbuckled his belt. "I don't think I want to give you your money back. Before I count to five, I want you ready. If you don't, I won’t permit you even panties. Anyway, you get your contracted twenty-five! One."

Again, I was surprised by my reaction, but I didn't dare to disobey. I unbuttoned my pants and showed him a tiger face that covered my cheeks. I heard a disciplinarian taking a position there, but I stopped him. "Wait!" I shouted.

"What's happening?"

"This wouldn't have a class. Wait. I have to grab the back of the seat to look properly helpless." I realized my intention. "Now I have to arch my back to make it properly seductive... Spread my thighs a little this way, and now so guys will think of the pussy I'm hiding between them. Wait! I know what we're going to do. Keep your money and take my picture!"

"Why?" he asked desperately.

"I'm going to text my fianceé. We'll meet here on neutral ground!"

"Tell me, were you hoping I'd come?"

Lionel refused the chair and looked at me, sitting on the couch. You could see that it wasn't just his bottom that hurt, and I think he was hoping that I would wrap my arms around his shoulders and start apologizing to him. Otherwise, he would be tempted to do just that.

"Don't be a fool," I told him. "I wanted to see you. Otherwise, I wouldn't have invited you. I also thought if we are ready, we could make diplomacy here in the House of Discipline. You were afraid that I would attract attention to me as a model. Angelo, show him the photo!"

Angelo, the disciplinarian, showed Lionel something he had taken a picture of at the start. I, being ready for punishment with my back to the photographer, still trying to be a great seductress.

"So what?"

"I realized I can take interesting pictures even if I win´t show my face. I'll be more attractive to more specialized guys."

Lionel looked at me hopefully but was still stunned.

"I don't know if you could make a career out of it. Modeling requires you to see more of the figure. And spanko fetishists love to see a spankee scream."

I raised my hand. "Angelo, show him photo number two!"

He presented him with a more sophisticated piece of work. Tiger panties were visible, and my hair covered my face, but my open mouth showed through the veil.

"The beast with two roars. I have more ideas to pitch to Ron. Naughty Queen of Arabia. Phantomess of the opera. Lady Half-moon. Professor with a little girl's mask. However, I only ever get hit enough to have a little red ass, nothing more." Lionel walked over to me and stroked my cheek. "Yes, I think that kind of modeling would be acceptable to me."

Our kiss took minutes. As I started to pull away, Lisa, the schoolgirl, tapped me on the shoulder. "Don't forget your engagement gift."

"Of course!" I snapped my fingers and pulled something out from under the coach. “Since marriage is a game for two, I bought this from Angelo.“

He weighed down a pair of blue ping pong paddles. "Are you permitting me to strike anything other than the ball?"

I nodded but also pointed my middle finger in the air. "I'll let you wallop my ass, but I expect you to let me do the same sometimes. You recently proved that when you're angry, you can be shitty toward people you care about and who care about you. In our relationship, we have to prove mutual interest in each other."

I paused and turned around. I swung my bottom in all directions.

"Someone owes me twenty-five today. I'll leave the details to you, it's our engagement act. Show me one more time what happens when I am a misbehaving wife."

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!!!

For the first six shots, Lionel was still a little restrained, it was even pleasant for me, and I could hear Angelo laughing completely mockingly. Maybe that's why my fiancé got over his shyness, and from the seventh stroke, he made it clear that he intended to play as a goal-oriented player and merciless husband. After the twelfth blow, I bit my lips to keep from screaming, but Lionel surely haven´t noticed when he was unzipping and pulling my pants. They weren't on fire, but the clothing underneath them was pretty much. The only mercy granted was that Lionel, apparently due to his prudishness and two witnesses, left my ass at least partially protected for the remaining thirteen strokes. When I tried to dodge, he grabbed my hand, and the two following strokes were much harder. He, strict of all sudden, did not let go of my wrist until the conclusion of the spanking. It paled, compared to his regular paddle, but I jerked away from him anyway and started to rub with the old familiar mixture of admiration and revenge."Now we will see what happens to an irresponsible husband!" I said once I had my pants back on.

Lionel offered me a paddle, but I just took the other one. Now my rules applied. Lionel bent over, and I pulled everything off him and displayed his sack to Lisa. I did the opposite of him, always stretching out my hand and hitting him with such force as if I was testing the durability of the paddle.

“Lionel…

WHACK!

"I think we can all agree…"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"I have a right..."

WHACK!!!

"...to be offended when you tried..."

WHACK!!! WHACK!!!

"...to control my life!"

WHACK!!! WHACK!!! WHACK!!! WHACK!!!

“So it's only natural that I have a share in controlling yours!”

I remained silent throughout the sentence, which was not the case with my fianceé. He relieved himself by shouting, even when I spoke to him, but I was speaking loud enough so that he would understand my message. I was really out of breath. Beating a guy is exhausting, but like most physical activities, it's also refreshing. As soon as the twenty-fifth stroke thundered, I asked Angelo to go for the camera again and take pictures of our bare asses - mine pink and Lionel's red. Before we even said goodbye to him and Lisa, we taped them to the backs of the paddles.

We each waved to relatives crying with joy from one window of the limousine, and of course, I couldn't resist and showed myself from the waist up through the sunroof. I blew them air kisses and waved my arms like a bird, but I had no intention of flying anywhere. The warmest nest was waiting for me!

"It's senseless. We've already lived together as husband and wife. And the color white is the most senseless of all." I pointed to my wedding dress. "White innocence! If I were to consider everything I've been through..."

"You would have to wear a black hole," Lionel finished my thought.

Hmmm... "Black hole... Maybe you just dropped a new design for Ron!"

Lionel scratched his chin and turned on the privacy screen. "Sorry, honey, it seems you think too much about your work. Even after you were asked to focus on loving and honoring me. I guess it won't hurt if I warm up your hiney a little on the way home. Then only the pleasant part of the marriage´s beginning awaits."

"Well, that's quick," I said jokingly. "Since we've just started and I haven't actually done anything, I insist it's just on the panties!" I already prepared the request in advance today.

"I accept," Lionel said, bending me over his lap, It took him a while to get the skirt out of the way, but I think it satisfied his fetish. He stroked my bottom gently.

"Looks like you're fatter today." He lifted the hem.

Fuck.

“Honey, you wouldn´t get anything with this inside.“ He took out some padding from under my panties and showed it to me as if I hadn't put it there myself. Roll of the first official Salome Thunder photos, starting with her getting spanked with she-devil face paint.

"Your demand loses its validity due to the deception," Lionel informed me, pulling my panties down for the first time as a husband.

Slap! Slap! Slap! “Sorry, but you'll need it for the whole ride.“ Slap! "And just wait until I reach the paddle at home!"

Both paddles hang crossed in our bedroom. We thus remind ourselves of our team play and respect for husband and wife´s expectations.

 

[Veronika Crucifie me]

The crucifixion of Veronika, Queen of the Jews​

My disciples are following me into the garden on this sad evening.

I know that one of them has betrayed me, sold me to the Romans and that they are on their way to arrest and judge me.

I've become a risk to public order; I represent the new religion that recognises only one God and rejects the official Roman gods.

But no matter how much the Romans forbade us to meet and pray to our God, our numbers grew daily, and we were no longer afraid of them.

The Roman soldiers have entered the garden, and as Queen of the Jews, I refuse to be touched, to be defiled by their hands, but they seize me brutally, untie the belt of my tunic and use it to tie my hands behind my back.

I was then thrown into a cell where there were already other men and women.

They recognised me, knelt before me, and prayed together all night.

In the morning, I was taken out of the cell and dragged before Pontius Pilate to be judged.

There he is, puffed up with pride, sitting on his throne, looking down on me, but I don't lower my eyes.

"And you dare to say that you are the Queen of the Jews, you queen? Where is your crown? Where is your kingdom?"

"My kingdom is in heaven, and the Holy Spirit crowns me. God protects me, and I am not afraid of you, who are nothing on earth."

He shouted in anger: "Punish this impertinent woman, undress her and give her twenty lashes immediately!"

The soldier next to me unties my hands and opens my tunic to whip my chest, but as I no longer have a belt, nothing prevents my tunic from falling to the ground.

Suddenly, I'm completely naked in front of everyone, hiding my breasts and sex as best I can with my arms and hands.

Pontius Pilate saw my gesture of modesty and realised that by humiliating me; he would be able to punish me even better, so he ordered my arms to be tied to the ceiling.

The soldier pulled on the rope passing through the ring above me and blocked it, forcing me to stand on tiptoe.

I blush with shame; everyone looks at me and laughs to see me humiliated like this.

But my nakedness isn't the hardest thing to bear once the soldier starts whipping me with all his might.

All I can think about is the pain of the whip, which tears my back and wraps itself around my chest; I spin around under the blows, and now it's my breasts he's whipping so hard it feels like he's going to rip them off me, I scream in pain.

Then he whipped my buttocks and thighs so hard I could hardly breathe.

I've had my twenty lashes, and I'm hanging there by my arms, almost unconscious.

I don't dare look up any more, the shame of being naked in front of everyone taking over and hurting me just as much.

"You're not proud any more, queen of nothing! Given your beauty, perhaps you could become the queen of the whores of Jerusalem; it would be a good idea to offer you to my soldiers!"

I look him in the eye again and shout, "I'd rather die, you Roman dog!"

Pontius Pilate smiles at me:

"Since you would rather die than spread your legs for my dear soldiers, you will suffer the fate of whores and thieves, and tomorrow you will be crucified in front of your dear disciples on Mount Golgotha.

And may she remain naked like the whore she is until her last breath on the cross."

I am dragged naked to a cell where there are already two other men condemned like me to be crucified tomorrow.

One of them throws himself on me to rape me, but the second hits him and pulls him back, telling him that I am the Queen of the Jews and that he must respect me.

I prayed with him all night and felt reassured: if this is my destiny for the glory of my God, then so be it; I am happy to die for him.

At dawn the next day, I was taken from my cell and dragged, still naked, to the public square in Jerusalem.

A huge crowd was already there; the Romans had wanted my humiliation to be complete, and my execution on the cross had been proclaimed yesterday in all the streets of the city.

I recognise several of my disciples who, seeing me naked, are ashamed and bow their heads so as not to look at me, but then I begin one of our divine songs, and they now look at me, singing in unison with me.

The soldiers begin to fear this crowd singing with me.

And instead of flogging me in front of them as Pontius Pilate had ordered, they took me quickly out of the city to the Venue of my martyrdom.

As we left Jerusalem, I saw the two men with whom I had spent the night standing before me, each with a large wooden cross slung over his shoulder.

They are dressed.

The centurion tells me to pick up the cross still on the ground and orders me to carry it like them.

It's so heavy that I can barely lift it, so one of my disciples helps me and is immediately whipped.

The sun is now well up, and I'm starting to pull more than carry this enormous cross, tearing the skin from my back.

The crowds that have gathered on either side of the path that leads to the top of Mount Golgotha insult me, some touching my breasts and buttocks as I pass slowly in front of them, one even passing a hand between my thighs, while the soldiers call me a whore and tell me to move on while regularly lashing me.

My bare feet are bleeding, the sun is burning my bare skin, and I can't feel my shoulder, which the cross has crushed.

I finally reached the top of Mount Golgotha, completely exhausted.

But I am relieved that I no longer have to carry this heavy, rough wooden cross that has torn the delicate skin of my back and my hands, which are now bloody.

The Centurion forced me to lie on my back on the cross, and he placed one foot on my forearm to block it; while he kneeled, I saw him pick up a giant hammer and a large nail and drive it into my wrist, making me cry out in pain.

But that's nothing compared to what I feel when he takes his first swing at the nail, which drives with a thud into my skin but stops between the bones of my wrist.

Another big thud, and the nail meets the wood.

The pain is horrible, and I scream like an animal.

But he feels no pity; on the contrary, he looks at me smiling, and he keeps hammering the nail in until the head of the nail crushes my wrist completely.

After nailing my other wrist, I'm totally at his mercy. The crowd screams with pleasure at seeing me naked and open to their gaze, and the centurion spreads my thighs to show them my half-open sex.

In addition to the unbearable pain of the nails hammered into each of my wrists, there's the shame, the horrible shame.

I know I'm going to die on the cross, but even more so, knowing that I'm nothing more than the body of a naked girl offered up to the lustful gazes of these boors who have come to witness my agony.

After leaving me with my thighs wide open to humiliate me even more and ordering me to stay that way or else he told me he was going to crush my knees with a hammer, he came back with two more long nails.

Instead of nailing my feet together, he began by nailing my right foot to one side of the cross with a heavy hammer.

The pain is so unbearable that I can't even scream, I can't even breathe, and I faint.

Then it was my other foot's turn, on the other side of the cross.

The same pain tore through my heart as he hammered in that second nail, leaving me with my thighs spread open for all to see, unable to hide my half-open sex.

When he and his soldiers begin to raise the cross, the pain becomes even more unbearable, the whole weight of my body supported only by the nails that tear into my palms and feet.

My cross is now upright between the two men condemned with me.

My crucifixion began hours ago.

I was fully nude in front of my disciples and the crowd of onlookers; I could see that most of the men and even women were looking at me with disbelief but also the desire to touch me, to possess me.

I could feel their huge wave of desire inside my own body; my nipples were erect, my pussy was dripping wet, and my legs were more soaked by my juices than by my blood; I could see and hear the crowd begin to murmur until it became a loud background noise.

It is when it happened.

Then suddenly, my body began to straighten, the pain flowing down my body like my blood, the pain escaping my body with my blood.

I was no longer in pain, and the look in the eyes of everyone around me was no longer the same.

Some went down on their knees in prayer, others beat their chests in lament, and the Romans themselves, including my chief executor, shamefully hid their erect genitals with their hands.

I felt a gentle, refreshing inner warmth where I had felt nothing but pain. I looked at them all, smiling. I was well, happy, naked as on the first day of my birth but clothed in glory by the Holy Spirit who filled me and gave me his strength and power.

Such power that by the sheer strength of my legs and thighs, which had previously been no more than useless limbs except for transmitting pain to me, I had the strength to pull out the nails driven into each of my feet.

I was still hanging by my arms, but in the same way, as with my feet, I pulled on each of my palms and tore out the nails that were still holding me to the cross.

Everyone was on the ground; there was total silence; concupiscence had given way to shame, which in turn had given way to amazement, an amazement that began to turn into veneration.

Despite having torn the nails out of my cross with my flesh alone, I was no longer bleeding; my scars were visible but no longer hurt at all.

I was naked before them like a goddess; the child of God made a woman come down to earth.

I raised my arms to heaven and recited the same prayers I used to recite to my disciples in my place of worship. All those around me accompanied my words, which resounded like a sacred word in the mountain air.

The words of our common prayer ascended to heaven, rolling down the slopes of Golgotha to Jerusalem, where the walls of Pontius Pilate's palace began to tremble in terror along with its occupants, even Pontius Pilate himself.

I was still at the top of Golgotha, beside the cross of my martyrdom. Yet, simultaneously, I was standing before Pontius Pilate, my spirit flying from one place to another, from Golgotha to Jerusalem, and from Earth to Heaven.

The dove of the Holy Spirit held in its beak a branch gracefully placed on my crown of thorns.

And suddenly, I was filled with light; my whole body had become light.

I went down the Mount of Golgotha by the same route on which I had carried my cross, under the whip's lashes and the crowd's jeers, but this time, there were only murmurs of adoration accompanying me.

I was naked, luminous, radiant with Divine light, and the crowd descended Golgotha with me; even the Romans who had crucified me were by my side, begging me to forgive them.

Halfway down, I stopped and told them that if they wanted to follow me, they had to do so in all humility and leave their clothes, finery and jewels behind.

And they all undressed, all naked, all equal before God and before me who represented him.

We all went to the river Jordan, and I entered the water first.

Then I looked back at them, who were waiting for me on the shore, all those naked, humble bodies from which desire had disappeared, naked as on the first day, naked and equal among themselves.

Then I called them by name, one by one, without hesitation, as if I had always known each one's name. I baptised them, one by one, in the water of the Jordan, starting with my executioner. This centurion was now just a big naked baby, crying and begging me to forgive him, which I did, kissing him on the forehead and imparting to him the peace of the soul of those who believe.

I baptised them for days and days, night and day, without ever feeling tired, without needing to sleep.

I am no longer Veronika, Queen of the Jews; I am God's daughter on earth.