.................................................................................................................................................
..................................................... PALM...............................................................
.................................................................................................................................................
........................................................Many years from now..........................................................
.................................................................................................................................................
..............................................................in a place not...............................................................
.................................................................................................................................................
...................................................................far from...................................................................
.................................................................................................................................................
......................................................................here.....................................................................
.................................................................................................................................................
......................................................................***.......................................................................
........................................................................*.........................................................................
.................................................................................................................................................
.................................................................................................................................................
.................................................................................................................................................

He almost missed it. A glint of color at the corner of his vision in the debris against the right
canyon wall. The surveillance camera on the ATV couldn't have seen it. Tucked under uprooted
scrub it had become visible only after his last right turn. With a loud: "DAMN! forgot to check my
messages!" Kern turned sharply left, and floored it sending the vehicle almost into a spin that
mounded sand, rocks and debris over the object covering it before the camera could reach it.
Skidding to a stop barely an inch from the left canyon wall he pulled out his portable phone and
punched his home number. There were no messages. Next he dialed Brent's number and left a
message: "Brent, this is Kern, sorry I forgot to check my messages earlier as you asked. Lidia
has not called yet. Have a good day." He started the ATV again and continued his slow crawl
down the canyon. A small light blinked on the controller's display "untraceable negative -
possible breach". 357 never slept. Morgan punched "disregard". As Patrol Commander he
could disregard it. He knew his men. He also knew the penalty...

Chapter 1 - "Plague"

from the Archive of Manuscript Records
Notebook 1 of Karel Selth (1961-2043AD)

Before the Plague, the years at the end of the second millenium witnessed major
breakthroughs in the fields of computer technology, artificial intelligence and robotics. These
advances enabled almost one tenth of the earth's population at that time to be connected by the
Great Link. The advent of the Universal Annotation, Translation and Editing System made it
possible for everyone on the Link to share information and conversation quickly regardless of
language or nationality. Many and vast advances in manufacturing, farming and distribution
made life easier, especially for those near the top of the economic scale, but many more were
left to marginal wages or unemployment. International discussions led at times to
disagreements so severe that more than half of those on the Link would disconnect in despair
and then reconnect shortly afterwards causing serious comunication and economic disruptions.
By a small majority of those Linked the UATE was expanded to include an emotional content
sensor that was very difficult to bypass. Not impossible, difficult enough to tame most of the
outbursts. For many it was frustrating at first, but in a remarkably short time worldwide language
usage drifted toward more sparse, logical and less emotional forms . In turn this led to the rise
of the Occamists and the minimalist philosophies. Simple housing, sufficient food, participation
in the Link and its mental challenges and games, these goals overshadowed the previous
striving for material possessions and further pressured the economic system.

It was at this time, in the second decade of the 21st. century that the Palm virus
appeared. Its effects were as lethal and global as they were kind. Few were spared. Where
bacterial populations were known to act cooperatively in many situations, this was the first virus
known to do so. Large as viruses go, complex, not clearly related to anything known at the time.
We know now that it remained in the muscles of the palms of the hands in very large numbers
without effect on the host until palm was pressed to palm for more than a few seconds in prayer,
anxious hand wringing and similar gestures. These actions would trigger unchecked replication
until the host succumbed. At that time the originally Western custom of the handshake had
become completely accepted as the common greeting everywhere, so the infection spread
quickly. Once triggered, the virus spread to the rest of the body. The interaction of one of its
surface proteins with those on brain neurons caused a chemical cascade that led first to a very
deep sleep and then to a coma and death. Victims usually perished within four to eight hours, it
was relatively kind. But the triggering mechanism eluded researchers. The sudden demise of
very large populations immediately exceeded the ability of traditional systems to deal with it. All
the technological advances of the previous decade were marshalled to keep the Plague of Palms
from destroying the human race. Robotic handling of the deceased was quickly implemented in
the more affluent nations in some cases barely averting health and sanitation disasters. Young
people were particularly hard hit for reasons still unknown. The impact on a few industrialized
nations and on most nations at the lower end of the economic scale was devastating. The
psychological effects of death on that scale left the survivors dazed and in most cases barely
capable of coping with their everyday lives.

Shortly after the beginning of the Plague of Palms a new game had become available on
the Link. It was called "Laret" and it was the product of a very small and obscure company which
went bankrupt due to mismanagement very shortly after the game appeared on the Link. But it
captured the attention of most of those Linked. It seemed to be individually adaptive to the
player, to the point of making the sharing of game information useless since everyone found it a
completely personal experience with continuously evolving complexity and exquisite graphics.
Many survivors found escape from their surroundings in this game at that time, losing
themselves into its environments and finding a measure of relief from the grim reality outside.

When the triggering mechanism was finally discovered, the Link broadcast it to the
planet. As the news services started to reach those still not Linked a simple discovery led to the
eventual co-existence with the Palm virus that we have now. The finding was the work of Ana
Maria Fesina, a traditionally religious Italian mother of five and strict disciplinarian. As she
recounted later she was in the midst of her nightly prayers (and as she found out later had
triggered her own death) when she was interrupted by a string of profanities arising from a fight
between her youngest two children in one of the lower bedrooms. She spanked both very
thoroughly before putting them to bed again. Too upset to continue her prayers, she drank a cup
of hot milk and, after a while, went to bed. In the morning she had read the news and a physical
examination scheduled for that day had turned up strong evidence of the virus. But she was still
alive. Just as pressing the palms together activated the virus, striking the palm muscles within a
short time deactivated it. By then, the human population had been reduced almost twentyfold. A
very large fraction of the survivors were Linked. And of these, a very large fraction were
spankheads.

Then, within a few days of Fesina's Finding, came another event that led to the
restructured society in which we live today. During the worst of the Plague the importance of
computers to the survival of what was left of the human race became abundantly clear. But the
advances in artificial intelligence had also provided the chink in the armor of human thought that
allowed CyberKings. To this day no one has understood how the Link suddenly became capable
of behaving as a ruling entity. In the many years passed since that event it has not displayed
any other "individualistic", "acquisitive" or otherwise "human" behavior. Expectably, no evidence
of alteration of the system files has been found yet. After the rigors of the Plague humanity was
relieved to delegate its large scale economic and environmental decisions to logical,
incorruptible and efficient entities. The Plague had more than decimated humanity. It had also
destroyed traditional politics and traditional religions. It remains the best choice at this time not
to question that.

The Center for Disease Control had been left barely functional and had not downgraded
their warnings against possible mutation of the virus. Life support for the survivors required work
from all who were able. Robotics and computers needed human support. Working schedules
were rearranged to minimize interaction. Proximity to other humans became cause for anxiety
as they waited further news from the CDC. The CyberKings accomodated the necessity of
isolation and the redistricting of jobs, services and areas of control. No territorial disputes were
possible among entities whose prime directive was always to maximize their service to humanity.

After the Plague some of the stunned survivors were able to change residence often,
searching for new surroundings in which to forget the loss of so many friends and relatives.
Some had to remain in situations full of unwanted memories until replacements could be found
for their needed skills. Terse messages on the Link punctuated these continued changes of
residence. Others stayed put after a few moves and immersed themselves in "Laret" to the
exclusion of everything else. A very few wondered if the peaceful feelings it generated could be
due to subliminal messages but none were found then, or since. All feared social interaction
and waited for the CDC findings. Isolation and withdrawal into Link games, especially "Laret",
was the rule and possibly what kept the suicide rate from soaring, after all it was so easy.

Almost one year after Fesina's Finding, in the domain of CK357 (our regional controlling
computer or "CyberKing") a group of spankheads lived near a beach not far from Monterey Bay.
Many of them contributed greatly to our knowledge and philosophy of spanking and later became
known as the Society of Masters and Candidates (SMACCK357). It is my honor to recount their
first official meeting and presentation of a Thesis by, then, Candidate Stroke with the help of the,
then, Candidates Anelan, Eletina and Guarnea.

Chapter 2 - "Meeting"

Early on the foggy morning of the day before the first anniversary of Fesina's Finding a
middle aged man walked quietly from house to house and put a folded sheet of paper in each
mailbox. It was a wooded neigborhood near a brushy area within two hundred yards of the
ocean near Monterey. The note was a simple invitation:

If you still like spanking,
please come
to the meeting hall tomorrow (Sunday)
at 11 AM
Your neighbor: Stroke

Before they came he had only known them through the Link. He had known some of
them before the Link, in the time of the Web. He had stayed in the same house as they came
and went, restlessly trying different towns and different neighborhoods, always coming back to
this spot. He waited as they politely refused to meet any of their neighbors at the few attempts to
hold small parties. He knew their fear of the virus and their need to withdraw into their grief .
But in the last few days hopeful news had come from the CDC. It seemed like the right time to
try again.
Done with the invitations he returned to his house, did his morning chores and took a
short nap. Then he climbed in his old pickup truck and was gone until late that evening. When
he returned he drove directly to the meeting hall. His foraging had been succesful, abandoned
office buildings had provided a large coffepot and several tables and partitions, the central
supply had some excellent coffee, bread and fresh vegetables and fruit. He unloaded the truck
slowly, methodically. He set up the tables, the partitions and the coffee pot. He dusted and
swept for a long time. Then he drove home, put the perishables in the refrigerator and went to
sleep.
He returned to the hall as soon as he awoke and continued his preparations as the
morning fog slowly lifted. At 10:55 he started the coffee pot and a few minutes later the aroma
of the brew spread through the hall. Two people approached the old meeting hall together,
walking slowly, close together, looking around to see who else might also accept the invitation.
Far behind them other people were coming, barely visible through the foliage. The meeting hall
was the smaller of two buildings nested in pines and cypresses at the edge of the brushy area
that could have been a golf course a year ago. The roof and walls were very run down but most
of the panes in the old French doors and in the windows were in good condition. And Stroke's
work had made the inside a cozy meeting place again.
The couple entered. Stroke met them with a smile, said his name and welcomed them.
As soon as they had said their names (there were no handshakes) he motioned the person
closest to him to follow him into the small corridor that he had set up with the office partitions.
The end of the corridor was not visible from the front door and the woman hesitated looking back
at her male companion. As he started to follow them Stroke raised his hand and
said gently: "please wait a few seconds". When they were alone at the end of the partitions,
Stroke picked up a small hairbrush that he had placed on the end of the nearest table and
showing it to the woman whispered in her ear:
"The price of admission to the next year is one on each cheek, bare".
Her eyes, worried, probed his face. His eyes returned a level and calm gaze that quieted
her fears. The woman reached for the waistband of her shorts and in one motion slid shorts and
underpants down to her thighs and stayed bent in expectation. Stroke delivered two sharp quick
swats that drew two little breaths and an almost immediate "thank you, Stroke" just as he said "I
am pleased to meet you, Guarnea". As she pulled up her clothing her friend came around the
corner and Stroke immediately showed him the hairbrush, motioning him to draw nearer and
whispering the same invitation in his ear. They exchanged one look and Mauro tugged down his
clothing and bent over. Stroke delivered his greeting and the "thank you, Stroke" blended into
equally heartfelt "I am pleased to meet you, Mauro". The sounds were easily heard by those
following who quickly understood and accepted the significance of the greeting. As they entered
the assembly area the food and coffee warmed them also and they stood near the tables chatting
and enjoying their first real meeting.
More people trickled in, only slightly puzzled by the sounds they heard and not for long,
for each was in turn warmly greeted by Stroke. At one point, Stroke hesitated as a woman at
least six months pregnant approached. She had heard the brush on bare skin several times as
she waited her turn and met Stroke's uneasy gaze with the words "two for me and two for my
child, please". She bent slightly and raised her skirt and Stroke delivered four fine swats to her
bare bottom. She smiled radiantly as she thanked him. Her name was Anelan. There was also
a chorus of voices at one point urging someone not to leave. It was a woman, alone, she had
been waiting in line several minutes. She had started to sob and walk away saying: "It's too
soon... It's too soon...". But her neighbors prevailed and she stayed. Her name was Eletina.
When the last guest had been appropriately greeted, Stroke circulated among the tables
making sure every one had something to eat and drink and asking them to take a seat when they
were done. It was a very mixed group of perhaps 30 people varying in age from early 20's to
one white haired couple easily in their 70's. They had come alone, in pairs of every kind, in
small groups...a typically diverse group of survivors. The sunlight reflected from the trees
around the building bathed the hall. Stroke walked to the front of the hall and looked at every
one of his neighbors with a very wide smile showing through his salt-and-pepper beard. He took
a deep breath and then, gently, said:
"Our minds should not clutter..." and the audience joined him softly in the single syllable
"So".
The earlier Occamists began every meeting with a formal Statement and Quotation of
Occam's Razor. Their full text was "Our minds should not be cluttered by remembering the
words of William of Occam: "Essentia non sunt Multiplicanda prater Necessitatem" 664E" -
earlier, in Surrey, England (1349 AD) - The audience would then join in the response: "That is
so". Essentials should not be increased except as necessary. The simpler the better. The
minimalists had reduced the Quote to the six simple words shared by Stroke and his guests.
Stroke continued:
"Thank you for coming, I am not sure I can tell you how happy this makes me.
(Answered by many a "thank you, Stroke!") We cannot stop virus mutation, that's what they do.
We must pull out of our grief and fear and continue living ... to the fullest extent that we can.
We all carry the virus now and we know where it prefers to stay. By the guidelines of the CDC,
restricting skin contact, except palm to palm, is no longer important. Just in case, we must
remain very alert to any changes in our bodies, we may not get much notice. We must not use
Fesina's Finding unless absolutely necessary. The virus should not build up a tolerance to
something that very rarely happens to it. Unfortunately this does not allow hand spankings.
Perhaps we might all be able to live with that. (Answered by many a "yes!", "no problem!",
"paddle on!" and "I cane live with it!"). It has been a dream of mine for some time to share in
person our views and experiences with spanking and somehow develop its practice and
meaning."
"For the Traditionalists the emphasis is on punishment, on inflicting physical pain to the
point of shrieks and tears and subsequent change of behavior. The blend of fear, domination,
verbal and physical aggression, nakedness and sexuality is the landscape in which events from
the past are remembered and replayed.
"In many cases the spanking goes beyond the replay stage to become a test of their
ability to endure punishments that are far more severe than those of their memories. The
challenge is to loose control to an almost implacable punisher and to survive the punishment."
"I have spent considerable time trying to interpret my early experiences by the
Traditionalist approach without success. If the punishment is truly painful, to the point of shrieks
and tears, it is more than unlikely that the result will be sexual arousal within a very short time. It
is so also for the verbal aggression. Yet these themes and actions are repeated in many
variations in most of the Traditionalist stories. For many, in story or reality, this is the first
contact with spanking."
"I need to define the word "pain", at least in the context of spanking. To me, pain is that
level of nerve excitation that leads to an adrenalin response. Flight or fight. Immediate anger or
fear response. The response is instinctive, protective, far faster and deeper than conscious
thought. Lower levels of excitation can be controlled conciously and are in the category of
"sting" or "discomfort", not pain. The Traditional approach has to do with pain. Is this
reasonable?" (many sounds of agreement).
"Spanking can fulfill goals very different from the Traditional ones. One is the aesthetic
beauty of well reddened cheeks and the other is the mental state that the extended sting levels
produce. On both counts it is a very dynamic art form. The canvas and the brushes are
unusual. The result fades from view in a few days. It varies greatly between individuals and
between sessions. It requires understanding and cooperation between giver and taker to achieve
maximum levels of color, swelling and evenness. It could be considered a beautifully short
lived tattoo."
"Almost none of the Traditional elements come into play in this kind of spanking because
it is not carried out to the point of true pain. And even though it will involve possibly complete
nakedness it is not sexually erotic in itself. It may be sexually exciting if one equates nakedness
with sex and is uneasy with nakedness. But nudity, front or rear, was more useful as a taboo in
the crowded times..." (he stopped, trying to find a way not to mention the Plague). It was too
late, Eletina started to sob but the short dark skinned man sitting next to her grabbed her by the
shoulders, shook her gently and staring into her eyes said: "let the memory go, Eletina, stay here
and now, let it go, we are your friends" ... her sobs quieted slowly. After a short while Stroke
spoke again:
"The minimalist would say, I like to see flesh bounce as it is spanked and reddens, I like
the look of my own ass when it is red and swollen and I like how I feel after long exposure to high
levels of sting. That is really all of what I have just said. I hope that many of you have similar
feelings." (many a "yes" from the audience)
"Now, we had some food and drink, the sun is shining and the surf sounds so good that
you might want to spend the rest of the day outdoors and we can get back to this later. So,
please raise your hand if you want me to continue, I will abide by your decision.
(The show of hands was unanimous). Thank you. Perhaps I could get you to raise your hand if
you are a Traditionalist, truly oriented toward painful punishment as the true meaning of
spanking." (no hands were raised) "I am glad to have you for an audience. Our first breath is
usually triggered by a slap on the buns and that is certainly exciting... and not punishment."
At that point he walked to the back of the hall and returned with a canvas bag in one
hand and the greeting brush in the other. When he was again in front of his audience he took his
clothes and sandals off. He continued:
"I want to share with you some things I have found that may be new to you. Please don't
stop me if they are not. (laughter) I hope that I do not make them too boring for you if they are
not."
"The first thing I want to show is that the best warm up is the one you do yourself."
He had set up two mirrors on wooden props so that as he turned his back to the audience
he could see his back clearly without blocking their view. He reached in his bag and pulled out a
squarish shape made of transparent plastic with an odd assortment of holes drilled in it. It looked
like a hybrid of a hairbrush and a paddle. He waited a few seconds for the second hand of the
clock to reach 12. He started to spank his right cheek at the outside moving methodically around
to the bottom of his right cheek, then further around, coming up the far side of his left cheek. He
spaced his strokes almost a brushwidth apart. Judged by the motion of his forearm it seemed
like a soft spanking. Judged by the sound of paddle against bare flesh or the bouncing of his
cheeks it was certainly not. He had strong wrists. When he reached the top of his left cheek he
leaned forward slightly and landed one stroke each on the upper center of each cheek which
were just noticeably louder than the others. He continued his pattern around his cheeks spiraling
toward the centers with very even strokes. As his hand cleared the view again after the second
round there were two easily visible spots on the upper parts of his cheeks which were red around
the edges and whitish in the middle. He continued spanking evenly until the second hand of the
clock returned to 12. At close to 2 strokes per second he had put a little more than a 100 strokes
on his buns. There were large splotches of color starting to blend together with the exception of
those two spots with the pale centers.
While he rested he said, turning slightly to his audience:
"It would have been louder without the holes...Those two spots got only a little extra on
the first round and the same on the other rounds. It will take me two more sets like this to even
them out. Small differences at the start make for a lot of work later. I am taking it very easy on
my centers because they are very tender. By the fourth set I will have beaten down their
sensitivity to where I want it for the next paddle. You have to allow for the tenderness of the
different areas. It's unlikely that someone else can sense the state of your cheeks at the
beginning well enough. And if they don't sense it well enough, it isn't very much fun."
The second hand was at 12 again and Stroke resumed his warmup with increased
strength. This time the color deepened and smoothed out. By going harder around the pale
spots, and softer on them, he was starting to blend them in. It became more and more
noticeable as the warmup proceeded that the edges of the paddle were sharp. They were
leaving white vertical streaks which blended back to red as he lifted the paddle. When the
minute was up his cheeks were almost even and very well colored. While resting between sets
he kneaded his forearm.
"I will do two more of these and then I will change paddles." He breathed more deeply
as he felt his heart rate increase from the exertion. The third and fourth rounds saw the uneven
spots disappear as the level of spanking rose and his arm motion became more and more
pronounced.
When he stopped after the fourth round he said:
"How many here are left handed?"
He turned his head to scan the audience and then said:
"Wonderful. After the next two rounds with the fly swatter (snickers from the audience) I
am going to pick one right hander and one left hander for the next thing I want to show."
He kneaded his forearm more now as it started to swell and stiffen from the exertion and
was starting to cramp. As he pulled the "fly swatter" out of the bag, there was laughter from the
audience. It was reminiscent of a fly-swatter,longer than the first paddle, inch-plus wide handle
to a larger rectangular active zone, again in transparent plastic with an odd assortment of holes
drilled in it. The minute was up and Stroke started again, now with a slower pace and stronger
strokes. His arm arched out to swing at the bottom of his cheeks with sweeps that scraped the
top of his thighs. After the first couple of rounds he raised his left arm and wrapping his right arm
around his torso struck his left cheek from the opposite direction several times covering the
reachable area from that angle. By arching his back he could reach slightly below the center of
his left cheek. As the strength of the strokes increased, so did the difficulty of spanking the left
cheek equally. This wrap around evened things out some and gave his arm a rest from the other
angle. He repeated it every couple of rounds. After the minute was over he said:
"I have been using the small hole side on both of these paddles. Just like the old
Spencer paddles they reduce the air cushion and give better contact to the cheeks. I have grown
very fond of the way they feel. Once I am warmed up I like it even better on the large hole side."
The audience had been catching glimpses of these holes as the paddles did their work.
On one side the holes were small, perhaps a quarter of an inch in diameter. On the other the
holes were large, almost the size of a nickel. The edges of the holes and of the outline of the
paddle were sharp just as on the first one.
At the minute mark he started again, now even slower and harder. The fly swatter
swung wide and landed hard again and again. He held many of the strokes down instead of
raising the paddle again quickly. His cheeks flattened, then bobbed and as he did so. It was
clear that the centers of his cheeks were where he wanted them now. The strokes to the centers
were now stronger than to the surround. He stopped at the minute mark, breathing hard and
kneading his forearm. Then he picked up a piece of cardboard that he had propped up on a
nearby chair and turning it around he said:
"Now, let's take a close look at paddling."

Chapter 3 - "Thesis"

The white cardboard had a simple drawing of an arm holding a paddle that was
positioned across the rear of a standing figure. A small circle was drawn near the elbow, and two
more, one in the center of the each cheek. Stroke continued:
"The paddle moves approximately in arc from a point slightly behind the elbow. The
motion is more complex than that, of course, but you have to start somewhere. For this size
paddle it means an average length of approximately 30 inches from the pivot point to the center
of the near cheek and 6 inches more to the center of the far cheek. Now the energy transfered
to the cheek on impact is the kinetic energy, the energy of motion, and it is proportional to the
weight of the paddle and to the square of its velocity. A paddle of twice the weight, traveling at
the same speed, will deposit twice the energy on the cheek. But a paddle of the same weight,
moving at twice the speed will deposit four times the energy on the cheek. The part of the
paddle that will strike the far cheek here, is moving 20 percent faster than the part that will strike
the near cheek... 36 inches from the pivot point compared to 30 inches. So the energy
transfered to the far cheek will be at least 40 percent more than what the near cheek receives,
because it is proportional to the square of the velocity."
"What this means is that you cannot get them even, if you paddle across both cheeks,
and only from one side. (mock wailing and moaning from the audience) The far cheek will
always get more energy, even if you turn slightly to make the impact feel the same on both
cheeks. You can compensate by hitting extra on the near cheek, say one extra for the near
cheek every 4 or 5 strokes."
He turned toward the audience and continued:
"With the help of two people I would like to try to show this effect. I would like to ask
Eletina and Guarnea to help me, if you do not mind."
Guarnea first, and a moment later Eletina, got up and walked toward him while he dug
inside his bag. He brought out two identical, traditionally shaped wooden paddles. Made of a
light colored wood, they were about eighteen inches long, two an a half inches wide, about three-
fourths of an inch thick and had no holes. He gave one to each woman.
Guarnea was slightly taller and thinner than Eletina. Both had strong shoulders and
arms. He would have chosen Eletina anyway, to give her something positive to do, but he was
glad to choose her because she was left handed.
"I made these last week," continued Stroke "as identical as I could make them from the
same plank of alder. Guarnea, please hit across both cheeks at maximum strength. At first it
will be one hit and wait a little while, then the next hit and so on. I will nod when I am ready for
the next hit. Please do not repeat on the same spot, you should be able to hit maybe four places
before you repeat. As we go we will increase the count to two's, then three's and on up. But let
me tell you when. I will rotate my body to even out the feeling so you must n o t change position
or angle of attack. Is that OK?" She nodded and replied: "I will do my best."
He turned to Eletina.
"Please watch what Guarnea does very carefully. When we get to a certain point I will
need for you to repeat what she has done from your side. Do you think you can do it?" Eletina
nodded.
"It maybe useful if someone else also keeps track of the number of strokes just in case.
I don't think I will be able to do that for some reason. (laughter) Excuse me because more than
one minute has passed."
Turning around he swatted his very red cheeks about a dozen times again and paused
for about twenty seconds, then he let his arms hang in front of his body and let his muscles relax
fully. He nodded and Guarnea swung the paddle landing on the lower middle of his cheeks with
a deafening CRACK! Stroke rocked forward absorbing the shock and grunted heavily. Several
seconds later he said:
"Thank you Guarnea...wood is louder and more so without the holes...that one definitely
favored the far cheek." (he rotated his body slightly away from Guarnea, waited a short time then
nodded again) CRACK! a little higher up. The ripples from the shock reached his waist and
bounced back while the paddle was still in contact. He rocked forward again with a grunt and
readjusted his position slightly. After two more singles, he said to Guarnea:
"Next time give me two please."
"My pleasure, Stroke" and waited. After a few moments he nodded again.
CRACK! ... CRACK! He rocked forward silently and settled back on his feet. Every
impact rippled and bounced both cheeks and shook his entire body. Some strokes produced
grunts, others did not. The warmup had been good. The swelling of his cheeks became
increasingly clear as they bounced under the impact of the paddle and also as they hung and
settled when he relaxed waiting for the next volley.
Slowly, the volleys became longer and longer. The grunts softer as the cheeks became
redder, more swollen and less sensitive. Each stroke left a white patch that promptly reddened
as the paddle was lifted. As the paddling continued the color at the center of his right cheek
became slightly paler. Until at the end of the first volley of six, a voice from the front row said:
"I see... a blood spot on the right cheek... no blood spots on the left cheek." He turned
his head to see Anelan just as she finished speaking. When he had caught his breath he turned
to Eletina.
"Now, Eletina, in a short while you must do exactly the same and I will turn slightly so
that it feels the same on both cheeks." He wiped his right cheek with a wet handkerchief and
waited a little more than a minute. Then he relaxed his body and nodded again. Eletina swung
the paddle. WHACK! Stroke waited a few seconds and said:
"You will need to put more muscle into that swing, Eletina, I think I have a tennis player
on my left..."
"You do, love." said Guarnea, to several hoots and howls from the audience.
"I will do better, Stroke" said Eletina and without waiting swung again. This time she
matched Guarnea's level to the delight of both Stroke and the audience.
"Thank you, Madam" said Stroke with a smile. After two more swings, Stroke said: "Let's
go up to two at a time, it feels fine." Eletina nodded and upped the count. They paused at the
second volley of two when a small red spot appeared on the right cheek. Slowly they built up to
volleys of five when Mauro said:
"Now you have blood spots on both cheeks. The count is fifty-three and a half. Happy
birthday, Stroke!" (laughter from the audience).
"Thank you for the thought, Mauro, it's close enough"
"I hope you think it was a good demonstration... (interrupted by applause) Thank you... I
meant there are problems with the fact that by the time we switched spankers my cheeks were
not in the same condition as when we started. Just trying to be as accurate as possible in the
comparison but it is difficult. Thank you very much. Now that we have gotten this far, I would
like to do something I have never done before. Could I get a few strokes alternating, one from
each of you?"
Eletina and Guarnea said almost in unison:
"With pleasure, Stroke."
He wiped the moisture from his cheeks and waited a few moments.
"Two and two, please."
Eletina and Guarnea exchanged glances.
"You go first, Guarnea."
"No, you go first, Eletina."
The audience laughed while Stroke implored:"Please, Eletina first."
WHACK!... WHACK!... WHACK!... WHACK!... Grunts growing into an ahh! sound came
out of his throat as he rocked on his feet. He waited several seconds and said:
"Three and three please."
Eletina and Guarnea immediately complied. Stroke was now breathing heavily. He
reached back and felt his cheeks. Hot, wet, stiff as he kneaded and squeezed them, every nerve
ending a burning flame connected to his brain. He wiped his cheeks again with the wet
handkerchief, it showed several blood spots. He waited a short while, wiped again and said:
"Four and four please"
He was at the peak of the spanking. Buns glistening with clear fluid except for both
centers which were oozing blood from several pores. A few more volleys and his cheeks would
get that odd shrinking feeling, difficult to describe except as the end of spanking message. He
dabbed the centers dry and asked for "five and five". Eletina and Guarnea delivered flawlessly.
Then, there was silence as his breathing slowly quieted. He wiped his oozing cheeks several
times during the next minute and a half. His voice seemed to come from far away, as he asked
for
"Six and six."
Eletina and Guarnea swung repeatedly with fierce concentration, at the limit of their
strength and accuracy. Each stroke overlapping the previous one by little more than half a
paddle width. The time between strokes decreasing until the paddles barely missed each other
on the last two strokes. He had followed each paddle stroke with heavier and heavier grunts
ending in a loud, clear "Ahh!" from the last two strokes. He stood there rocking slightly,
breathing deeply, legs quivering as his mind lost itself in the stinging burn of his cheeks. He
stood like that for a while. Two vertical stripes, dark red, almost brown, were now clearly visible
on the inner edge of each cheek next to the crack. They looked almost like shadows, in places
that could cast no shadows.
When his breathing decreased slightly and his legs stopped quivering, Guarnea asked
gently:"All OK, Stroke?"
He said, slowly:
"Yes, Guarnea... Thank you for waiting... Thank you very much, Guarnea. Thank you
very much, Eletina... Thank you all very much. I had been close to this but not quite this
far...once a long time ago. You are all so nice... I hope this is has not been too boring..." (he was
interrupted by applause, with his back to the audience he pointed at the two women who bowed
with their paddles held in front of them and everyone laughed)
"I hope that we can do this again soon. Other people can show things that they know
and understand well about spanking and we can enjoy each others company..." (he was
interrupted by applause)
Eletina said:
"Stroke, you forgot one thing when you were summarizing your talk at the beginning.
You forgot to say that you like how it feels to have your buns on fire. It almost went without
saying but the other three points are weak without that...I hope not to distract you like that again."
"You are absolutely right, I forgot. I should be spanked for that. (great laughter)
Then Eletina said:
"Uh... I would like to show something I know at the next meeting."
"Please set the date for the next meeting, Eletina"
"Next Tuesday night OK with everyone's schedule? Monday is very busy for me at the
Farm." She worked at the Marine Farm on the north end of the Bay.
Many voices agreed. Several people said they had conflicts but could reschedule them.
Most people had rotating schedules and had spent most of their free time playing "Laret". Some
had taken on extra work and responsibilities instead. Each coped with their changed lives as
best they could.
"Tuesday night at eight, then" announced Stroke.
The meeting slowly broke with trips to the food tables and shy sharing of personal
information. One at a time everyone came up to Stroke and hugged him in their own way. A
woman named Marilia hugged him and then started to reached around him saying: "...and one
for good luck..." Stroke quickly withdrew from her reach saying:
"Can't do that!"
"Why not, Stroke?... too tender?" teased Anelan.
Stroke went to the nearest folding metal chair and sat down abruptly, smiling:
"What did you say, Anelan?"
Everyone laughed.
"No problem sitting, the problem is palm to oozing bun. I think that risk is too high. The
CDC did not mention it. They are not aware of us yet. Don't feel bad, Marilia, I would have been
tempted too."
The conversation stopped as the warning fell on very receptive ears. Marilia broke the
silence.
"You are right, Stroke" and then to Eletina and Guarnea "and I hope you two will team up
on me soon." A chorus of "and if they don't, we will" came from a nearby group. It was not clear
who had spoken. The party continued.
Slowly they exited into the sunshine outside. Most walked toward the beach on the paths
that had been trampled in the brushy undergrowth. There was a clear sense of relief in their
voices. They were coming out of the gloom.
Anelan, Eletina, Guarnea, Mauro and Stroke remained standing near the coffee pot for a
while in an easy silence. After a while Eletina walked toward Stroke and gave him a very big
hug and said:
"I hope that you will do the same for me sometime, Stroke."
"I would love to do that, Eletina. Feel free to tell me when. Don't be shy."
"I will. Thank you for a lovely party."
She kissed him on the cheek, then hugged and kissed each of the others and left quietly. Just
from her walk one could sense that a heavy weight had been lifted from her mind.
A young man named Stav came back into the hall and asked Stroke for permission to
borrow the greeting brush for the afternoon. He had come with Cala, a short woman with dark
hair who was now waiting for him at the end of the partitions with a beach bag slung over her
shoulder. There was a chorus of "have a good time!" as they left.
"I am envious and a little sad." said Guarnea" My rear is not very big. I would like to get
as far as you did, Stroke, although I am usually the giver and Mauro is the taker. I don't like the
cane and the last time we used a ping-pong paddle I got bone bruises. Neither of us liked that."
"May I see your buns again, Guarnea?, if you don't mind, of course."
"Not at all." she said as she slid her clothing down and bent down. She spread her legs
slightly and her hands were close to the floor.
"Do you like it bent down like that?"
"Very much." she said. Standing up her cheeks looked small and low, but bending down
rearranged and transformed her. The beauty of her rear shone in that position. So small, so
pretty.
Stroke looked thoughtful for a few seconds and said:
"So beautiful. You are a lucky man, Mauro. I will bring you some toys at the next
meeting that might give her a very good time."
"Thank you, Stroke" she said , blushing slightly and pulling up her shorts.
"Thank you very much, Stroke" said Mauro, "for a great party. I have been near that
level several times, thanks to Guarnea. I feel like doing it again soon. You are a wonderful
example."
Mauro gave him a very big hug. Guarnea also hugged him and kissed him on both
cheeks and they both left arm in arm.
When they had left Anelan looked at him sheepishly and said:
"Watching your bouncing buns has made me very wet between my legs, Stroke. Could
we go for a walk on the beach and cool off for a while? I will give you a hand cleaning up when
we get back."
"Thank you, Anelan, I would love that." He smiled as he put on his shorts and sandals.
They walked out into the sunshine and toward the beach.