As the Paddle Lands

A woman's very beautiful, very naked and very red derriere almost fills the television screen. The curve of her waist, barely visible at the top of the screen, enhances the swelling of her cheeks and the outthrust angle at which they are profered to the viewer.
A very large, very hairy and very muscular hand lands sharply across both cheeks sending rippling waves of flesh out from the point of impact. A white outline of the hand is momentarily seen before the bouncing buttocks return to their fiery red color. A loud, throaty, femenine voice follows the deafening impact with:
"One hundrget unt fohgty-fohg!... Haaaaaah! Haaaaah! Haaaah! Haaah! Haah! Hah!"
"Mohg, Countessss???" intones a deep and similarly accented voice.
"Ov cohgsse, dahgling!"
The huge hand lands again with full force on the crimson mounds.
"One hundrget unt fohgty-five!... Haaaaaah! Haaaaah! Haaaah! Haaah! Haah! Hah!"
"Mohg, Countessss???"
"Ov cohgsse, dahgling!"
"We interrupt to bring you a word from our sponsors. We will return to Beet Street in just a few moments, so please don't go away... "

{7... 9... 11... where the hell is it? it's 3 o'clock already!...13... no... 11...9 ah! here it is!}

*** fanfare ***

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the first episode of As the Paddle Lands brought to you by Brighter Than Blazes, the only detergent that won't let your undies down. Ladies, have you dressed in your best schoolgirl costume in anticipation of the best caning yet to come, only to suffer the humiliation of being turned down by your Headmaster because your undies are not blazingly white? Don't risk rejection! Don't settle for greyed out whites! Use Brighter Than Blazes! Today!

***
louder fanfare and full screen logo
    AS THE PADDLE LANDS
       Episode 1
          in crimson block letters on a blazing white background
***

Episode 1 - OUT

"croutons... dressing... salad's in the fridge... chicken will be done in 30 minutes... it's time for a few more..." Satisfied with his dinner preparations Rod closed the bathroom door quickly, grabbed the hairbrush and continued working on his reddened cheeks. It had been a long time since his last one. Five months ago Anne had gone to visit her mother for a week. It had taken almost six days for the paleness to return to his cheeks. This time he wanted her to know him, to see him as he really was, to play with him. His arm moved methodically and with continuously increasing power as the hairbrush smacked his flesh and the welcome sting grew in his cheeks. The centers had lost the tenderness they gained since his last spanking. And the pace and the level of his spanking grew to fill that loss. Time passed delightfully while his buns grew brightly red and began to swell and harden. Startled by the sound of the garage door opening and her car driving in, he pulled down the heavy blanket that hung over the shower door and kept the sound of his activity from the neighbors and quickly stuffed it behind the half-opened door of their spare bedroom. He had barely finished tucking his shirt into his pants when Annie walked into the kitchen and into their accustomed embrace. She pushed away gently a little sooner than he expected and gave him a puzzled look.
"My, you are warm! What have you been up to?"
"Not much, really..."
He was suddenly at a loss for words, his breathing still a little labored.
"Oh, come on, Rod. You are very warm... sweaty... your eyes twinkle a little. What were you doing?"
The script he had been rehearsing in his head was crumbling in his memory. All he could salvage was a meek: "Working on a little surprise for you, that's all"
"Maybe you were having fun without me... couldn't wait for me, huh?"
"No, Anne. Really, I... I was waiting for you to continue the fun... hoping it would be possible..."
His voice trailed off, his stomach tightened. He hoped the words were hanging together even if his thoughts weren't. .
"What is it, Rod?"
His mind went blank, his throat was stuck, he felt his heart revving up and his body unable to move.
"What's going on, Rod?"
The pitch of her voice was rising. In an effort that felt like lunging forward without going anywhere, he managed say:
"Anne... there is something I want to show you "
He hesitated then walked toward the bathroom. She followed.
"Close the door"
The room was warm, humid, the smell maybe a little different, though still very much like Rod. Her puzzlement grew. He turned so that his back was toward the mirror and his head was looking at her face as he tugged down his jeans and shorts and pulled up his shirt tails. Her face tightened and her eyes grew big as she took in the reddened flesh.
"Rod! Oh, my God! What have you done to yourself?... Why?"
She looked at his face, then again at the redness.
"Why are you hurting yourself like this?"
Her tone was anxious, anguished. The man with whom she had shared so many good times had suddenly become a threat, a disquieting presence, an unexplainably scary entity. It took Rod several seconds of uneasy silence to recover his reality. His stomach still felt tight but her last remark paved the way for him to say exactly what he felt. He could not ask for more.
"I am not hurting myself, Anne" (keep it simple, keep it simple...)
"How can you say that? Your skin is red all over your back. You've been beating yourself or something and you are going to tell me that you are not hurting yourself? What's wrong?"
The pitch and loudness of her voice were still rising.
"Just... touch me Anne. Would you please... just touch me? You always liked my buns. Now they are a different color but they are the same buns. Please touch me."
She hesitated, drew nearer, her right hand reached slowly and felt the middle of his left cheek, then moved lower, then touched his right cheek. Feeling Rod's buns was always good but now they were hot... very hot... and so red...
"Doesn't that hurt?"
"No, Anne, it doesn't. It stings some, but that feels good, it doesn't hurt. They are a little swollen... they feel very good"
Her hands squeezed his left bun again. Definitely swollen. It was as if the muscles were tight but he wasn't flexing them.
"I still don't understand. Why do you want to do this to yourself? What are you punishing yourself for?"
"I am not punishing myself for anything. It's no different than working out at the gym. We like working out, using our muscles... pumping up our muscles... right?"
Of course she did, it felt good to work out and get pumped from time to time. She had not done it for many weeks now, but she knew the feeling. But this...
"What's the problem, then? Wrong muscles?... people just don't do this... right?"
"ok, ok, there are more things in life than there were in Mom's menu and I am not Mom... but this is news to me..."
He went on slowly.
"I started doing this before I knew you, Anne. I was a Junior in High School when I found out that this was fun."
"OK. How did you do this to yourself?"
Her voice still sharp, pushy.
"With your hairbrush. It's easy. Let me show you"
"No! I want to understand why you want to do punishing things to yourself!"
Either her face was blank or concern and disbelief and fear and the readiness to anger all seemed to add up to blank.
"Look, Anne, it looks like punishment but is not at all like punishment. I know it's hard to understand. But it's not the same, Anne. It really isn't the same"
"OK, tell me how you spank yourself like this and not call it punishment. Go ahead!"
The sarcastic drop in her voice level at the end silently spelled "weirdo" in his mind.
One breath later the words were coming out of her mouth.
"Look, maybe you want me to play some weird game with you but I don't want to do something that makes me feel weird inside!"
(react in anger now and you loose it completely... don't react... don't react...)
His eyes glazed, his mind numbly sought refuge in talking to himself (well, here we are again at the point at which things go to hell in a handbasket... ah, yes!... Helena Handbasket, I remember her well, she was the first wife of the Earl of Waddehelfordshire (the "h" was silent) last surviving member of the long dinasty of the Handbaskets... he was so long, in fact, that he had to carry it in a handbasket like all of his predecessors... and his behaviour was widely regarded as very impolite: he had the odd habit of taking it out of the handbasket and repeatedly stuffing it first in one nostril then in the other... everyone found his indecison objectionable... he remembered an old mathematician he knew...)
She saw him slump. Withdrawn.
(...who was fond of observing : "... you can't win them all, well, that is not a hard proof but you can't loose them all... that theorem remains unproved"...)
Gone.
(why did I have to do that? why did I have to bring him down like that? I don't want you to go away from me... noooo!)
"Rod... ROD... I'm sorry! Don't go away from me like that, listen to me!
Her voice had slowly brought his mental meanderings to a halt.
"Listen, Rod. I am sorry. I am sorry, ok? I didn't mean that like it sounded."
She hugged him hard, then drew back again.
"Go ahead and tell me how this is not punishment in your mind. Maybe tell me how you started doing this? When? In High School?
Rod took a deep breath and tried again.
"You remember Ellie?"
"Of course, your stepsister, what about Ellie?"
"She was my little sister, I always took care of her, tried to keep her away from trouble."
"I know that, I like her too."
"Well... you and I and Ellie, we all got spanked when we were little, right? And they were always short spankings, angry spankings on the spot, wherever we got into so much trouble that we pushed our parents over the edge, right?"
"Yes, and they hurt. So why do you want to do the same thing to yourself?"
"Anne, let me tell you. Just please let me tell you."
Why does my sexual athlete lover want to play with pu-nish-ment. Why?
"Dad spanked me more than he spanked Ellie. And that was very seldom anyway. But what he would do to keep her in line was to threaten her very graphically. And it worked. The threats kept her in line most of the time. So when he said: "or I'm gonna take down your pants and spank your butt until it's red as a beet."...or sometimes it was "until you won't sit down for a week."... you know, in my mind I could see her little cheeks getting spanked red as beets and it was exciting, erotic... very erotic."
"It wasn't supposed to but it worked, didn't it?"
"Of course, and he threatened me too and sometimes actually beat me. All that made absolutely no difference on the day I tried to make my cheeks as red as beets. Not as punishment, I just spanked with a hairbrush until it stung pretty good but it didn't hurt. And I kept doing it for a long time and the longer I spanked the redder I got and the harder I could spank for the same sting. Well, after an hour and a half my buns were red as beets and very swollen. The sting... no, more like the burn ... felt good! My buns were pumped! I was surprised. It was fun! It started out feeling dumb and ended up feeling fun! So, I have done this on and off ever since. Not as often as I would like but I enjoy it a whole lot when I get to do it. And I was thinking that just like with the other things that we have learned to do together... maybe... if it doesn't freak you out too much... maybe we could play with this also, hmm?... maybe she just isn't ready for this."
"Look, Anne, if this is punishment then working out to get pumped is also punishment. I think of it as adult play. There are many ways adults can play without hurting each other. Now we do things we didn't use to and we have a lot of fun, don't we?"
He was right. The scar from her first marriage was anxiety.??? when she was having such good times with Rod. Rex was the great romantic until he hit the bottle. And then she could not afford not to be in command. Anything different was a threat, anything new was a thing to be feared. Everything had to be under her complete control. Rex's oral machismo - you eat, babe, I don't - was sort of fun and sort of forced on her. With Rod it was mutual and it was a lot of fun! It took a little while to get comfortable with anal sex, but it turned out to be fun too! She still found it difficult acknowledge to herself the depth of her first orgasm while doing "sixty- nine" with Rod with a very large dildo buried to the hilt in her ass. Several years ago, but she remembered it well, and so did he. And before that, the time when he was helping her use the dildo in preparation and he reached around to tickle her only to find a most erect clit just waiting for his deft fingers.
He can call me Annie, like he does, anytime...
He called her "Annie" but it sounded more like "any...". Yes, he could have her any way he wanted and it would be fun for both. They were happy. She did not want anything to threaten that happiness. She lowered her eyes. He reached for her hand and pulled her toward him. This time she remained in his arms, gladly accepting the embrace and the reassurance. His right hand stroked her hair and raised her head from the hairy pillow of his chest so that they could kiss, gently at first, then a little more deeply. She broke off softly to ask: "Are you going to make me play some silly punishment role... scenario, whatever...?"
"No, Anne. Really, I don't want that at all. I don't want you to punish me. There is no reason for you to punish me. I don't want to play punishment games. When we have children I don't want to spank them unless we absolutely have to, just like our parents."
(did I hear "when?"... he said "when"... children up to now had been "if"... I'm hearing things... when!...)
"Well, we could think up some reasons, like springing surprises like this on me. No, I don't mean that, you know I don't mean that. I just don't want to find that somehow I become the big bad punisher to you if... when we play at this together. (there... one good "when" deserves another...) Right now, it still feels a little bit like down deep there is some punishment going on in your head. That's what bothers me."
He reached around to her right hand and lowered it to his cheeks.
"Anne, I like it when they are red... and hot... and stinging... and swollen... It is a very erotic feeling that has nothing to do with punishment because I get there with as little pain as possible. In muscle building it's no pain, no gain. Put in sting for pain. Heaping mounds of sting that leave the buns tingling like many soft ant bites, many, many... Red hot heat of the seat, swollen buns that feel like I am sitting two inches above the chair seat. Why does it feel so good? I can't tell you except that it does. It feels very, very good."
"I believe you, I believe you. You want me to slap your buns? She gave him a few playful swats. She could feel the bulge pressed against her stomach swelling and getting suddenly warm. Are you going to get hard from this?"
"I haven't before... not very much anyway. Maybe in the early part of the spanking... not when I am spanking real hard, though. It's erotic but not necessarily sexual. The morning after, sometimes I've had very memorable erections and wished I could have shared them with you. It could happen just from the sheer turn on of having you play with me at this... But suppose I do... is that going to be a big problem to you?"
She put her right cheek against his chest and hugged him very hard. No, of course it wouldn't. Her lips and jaw muscles could clearly remember his bulk and hardness just before she brought him to a climax the last time they made love.
"Listen to me, Rod. I want to play with you at just about anything you want to do. And I will play with you tonight, I will spank your butt tonight, if that is what you want. But I need the reassurance... I want a second opinion from someone that maybe knows something different about this kind of thing. Remember the guy you went to a long time ago when you were breaking up with your ex? Would you go again and just talk about it? Just one time. I want to know what he says, I just want to know the possible problems, so we can try to avoid the problems. Would you do that?" (how can I refuse?... it's going to feel a little funny to discuss this with... what was his name? Weston?... Weldon... Dr. Weldon... but I think I can handle that...)
"I will do that, Anne. That should not be a problem."
"Will you ask for an appointment tomorrow?"
(whatever you like... if you need this so you can play with me, consider it done)
"I will do that tomorrow."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She hugged him tighter and raised her head. He met her lips and hugged her back.
Her hand started to swat his cheeks again a little harder.
"Like that?"
"Yes, you can do that all night if you like but let me show you a little."
He reached for the hairbrush, turned away from the mirror and started to spank his buns again. He felt a little self concious at first but that passed when he saw the faint smile on her face as she watched. He raised the level quickly to almost where he had left off when she arrived, then stopped cold at the first hard swat.
"Oops! Wait a minute!"
He went out into the hallway. In a few seconds he returned with the blanket and draped it over the shower stall door again.
"That's a little better. My blood runs cold when I think of Mrs. Evan finding out."
"Good thinking, Mr. Redbutt! Now I know why that door was replaced when I went to visit Mom two years ago! This room felt a lot more private afterward. And I liked that, so I didn't say anything about it. But I noticed. Oh! you don't have to worry very much about her today... she is gone until Sunday morning. I talked to her yesterday, she's visiting her daughter."
"I think we'll leave the padding up anyway. Feels better that way."
The sound of the hairbrush was softer with the blanket.
"Let me get one more blanket."
A few seconds later she added a second blanket to the first. He continued spanking.
"That's good. You can hear the difference. Thanks."
"You are very welcome Mr. Redbutt. May I have the hairbrush now, my hair needs touching up."
His eyes met her impish gaze.
"Come on! Gimme!"
Her hand moved demandingly. He put the brush in her hand and turned again. She drew near and placing her left hand on his waist started to spank his redness.
"You can go harder than that."
She hit harder several times.
"That's good. A little more maybe. And don't stay on the same spot."
"Of course. I learn quick."
She swung the brush rhythmically landing on every part of his cheeks. Their eyes met in the mirror. He was smiling, she was catching on fast. (you know...whack, whack... this is neat... wack, whack, whack... the way his cheeks squash... whack... and quiver... whack... under the brush... whack... I could grow very fond of this... whack, whack, whack... he has such nice buns... whack, whack... I remember thinking about this once when we were having breakfast in bed and he reached across the bed for something and his buns were almost across my lap... what a coincidence, hmmm? oops! I am not supposed to stop... whack, whack, whack, whack... I like it, I like it... whack, whack, whack...)
She felt herself getting a little warm and she knew it was not just the exercise. (you are not the only one getting something out of this, Mr. Rod, I just hope nothing goes wrong between us because of this... whack, whack, whack, whack, whack...)
She stopped for a few seconds and drew nearer to his body until her left arm could wrap over his back and waist and her belly was almost touching his left side. She had to draw away slightly as the path of the brush came around to his upper left buttock. No problem, she would draw nearer and further away as needed but her left arm around his waist felt good.
"You can go harder yet."
"OK I am not tired. This is what you wanted, right?"
"Yes, Anne, exactly... well, maybe a little harder on the next round."
"No problem."
She wielded the brush with increased vigor and was unsure when her efforts started yielding some grunting noises.
"Is that OK?""
Oh, yes! It's OK if I grunt a little, don't mind me, and keep going... just like that... maybe a little harder yet..."
(my pleasure, Mr. Redbutt, sir... this feels very fine to me...)
She continued smacking his redness, making sure that the brush covered all the areas equally. More than thirty hard whacks later, he motioned her to stop and took the brush gently from her hand.
"Let me see what it feels like again by myself... it feels different when you do it... I just want to see..."
He applied the brush to his bottom with harder and harder strokes until his hips shook with each impact.
"That's so good!... You are doing fine! Hold on a minute, I am going to get something from the garage. I'll be right back."
Pulling up his pants and stuffing his shirttails back in he left the room. Anne grabbed the hairbrush and slapped softly against her left palm once, twice... lost in thought, she did not feel it land the third time. He returned carrying two wooden objects that resembled fraternity paddles. Rod closed the door and took off his pants and shirt, all that remained on him were his t-shirt and socks. She was still dressed in her office clothes. All that was missing were her shoes. They looked at each other and smiled. He handed her the longer of the two paddles.
"Please give me a light whack to see how much room you need." She moved the paddle back and forth through several arcs and finally gave him a light tap on the buns. "You should be standing on something so I have more room to swing. This way I will scrape the wash stand."
"Oh! OK"
He returned in a few seconds with the low hassock, placed it against the wall and stood on it.
"Much better now. Say when."
He drew closer to the wall.
"OK try a medium stroke across both cheeks."
WHACK!
The impact shook his hips and filled the room with sound
(maybe not so medium... I hope it wasn't too hard)
"Wow! That's good... First time across both cheeks, Anne... I couldn't do that alone. OK, again but harder."
WHACK!
The paddle flattened his cheeks and sent a ripple through them that reached near his waist. (yes, that was definitely harder...)
"Unh!... Ahhh!" (the middle of my cheeks is on fire...the rampaging ants are chomping on my cheeks... man, that stings!)
But after a few seconds:
"Again, please, Anne."
WHACK!
"Unnhh!"
A satisfyingly noisy gasp came from his throat while his hands slowly reached around to feel his buns. He rubbed some, then kneaded them and squeezed them several times. Scratching the centers with his fingernails felt funny. He remembered parts of his last spanking.
"Again, please, but try not to land on the same spot."
"No problem."
WHACK!
This time the paddle had come up from underneath, almost scraping his thighs and the impact at the bottom of his cheeks had clearly rippled hard up to his waist.
"Ahhh!"
"Let's try two in a row. My right side is getting more than my left."
"OK but turn your butt away from me a little because I can't move any more in this direction."
"OK" WHACK!...WHACK!
No sounds came out of his mouth. He had clamped down on his breathing, his attention completely taken up by the fire in his cheeks. It was several seconds before he breathed regularly again. Then he took a deep breath, exhaled and asked:
"Would you try three, Rod?"
and, before he could respond
WHACK!... WHACK!... WHACK!...
His legs twitched in response to the burning in his buttocks. It took a while for his breathing to catch up.
"Rod, I did not get you a very good present for your birthday, only that book, remember?. And you probably wanted a good birthday spanking, right?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Do you think you want to try for your birthday spanking? Would that be a good present?"
(it is like working out... that sense of pushing yourself... how far can you go...)
"Well, so far it's been... one and one and two and three... seven, so we only have thirty to go... ha, ha, ha! I don't know, Anne. That would be a good present if I can get that far. ha, ha, ha! I don't know... tell you what: I want to try if you want to try."
"Yes, but it's up to you. You tell me when you are ready and it's OK if we don't reach the magic number."
"Thanks. OK, four this time."
WHACK!... WHACK!... WHACK!... WHACK!...
He leaned against the wall, breathing hard for a short while. "Are you hitting as hard as you can, Anne? It's quite fine the way it is, I just want to know."
"Yes, very close to that without losing control. I can go a little harder maybe, not much."
"OK try for five, hard as you can."
Those five were followed by six in a row, then more. Every group seemed to go a little easier as his cheeks hardened in their swelling and started to pale at the centers. At the count of thirty five there were several little blood spots on each cheek.
(I know it feels good, Rod, but maybe it's time to stop... how can you take this much pounding and ask for more?... because I'm sure you will ask for more... if swollen is good, it must feel really good to be that swollen...)
"OK, Anne, last two, hard as you possibly can, don't worry about the bloodspots, they do not hurt in the least. Please... two more... no, make it three more."
(of course... one to grow on)
WHACK!... WHACK!... WHAACK!...
(that looks really bruised... I hope this is all we do for a while...)
He took the paddle gently from her hands and looked at the blood spots on it. Now he knew "until the blood comes", the frat rats' comments he had overheard once. He wetted a paper towel and wiped off the paddle, then dabbed at his cheeks looking in the mirror. What little bleeding there was stopped quickly.
(stanched that quick... I'm amazed... I guess I don't really know how it works)
He was rubbing his bottom, squeezing it, feeling the swollen pads, pulling them apart, squeezing them again, looking at the mirror again and again. He turned to her and kissed her tenderly.
"Thank you, Anne, I don't know how to thank you. I hope this doesn't push your limits too hard."
And kissed her again.
"No, no, don't worry, Rod. You wanted this. I did what you wanted me to do. I hope you are happy with the results. Happy birthday!"And gave him a deep kiss.
"I am very happy with the results. My bottom feels good! It's hard to tell you how good it feels."
The bleeding had stopped and the swollen cheeks were now evenly dark red.
"How long before you will be able to sit down again, Mr. Redbutt?"
"Iva Swollen Redbutt the Third at your service, madam! It maybe all of 10 seconds before I can sit down again. That is as soon as I can find a chair."
"You are kidding!"
"Of course not. Here."
He sat on the toilet lid. His face registering pleasure and amazement both at the coolness of the surface and at the feeling of the swollen cheeks. Her eyes widened in disbelief. There was no choice but to believe it.
"Really, Anne, I can't tell you how good it feels." "But what about tomorrow? You'll be sore."
"Some, of course. But it will be a pleasant soreness. I've never been this swollen but I know from previous times what to expect. I may wince a little on Sunday, maybe."
"I did not know it would be like this. I really did not know. Give me a hug!"
They embraced for a long time. She reached behind him from time to time and squeezed the swollen buns, marvelling at what she had wrought. (I still want to hear what the psych has to say... I hope he can say something meaningful... because this is definitely outside my experience and I can't say I don't like it... which makes a me a little weird... does it mean that I will be enjoying being a little weird every so often?...I wonder how often?...)
"And now a word from our spons...{7... 5... }... in tomorrow for more fun with our friends from Beet Street... { 2...} you a special edition of the 4 O'Clock News... {click}

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