To be honest, to be kind

Story from Februs 13.

To be honest, to be kind
by James Hoffman

LIFE CAN BE HARD IN A VILLAGE, particularly for a devotee of beautiful female bottoms. Or, more precisely, a devotee of spanking such beautiful bottoms. Indeed, out there in the sticks, the relatively simple matter of getting laid can be a hardship. Finding a juicy little tart who likes having her rump soundly tanned, and who will not broadcast one's tastes to the entire community, can be fraught with difficulty.

Consequently, I seek an outlet for my passions by occasionally treating myself to a well-made spanking video. A poor substitute for hands-on experience, but it is better than nothing and, in fact, can be quite inspirational. From one film, for example, I picked up the trick of liberally smearing baby-oil over the girl's buttocks before the spanking commences, which had a number of effects. Firstly, it seems the female bottom is capable of enduring a longer punishment when it is done. It also appears to slow the reddening of the cheeks. And, not least, an oiled bottom makes a truly lascivious noise when slapped.

The company I use most often for my videos produces films of excellent quality. Their girls are always very attractive, and their lovely round, teenage bums always get treated in the sternest fashion. Although I stress that this is only a substitute for the real thing, I admit that once an order is placed I await the arrival of the video with mounting excitement. When a week has passed, I open my door each evening in hope of finding a package awaiting me on the doormat; my disappointment on finding only bills and circulars is palpable.

* * *

So it was, in an arid period of punishment misses, that I made an order for "The Shoplifter". The photographs in the catalogue showed a willowy young brunette, her hair severely tied back, a few stray locks clinging damply to her anguished face as her wonderfully pert and reddened bottom was subjected to the cane. A truly delightful sight.

On the ninth day I arrived home, and was disappointed. Tomorrow, I thought, my tear-streaked shoplifter will surely arrive.

After changing, I went into my second bedroom, which I use as an office. It had been a hot day, humid and oppressive, and I decided to open the window for what little breeze there was before starting my work. In doing this, of course, I looked out of the window. My house stands on one side of a driveway that leads from the street to parking spaces at the back of the houses. Opposite me are two similar houses, one occupied by an elderly couple, the other by Sue.

I knew little about her other than her name. When I first moved here she had a partner, but they had split up last summer and she had been alone since then, as far as I knew. Girlfriends visited her on occasion, but I never saw a man. Not that I was particularly looking, but it did strike me as interesting. She was a very attractive young woman. In recent weeks there had been many opportunities to see just how attractive, for in the warm weather she habitually wore nothing but a tee-shirt (which clearly showed that her full breasts had no need of a brassiere), khaki or denim shorts, and hiking boots. Between shorts and boots, she displayed one of the finest pair of legs I have ever seen, smooth and tanned, long and supple.

Now, looking from my office, those legs caught my eye. I was gazing diagonally down through her kitchen window and, thanks to the open-plan layout, could see the lower half of her torso and those beautiful limbs stretched along the length of her sofa. The flickering light of her TV showed through the nets of the adjacent window.

Sue was wearing a pair of very short, and very tight, cut-offs. I spent some moments admiring the elegant expanse of leg that she inadvertently displayed to me. Just as I was about to turn away, she uncrossed her legs and let one foot slide to the floor. Her thighs now formed a honey-coloured vee and, at their apex, the material of her shorts was stretched tightly across her mound. A moment later, her hand slid into view and to my astonished delight, cupped her denim-clad sex, pressing and relaxing in a slow rhythm. And then, with uncharacteristic diplomacy, I left Sue to pleasure herself in private.

* * *

Some twenty minutes later there was a knock at the door. 'The Postman left this for you,' said Sue, offering up a familiar-looking package. This happens regularly, a neighbour taking delivery of something for another, and so was nothing unusual. Normally, however, Sue – or whichever neighbour it happens to be – smiles pleasantly and scoots back home before I have time to thank them. This evening, things were different.

'Anything interesting?' she asked, her chin in the direction of the package on my hands. I looked at the thick, padded envelope, and realised something was not right. One end of the envelope had been stapled shut, and it looked suspiciously as if the staples had been prised open and then re-closed. Moreover, a narrow strip of the envelope's top-layer of paper had been damaged, suggesting that the staples had once been covered by sticky tape. A curious idea firmed in my mind.

'Yes,' I replied, 'I'm hoping it will be – it's a film.'

'Not a mucky film, I hope?' she asked, in exaggerated tones of adolescent naughtiness.

'As a matter of fact, yes,' I said evenly. As if you didn't already know. Momentarily she looked taken aback by my frankness, and then a glint of mischeviousness appeared, and I believed my gamble had been correct.

'Could I...' she began, and paused, changed back. 'I'd like to see it... sometime... perhaps?'

'You can watch it now, if you like,' I said, and stepped aside to let her enter. Again there was a brief hesitation, during which she looked at me almost quizzically. I smiled encouragement, made a sweeping, welcoming gesture, and she stepped inside.

'Nice place you have,' she said in a breezy tone that belied a touch of nervousness as if she were now unsure of the wisdom of her actions. I invited her to make herself comfortable and fetched wine from the kitchen. Whilst I took care of the TV and cassette, Sue arranged herself somewhat primly at one end of my settee, nursing her glass to her breast.

'You enjoy adult films?' I asked, joining her on the settee but leaving a tactful gap between us. 'Or is this to be a first for you?'

'Oh no, I've seen a few,' she said with unconvincing worldliness. 'I think the're quite exciting – and always best in company.'

'Yes,' I agreed, 'Quite so. All the same, I think you might find this a little different to others you've seen.'

'Try me,' she said, a brave attempt at a challenge in her eyes. I clicked the remote and settled back in my seat, deliberately positioning myself so that I could keep a surrupticious eye on Sue.

The film started slowly, setting the scene by showing the young brunette browsing in a clothes shop, then furtively and amateurishly cramming items into her large shoulder bag. She was caught, naturally, and the proprietor took her to his office and there, after some strong words and the threat of the police, he took matters into his own hands. He obliged the girl to remove her tight skirt and arrange herself across his knee, submitting herself to a mild spanking on her white-knickered bottom. A fine bottom it was too, each cheek round and firm as a crisp apple.

During this preliminary spanking I glanced sideways at Sue several times, and was pleased to see that she appeared enthralled. One hand was balled to a fist and pressed against her full lips, the other, wineglass set aside, rested uneasily against the swell of her upper thigh, the fingers slowly flexing.

'Rather good, don't you think?' I asked casually. Sue looked at me with an expression that suggested she had almost forgotten my presence, and hurriedly clasped her hands together on her lap.

'Yes,' she replied, her voice toneless. 'If s quite sexy.' Sexiness was not really the point, as the girl on the film was beginning to learn. The proprietor's slaps onto her cheeks were becoming harder, turning her pale little bum a charming deep shade of rose. With a final resounding crescendo of stinging whacks, the preliminary part of the girl's punishment came to an end. She stood shamefaced, slim hands protecting her heated buttocks while the man berated her anew, then sternly instructed her to lean across his desk, her bottom raised and legs straight, slightly apart.

The scene now cut ahead, and the manager held a weighty-looking paddle in his hand. (I wondered, superfluously, if all clothes shops stock such things). Ordering the girl to hold perfectly still, he informed her that this part of her chastisement was to be taken on the bare, a prospect which elicited squeals of outraged shame from the girl. But the proprietor was having none of it.

'Looks like she's in for it now,' I commented. Sue glanced at me again, and her eyes unmistakably glittering. I smiled slightly and she looked back at the screen, shifting her position a little and clearing her throat.

'Yes,' she said in a dry voice. 'I think you're right.'

The girl's paddling was an excellent display of the disciplinarian art. Her buttocks leapt under each impact while she squirmed, cried out and pleaded for leniency. No mercy was shown to the little thief, however, and the cracking blows continued to rain down on her delectable rear. When the proprietor finally decided that she had taken enough of the paddle, her buttocks were a uniform flaming scarlet, and the wretched miscreant was sniffling remorseful tears.

* * *

I snapped off the video. 'Oh!' cried Sue, 'Don't stop it now! The best bit's coming up!' She froze suddenly, and as I held her gaze the look on her face turned from prurient excitement to shamed guilt.

'Sue,' I said after a lengthy silence. 'I think you have a confession to make, don't you?'

'I don't know what you mean,' she said, without any conviction.

'Of course you do,' I contradicted her. 'You opened up my parcel earlier and watched the film on your own. Didn't you?' She averted her eyes, but nodded an admission. 'And then you realised that you liked what you were watching. You found it arousing. But you also felt bad about what you'd done, you knew you deserved to be punished too. So you came over to the house of someone who's practically a stranger; you succeeded in getting invited in, and now you've let the cat out of the bag. All because you wanted to.'

'Yes,' she whispered, and suddenly looked up again, her face troubled. 'But now I'm not sure...' I raised a finger to my lips and she was silent.

'You haven't been punished before, have you Sue?'

'No,' she admitted weakly, hanging her head. I leaned forward, cupping the point of her chin in my hand and held her eyes with mine, intent, serious.

'That's OK,' I assured her quietly. 'You don't have to worry. But you do deserve a punishment for your behaviour, wouldn't you agree?'

She nodded very slightly, and a courageous little smile curved her sweet mouth.

'Good,' I said. Then you're ready to do as I say. I want you to go upstairs into the bedroom, and kneel at the end of the bed. Rest your shoulders on the quilt and arch your back, so your bottom is up high like the girl in the film. You understand?' She nodded again, obedient, and I tilted my head toward the staircase to indicate she should go now.

As she walked slowly up the stairs I followed her rump with my eyes, admiring the strip of rounded cheek that protruded from her shorts where thighs and buttocks met.

The sight that greeted me when I entered the bedroom was a glory to behold. Sue had positioned herself just as I had instructed, and the full globes of her bottom were thrust upwards, the denim of her shorts stretched light across their fullness and into the deep valley between. Her long, tanned legs were pressed together, the firmness of her musculature evident beneath the smooth, bronzed skin.

I stood to her side, my back to her torso, and traced the edge of her shorts with my fingertips, lightly brushing the silky, plump cheek. She flinched but held herself steady. In the darkness between her legs I thought I could see a darker stain, coupled with a hint of musky scent in my nostrils, but my attention was not drawn to this for more than a few moments.

'Now,' I said in a calm, quiet voice. 'We're going to start nice and slow, just like the film, OK?'

'OK,' she whispered. I spent a few moments more stroking her curves, enjoying the coolness of her flesh, contemplating the heat that would soon be radiating from her. Her buttocks were tense, doubtless a reflection of her solicitude, her mixed feelings towards this first-time experience.

Respectful of this, I kept my word and began her spanking with the lightest smacks, the merest tease of pain. The sound of the impact was almost wholly muffled by the material of her shorts, and where my fingertips extended onto the naked swells, her skin formed tiny ripples and the touch of my skin on hers made a faint kissing sound.

Under this considerate treatment, Sue began to relax. The shape of her bottom filled out as she let her muscles unclench and, glancing over my shoulder, I saw her sinking herself deeper into the comfort of my quilt. Gradually I increased the force of my smacks, although they remained at a level that could have been taken for playfulness. After a dozen or so of these slaps her buttocks were bouncing nicely at each contact of my hand, and I heard a muffled sigh.

'You're doing very well, Sue,' I assured her, halting my blows and again stroking the sweeping curve of her now supple rump. 'I think you're ready now for something a little more corrective.'

'Alright,' she said, and I was satisfied to note that the timidity was gone from her voice, replaced by a definite touch of eagerness. I cupped one cheek with my full hand and, keeping my hand in that shape, raised my arm to shoulder height.

The fearsome thwack on Sue's arse caused her to leap under my hand, her body jolting forward and the flesh of her bottom swelling within the confines of her shorts. A pained 'Ooooh!' escaped from her lips and I waited patiently for the tension to leave her body once again.

'Six of these,' I told her.

'Six,' she agreed.

'On each cheek,' I added, and expected a refusal. Instead she echoed my words. With the girl pliant and perfectly positioned, I took my time with the execution of the smacks, enjoying each powerful cuff and the delightful movement of her bottom. Equally delightful were Sue's throaty little cries, her stifled moans and gasps as the stinging intensified in her flesh.

'Good,' I said curtly as I finished the dozen. 'Now, stand up, Sue.' She stood slowly, straightening from her hips, as if in discomfort. Still at her side, I turned her face to mine. The heat of excitation coloured her cheeks, her eyes were filled and swimming with smarting tears.

'Are you sorry for what you've done?' I asked her quietly.

'Yes,' said Sue, her lips delicately trembling.

'How sorry?'

'I wish I hadn't done it,' she said after a moment's thought.

That's not really the answer I want,' I said regretfully. 'Clearly I haven't punished you enough.'

'Oh no! No more! I've said I'm sorry haven't I?' She faced me, stepped close. Her eyes were hooded, her lips moist and pouting. Tentatively, she placed her hands on my chest, trailed them downwards until she found my nipples with her fingertips. 'Couldn't we... you know. You've really turned me on with that spanking. I'm so juicy, you wouldn't believe it.'

Her voice was smoky, tempting. For long moments we stared into each other's eyes, her fingers continually provoking the hard pips of flesh under my skirt. Then I took hold of her wrists, lowered her hands to her side.

'You don't get it, do you Sue?' I said. This isn't about sex – I intend to chastise you, not lay you. If I wanted that, I'd take it. And your regret isn't enough, either. I want something from the heart.'

I watched her closely, awaiting her reaction, knowing that this was the moment at which she had to make a choice. She let her gaze fall and I studied her face, trying to gauge her emotions. Tiny furrows appeared on her forehead and between her brows, her lips were compressed, her nostrils dilated.

'What... what do you want me to do?' she murmured. Inwardly elated, outwardly ice-cool, I again tilted her face to mine, delighted to find melting submission in her glistening eyes.

'Strip.'

Sue crossed her arms, gathered the hem of her tee-shirt in her hands and slowly pulled the garment upwards. The material hid her face as her heavy breasts were exposed to me, two beautiful globes, milk-white against surrounding tan. Her nipples were thickly aroused, suffused with blood. The tee discarded, I saw that her cheeks were tinged a deeper shade of red-desire, or shame?

'And the shorts, Sue,' I prompted her. Her blush intensified yet further.

'I – I don't have any knickers on,' she confessed. I laughed at the coyness: a moment ago she had wanted me to take her, now she was a shy maiden.

'I wouldn't let you keep them on anyway,' I told her. 'So just get on with it.'

As her shorts hit the floor I noticed that the gusset was indeed darkened with moisture. I surveyed her legs leisurely, admiring the smoothness of her skin, her dimpled knees and the pliant meatiness of her thighs. Pinkly aroused flesh peeked from beneath a short-cropped patch of crisp hair, while her lower belly tremored expectantly.

'Now,' I said pleasantly, 'Face the bed again. Spread your legs – wider, that's right. Lean forward from your hips and place your hands flat on the bed, shoulder-width apart.'

She obeyed my instructions perfectly, and when she was positioned as I wanted her I allowed myself the small pleasure of fondling her brown, tight-stretched thighs and the elastic curve of each rosy-pink buttock. She was fragrant with readiness, and when I traced my forefinger along her opening her slick petals clung to me, leaving me shining with her juice. She mewled softly, a supplication to be touched again.

'You really are in need, aren't you?' I mused. 'Perhaps I'll have you after all... or maybe not.'

She mumbled an expletive.

'Say again?' I snapped. Sues body jerked, tensing.

'I didn't mean it,' she said hurriedly.

'But you said it, nonetheless,' I said frostily, and landed a weighty smack on one silky cheek, causing her to tilt a little forward and let out a gasp. Her skin rapidly darkened where the blow had landed.

'I think something a little more severe than spanking is called for,' I told her. Leaving Sue in her humbling position I went to the wardrobe where, hanging on the inside of the door, was a collection of belts. I selected my favourite for corrective purposes, an unadorned black strip of thin, supple Italian leather. Holding the buckle in my palm I wrapped the leather twice about my hand, then flicked my wrist with a practised motion. The belt cracked satisfyingly in thin air.

An apprehensive moan returned my attention to Sue, uncertainly awaiting my attentions. My eyes drank in her full, womanly curves, the lush expanse of tender flesh offered up to my mercy. I heard her shallow, panting breath and could see, between the splay of her magnificent thighs, the rise and fall of her dangling breasts.

'How many?' she asked meekly when I resumed my position at her side.

'Enough to elicit true contrition,' I replied, and drew back my arm.

The whippy leather landed with a sharp report on the fullest curve of her near bottom-cheek, the tip licking into her split crevice. An anguished wail tore from Sue's throat and she began to raise her hand to her abused buttock.

'Hold still!' I rapped, and at the sound of my displeasure her hand shot back to its correct place. I tanned her cheek methodically, clinically, laying each stripe a little higher until I reached the point where her buttocks tapered into the small of her back. Returning to the mid-point, the lashes descending the quivering globe, my aim carefully avoiding her plump, out-thrust sex, onto her upper thigh, where I allowed a greater length to sear her skin, curling around and onto the front of her leg.

Each lash elicited a barking cry of anguish from Sue, and when I stepped to her other side and began to work backhanded on her other pale cheek she began to sob piteously.

'Oh please I'm sorry! I'm really, truly sorry!' I ignored her, continued to thrash her buttocks to a scarlet that matched the first-beaten cheek.

'Oh God, stop it! I'm sorry!' she wailed. 'I wish I'd never seen your fucking parcel!'

'Language,' I chided her, and let her have the full length of the belt across her wide arse, the flesh jolting deliciously under the impact.

'Aiee! I don't know what you want! What to I say?'

I paused in her beating, raised her sweaty face by her hair.

'Think,' I told her. 'Just think.' Changing position, I stood directly behind her, laying alternate vertical stripes on her quivering, scorched bottom, latticing her with heat and colour. A deep, primal moan came from Sue's lips, and her arms buckled. Her face and shoulders came to rest on the quilt, and her tortured arse was laid yet more open to its punishment.

'Do whatever you want with me,' she sniffled tearfully. 'God knows I deserve it.'

'Good girl!' I said. 'That's what I wanted to hear.'

Having received a true confession of her wickedness, I brought Sue's punishment to an end with four full-blooded lashes, arranged as a double "X". The belt uncoiled and fell from my hand, and I noticed that I was bathed in sweat. Sue, still gently sobbing, eased herself forward and lay spread-eagled, luscious, wantonly available.

'Perhaps I do feel horny after all,' I whispered in her ear. Undressing quickly, I sat on my pillows, my legs either side of her head. Sue glanced up at me, reddened eyes burning with new desire, and I caught her hair in my hands.

'Eat,' I growled, and tugged her face towards the humid swamp of my own aching, hungry pussy.