Thursday, 9 February 2012

Intent On A Hiding

Story from Janus 43.

Intent On A Hiding
by Andrew Grantham

DESPITE the fact that rain pattered on the fabric of the tent, sunlight also filtered through the weave of the material. It was one of those typically English summer days. A light breeze caused the poles to sway slightly and the canvas fluttered a little.

'No,' Dianne repeated firmly. 'Not here anyway.' She tried to crawl towards the zipped-up doorway.

Phil pulled her back by the legs. 'Oh yes you are,' he insisted. 'I promised you a spanking and it's a spanking you're going to get.'

'Ssh!' warned Dianne. 'There's no need to tell everyone.' She turned over and sat on her bottom.

Her jeans were already undone and Phil easily tugged the blue denim down her legs, thus shackling her ankles. He ran the tip of his tongue across his lips as his gaze took in the contours of her mound beneath the white cotton briefs and the pubic patch that showed through the stretched material. Then her gleaming thighs, generous but firm, her rounded kneecaps, and calves that were sturdy yet shapely and truly feminine.

'You can't smack my bum without making a noise,' protested Dianne softly. 'Besides, I won't be able to keep quiet. People will think I'm being attacked. Sound travels outside, remember.'

Phil was unimpressed. 'You're not getting out of this tent until your backside is scarlet and smarting. Okay?'

Dianne's pretty face broke into a smile. 'Okay,' she conceded. 'As long as no one realises what's going on in here. I don't want my face to be as red as my bottom if we get found out.'

She put the palms of her hands flat on the groundsheet and lifted her rear up off the floor. 'By the way,' she asked. 'Just why am I getting spanked anyway?'

'For having an arse that cries out to get spanked,' was Phil's simple reply.

'That's as good an excuse as any, I suppose,' grinned Dianne.

Phil leaned forward. He hooked his fingers in her panties and sharply tugged them downwards. Her thatch was darker than the curly hair of her head, but it was obvious that she was a natural blonde.

'It's awfully quiet outside,' she said. 'Someone is bound to hear.'

With that, she parted her legs invitingly. 'Wouldn't you be satisfied with a leg-over?'

'Later Dianne, later,' smiled Phil. 'Now turn over and crawl across my lap.'

The blonde turned herself over and exposed her beautiful bottom. Then she slithered over Phil and positioned herself so that it was pushed up into the air. Her bum globes were gleaming, firm, yet very pliable. And so gorgeously rounded!

Phil ran a hand over their surface. His first touch caused her to flinch slightly.

'You've got a lovely arse, Dianne,' he breathed.

'Thank you,' she smiled, 'but sometimes I wish I hadn't. It seems to act like a magnet.'

Suddenly, she felt the slam of his hand on the left cheek of her bottom. Dianne held her breath and her head flicked back sharply. Then her right cheek took an identical smash.

'That's just for starters,' Phil warned her in a voice barely above a whisper.

Dianne blew out her cheeks silently and waited for the spanking proper to start.

Phil brought his hand down twice in quick succession, again one sharp slap to the crown of each cheek. The noise of flesh striking flesh was loud and clear and the blonde victim hoped nobody outside would recognise the sound.

The young man inspected her bottom before he struck again. The mark of his hand was just beginning to mottle her glorious cheeks. Before he had finished, they would both be a deep, throbbing scarlet and would surely sizzle if she sat in a pool of water.

Phil settled into a slow, easy rhythm and Dianne squirmed as her seat got hotter and hotter. It hurt of course, but she could take more, much more. Deliberately, she pressed herself into his swelling crotch.

Slap!... Slap!... Slap! The sound was repeated every few seconds but at one stage it was drowned out by the noise of a flurry of rain on the canvas. Dianne gritted her teeth as she jerked and writhed, though she still managed to absorb the hard impacts of his hand without making a sound.

She was weakening however and as the barrage increased, low moans began to come from the back of her throat.

'Lay off now, Phil,' she pleaded in a whining tone.

'Not likely,' came his rasped reply. 'I'm enjoying it too much.'

By way of a change, he turned his attention to her thighs.

'Owww!' cried out Dianne. Her head shot up and her curls jerked violently.

Phil scorched the same thigh once more. Dianne groaned. Her legs scissored open and shut. Pain was now overflowing from her roasted rump and she was finding it difficult to contain her vocal reaction.

The other thigh shuddered and reddened as her bottom got some respite. The backs of her legs were really smarting now.

'That's enough, Phil!' she gasped, twisting her head round to look at him.

He was unmoved. His answer was to grip her tighter and to step up the flow of stinging slaps.

Dianne now let out a whinnying whimper as every explosive blow from his hand increased her pain and her discomfort. She was now past the enjoyment stage. Her bottom and thighs winced and quivered and she repeatedly struck her fists on the groundsheet.

Only when she began to cry out loudly did Phil stop. Then he ran his hand over her scarlet, scorching nates and the bright red patches on the backs of her thighs.

Dianne took deep breaths and lay still for a while. Gradually she recovered, and then she reached for her panties. Outside, the rain had stopped and the breeze had died away.

'You were very good, Di,' said Phil, planting a kiss on her lips.

'Thank you,' she murmured, somewhat excruciatingly wriggling into her jeans. 'We'll do what comes next somewhere else if you don't mind. There's hardly any room in here.'

No sooner was she back in her clothes than the zipper of the tent was drawn up and two little heads poked their way inside. 'Can we have our tent back now please, mummy?' they asked in unison.

'Yes darlings. Of course you can,' smiled Dianne.

She crawled out into the garden of her home and as she did so, her husband playfully tapped her denim-covered bottom as it waggled in front of his face.

'Ouch Phil!' she complained. 'That hurt!'

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