From the Top Shelf - Sally's Mom, part 4

We have now arrived at the final installment of "Sally's Mom". Sally has been paddled, and now it's Tommy's turn. Be prepared for an unexpected twist to the story.

She led the way down a hallway to a door. We were going downstairs to the basement rec room. I followed, understanding what she had in mind. There was no mistaking it. She intended to give me a taste of the family paddle. I steeled myself thinking that if this is what it took to stay in her mother’s good graces, I’d do it. I’d take my licking. I had another thought, and that was that Sally might be more forgiving if I got it too.

The rec room had a ping pong table, some scattered chairs, and a leather couch against the wall. A padded chest sat in front of the couch. A wet bar occupied a far corner and an old TV stood in another. There were some narrow windows near the ceiling to let some light in during the daytime. Evelyn Jamison stopped in the middle of the room and turned to me.

“Do you see this?” she said holding up the paddle.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said.

“I just had to paddle my daughter with it because you took her to a party where neither of you should have gone. We don’t allow alcohol at all in our family and you, young man, are not 21. You were breaking the law. It was fortunate that deputy goes to our church and knew Sally. You could have put her in a lot of trouble.”

I started to explain then thought the better of it. Lame excuses were not going to work. “Yes, ma’am,” was all I said.

“She is up there right now sobbing her eyes out because I had to punish her according to our family rules,” she said shaking the paddle at me to emphasize her points.

Then her tone softened. “I like you, Tommy. I think you’re a nice young man. But I will not have this sort of thing where Sally is concerned. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’ve decided to allow you to continue to see Sally,” she said. “But on one condition…”

Here it comes, I thought.

“…and that is that you take exactly what Sally just got. I mean to give you a good old fashioned spanking with this paddle right on your little bare bottom. What do you say to that?”

She raised her chin and stared me in the eye awaiting my reaction. Her chest heaved and her nostrils flared. She tapped the paddle in her palm. “Well?”

I had no choice. “Yes, ma’am. I guess I deserve it. And I do want to continue to see Sally. So I’ll do whatever you say.”

She nodded as I spoke. “Very well. Have you ever been spanked before, Tommy?”

I admitted I had not. It wasn’t done in my family.

“Well, then young man, you are way overdue. A good sound spanking is a learning experience every boy and girl should have. I warn you it will not be pleasant, but expect your full cooperation and obedience. Do we understand ourselves?”

I said, “yes, ma’am.”

...She took my wrist and led me toward the couch. She seated herself on the padded chest in front of it and positioned me standing at her right side. “All right,” she said, “take down your trousers.” Then she thought about it. “No, instead, you take off everything down to your underwear.”

I did as she commanded, and soon I was at her side clad only in my white socks, white T-shirt and white underpants. My arousal was evident as I stood there waiting for the next order. She looked straight at my crotch where my prick pointed straight out. “Now take down your pants,” she said.

Bending slightly I slid the y-briefs down and my penis popped up, straight as a rod. “Well,” she said, “you are quite the young man, aren’t you?” Then without any further ado she pointed to her lap and said, “Over my knee you go.”

I laid myself across her thighs and she opened them slightly to accommodate my erection. Still, my penis was in contact with her thighs, and the feeling was delicious despite the situation. She moved me forward so that my nose was at the floor and my feet waved in the air. I remember the musky smell of her and the feel of her palm as she rubbed my bared bottom cheeks.

“Since you’ve never been spanked before, I’ll start with my hand before we graduate to the paddle. Don’t put your hand back and don’t try to squirm off. You’ve agreed to this punishment and I intend to give it to you. I’m going to tan your fanny good, young man, so just make your mind up to take it like a man.”

I did not wait long. Her palm exploded across my bottom with a brisk barrage of spanks that fell indiscriminately all over my behind from the crest to the junction with my thighs. Left side, right side, all over. I never knew where the next smack would hit. The sensation was first a tingle, then it stung, then it really stung and my eyes watered. A spanking is like nothing else. The buttocks are fleshy but have pain receptors designed to alert the brain to sharp repetitive contact. So striking the same place repeatedly sends a message to the brain that is translated as heat. What I’m trying to say rather dispassionately, given the passage of time, is that the heat and awful sting piled on top of itself and made it more and more excruciatingly distressful. I wriggled as if I could shake it off. I fluttered my legs in what must have looked like a comical reaction, but to me it was no joke. She was setting my bottom on fire with just her hand, dishing out ringing volley after stinging volley, brisk spanks that had me yelping and flopping over her lap like a fish.

“Stop squirming,” she admonished giving me a few especially sharp spanks.

“Yow! Ow! I can’t help it,” I said breathlessly. “It really hurts. It burns.” I closed my eyes and tensed as another series of sharp smacks connected with my bobbing fanny.

Then it stopped. I caught my breath, grateful for the respite. I hadn’t broken down but wow, it had hurt much worse than I imagined – this unrelenting sting that blazed hotter and hotter. But for a minute it had stopped.

“Hurts, doesn’t it,” said Mrs. Jamison.

“Yes, ma’am,” I managed to choke.

“Well, the next part will be worse, young man. Are you ready? This is what Sally had to endure because of you.” I felt her tap my fanny with the paddle, getting ready.

Crack! The paddle landed square across my bottom, probably compressing my cheeks and planting a big red welt.

“Owwww!” I yelled. This was something else. This pain was an order of magnitude worse. For the next several minutes the crack of the paddle rang out like pistol shots in the still air of that basement room. I bucked and gasped for breath, wriggling shamelessly, flailing my arms, kicking my feet and yelping incoherently. My ass burned like a fiery furnace. I don’t think she left a square inch untouched. She plied that paddle up and down and side to side. I was blubbering. Tears were falling despite my best efforts to control them. The atrocious sting reached unbearable intensity as spank after spank cracked down on my defenseless bottom. I finally regressed to that ten year old boy taken to his absolute limits and beyond.

Finally after a few hard slow swats she stopped.

“Stand up,” she said.

I rose, doing my best to choke back sobs. My hands went to my throbbing fanny. It was hot to the touch.

“Come here,” she said, indicating I should sit on her lap.

I was puzzled. What now? She had just reduced me to a teary mess. Was she trying to make up? I was not prepared for what came next. I eased myself onto her lap. Her thighs were soft so it was ok. She eased her hand into my crotch and seized my cock.

“My young man’s pride looks deflated,” she said with a dry chuckle. But it was coming back as she stroked it. “I had to punish you properly, you know. Where my daughter is concerned there is no cutting any slack. You understand that, don’t you?”

“I guess so,” I said, but now I was completely confused.

“You just don’t know how lonely it is. I have needs.” She was stroking my penis back into hardness. “Ooh, that’s more like it,” she said. “I’m going to show you some things.”

Now I was squirming with pleasure because the friction of her hand sliding up and down my shaft was propelling me toward climax. She sensed she was getting close and stopped. “Not just yet,” she said. She stood me up and rose from the chest she had been sitting on. I watched as she [lifted her skirt,] slipped her thumbs in her panty girdle and slid it down exposing a lush bush between her thighs.

She sat down again and pushed me down to kneel between her legs. Grabbing me behind my head she pulled me forward into that junction between her legs. “You don’t understand this, but spanking your little bottom to a cherry red just made me all horny. I’m going to teach you how to satisfy a woman. Then we’ll take care of that stiff boy cock of yours.”

She taught me how to use my tongue to please her. Once I had pleasured her to her satisfaction, she sat me back on her lap and finished what she had started, gripping my cock and pumping her hand up and down. I erupted, jerking and pumping with a monster orgasm that shot my gism halfway across the room. That done, she set about renewing me, knowing that the second time I’d be able to give her a long ride. She was right. She pulled me on top of her, guided my fresh erection into her vagina and started pumping her hips. She urged me on until I’d given her several climaxes. Then it was switch to a new position and go again. By then we’d been down there well over an hour. She shooed me out and told me she’d contact me later.

By the time she had finished with me, I was as worn out as a limp dishrag. It was the first time but not the last. What she wanted was to be serviced. I got it then. With a husband abroad, she had an itch that needed scratching. But in a close knit community of conservative church going folk, an affair with someone her age was too risky. So here I was, a nineteen year old, both horny and pliable, and I would do just fine. I won’t kid you, I was having sex and loving it. She was a very thorough teacher and I was learning all kinds of things about pleasing a woman. It was a heady time and I was zoned out on lust, always eager for more.

Did she ever spank me again? As a matter of fact, yes, although never like that first time. I discovered she liked playing spanky games, and in more frivolous moods she would flip me across her knee, usually when I was stark naked, and spank my bottom until I begged her to stop. “You have the cutest, cheekiest little fanny, Tommy. You should be spanked by a woman – and often.” Now the times she had patted my ass in a patronizing way made sense.

In a turnabout one day, she handed me a leather belt of her husband’s and told me to whip her. She wanted me to do it hard and not hold back. She perched on all fours on her bed, sticking out that magnificent rear end. I took the doubled belt and striped her luscious fanny until she told me to stop. But, she had taken quite a strapping before she called a halt. In fact she did this several times. It may have been feelings of guilt she was trying to purge, atoning for what we were doing. Whatever the reason, she never told me to stop until her hind end was welted with red stripes.

I still went out with Sally, having paid the price of that admission with a blistered ass, but my making out time with Sally paled in comparison to the intense sex I was having with her mom. It always at her house and at times when no one else was there. Toward the end I became more and more apprehensive that someone would catch us, but I was saved by the bell, in a manner of speaking.

I got drafted.

I was away for two years and when I was released, the family had moved again, this time to Missouri. So I never went back to Virginia, and I never saw Sally or Mrs. Jamison again. Perhaps that was just as well. My affair with her mom was a secret I’d have never been able to keep from Sally. Hell, maybe she knew. To this day, though, whenever I see a middle aged well built woman who appeals to me, two things happen – an erection starts to build and my buttocks clench up.

What might Tommy's life been like if he had returned to Virginia?