Spank Me!

Always one to maximize the impact of such an event, Jim Clips would organize a sort of informal diving competition for the ladies. All the elders of the church would line up like Olympic judges, sitting in their deck chairs in the shade, taking notes on who did the most graceful swan dive, or who had the best form doing the jack knife. Then they would award the winner a Hawaiian leigh, which would elicit quiet snickers from the teenagers and applause from every one else.

Prior to the diving competition, open swimming was encouraged. Horseplay was frowned upon, but not forbidden, it was simply seen as bad decorum. Unfortunately, at this particular "Island Time!" pool party, Heather was unconcerned with decorum. It had been a week since her last spanking, and because of this, she was out of sorts and cranky. Well, to be honest, she was on the verge of spinning out of control.

After a few minutes of polite swimming and gossiping with people she didn't know very well, Heather snapped. She grabbed the stupid beach ball they were tossing around and hurled out into the cactus, where it deflated with a pitiful "ffffffft". Then she grabbed the nearest lady in the pool, Patricia, and pulled the straps of her swimsuit clear down to her waist. "Help!" Patricia cried, sinking underwater to pull her suit back on. Already Sis had moved on to her next victim, Constance, and freed one of her perky breasts from her speedo.

Eyeing her third victim, Heather's attack was thwarted by Warren, a very eligible young bachelor who attempted to grab her from behind. Without even looking, she swung her elbow behind her and it landed a direct hit on his right ear. Stunned, Warren blubbered under water and emerged ten feet away, looking like a dog that had just been kicked by its owner.

"Heather!" Father Petri's voice boomed over the screaming and crying, "Get out of the pool. Now!"

She complied, suddenly feeling calm, serene even, knowing the discipline she so desperately craved would be imminent.

"What's gotten into you, young lady?" Father Petri scolded, grabbing her by the ear. "This is unacceptable behavior. You will follow me inside and apologize to our host, and you will be disciplined accordingly. Are you coming Jim?

"Well," Jim Clips drawled, "I reckon if she's got to apologize to me, I should be there."

As they marched up the path towards the main house, Ward Waxman, a deacon in the church, joined them. Ward Waxman had been to several of Father Petri's dinner parties, fawning all over Heather and holding her in his lap while his hot breath tickled her chest.

"Don't be too stern with her," Mr. Waxman was saying, eyeing her jiggling cleavage. "She was just having a little fun."

"He's right," Jim Clips said, in his southern drawl. "Where I come from, we give a girl a new car for that sort of thing."

"She has dishonored your house and your guests," Father Petri said, huffing and puffing as they neared the side entrance to the Jim Clips mansion. "She will do penance until you're satisfied,"

"I'm already satisfied," Jim Clips drawled, his eyes glued to Heather's bum cheeks leaking out of her swimsuit.

Jim Clips' library was literally the size of a small town church. The ceiling had to be at least twenty feet high, and the entire east wall was a bank of windows looking up at the Catalina mountain range. There was not a house in sight, just the prickly pear and saguaro cactus common to the Sonoran Desert. Heather couldn't help but wish she was living in such a house, instead of the stuffy confines of Father Petri's rectory. And so many books. Would Jim Clips have the Harry Potter series she'd heard about? She was dying to read it, but she wasn't allowed to indulge in that sort of secular entertainment.

"Heather?" Father Petri announced, in his booming voice. "It's time for your penance." The three men had taken their seats on the long couch at the base of the windows. Now, standing directly in front of them, she had to accept her punishment. "Well?" he said, a hint of a smirk on his lined face, "get ready."

"I am ready, Father," she said, trying to hide the fact that she was already trembling inside.

"No you are not ready," Father Petri said, his smirk suddenly gone. "You bare your soul to Jesus when you pray, and you bare your bottom to me when you're being punished."

"Jesus Christ," Jim Clips said, "you're still spanking your kid?"

"Spare the rod, spoil the child," was Father Petri's reply.

"And it's going to be her bare ass?" Jim Clips sat up on the edge of the couch. "Hoo wee. I've got to see this."

"But..." Heather stammered, realizing what she was being asked to do, "but..."

"Am I going to have to do it for you?" Father Petri said, preparing to get up off the couch.

She bowed her head and said the words. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned." Then she peeled her straps off her shoulders but that's as far as she could go. How could she go further? There were two strange men watching. Wouldn't it be a sin for them to see her with her swimsuit pulled down? Wouldn't that make her an immoral tart? Suddenly, she felt very confused.

"If that's the way you want it..." Father Petri said in disgust. He stood, grabbed the shoulder straps, and with a flick of his wrists, whipped her suit clear down to her waist. She flinched, pinching her knees together as the familiar twinge tickled that place between her legs.

"Well I'll be dipped in shit," Jim Clips said, pulling a cigar from his pocket, "I haven't seen a pair like that since my first marriage." (In jim Clip's defense, Heather's breasts were quite stunning. The way they were pointed and yet full, with the stiff nipples splayed slightly outward, it was as if they were literally popping off her chest.)

"Are you sure about this,?" Waxman asked, his eyes glued to Heather's twin torpedoes.

"Penance!" Father Petri bellowed as he grabbed the suit bunched up around her waist. Heather waited, holding her breath, feeling like at any moment, the place between her legs would open, and the pleasure would come gushing out like a dam breaking. "Penance now!" he said as he jerked her swimsuit clear down to her ankles

Heather almost doubled over. She could already feel a dribble escaping from her pee place. Standing there, completely naked and exposed, it was as if the eyes of the men watching her were little fingers of pleasure touching her, tickling her all over. She was abuzz now, her body a simmering caldron of desire aching for release.

"Well fuck me naked," Jim Clips said, the unlit cigar now bobbing between his fat lips. "Ain't that the prettiest little gash you ever seen?

"I'd tap that, even if it had hair on it" Waxman said, during an obvious lapse of judgement. He was, after all, a deacon of the church.

Ignoring them, Father Petri continued with his task. "On my knee," he said calmly, arranging himself on the end of the couch. Heather obliged, shaking with nervousness and anticipation. As she lowered herself onto his knee and positioned her elbows so her dangling breasts were nudging the carpet, the other men sat up and craned their necks trying to get a better view of the pinkness between her legs.

Waxman nudged Jim Clips. "What's it smell like, Jim?" Waxman was down at the end of the couch, not quite close enough to fully enjoy the fragrant bouquet emanating from between Heather's legs.

"Vanilla?"Jim Clips said, leaning forward so his face was only inches from her baby-smooth bottom.

Father Petri gave them a stern look, and then proceeded with the punishment. "Twelve blows for the twelve Apostles."

Heather waited for the slap, holding her breath, imagining the rushing sensation that would soon be taking over her entire body. It didn't matter that she was naked in front of these men. All that mattered was that she would soon be feeling the love of Jesus blossoming out from between her legs. She'd been waiting for this transcendent moment all week long. Finally, the punishment commenced.

"One!"

Heather gasped. Usually, it took several swats to prompt the response she so desperately craved, but today it was different. Today she was literally quivering before Father Petri even touched her. And now, this first delicious slap felt like it traveled from his hand into her body, got magnified by a factor of ten, and then escaped in a wave of wet pleasure out from between her legs.

"Two!" Another swat landed and she stifled a sob.

"Three!" Father Petri grunted, his fingers slipping down between her legs. Heather gasped, hanging her mouth open, marveling at the power of God's love emanating from between her legs.

"Four!" The release continued, forcing a spasm that raked her nipples across the carpet.

"Hold it a sec, Petri," Jim Clips said, the unlit cigar falling into his lap, "shouldn't we each get four swats? Why should you get to hog the girl? I'm the one who was offended by her unladylike behavior."

"Good point Jim," Father Petri said, as he shoved Heather to the floor. Her legs, shaking, her stomach spasming, she crawled on her hands and knees over to Jim Clips and got up on his knee.

"Holy Jesus," he gasped, sliding his hand all over her bum, "look at this ass." He touched her delicately, lovingly, tracing around her hips and down into her crack. Heather was ready to scream, she was so desperate to continue.

"You ready Doll?" he asked, his fingers still buried between her legs.

Heather looked back over her shoulder at him, but all she could do was nod. She was on the verge of tears -- tears of joy.

"Five!" Jim Clips said, giving her a firm whack on her left cheek. Heather choked on a sob as the feeling of release returned.

"Six!" She felt it again, but stronger this time.

"Seven! Eight!" Two in a row and she had no choice. She let go like never before, a strange guttural warble escaping from her throat as the spasms wracked her body.

"Is she alright?" Waxman asked. "I've never seen a woman acting this way before."

"Seriously?" Jim Clips asked, eyeing Waxman suspiciously. "She's fine."

"If you say so," Waxman said, grabbing a pillow and plopping it in his lap. By this time, Father Petri also had a pillow in his lap, and the look of concern on his face was taking on a decidedly demented quality.

"Mind if I finish her off?" Jim Clips asked. Before Waxman even had a chance to respond, Jim commenced with the four final swats in quick succession. "Nine! Ten! Elven! Twelve!". Heather almost wretched, the release was so strong. It was as if her entire body was exhaling an unending breath of pleasure, and it was exiting from between her legs.

"Jesus!" Jim Clips said, recoiling from the girl in his lap, "she's dripping all over me." He gave her a shove and she rolled over onto the floor, pressing her hands to her chest to protect her modesty, and also to prolong the feeling of release. She lay there for a moment, quivering, gasping...

"Oh My God!" A voice screamed from a door at the other end of the room. "Oh!" "My!" "God!"

It was Clips' wife Patricia, standing there with her hands on her hips. "Jesus Jim. Now what have you done?"

"I just bought you that cruise you've been pestering me about," he said, picking up his cigar, not so he could smoke it, but so he could smell his stinky fingers.

"The only cruise we're taking is down to the divorce lawyer."

"Really Hon?" he said. "Are you bringing the pool boy? And his helper? At least I didn't stick my dick in this little cunt, as opposed to you, taking it in your cunt and your mouth at the same time. Or was it your cunt and your ass at the same time?"

"Humph!" she gasped, unable to speak.

"Would you like me to call the pool service and have them send up the boys for an emergency visit, or can you wait till next week?"

Heather was oblivious to these unpleasant proceedings, laying there dripping on the rug, doing little stomach crunches as the release ravaged her body. In an effort at protecting her modesty, she had covered her hairless area with her hand, but now her hand was working on the little switch between her legs, and she was unable to stop. She just kept grinding, and the spasms kept wracking her body, and the juice kept dripping. It was as if the very hand of Jesus was down there between her legs, showing her what her reward in heaven was going to feel like.

Totally lost in her little world of pleasure, she became vaguely aware of voices. Many voices. Then she felt a table cloth flutter down on top of her, which was nice, because Jesus was still busy down there between her legs, and she sort of needed her privacy.

Some of the voices she was hearing were from the rest of the wives, who had been on a tour of the residence when they stumbled upon the scene. They were supposed to be playing bridge, but first, Patricia wanted to show off her latest collection of rare antiquities purchased on black market, and many of these pieces resided here in the library.

Some of the other voices were EMT's who had been called to the scene to deal with Waxman and Petri, who had both suffered massive heart attacks when the wives walked in and caught them with a naked girl writhing on the floor and their hands buried in their pants.

Eventually, the maid gathered Heather up in her tablecloth cloak and directed her to a bathroom so she could clean up and put her swimsuit back on. Heather was still unaware of her father's grave condition, but it was probably for the best. He was never revived, and he had crapped his pants during the episode, and you don't want a daughter to see her dead father in such a disgusting and demeaning condition.

*****

One month later, the kerfuffle and been smoothed over, and Heather was now on the payroll at one of Jim Clip's car dealerships as a junior sales associate assistant intern with no duties to speak of, other than wandering around looking pretty and flirting with customers. She enjoyed the work, even though she was required to wear silly, low cut, bust-revealing outfits that sometimes forced a nipple to pop out when she was showing a customer where the jack was in the trunk.

What made the job bearable for Heather was Jim Clips discipline regime. He would stop by every couple of days, haul her into his back office, shut the door, and whack her into oblivion, regardless of whether or not she deserved it. He was so impressed with her as an employee, he put her up in a condo, took her shopping for new underwear, and he even introduced her to Warner, the young man at the pool she had accidentally cold cocked.

You would think a man like Jim Clips would have gotten jealous about hooking up Heather with Warner, but Jim Clips was a fine, upstanding Christian, and he was above jealousy. Plus, he had women like Heather stashed all over town. He was too busy to get jealous. What he did get was the satisfaction of knowing his annual summer pool party had netted him yet another lost soul to save, another searcher he could guide along the winding path to righteousness.