September 13, 2013
Choose Your Own Adventure 7: Spanking Time
Start here, with part 1, to start at the start: Part 1
“That’s it! Smart boy.” She continued to tighten the clamps, then stopped, letting it hang on his body. His balls flattened between the plastic, his thighs trembling, sweat starting to run down his body. “But now we need to see how much you really want to suffer for the republic.”
“Get down on all fours.”
He moved hid body carefully, painfully aware of the ball crusher still hanging off his pelvis, and got down on all fours. His legs were spread wide to keep from bumping the contraption dangling off of him, and he tried to prepare himself for whatever was going to happen next.
She picked up the wooden spoon, and slapped it against her palm. Her thighs clenched when she saw him flinch, and she slapped it down into her palm again. She let him think about it for a few more seconds, then picked up a chair and set it directly behind him. “Just twenty strokes of the spoon, but you’ll need to count them.”
He sighed and relaxed, then nodded. “Yes, Citizen Ma’am, thank you Citizen Ma’am.” He couldn’t see her smirk.
The first swat thudded into his ass cheek, and he dutifully counted, “One.” Each subsequent stroke hurt a little more, and his voice caught a little more as he counted. By the time he reached fifteen, the methodical beating had turned into a constant stream of pain where the actual hits were just peaks.
Then, there was a flurry of swats, one after the other, the spoon bouncing off his flesh and immediately returning with hot impact. “Six-ouch-fuck-damn-shit!”
She laughed behind him. “Oooh, you lost count. That means we have to start over.”
His body slumped, but he took a deep breath and nodded his agreement.
She smiled, and felt her body tingling at his pain. “It’s only twenty with the spoon, try to keep up with the count this time Navaux, or we’ll be here all night.”
The beating started again.
He started counting again.
His legs started to tremble by the sixteenth stroke. He waited, feeling each thud and counting along. By the time he got to nineteen he was already prepared to sob in relief. Then, the sudden woosh of air, he cried out “Twenty,” and realized their had been no impact. “Fuck…” He slumped down on his elbows, letting his face fall to the floor.
“You missed the count Navaux. A loyal citizen has to be much more careful. We’ll start over with one. Again.”
He didn’t even nod this time, just shifted his knees slightly, and braced himself. The spoon thudded into his ass. As the pain consumed him he became eager for the strokes he counted, both to keep the rush of endorphins going and to bring the beating to end.
The slow, methodical beating continued. Through the single digits, up through the teens, and finally a twentieth impact on his ass. “Twenty!”
She let him sob in relief, then moved around to stand in front of him. “That was nineteen, actually. We’ll have to start over.”
“Huh?” He felt the dull, throbbing pain in his ass, the weight of the ball crusher hanging off his body, and the hundred other aches and pains.
“The first hit, it was with my hand. So that one didn’t count. But I had a lot of fun listening to you count every single hit wrong.”
“Please…” It was a tortured moan. “I don’t know if I can do another twenty.”
She smiled primly. “Well, let’s find out.”
He pushed himself against the floor, trying to create sensations other than the burning in his ass and the crushing pain on his testicles. The ball crusher leaped and jerked every time he moved, and he tried to force his hips to stay still as she began to beat his ass again.
She started again, measuring the strokes, listening to his voice as he counted. Pushing him just a little further than he thought he could go, helping him take a little more pain than he thought was possible. She beat him with hard, measured strokes, watching him sink deeper and deeper into the haze of pain.
His pain took her along with him, and she felt her own thoughts getting fuzzy. The world collapsed until it was just the two of them, the thudding smack of wood against flesh, and numbers. When he reached twenty, she paused for a second, then hit him again. Partially to see what would happen, partially to enjoy it a little longer.
“Twenty-one.” No change in his voice or posture.
She swallowed hard, then walked around in front of him. “That was good, Navaux. I’ll even take the ball crusher off, since you did so well. But first I want to negotiate something with you. I know you’re afraid of them, but I want you to take a needle in your…”
Where does she want to stick the needle? Vote away, for pointy things, and democracy!
Preview: *swish* *swish* *thud*
Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.