Orpheus
05-18-2010, 12:58 PM
Tristan Tells Amanda of His First Erotic Spanking
Pamela Drew was a dark-blonde headed girl in her junior year of high school, about four inches shorter, and a year younger than I was. Her body had been toned to perfection by her membership on the school’s championship swimming team, track and cheering squad. She was beautifully proportioned, agile, strong, and I, as well as, probably, every other boy in the school, found her to be very attractive.
She had this penchant for swatting people, especially boys, on their asses while they routed around in their lockers, as a way of saying hello to them. I was not one of the ones she’d ever swatted, although part of me longed to have her do it to me. On this occasion Pamela, dressed in her cheerleading outfit for that evening’s basketball game, caught me looking when she gave a boy, a few lockers away, a swift smack on his ass. Her assertive gaze caused me to look away. I quickly faced my open locker hoping she’d walk away or just get on with her engagement with the boy so I could get my stuff and get to my first period class. No such luck. Without warning I felt a swat on my own ass that made me jump. When I went to turn around to look at her she prevented me from doing so by crowding me with her high-breasted body and her ample hips between the locker door which only opened ninety degrees to the wall and my stuffed locker’s innards. Still facing my locker’s interior she brought her mouth to my ear where she silkily whispered, “You like when I spank a boy’s ass?” I was speechless, still trying to catch my breath from the fact that her shiny nail-polished, long fingered female hand had, though briefly, made contact with my backside and from what she was doing to me now, with her firmed-by-her-athletic-pursuit’s body, pressing against me. “Let’s find out,” she said as she reached in front of me and gently brought her hand to my stirring penis. “I see that you do,” she whispered. I could feel her warm breath on my ear. “Would you like a girl to give you a spanking?” We could both feel my penis responding, within the loose confines of my pants, to the affirmative. “Would you like a girl to pull your pants down and put you over her knee and spank you, right here, in this hallway… in front of everyone?” My penis became so stiff at her remark that it hurt. Her fingers were now able to wrap around my pants-covered penis and I was sure she could feel it swell as she described the possibilities to me. I turned my head to look at her face. Her smile was devastatingly beautiful. “Would you like this girl to do that to you right now?” With my legs wobbling and my head swimming, she could have done it and I would have been glad for it. When she laughed at the helpless expression on my face I could smell her warm vibrant spicy breath. I was ready to climax. But instead of letting me release the pent up sexual tension in my loins she pinched the tip of my penis, causing it to immediately shrivel and causing me to collapse, wincing, to the hallway floor in a crouch. “Later,” she said to me in her normal girlish voice. She then sauntered away.
With her gone, I needed to collect myself and my books and whatnot for my class which would be starting in a few seconds. What had just happened ran through my mind and my raging hard-on returned with a vengeance. I couldn’t go walking into class with the front of my pants resembling a teepee.
The bell rang for the start of the next class.
I tried to focus on other things to bring some flaccidity to my penis, but her voice would start to echo in my consciousness: Would you like this girl to pull down your pants?…right now?…here?… and spank you?...in front of everyone? Spank… you… in front of… everyone? And rigidity would return to my penis. Moving close to my open locker I discretely adjusted my penis up against my lower abdomen and held my books and papers against it and hurried to my first period class.
*
After fourth period I returned to my locker to find that a neatly folded sheet of legal pad had been slipped into my locker. It read:
Meet me in the winter equipment shed at the finish of school.
Pamela
My stiffening penis compelled me to comply.
Finding the equipment shed unlocked, I dramatically opened the two barn-like doors to find Pamela alone in the shed, with all the equipment shoved against the walls. The doors closed behind me. A single straight back oak teachers desk chair was in front of the piles of equipment. Sitting regally with legs crossed at the ankle in her cheerleader uniform was Pamela Drew, captain of her swimming team, lead cheerleader, champion runner, a young shining goddess of beauty and still-developing femininity. For my part, my penis, stiff and straight, led me through the four strides needed to stand before her. She extended her arm and with her index finger tapped the tip of my penis, protruding within my pants as if trying to escape its confines to get to her. “Did I do this?” she asked sweetly and knowingly.
“Uh-huh,” was all I could say, sounding stupid even to myself.
She brought her finger tips and thumb of her hand together and gently enclosed around the front half of my covered penis like a beautiful carnivorous flower and drew me closer to her. “I’m going to pull down your pants, and you’re going to let me. Aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” was, again, all I could manage to utter. My mouth seemed incapable of forming any real words. Pamela undid my belt while looking at my face and continued with practiced ease to the button and the fly. Her silky thumbs with gleaming clear polish on the nails, slid into my waist-band and against my skin, sending a thrilling chill outward to the far reaches of my body which traveled back through my corporeal being and culminated at my penis which jumped as a moan of pleasure escaped from my vocal chords while, simultaneously, my eyes closed and my face tilted toward the rafters of the shed.
“Easy.” Pamela said with a low, ever so sexy, chortle. “We have a lot to do before that happens.”
After passing my hips, my pants and boxer shorts slipped easily to the dusty cement floor of the shed. “I’m going to position you. Do not resist me. If you let me place you as I want you on my lap this will be exciting and pleasurable for you. If you resist, I will make you cry. Do you understand me?”
I couldn’t trust my voice not to quaver in an unintelligible ululation, so I nodded. Pamela ordered me to my knees and brought my face to her left knee. “Kiss,” she breathed. My lip gathered to do as she said. Before I made contact I studied her knee where it joined her thigh. Her skin was flawlessly smooth and hairless perhaps as needed for swimming. The overhead incandescent bulb cast a shine on her skin. Inhaling through my nose I took in the aroma of her female skin with the faint hint of soap. I kissed where her knee and her thigh merged. I felt one of her thigh muscles flex, which in turn, caused my penis to throb. Putting a hand on either side of my face, she turned my head to the left and with a slight pull she pressed my flushed cheek onto her cool thigh, as if she were dipping an apple into cream. My heart raced and my penis bobbed under me in time with its beat. Reaching over my back shoulders, she pulled me toward her abdomen allowing my cheek to slide along her thigh. Being lost in the sensation of her skin moving under my cheek and upper body, even though it was I who was being moved, I didn’t realize that she had turned me slightly so that my head ended up at the right side of her waist. She wrapped her right arm around my chest and her left hand reached to the base of my right ass cheek and pulled me onto her lap so that my penis and crotch straddled her left knee and the rest of my torso lay across her right thigh. It was amazing how, although I didn’t resist, as were her instructions, neither did I help. She’d maneuvered my male body to her will with ease. With only her athletic female strength, she had me positioned diagonally across her two silky-smooth and muscular thighs with my ass in perfect position for her to spank. Even with the spanking yet to come, I felt that I had reached the ultimate in erotic joy. She held me to her lap with her right arm wrapped around my waist where I felt helpless, vulnerable and trembling, naked on her lap, humbled by the shine and glow of her femaleness, the satin silky texture and the strength of her thighs against my chest, stomach and groin, my surrender, capitulation and submission of my male ass to a younger, smaller, but stronger girl who could use her superior body and mind to defeat my male ego and make me deliver myself without restraint or hesitation to her superior will and command. She let me stay on her lap for awhile to allow me to take in my situation as I anticipated what was yet to come. Pamela knew how to manipulate my male brain, body and sexuality. I on the other hand, knew almost nothing of the way she thought or how her body functioned sexually. If a comparison could me made, she was like a Chandler mystery novel and I was a Winnie-the-Pooh episode.
And then, there was the spanking.
At first, there was nothing; I just lay there, on her lap, the dry air in the shed evaporating the perspiration on my bare ass and causing goose bumps to rise. Then I heard and felt her blowing on my ass cheeks. She started tracing figures: a “P” on one cheek and a “D” on the other, using her glossy index fingernail. I’d done similar nail-tattoos on my arms and legs. A pinkish red mark is left where the blood gathers at the surface of the skin. In such a manner, Pamela Drew had branded my hind quarters with her initials. “Your ass is now mine. You know that don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You do like the idea of a girl, spanking a boy, don’t you?” she purred low and with a teasing timbre.
“Yes,” I said, again.
“Should I spank you?”
“Yes.”
“You really want me to, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Beg me to spank you. Say: ‘Please, Pamela, spank me,’ nice and loud so I can hear you.”
“Please, Pamela, spank me.” I said.
“Say it louder. I want to really hear you say it. Convince me that you want Pamela Drew to spank your boy-bottom.”
“Oh, please, Pamela, please, oh, please, spank my boy-bottom!”
“Louder!” she commanded.
“Pamela, I beg you, please, spank my boy bottom! Spank my boy bottom!!”
The first swat from her hand filled the space in the shed with a sharp report. It was happening. A dream I had had since I’d been a boy in the crib was finally happening to me.
Ordering me to beg her to spank me, she spanked me, not so that it would be painful but to let me know that she was in control and that I was so psychologically helpless, there, on her lap, that she needed no pain to be felt by me. She knew that my want of humiliation at her hands was enough. She wanted me to focus on that humiliation and not be distracted from it by pain.
“Say it again!”
“Spank me Pamela! Pamela, spank me!! Spank me, Pamela!!! Please, Pamela, spank me!!! Oh, Pamela, spank me!! Spank Me!! SPANK ME! SPANK ME! My ass was hot from her hand smacking me, but I wanted more spanks from her, many more. And while she continued I just kept repeating: Pamela, spank me, spank me, spank me.
Until, finally, I bellowed my begging loud enough to make some of the equipment in the shed shift and resettle.
And then the shed filled with daylight, and everything became clear.
I had been set up. Pamela had had her many friends clear the space in the shed for the show that she would perform for them with me as a prop. She’d commanded me to beg louder and louder for her to spank me, until the crowd that had gathered, by word of mouth, outside the doors of the shed, could hear me. At which point the doors were opened wide for all to see the humiliation the junior cheerleader was orchestrating with me, a senior boy, as her victim.
I tuned my head just enough to see more people than I could count. They gaped at the sight of Pamela in the superior position looking pert and proud in her feminine cheer leader outfit and I, naked and helpless, my pink, spanked ass across her long silky athletic lap, begging her to belittle, defame, sexually shame and emasculate me.
Did this situation give me pause?
No. if anything it made it all the better. I continued to bellow and beg my young strong mistress to spank me, and as the crowd joined the chant in mocking tones, yelling: SPANK ME PAMELA! SPANK ME.! SPANK ME, PAMELA. SPANK ME! And with Pamela joyfully doing so, I felt myself building to a climax of monumental proportions. When I came, held by Pamela’s strong right arm around my waste and her firm palm holding my ass, I convulsed, humped and shivered on her lap. I loudly called out her name as if she were God. To me, she was God. With everyone watching, laughing and pointing at me and my naked pink-cheeked ass and my exposed balls, I cried with joy, sobbing, with a boundless gratitude saying, “thank you, thank you, thank you,” with Pamela patting my behind saying, “Good boy…good boy.”
Pamela Drew was a dark-blonde headed girl in her junior year of high school, about four inches shorter, and a year younger than I was. Her body had been toned to perfection by her membership on the school’s championship swimming team, track and cheering squad. She was beautifully proportioned, agile, strong, and I, as well as, probably, every other boy in the school, found her to be very attractive.
She had this penchant for swatting people, especially boys, on their asses while they routed around in their lockers, as a way of saying hello to them. I was not one of the ones she’d ever swatted, although part of me longed to have her do it to me. On this occasion Pamela, dressed in her cheerleading outfit for that evening’s basketball game, caught me looking when she gave a boy, a few lockers away, a swift smack on his ass. Her assertive gaze caused me to look away. I quickly faced my open locker hoping she’d walk away or just get on with her engagement with the boy so I could get my stuff and get to my first period class. No such luck. Without warning I felt a swat on my own ass that made me jump. When I went to turn around to look at her she prevented me from doing so by crowding me with her high-breasted body and her ample hips between the locker door which only opened ninety degrees to the wall and my stuffed locker’s innards. Still facing my locker’s interior she brought her mouth to my ear where she silkily whispered, “You like when I spank a boy’s ass?” I was speechless, still trying to catch my breath from the fact that her shiny nail-polished, long fingered female hand had, though briefly, made contact with my backside and from what she was doing to me now, with her firmed-by-her-athletic-pursuit’s body, pressing against me. “Let’s find out,” she said as she reached in front of me and gently brought her hand to my stirring penis. “I see that you do,” she whispered. I could feel her warm breath on my ear. “Would you like a girl to give you a spanking?” We could both feel my penis responding, within the loose confines of my pants, to the affirmative. “Would you like a girl to pull your pants down and put you over her knee and spank you, right here, in this hallway… in front of everyone?” My penis became so stiff at her remark that it hurt. Her fingers were now able to wrap around my pants-covered penis and I was sure she could feel it swell as she described the possibilities to me. I turned my head to look at her face. Her smile was devastatingly beautiful. “Would you like this girl to do that to you right now?” With my legs wobbling and my head swimming, she could have done it and I would have been glad for it. When she laughed at the helpless expression on my face I could smell her warm vibrant spicy breath. I was ready to climax. But instead of letting me release the pent up sexual tension in my loins she pinched the tip of my penis, causing it to immediately shrivel and causing me to collapse, wincing, to the hallway floor in a crouch. “Later,” she said to me in her normal girlish voice. She then sauntered away.
With her gone, I needed to collect myself and my books and whatnot for my class which would be starting in a few seconds. What had just happened ran through my mind and my raging hard-on returned with a vengeance. I couldn’t go walking into class with the front of my pants resembling a teepee.
The bell rang for the start of the next class.
I tried to focus on other things to bring some flaccidity to my penis, but her voice would start to echo in my consciousness: Would you like this girl to pull down your pants?…right now?…here?… and spank you?...in front of everyone? Spank… you… in front of… everyone? And rigidity would return to my penis. Moving close to my open locker I discretely adjusted my penis up against my lower abdomen and held my books and papers against it and hurried to my first period class.
*
After fourth period I returned to my locker to find that a neatly folded sheet of legal pad had been slipped into my locker. It read:
Meet me in the winter equipment shed at the finish of school.
Pamela
My stiffening penis compelled me to comply.
Finding the equipment shed unlocked, I dramatically opened the two barn-like doors to find Pamela alone in the shed, with all the equipment shoved against the walls. The doors closed behind me. A single straight back oak teachers desk chair was in front of the piles of equipment. Sitting regally with legs crossed at the ankle in her cheerleader uniform was Pamela Drew, captain of her swimming team, lead cheerleader, champion runner, a young shining goddess of beauty and still-developing femininity. For my part, my penis, stiff and straight, led me through the four strides needed to stand before her. She extended her arm and with her index finger tapped the tip of my penis, protruding within my pants as if trying to escape its confines to get to her. “Did I do this?” she asked sweetly and knowingly.
“Uh-huh,” was all I could say, sounding stupid even to myself.
She brought her finger tips and thumb of her hand together and gently enclosed around the front half of my covered penis like a beautiful carnivorous flower and drew me closer to her. “I’m going to pull down your pants, and you’re going to let me. Aren’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” was, again, all I could manage to utter. My mouth seemed incapable of forming any real words. Pamela undid my belt while looking at my face and continued with practiced ease to the button and the fly. Her silky thumbs with gleaming clear polish on the nails, slid into my waist-band and against my skin, sending a thrilling chill outward to the far reaches of my body which traveled back through my corporeal being and culminated at my penis which jumped as a moan of pleasure escaped from my vocal chords while, simultaneously, my eyes closed and my face tilted toward the rafters of the shed.
“Easy.” Pamela said with a low, ever so sexy, chortle. “We have a lot to do before that happens.”
After passing my hips, my pants and boxer shorts slipped easily to the dusty cement floor of the shed. “I’m going to position you. Do not resist me. If you let me place you as I want you on my lap this will be exciting and pleasurable for you. If you resist, I will make you cry. Do you understand me?”
I couldn’t trust my voice not to quaver in an unintelligible ululation, so I nodded. Pamela ordered me to my knees and brought my face to her left knee. “Kiss,” she breathed. My lip gathered to do as she said. Before I made contact I studied her knee where it joined her thigh. Her skin was flawlessly smooth and hairless perhaps as needed for swimming. The overhead incandescent bulb cast a shine on her skin. Inhaling through my nose I took in the aroma of her female skin with the faint hint of soap. I kissed where her knee and her thigh merged. I felt one of her thigh muscles flex, which in turn, caused my penis to throb. Putting a hand on either side of my face, she turned my head to the left and with a slight pull she pressed my flushed cheek onto her cool thigh, as if she were dipping an apple into cream. My heart raced and my penis bobbed under me in time with its beat. Reaching over my back shoulders, she pulled me toward her abdomen allowing my cheek to slide along her thigh. Being lost in the sensation of her skin moving under my cheek and upper body, even though it was I who was being moved, I didn’t realize that she had turned me slightly so that my head ended up at the right side of her waist. She wrapped her right arm around my chest and her left hand reached to the base of my right ass cheek and pulled me onto her lap so that my penis and crotch straddled her left knee and the rest of my torso lay across her right thigh. It was amazing how, although I didn’t resist, as were her instructions, neither did I help. She’d maneuvered my male body to her will with ease. With only her athletic female strength, she had me positioned diagonally across her two silky-smooth and muscular thighs with my ass in perfect position for her to spank. Even with the spanking yet to come, I felt that I had reached the ultimate in erotic joy. She held me to her lap with her right arm wrapped around my waist where I felt helpless, vulnerable and trembling, naked on her lap, humbled by the shine and glow of her femaleness, the satin silky texture and the strength of her thighs against my chest, stomach and groin, my surrender, capitulation and submission of my male ass to a younger, smaller, but stronger girl who could use her superior body and mind to defeat my male ego and make me deliver myself without restraint or hesitation to her superior will and command. She let me stay on her lap for awhile to allow me to take in my situation as I anticipated what was yet to come. Pamela knew how to manipulate my male brain, body and sexuality. I on the other hand, knew almost nothing of the way she thought or how her body functioned sexually. If a comparison could me made, she was like a Chandler mystery novel and I was a Winnie-the-Pooh episode.
And then, there was the spanking.
At first, there was nothing; I just lay there, on her lap, the dry air in the shed evaporating the perspiration on my bare ass and causing goose bumps to rise. Then I heard and felt her blowing on my ass cheeks. She started tracing figures: a “P” on one cheek and a “D” on the other, using her glossy index fingernail. I’d done similar nail-tattoos on my arms and legs. A pinkish red mark is left where the blood gathers at the surface of the skin. In such a manner, Pamela Drew had branded my hind quarters with her initials. “Your ass is now mine. You know that don’t you?”
“Yes,” I said.
“You do like the idea of a girl, spanking a boy, don’t you?” she purred low and with a teasing timbre.
“Yes,” I said, again.
“Should I spank you?”
“Yes.”
“You really want me to, don’t you?”
“Oh, yes!”
“Beg me to spank you. Say: ‘Please, Pamela, spank me,’ nice and loud so I can hear you.”
“Please, Pamela, spank me.” I said.
“Say it louder. I want to really hear you say it. Convince me that you want Pamela Drew to spank your boy-bottom.”
“Oh, please, Pamela, please, oh, please, spank my boy-bottom!”
“Louder!” she commanded.
“Pamela, I beg you, please, spank my boy bottom! Spank my boy bottom!!”
The first swat from her hand filled the space in the shed with a sharp report. It was happening. A dream I had had since I’d been a boy in the crib was finally happening to me.
Ordering me to beg her to spank me, she spanked me, not so that it would be painful but to let me know that she was in control and that I was so psychologically helpless, there, on her lap, that she needed no pain to be felt by me. She knew that my want of humiliation at her hands was enough. She wanted me to focus on that humiliation and not be distracted from it by pain.
“Say it again!”
“Spank me Pamela! Pamela, spank me!! Spank me, Pamela!!! Please, Pamela, spank me!!! Oh, Pamela, spank me!! Spank Me!! SPANK ME! SPANK ME! My ass was hot from her hand smacking me, but I wanted more spanks from her, many more. And while she continued I just kept repeating: Pamela, spank me, spank me, spank me.
Until, finally, I bellowed my begging loud enough to make some of the equipment in the shed shift and resettle.
And then the shed filled with daylight, and everything became clear.
I had been set up. Pamela had had her many friends clear the space in the shed for the show that she would perform for them with me as a prop. She’d commanded me to beg louder and louder for her to spank me, until the crowd that had gathered, by word of mouth, outside the doors of the shed, could hear me. At which point the doors were opened wide for all to see the humiliation the junior cheerleader was orchestrating with me, a senior boy, as her victim.
I tuned my head just enough to see more people than I could count. They gaped at the sight of Pamela in the superior position looking pert and proud in her feminine cheer leader outfit and I, naked and helpless, my pink, spanked ass across her long silky athletic lap, begging her to belittle, defame, sexually shame and emasculate me.
Did this situation give me pause?
No. if anything it made it all the better. I continued to bellow and beg my young strong mistress to spank me, and as the crowd joined the chant in mocking tones, yelling: SPANK ME PAMELA! SPANK ME.! SPANK ME, PAMELA. SPANK ME! And with Pamela joyfully doing so, I felt myself building to a climax of monumental proportions. When I came, held by Pamela’s strong right arm around my waste and her firm palm holding my ass, I convulsed, humped and shivered on her lap. I loudly called out her name as if she were God. To me, she was God. With everyone watching, laughing and pointing at me and my naked pink-cheeked ass and my exposed balls, I cried with joy, sobbing, with a boundless gratitude saying, “thank you, thank you, thank you,” with Pamela patting my behind saying, “Good boy…good boy.”