It's Natural II

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Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2016 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

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It's Natural II (1/2)

(****, M/f, Intense, Teen paddling)

In this sequel to It's Natural, naughty Amanda's dangerous peeping habits earn her even worse punishment. (Approximately 5,772 words. Originally published 1996-02.)

Amanda was uncomfortable. It was freezing cold and damp on the roof, her position was awkward, and her bottom still tingled and throbbed slightly from her paddling three days ago. Even worse, Andrew hadn't show up yet. She looked at her watch in the dim light. Almost six-thirty--he _had_ to be showing up soon. He took a swim every morning before school. What was keeping him?

Suddenly there was light glowing in the dim house on the other side of the wooden fence. A few minutes later, her heart beating wildly, she heard, more than saw, a sliding glass door open and shut. Then he was there, standing boldly, naked, a white towel flung over his shoulder. Almost as though he heard the wish of her heart he flipped the towel off and laid it across a lawn chair.

She could see him fully now, in the morning light just beginning to show. His body was muscular and lithe and she stared and stared at the dark patch between his legs. She could see his penis clearly, a small stiff pole sprouting up between his legs, like a palm in a desert surrounded by bushes. As he walked toward the pool his cock bobbed and Amanda could feel her sex stir with silent passion. Even her thighs felt moist.

Andrew's back was to her now as he calmly and cleanly, and without hesitation, dove into the freezing water, scarcely making a splash. He almost disappeared in the dark water, and soon was just a vague bobbing head going back and forth across the pool. Amanda replayed the motion of his tight buttocks in her mind as she mentally watched him walk up to the pool edge and dive in again and again. He was unspeakably gorgeous.

Amanda tried to compare Andrew with his father. His cock was smaller, she reasoned, but it looked larger on his smaller frame. The thought of the young boy's body against hers drove her wild. She could almost picture her hands going around his slim waist, sliding across his hips, and caressing his sleek bottom. She could almost feel his solid chest pressing so hard against her breasts that she could barely breath, his arms locked tightly around her, pulling him towards him in a passionate embrace. She thought about his delectable voice, so strong and confident, telling her how beautiful she was and how much he wanted to love her.

These images almost made poor Amanda swoon, and when she looked away to reorient herself, she discovered to her surprise that she was grinding herself against the rough tiles of the roof, her nipples stiff and sore, her legs spread wide so she could rub her pussy with one hand. Daylight was rapidly approaching. She could hear sounds in the house below, and lights were on at the Carsons. She would soon be visible to anyone who glanced in her direction. But Amanda was too aroused to stop. Scarcely realizing what she was doing her other hand joined the first and she began to writhe against the roof, almost moaning out loud in her desperate struggle for satisfaction, but her position was awkward and precarious, and she could not quite touch herself properly.

Then several things happened at once. Suddenly Andrew was standing at the end of the pool, slowly rising upward into the new sunlight, his cock dangling almost comically from the center of the black bush between his legs. He froze in mid-step. He was staring directly into Amanda's eyes. She felt her face flush crimson and as she jerked her hands away from her crotch she felt her body suddenly begin to slide forward, faster and faster. Even as she desperately clutched at the roof tiles trying to find anything she could grasp that would slow her down, her mind was completely filled with thoughts of "Oh, God, I wonder what Andrew is thinking!"

As she slid silently, inexorably downward, helpless as in a dream, she heard a new sound, the sound of the side door opening and as her feet went over the edge of the roof she heard her father's hoarse whisper, "Amanda? Are you out here?"

A cry of terror escaped her lips as she slipped over the side, her body suddenly dropping, and she scrambled with all her might to grasp the disappearing roof. Suddenly there was quiet, and Amanda hung from the roof, her heart awkwardly beating in her throat, tears in her eyes, her fingers white with an iron grip on the metal rain-gutter. "Daaddddyyy," she moaned desperately. "Help me!"

Then she felt the steel grip on his hands on her legs and his deep, calm, reassuring voice said, "I've got you baby, you're okay. Just let go carefully. I've got you. Don't worry, I'm not gonna let you fall."

The grip reassured her and Amanda took a deep breath a let go. In an instant she was deep in her father's arms, his body smelling strongly of aftershave and soap. He kissed her on the forehead and whisper, "Are you all right, my darling?"

She nodded and sobbed into his chest and hugged him as hard as she could. She felt so safe and secure. Her heart still pounded with terror and though now, suddenly, she couldn't figure out why she had been so frightened--it was not like she had been about to fall into the Grand Canyon--but she had only known a frantic panic and for a second there she had thought she was about to die.

Amanda heard and sound and froze in horror as she heard the unmistakable voice of Andrew Carson speaking to her father. "Oh! I see you were here to catch her, sir. Good thing. I saw her fall. She could really have hurt herself."

"She's fine now. Thanks for your concern," Mr. Mason said politely. Amanda turned slightly and just managed to see Andrew's blonde head disappear from the top of the fence. He was gone! She felt both relief and remorse.

There was a deep silence then, and it grew and grew. Amanda knew what it meant and her face became hot with shame and she stared at the ground. Slowly she pulled away from her father, and finally, when she could not bear his silence any longer, she looked up into his eyes.

His face was calm, perhaps a little sad. His blue eyes were stern, however, and Amanda could tell he was angry. He was not an extremely expressive man--he hid his emotions well. As she studied his face and saw the thin creases of tension knotting his forehead, the flared nostrils, the clenched lips, and his slow, methodical breathing, as though he was forcing himself to be calm, she became very afraid. Though he wasn't saying anything, she had never known him to be this angry. It made her feel horrible. She almost wished he would just hurry up and take her across his knee immediately, and get it over with, but he did not.

"Daddy, I'm sor--" she began, but he put up his hand for silence. She waited, biting her lower lip, tears coming to her eyes she felt so ashamed.

"Not another word, Amanda, my dear. There is nothing to say. Go inside and get ready for school. We will deal with this tonight, after supper."

It was a quiet and subdued Amanda that prepared for school that morning. Her brother Billy noticed it immediately. "What's wrong, sis?" he said at breakfast. "Get another spanking?" But she said nothing, shrugging her shoulders and looking away. Her father did not say anything, even when her mother came and placed a cool palm on her forehead and asked if she felt ill. "I'm fine, Mom. I've got to go or I'll miss the bus." She left then, silent and grim.

School that day was an agony. She worried about what was to happen that evening, and she worried about Andrew, wondering if he would tell everyone that he had seen her spying. She couldn't concentrate on schoolwork at all. Her mind kept replaying images of Andrew diving into that pool, the way his cock had been stiff and erect when she'd first seen it, and the smoothness of his bottom cheeks as he walked.

She also couldn't rid herself of images of her own bottom, well reddened from furious paddlings. She thought back to the first paddling she'd received for spying on the Carsons almost three weeks earlier, when her Mom had paddled her bare bottom out in the back yard right in front of Jason and Sal, though of course her Mom didn't know they were there.

She'd gotten it twice more since, and for the exactly same crime. The second time had been about a week later, when her mother called Jennifer's and discovered Amanda wasn't there as she had said she would be. Her father found her up in the tree. He'd really whaled on her that time--she couldn't sit still for a week.

But the images of the naked people next door had proved far too tempting and just four nights ago Amanda had tried it again, telling everyone she was going to Jennifer's and really going, but only until her parents called. When she arrived back home and slipped in back to the tree and started to climb she froze in horror and despair: her father was sitting three branches up, waiting, a look of disgust on his face.

Oh, she'd gotten a whole series of wallopings for that. Her bottom still hurt. He had taken her upstairs to her room and paddled her for a good half hour until she didn't even have any more tears to cry. A few hours later, just before bedtime, he gave her another dose, though only about ten minutes worth. At first light she'd gotten another paddling, before breakfast, and that evening he gave her another long hard paddling that left her gasping and weeping with dry eyes. The worst of it was that she had nothing to show for her pains, as she hadn't even gotten a glimpse of the Carsons that time. During her previous spankings she had at least been able to distract her mind from the pain by thinking of what she had seen.

She'd been terrified he would give her more at bedtime, but when he came into her room he only kissed her good-night and told her that he loved her and wanted her to grow up to be a good girl. "Can you do that for your father? Try to be a good girl? I don't want to have to punish you, but I want to you remember that if your behavior warrants it I will have no hesitation in toasting your bottom but good!"

The seemingly contradictory words of love and sternness had made Amanda's tummy do little flip-flops, and she wiggled her tender bottom against the soft cotton sheets, the warmth and soreness flooding all the way through to her sex. The thought of further punishments made her feel strange. It both attracted and repelled her. She was both frightened and excited, tempted and hesitant. Did she dare disobey?

She loved her father so very much, and she wanted to please him, and yet... her sex stirred and pulsed as she thought of young Andrew's rock-hard body and his father's huge, erect organ. Even as she smiled shyly and submissively promised her father she would obey, she was planning a new approach to the target. An approach that had obviously failed miserably, though at least it had afforded her an unobstructed view of the young man for at least a few moments before her downfall. She could concentrate on those images during her spankings, and hopefully, if the pain wasn't unbearable, the experience could even become mildly pleasurable. At least she hoped so, though deep down she knew her father's recent punishments had been so severe she had little doubt that this one would be the exception.

"I'll just have to concentrate harder," she thought with fierce determination. "Distance myself from the pain." And yet she could not help but feel trepidation as the last bell rang and it was time to go home. She could not share in the joy of others as they raced for the buses, eager to escape the school, but walked slowly, wondering if she should just walk home, but worried that would displease her father.

He did not speak to her until after supper, which Amanda had trouble eating, and she was almost crying when he finally approached her. Supper was early that night for some reason, and Amanda had the dreadful feeling she was the cause. He wanted plenty of time for her punishment and she felt her stomach grow cold at the thought.

At a quarter to six he came into the living room and motioned for Amanda to join him. "Amanda and I are going for a little walk," he said to her mother and brother. "We need to have a little talk."

They went out the front door, Amanda frantic with worry and dread and desperately wondering her father had planned. She noticed he was carrying a small nylon gym bag with him, but she did not dare ask what it was. They walked down the road for several blocks and then circled around and headed back toward the house. About ten minutes had passed and her father had never spoken a word. Amanda's stomach was nothing but knots.

As they approached the house Amanda's father suddenly turned and began to walk up the Carson's driveway. The teenager stopped, frightened and shocked, and then slowly followed her father. He had not stopped but went right to the front door and rang the bell. In a minute a tall and very pretty blonde girl opened the door and smiled broadly and let them inside.

As they stood in the living room, her father and the girl chatting about the weather and high school football team, Amanda noticed the girl continually glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. She seemed fascinated by the younger girl, like she wanted to stare at her but couldn't dare.

Finally Mr. Carson appeared. He was fully dressed, and Amanda blushed to think how he looked without his gray dockers and polo shirt. She hid behind her father the best she could. It was for naught.

"This is Amanda," said Mr. Mason with a grim smile and dragging his daughter out from behind him. Amanda suddenly felt very small and young. The tall Mr. Carson smiled at the girl.

"Ah, the little peeper! Curiosity killed the cat, you know, my dear." He winked broadly at her and Amanda shrank and just wished she could disappear like that cheshire cat in "Alice in Wonderland." She wanted to die. Her father had told them of her spying!

Then suddenly she heard footsteps rapidly descending stairs and Andrew burst into the room from around the corner. As soon as she saw his face she flushed scarlet. Her cheeks burned so hot she felt faint and dizzy. Of course! Andrew knew of her spying--she could not deny it.

"Oh, sorry to interrupt, Dad, Mr. Mason," the boy said politely, shaking Amanda's father's hand. "Amanda, right?" He held out his hand. "I'm Andrew."

Though she desperately wished she were dead, Amanda took his hand and shook it formally. "I-I'm Amanda," she said softly, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke. Somehow she flushed still deeper and stared at the carpet. Oh, she would have given anything to be anywhere else at that moment! A hundred spankings a month would have been preferable. Anything to escape the scrutiny of this family she had violated. She wished she could crawl under the carpet and vanish.

Mr. Carson and Mr. Mason were talking casually, and had wandered over to the wet bar and were pouring drinks as they spoke. Amanda stood like one forgotten, awkwardly trying not to notice the two teenagers staring at her. "Oh, why am I _here_?" she shouted to herself. "Please, God, let me get _out_ of this place!"

"Why don't you have a seat, Amanda," said Shelly finally, leading Amanda to a couch on one side of the room. She sat down next to her and Andrew came on over. His eyes twinkled mysteriously and he winked at his sister. "You don't know why you are here, do you?"

It wasn't really a question, more of a statement, but Amanda nodded glumly. She felt incredibly awkward. Everything in the room seemed foreign and strange to her. She did not want to talk to these two teenagers even though just being in the same room with the one generated heat between her legs.

"I think we'll let her _father_ tell her," said Shelly pointedly, glaring at her brother. "If he hasn't told her yet he must have a good reason."

"Fine, I won't tell her," said Andrew crossly. "Call down," he said to Amanda. "We're not going to hurt you." Even as the words came out of his mouth he regretted them, as they were not entirely accurate, but he did not want to draw undo attention to the thought by attempting to correct it, so he said nothing more.

At that moment a woman came in. She was older, with slightly pale hair that had once been a rich gold like Shelly's, and her face was very beautiful, though not without lines. Amanda knew her instantly as Mrs. Carson, and was impressed by how poised and relaxed she seemed. Her smile to Amanda was gentle and kind and completely genuine, and Amanda felt herself somewhat relieved. Whatever was to happen this lady seemed very nice, as though she were on Amanda's side, so it couldn't be too unbearable.

"Mrs. Carson," said Mr. Mason bowing deeply and kissing her hand gently.

"Why thank you! But call me Grace, Mr. Mason. No need for formalities here."

"Call me Alan."

"Very well, Alan. And this must be your daughter, the naughty Amanda! Oh, but she's darling!"

Amanda felt her knees grow weak and her stomach drop. She suddenly felt the urge to pee.

"Amanda? Aren't you going to greet Mrs. Carson?"

"Uh, yeah. Er, Hi, Mrs. Carson. Pleased to meet you."

"Fine, dear. Please, sit back down. Now, Mr. Mason, I mean Alan, are you ready to begin the proceedings?"

"Certainly, Grace. As I have already gone over with your husband, my daughter Amanda has been extremely disobedient lately. Despite our strictest injuncture against it, I'm afraid she has been peeping on your family during your evening swim times. Now I know that you claim not to be bothered by such an audience, and that is your affair. But that is not the issue. As a parent I set certain standards of behavior for my family and she has willfully and consistently broken those rules. Why three times in less than a month I've had to punish her for peeping! And this morning she almost killed herself falling off our roof as she attempted to catch a glimpse of young Andrew here conducting his morning exercise." As he spoke Amanda had been wishing herself smaller and smaller and smaller, and when he said this she wished she was so small as to be a nothing, and just disappear without even a pop.

"Alan," said Mrs. Carson firmly, "I'm sorry about your daughter but we are not to blame for her lack of will."

"I understand and believe me, I am not attempting to blame your family. I would just like you to assist me, if you would, in punishing my daughter."

"How?" said Mrs. Carson, looking rather alarmed.

"I don't know how you were raised, Grace, but in our family discipline is maintained with corporal punishment."

"Mine too," said the woman with a soft smile. If Amanda's father had been watching her more carefully he would have been slightly puzzled by the look on her face--he might have almost said it was an expression of desire, of longing, but of course he would have dismissed that as a rather ridiculous association. "But surely you don't expect us to spank your daughter for you!"

"The thought had crossed my mind, as you are the 'injured' party though I know you chose not to see yourselves in that manner, but if you will not participate, than perhaps simply your presence will serve as a stern reminder to my daughter as to what her disobedience will cost her!"

"In other words, you want our family to watch you spank your daughter," interrupted Mr. Carson, speaking for the first time since his wife had entered the living room. Amanda felt her face burn with shame and she began to pray that this was nothing but a terrifying nightmare and she'd awaken at any moment.

"Exactly!"

"Well, it's fine by me, though again, we really don't mind if she watches us swimming. We're not ashamed of our bodies, Alan."

"I don't have a problem with it either, if you are comfortable with it," said Mrs. Carson with a sigh. "Do you want to do it now?"

"If I may."

"Please, go right ahead. Is there anything you need?"

"A straight-backed chair with no arms would be ideal," said Mr. Mason politely, and at a snap of his mother's fingers Andrew leapt to his feet and returned a moment later with a large wooden chair that was absolutely ideal for spanking. Amanda's father took the chair and placed it in the middle of the room as the Carson gathered around the sofa and prepared to watch the spectacle. Amanda felt tears running down her cheeks. She felt stunned and dazed and couldn't believe this was really happening. "I will wake up at the first spank," she whispered to herself. "I have to! I cannot bear this."

Her father seated himself on the chair and opened the gym bag he had brought and pulled out a large wooden hairbrush. Amanda felt herself beginning to tremble. "Amanda, come here," he said in a dreadful voice, and her legs, like a robots, obeyed instantly, though in her mind she was running the opposite direction.

Suddenly she was there, standing beside him, her heart thumping so loudly she could hear herself think, her face so hot and red she felt like she'd just been slapped. She watched, as though it was happening to someone else, as her father reached out and undid the button on her jeans. The zipper when down and then she saw the soft white triangle of her panties covering her crotch, and then the pale pink skin of her thighs and then her slightly knobby knees. She was still too stunned to move.

With a quick, imperative gesture, her father flipped her across his lap. Her hands reached down and caught the floor, bracing herself. Her legs dangled out behind her. As she felt her daddy's hand resting on her bottom, a dawning horror slowly overcame the girl. She began to struggle and cry out in horrid fear. "Please, Daddy, not here! Not like this! Please, anything but this! Oh, please, Daddy, please please please please--ouch!"

She was cut off by a hard slap to her rump and she lay there stunned, hot tears flooding her eyes, her round bottom pointing skyward, as he scolded her. "Amanda! Stop acting like a baby!"--slap--"You are going to be soundly _spanked_"--slap--"young lady, and nothing you say is going to prevent it!"--slap--"Stop wiggling, damn it!"--slap--"Sit still and take your punishment like an adult!"--slap!

Amanda groaned and wept and did her best to stop kicking and wiggling and remain still. Her bottom tingled from the slaps and she wondered how she was possible going to endure more. But then the spanking started and she was too busy struggling to absorb the pain to think about how to escape it.

After several dozen sharp slaps with his hand Amanda suddenly felt his hands grasping the sides of her underpants. Before she could even suck in her breath she was bare, her panties down by her knees. "Nooooo!" she moaned loudly, frantically, wiggling wildly, desperately trying to reach back one hand at a time and grab her panties.

But it was no use. This was to be a bare bottomed spanking and that's all there was too it. Again the hand came down, harder than ever, and soon it was all the girl could do just to keep from screaming let alone thinking rationally.

After another few dozen her father reached into his bag and pulled out the thick wooden paddle she had grown to appreciate so much in the last several weeks. And then it was slamming into her with a vengeance. It went on for a long time, it seemed, and every time she wondered how long it had been it seemed like she had been in that state forever, and that it would continue unabated forever. There was no sign of weakening, no sign of slowing down. She writhed and moaned and even kicked and pleaded, but it was no use. Her backside was peppered with that hard board until her buttocks were sizzling like steak on a grill. Even when her father stopped she writhed and cried out in pain, no longer caring what anyone thought of her. It wasn't until she heard him speaking that she realized he had stopped spanking her, but his words threw new terror into her and she began to weep almost immediately.

"I think now she's ready for the strap," he was saying. "Would any of you like to participate? It would help her remember this spanking more effectively. I think ten from each of you would be sufficient. If not, I'll give them to her myself, of course."

It's Natural II (2/2)

(****, M/f, Intense, Teen paddling)

In this sequel to It's Natural, naughty Amanda's dangerous peeping habits earn her even worse punishment. (Approximately 5,772 words. Originally published 1996-02.)

"I think now she's ready for the strap," he was saying. "Would any of you like to participate? It would help her remember this spanking more effectively. I think ten from each of you would be sufficient. If not, I'll give them to her myself, of course."

Mr. Carson nodded, helping Amanda to her feet and kneeling her on the seat of the straight-backed chair and bent across the back. With her crimson buttocks and pale thighs widely exposed Amanda felt like a slab of meat in a butcher's shop, hung up and waiting for the knife to come down. She could almost feel the eyes roaming over her naked and punished flesh, peering between her legs, laughing at her tears.

Without any preamble Mr. Carson took the long leather strap from his bag and standing beside the disobedient girl, swung far back and came down hard. The sound was enormous, like a slap during church, and Amanda let out a screech that would have done an opera singer proud. A sharp, piercing pain swept down her legs and Amanda could not keep still. Her bottom wiggled despite her best efforts. Fresh tears poured down her cheeks.

Whack! Again came the strap and Amanda cried out again, a blazing line of throbbing fire across both buttcheeks right at the meatiest, center portion. Again and again it came down, hard and fast, merciless. Amanda wept and sobbed but it did no good. It did not stop until all ten had been delivered and received.

Mrs. Carson stared at the strap lying on the palm in front of her and started to shake her head and then paused. Why not punish the girl? It was obvious she needed and _deserved_ the full treatment. "Besides," thought Mrs. Carson with a heart-thumping daring she hadn't felt in over a decade, "besides, it looks amusing!"

With a soft smile and stern look to her husband and her two children, Mrs. Carson took the strap and stepped to Amanda's right side. She was left handed, so this position was better for her. As she swung the strap down the first time, very hard, it landed at an angle, the tip catching the lower portion of the poor girl's left butt-cheek with a wallop that made her scream and leap to her feet, clutching her bottom, tears flooding down her face. Her left side had practically been neglected by her father and the shock of the amazing pain of heavy strap had startled her.

"Begin again, and do an extra five!" commanded Mr. Mason firmly. "Amanda, you know you are not permitted to rise during punishment. Now get back over or I'll give you an extra ten myself!"

Sobbing, Amanda complied, her body shuddering in fear as Mrs. Carson lifted the strap and delivered another sharp stroke. This time Amanda was more prepared and though her knuckles went white with tension, she managed to hold on. Again and again that strap came down, almost always in the same spot. Mrs. Carson did not vary her strokes like her father, but continually punished Amanda in the crease area, with her left cheek absorbing most of the punishing blows.

Amanda was certain she was bloodied and raw when it was over and Mrs. Carson had delivered fifteen sharp strokes. She cried out loud in terror when she saw Shelly approaching with strap in hand, a soft smile on her face. Amanda was surprised the strap wasn't dripping blood. It certainly felt like she'd been lacerated.

But the strap was thick and very wide. The strokes generally only scalded the surface flesh, never cutting. Amanda's poor bottom was a mess of welts and weals, but her thighs were unpunished and tender, and young Shelly decided that this was where the naughty miscreant ought to be thrashed.

The humiliation of being whipped by a girl just a few years older than herself was completely forgotten after the first stroke. The pain was astonishing, even after everything Amanda had already borne. The flesh of her thighs was thin and tender and not at all used to spanking like her bottom. As the strap descended again and again she howled and wiggled so frantically that her father finally had to scold her and threaten her with worse punishment if she didn't calm down and behave. Somehow she managed to bear the rest of Shelly's thrashing more gracefully, but even though the strokes weren't as hard as those from her father, they hurt even worse.

Then came Andrew. Amanda found it hard to believe he was actually going to punish her, but he smiled and took up the strap and stepped to her right, as he was left-handed like his mother. She could not bear to look at him though he stood right beside her. She only wept more frantically and prayed this would end soon.

But the first stroke from Andrew was not as bad as she had feared. It struck like a blaze of lightening, across her thighs, like those from his sister, but in the midst of the fire Amanda was only thinking of how Andrew had looked that morning, tall and handsome, his naked body gleaming with sweat and water, his organ erect and hard, protruding from his body like some deformed limb. It horrified her and yet fascinated her, that organ. She could not imagine anything more grotesque and yet at the same time it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She wanted it inside her, she wanted to feel it pulsing and throbbing and swelling between her legs. She wanted to feel it brushing across her skin, across her stomach, between and over her breasts, against her lips and pressing into mouth. She wanted to hold it in her hand, to grip it tightly and feel its hardness.

With each stroke of that strap Amanda thought of Andrew's naked body, rock-hard and solid, and she imagined it was her whipping him, that it was his naked ass standing before her, reddening as she walloped him with the strap over and over. His winced expression and grimace of pure pain stirred something inside her, and she lusted after his naked body and wished she could whip him harder, faster, really make those welts show up on his skin, and as the strap bit into her own legs she wept and moaned and wondered if anyone could see the liquid drooling down the insides of her thighs.

Then it was over. Andrew gave the strap back to Amanda's father and he packed up everything and guided Amanda to the door, forbidding her to put her underwear back on, not that she was that eager to feel the cotton briefs against her flesh but she wished she was no longer naked. But naked she was, and naked she walked home with her father.

At the door to their house he stopped. "I hope you have learned your lesson this time," he said firmly. Amanda nodded, her bottom and legs throbbing mercilessly. "Good," he said. "Now go to your room and wait for me. I will be up shortly to kiss you goodnight."

Desperately Amanda raced to her room and threw herself on the bed, pausing only to strip off the rest of her clothes. Stretched out naked, on her stomach, she touched herself between her legs and play with what she found there. Waves of enormous pleasure washed through her. She though of Andrew, of him naked, of him whipping her, of her imagining whipping him. She thought of Mr. Carson, the beefy man with the huge cock, and of Mrs. Carson, who seemed so polite and mild but whose whipping had hurt more than her father's paddling. Amanda even thought of Shelly, the beautiful goddess that already had half of the school infatuated with her.

With a huge pulsing burst she came and the collapsed on the bed in exhaustion, every nerve in her body tense, her hands still between her legs. As she lay quietly, thinking, Amanda began to wonder about the Carsons. There was something fascinating about them. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she knew there was something there. Maybe someday she'd figure out why they intrigued her so much, because even now, after all the punishments, Amanda was already wondering how she could sneak over to the Carsons to watch them swim nude again.

She cried softly in terror at her own thoughts. "Dare I risk it?" she thought with astonishment. "How can I even think of such a thing!"

The End

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