RLS 11: The Paddle Club

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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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The RLS Series is a collection of _real-life_ stories retold by the Flogmaster. Names and places have been _changed_ to protect the naughty. All are based on the personal memories of individuals and are written in the first person. Literary license may have been taken for a more dramatic presentation.

Please send me your spanking experiences! I will rewrite and publish the most interesting as part of the RLS series. Your anonymity _will_ be preserved. The Flogmaster

The Paddle Club

(*****, F/Fff, Severe, paddling)

A simple, beautiful tale of a woman craving more excitement than her marriage allows--and the club that makes her dreams come true. (Approximately 4,455 words. Originally published 1995-11.)

My name is Cassandra. I'm 35, attractive, with long blond hair. I'm married and I have two children, a boy, eight, and a girl, age seven. My husband is a wonderful man, kind and considerate, and we still have an active sex life. I love him very much. But he doesn't understand my needs.

I want to be hurt. I enjoy being submissive. I love to be spanked. I brought it up with John once and we tried it, but he was too afraid of hurting me. His little love taps didn't bring out the burning of my ass that I crave so much. More importantly, I could see that he didn't enjoy it at all. He cried the whole time and I think he thinks I'm perverted. I made light of the whole thing as a silly "experiment" and I've never mentioned it again.

But deep down I've missed it.

A few months ago I was so horny I could hardly stand it. Though I'm embarrassed to admit it, I went down to the basement and spanked myself. I had this old pledge paddle left from my sorority days. I tried it out. It worked, but I couldn't really do myself the way I wanted. It was frustrating.

A couple of days later, however, something happened. I was visiting my friend Monica's house. She's about my age and also has a family. We love to gossip and shop together. I rang the front door but she didn't answer. Her house is a large two-story unit on the end of a cul-de-sac and she has this huge backyard garden that is the envy of everyone around. I figured she might be gardening and couldn't hear the bell, so I made my way along the hedge to the back. There isn't really a path there, just a narrow gap between the bushes and the house, but I managed to squeeze through. Just as reached the end of the shrubbery I thought I heard crying and perhaps yelling. Concerned, I moved faster. As I peeked through the bushes what a delightful sight greeted my astonished eyes!

Monica was in the garden, sitting on a lounge chair, with her two daughters. Monica's girls are identical twins, thirteen or fourteen years old (a little ahead of my children, so I don't know them that well). The girls were crying. The girls were only wearing little white panties, though they had been pulled down to their ankles.

One of them--I can't for the life of me tell them apart--was standing next to her mother, her hand rubbing her very red bottom, tears pouring down her face. The other was stretched across her mom's lap and being soundly spanked with a hairbrush. Her bottom was still white so it was obvious her punishment had just begun, though she was screaming and carrying on like it had been going on for hours.

I could scarcely contain my excitement as I watched Monica spank her daughters. When she finished with the girl on her lap she had the girls switch places and she spanked the first girl again until her bottom was positively scarlet. Then she went back to the other girl, who was pleading and begging and crying as she was bent across her mom's lap. She was making such a fuss I was glad she was going to be spanked again. Though I'd never done such a thing in public before I slipped by hand inside my panties and touched myself. I was sopping wet and I came twice before the spanking was finished.

"Now that's only a fraction of what you'll get if I catch either one of you with a cigarette again!" scolded Monica. "Now get your bottoms up to your room and stay there. Mrs. Templeton will be here soon and I don't imagine you'd want her to see you like this."

The two girls--darlings, I thought--stood shivering in front of their mother as she spoke to them, their identical blossoming bodies swelling with newfound womanhood, both marred, no _enhanced_ by the deep red blush that coated their buttocks and upper thighs. As soon as their mother had finished speaking the girls struggled to pull their little panties over their swollen bottoms, wincing and crying as the silky material touched their blazing skin. Still crying, they trotted off to their rooms to sulk and ponder their crime and punishment.

"You can come out now, Cas."

I was so wrapped up watching the girls that it took me a full minute to realize that Monica was standing and staring right at me. I actually looked around before I realized that there weren't likely to be that many people hiding in her shrubbery.

"M-Monica," I said slowly, stumbling out of the bushes. "I-I'm so sorry. I-I rang the bell..."

"You were snooping!"

"No! I wasn't... I--"

Suddenly Monica grabbed me by the ear and dragged me to her lounge. She pushed me onto on my hands and knees. Reaching behind me she flipped up my skirt and before I could move she had pulled down my panties.

"Quite wet, I see," she murmured, her hands exploring between my legs. My face was so flushed it hurt.

"Monica, please!" I begged.

"Shut up, pervert!" she said giving my ass a hard slap. I was too stunned to move. "I saw you twice while I was spanking Jo--you're hand was inside your panties and you were masturbating! Don't try and deny it, I saw it! You got turned on by me spanking the girls, right?"

I was crying now, her hand caressing my ass confusing me. What was going on? How did she know? I was so embarrassed but I could not think of any valid excuse. Besides, she was so forceful I felt I could not lie to her.

"Yes," I sobbed. "I-I... I like spankings."

"Good, cause I'm gonna give you some of this hairbrush!"

Without another word she proceeded to spank my bare bottom with that horrible hairbrush. She didn't do it very long but she did it hard. I began to really cry I was so stunned and confused to find myself naked in her backyard being given what was probably the best hairbrushing I'd gotten in my entire life, better than the ones my mother had given me, and those were doozies!

"So, was that what you wanted?"

She had stopped and I slowly stood up and quickly pulled down my skirt and oozed my panties over my sore bottom. I did not reply to her question so she repeated it. I was so embarrassed. "Do I say thank you?" I asked hesitantly.

She nodded so I obeyed. "Thank you, Monica, that was a good spanking."

"Would you like another?"

A look of terror must have crossed my face because she laughed and patted my behind. "Not now, silly, on Saturday. I have this club I belong to. It's pretty restrictive, but I think I can get you in for a trial. We meet every other Saturday at 10:30 a.m. Would you like to come?"

"What sort of a club?" I asked.

"You'll find out! I think you'll like it." And that was all she'd say.

* * * * *

Monica called me the next day and told me it was all set. They were having a special meeting at 10:00 a.m. to recruit me, if I was interested. I said I was and Monica told me to think of a nickname for myself; her own was "Catwoman."

"We naturally don't use our real names when indoctrinating a new member," explained Monica as though this was perfectly ordinary. I agreed and promised to come up with a name by Saturday.

On Saturday I could barely wait until 10:00 a.m. I was at Monica's house at 9:00, impatient with her to hurry, though I tried to pretend indifference to the whole affair. I didn't know what the club was, exactly, but from the events on Wednesday I figured it had to involve spanking. Still, though I was eager, I was also very nervous.

It turned out the club met at the home of one of the members, though I do not know whose. I was blindfolded for the trip over so I don't even know which side of town it was located in, though we did drive a considerable distance.

My blindfold was taken off once I was inside. I was in a bedroom, tastefully decorated with pink and blue, very feminine. There was a white terrycloth robe on the bed and Monica told me to take off all my clothes and put on the robe. She stripped with me and put hers on, but she also put on a white hood that covered her face. Everyone would be masked, she told me, until I passed the initiation. Dressed only in the robe, I followed her out of the room.

We came into a large room full of women. There were about a dozen of us. Everyone except me wore a mask. As we began to mingle and chat I began to learn about the members of this "club" as many came and introduced themselves to me, eager to meet the new recruit. Everyone had rather silly code names like "The Lioness," "Jingle Bells," and "Wonder Woman." Mine seemed woefully inadequate: I'd chosen "Samantha," after the pretty blond TV witch.

As I spoke with the women I discovered several significant items. All were married and had good families. As near as I could tell through the covered faces the ages ranged from the mid-twenties to the mid-forties. Everyone was friendly, attractive, intelligent, and self-confident. After about ten or fifteen minutes of interesting conversation I had decided I'd like to be with this group of women even if it had nothing to do with spanking.

But then one of the women clapped her hands for attention and insisted everyone find a seat because the meeting was about to begin. Everyone sat down, many on the floor, and listened to the leader. She was a very tall woman, perhaps five-eleven or more, with long dark hair. Her skin was pale and smooth but something about voice made me suspect she was much older than she appeared.

"Thank you, everyone. Today is a very special day. Catwoman has brought us a new recruit. Samantha, isn't it?" The woman motioned to me and I stood and bowed awkwardly, grinning stupidly and feeling rather foolish, and walked to the front of the room and stood next to her. I felt like I was on trial.

"What we are going to do, Samantha, is explain a little about our club. If you are interested and are willing to undergo the initiation, you can become a full member. If you do not want to join, you may leave at any time. Are you interested?"

I nodded and the woman continued.

"Good. Our association is quite informal, contrary to what it may seem like. We don't even have a name, really, though sometimes we call ourselves 'The Paddle Club.' We are simply good friends who share a common interest. We enjoy pain of a sexual nature. We are all married and have good families, but for various reasons, our husbands cannot satisfy our fantasies. So rather than remain frustrated and illcontent, or seeking out extra-marital affairs, we come together. Together we satisfy each other's need for pain. In short, we meet every other Saturday and spank each other silly!"

I gasped and looked around the room. Heads were nodding. "Could this really be possible?" I thought. It seemed too good to be true.

"Samantha, joining our association means accepting our rules. We have strict rules of privacy and mutual concent. Nothing here is forced, no one is punished without their permission. As many here come from prominent families in the community where knowledge of our activities in the wrong hands could lead to the distruction of marriages or careers, it is imperative that you guard our secret with utmost care.

"If you fail the initiation or wish to leave now you may do so without harming us in the least. You do not know any of us nor know how to find your way back to my house. However, if you do wish to join our "Spanking Club" then you are accepting a great responsibility. We do not want you to accept such a burden without serious consideration. Do you understand what I have explained?"

"Yes," I said, nodding slowly.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Well, there's one thing I was wondering..." I said softly, blushing at my gaul.


"This club... you said it's about spankings. I understand that, but... does it include, uh, sex, uh, too?"

The woman's face was hidden but she did not appear upset by my question. "You mean between ourselves?" I nodded and she shook her head. "That is not required, though again anything you do on your own is none of our business. It must be consensual, of course. You are not required to participate. Most of us here are happily married and have no sexual interest other than our husbands--we just seek a little spice we can't get at home."

I nodded, amazed at how accurately she had described my own marriage. "What exactly is the initiation?" I had a terrible feeling I knew what it was and I was frightened, but excited, too.

"You wish to join?"

"I think so. What do I have to do?"

"Well, we must know that you are serious in your intentions... so we will spank you, of course. Each of us. You will drop your robe and go around the room and lie over each member's lap and receive a good, sound, hand spanking on your bare bottom. When you have finished you will take a caning from me, up here in front of everyone. The severity of the caning will depend on how cooperative you were during your spankings. Each hesitation or outcry will add a stroke to your punishment. However, if at any time you change your mind you may say the safeword 'rhubarb' and you will be blindfolded and taken home, never to return."

I felt a tremendous tingling between my legs as she spoke these words and I couldn't help but look around at all the women. Suddenly there seemed to be twice as many as before. I swallowed, wondering how I'd be able to endure it, though I very much wanted to.

"Two other things," said the leader. "One: once you leave you never come back, never. It's in or out but not both. You get one opportunity and that's it. This is your only chance. If you choose not to take it you cannot come back in a month and say you have changed your mind.

"Two: the initiation is quite severe. This is done to make sure you are ready to join and provide you with a sense of perspective. Future spankings as part of the club may not necessarily be so harsh, unless you desire it, of course. I tell you this because not everyone has the same cravings. Some like it warm; some like it hot." The lady paused for a moment and held up a long whippy cane in one hand. When she spoke again there was a dreadful silence echoing around the room.

"So, are you willing to join?"

* * * * *

Somehow I did it. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do and I almost quit several times during the ordeal, but somehow I managed. I kept thinking of Monica and the others who had passed it, and I told myself I was making up twenty years of silent fantasies in one go.

At first it wasn't too bad. I undressed in front of the others, which was rather embarrassing. I'm proud of my body--I work hard to keep it in shape, but it had been years since anyone but my husband had seen me. The leader--her code was "Peaches"--made a big show of putting oil on my bottom, rubbing it in good and deep and whispering that I'd need plenty. It made me feel quite apprehensive.

The first spanking was from Peaches herself, and it was a doozy. I never knew a hand could hurt so much. The slaps were so loud it must have hurt her hand terribly to spank me like that, but she didn't let up until she'd given me the full twenty-five on each cheek. But when she'd finished my bottom felt warm and tender and my crotch grew damp just thinking about it.

The next spanking was similar but different. They all were different somehow, each unique in their own little way. This girl was large and had big thighs. I felt tiny as I stretched across her lap and received those terrible spanks from that massive hand. Her spanking hurt very much. I believe that was when I had my first doubts.

But again when it was over I felt good and hot and my sex was wetter than ever. The next girl pointed this out for everyone to see and squeezed my bottom cruelly before, during, and after the spanking. I was whimpering when she finished, and not nearly so wet.

By the fourth or fifth spanking my sex was going dry and my resolve was weakening. This was going from painfully erotic to simply painful, and I still had more than half a dozen to go. Somehow I managed.

Twice they paused and creamed my bottom with oil. The massage hurt like hell but felt wonderful, especially when they stopped. My bottom seemed to simmer under the oil, and the skin felt itchy and ticklish. Even my thighs were blotched with pain.

I think Monica was number eight, or maybe it was nine. I kinda lost count for some reason. Hell, it might have been seven or eleven. I just remember really feeling this spanking, the girl slapping me really hard right in the same two spots over and over again, alternating between the left and right cheeks. All I could do was try not to wiggle (impossible) and pray that it would be over soon. Right near the end I kinda went numb. The spanking continued but I almost relaxed. I remember thinking that the girl's thighs were very smooth and sexy, and then wondering why I would think such a thing, when I heard Monica's voice in my ear: "Toasty enough for you, little spy?" I'd completely forgotten about her and suddenly I was mortified that she see me like this, and I wanted to run away and hide. Instead I got up and did my best regal walk over to the next girl and bent across her lap.

Everything became a blur after that. I remember strange little things about all the spankings: the smell of a particular perfume, the way a hand scratched my skin or patted my bottom, a soothing voice that spanked me extra hard, a young girl who tried her best but didn't really suceed in hurting me that much, a woman's crooked toes, a single hair on a calf, etc. Mostly I remember the incredible feelings, the wonderful-awful stinging, the pleasant throbbing after a spanking, the dread in the pit of my stomach as I walked toward my next punisher, and the frustrating tension between my legs that couldn't quite decide whether to be wet or dry.

Looking back it was wonderful, a blissful abandonment of my soul, an incredible release. But at the time I was too busy crying to notice much.

But the worst, the worst was the caning at the end. I remember feeling astonished and grateful when I discovered I had taken all my spankings. The girls all clapped and cheered and Peaches ordered me to the front for my caning. My head felt dizzy at the thought of the cane, but I'd already gone this far there was no turning back now.

I'd cooperated well, Peaches told me. I'd just need to take six strokes (three standard and three extra, two for crying out and one for hesitating). I suppose I should have felt grateful, but I only felt terror as I bent over and grabbed my ankles, my buttocks screaming in pain as the skin stretched.

Peaches stood behind me and told the crowd to count the strokes. The first cut sizzled across my thighs. It felt like a hot wire against my legs but it wouldn't go away. My legs were trembling violently when the second cut landed full across my sore butt and I almost screamed. I practically had to swallow my tongue to keep it in and I think I cried more during those few strokes of that cane than I had during all the previous spankings.

On the third one the pain reached some kind of peak. The cane struck the lower portion of my ass, right where the butt meets the thighs. My skin there was so agonized and tender I swore I couldn't feel more pain if I'd tried.

I barely remember the last few strokes. They hurt and prolonged the agony, but my mind blurs everything together at that point. All I remember is _pain_. I was shaking and weeping when they lifted me to the couch and poured soothing salve on my burning ass.

I was shivering uncontrollably but I couldn't stop smiling. The women had torn off their masks and were laughing and introducing themselves. Everything was whirling. I saw Mrs. Cachetori, the mayor's wife! And Linda Grayson, the minister's daughter. Monica hugged me and said she was proud of me.

"H-How l--l-long..." I stammered.

"The club?" I nodded frantically.

"Since early last year. Susan--Peaches--started it three years ago and it's grown by four or five per year since."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well, I didn't know, Cas. You kept your secret well hidden, for Pete's sake! You didn't even mention it to me, your best friend. To tell you the truth, I'm a little hurt."

"I thought I was alone."

"Sshhh," said Monica, putting her finger against my lips. "You are never alone, not here. We're all sisters and we share everything. Now you be quiet and rest. It's _our_ turn for a little fun. We're going to play one of our favorite games--it's called the 'Circle.' Watch! You'll be able to participate at the next meeting!"

I watched helplessly and with undeniable fascination as the couch I was on was wheeled out of the way and the chairs and coffee tables were cleared, leaving the center of the huge room empty.

As I watched, the ladies all took off their robes and stood naked in a long line. One by one they took slips of paper from a small box and formed a large circle, their order apparently dicated by the papers. Then Peaches, er, Susan, brought out an amazing collection of canes, whips, belts, leather thongs, and paddles and dumped them in the center of the circle. I noticed each implement was tagged and the girls promptly began requesting various devices by the numbers on their slips of papers. The ordering was apparently completely random, as each girl expressed surprise or delight at the tool they received.

Then Susan started the music, a slow instrumental piece that gradually picked up force. The girls all turned to their right to girl in front of them and slowly began to lightly spank the exposed bottom with the weapon she'd been given. Suddenly the room was filled with the sounds of leather and wood smacking naked flesh. It was eerie, it was thrilling. I'd never been so aroused in all my life!

The slow music played for several minutes and suddenly shifted to a light rock tune and Susan cried out "Reverse" and the girls switched direction and began to spank the woman on their left side, the girl they'd just been punishing now getting the opportunity to spank her tormentor. It was brilliant. It was devilish. I wondered who had thought of it, but then I saw the almost evil delight on Susan's face as she wacked at the bottom in front of her with her leather paddle. Behind her a short blonde girl whipped Susan heavily with a leather cat but she didn't seem to mind in the least.

The music changed every couple of minutes, the women changing direction each time, the pace increasing with each new song. By the third song most of the girls wore pink bottoms and thighs, some redder than others. The entire game lasted for about ten minutes, and every bottom I saw looked pretty well thrashed. But the woman were laughing as they moaned and rubbed their behinds. Several were rubbing their clits, and one couple was lying on the floor in a "69" position, head to crotch and licking each other out.

"So do you like my shorts?" I stared at Monica in disbelief. Her rather generous ass was an even color of red all the way down her thighs, almost to her knees. Indeed, her backside did look like it had on a pair of skin-tight red shorts.

"I got stuck between Shelly's wooden paddle and Eleanor's leather belt," Monica said ruefully. She giggled. "No break for the wicked, I guess. Oh, I can't wait to get home! I've got to get some _release_!" She stretched herself as tall as she could and then touched her crotch and I saw she was dripping. "Bob will wonder what came over me tonight," she winked. "I'll be an animal!"

I just lay on the couch, my jaw still dropped, and shook my head in stunned silence. I couldn't keep up with the pace of change. Everything was upside-down. That my best friend had a secret like this and had never told me... it was absurd, and yet, well, I guess it made sense in a weird way. After all, I had kept my desires secret for almost my whole life, scarcely admitting them to myself.

Monica took me back to her house and lent me the special pillow she kept just for driving home after her Saturday meetings. I sure needed it. My ass was so sore the way home seemed paved with cobblestones. But I knew Monica was right about one thing. I couldn't wait to get home either. My husband wasn't going to easily forget our sex tonight, that was for sure. I felt I'd had enough foreplay to last me... well, for about two weeks!

The End

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