#153) Naughty Means Knotty – GRAPHIC CONTENT

My name is Mariko, but here in America, I am called Mary. Forgive me if my English is not perfect, please.
My swim coach says that swimming meets are really just a competition with yourself. During training, you try to strengthen your body and improve your skills like arm strokes, leg kicking, breathing, etc. Then in the first meet on the season, you strive to post your best time in that event. From then on, you are merely trying to beat your best previous time. My coach of our all-girl team says everyone should be striving for continuous improvement.
My trouble is that my mind wanders while I am competing. Today we had our second meet, and due to my wandering mind, my time was two full seconds slower than my previous mark. It was clear that the coach was upset with me. The whole drive home from where the meet was held across town, he didn’t speak to me. He dismissed the rest of the team members (whose times had all improved) and took me to the edge of our community pool and sat down with me on the steps. Finally, Coach Mike spoke, though I could tell that he was still upset.
“Mary, you are going to have to learn to concentrate, focus your mind on the task at hand!”
“Yes, sir, I know, but…”
“But nothing! Except maybe your butt!”
With that he took one of my flip-flops off my foot and pulled me over his knee. He dipped the plastic sandal into the pool, and then spanked me with it. I had never been spanked before. (I had fantasized about it, however.) I was amazed at how much it stung! After a set of ten spanks, he rubbed my bottom, and as he did so, he tucked my bathing suit into my butt crack.
“If, after next weekend’s meet, your time does not improve, you’ll be getting another, harder spanking, but in the nude. Do you understand, Mary?”
I assured him that I did, but he spanked me anyway. It made me cry, but moisture was not confined to my eyes. It made me sexually excited, which I tried to hide from my coach. Then he took me into the pool storage room, where the pumps and filters are and equipment is stored. The coach picked up a coil of rope and began tying my arms behind my back.
“The rope is really thick and coarse, but surprisingly soft! What’s it made of?”
“Why are you tying me?”
“You’ll see,” he answered. “Are you into bondage?” he asked when almost done.
“Not really,” I answered honestly.
“Well, if you were, this job would make you wet. Wetter than you already are.” I hung my head in shame, but Coach lifted my face up by my chin, and kissed me softly on the lips. “Now, Little Miss Full of Questions, do you know how they measure speed per nautical mile on the water with boats?”
“Isn’t it measured in knots, Coach?” My mind was reeling from the kiss. I felt my cheeks blushing hotly, much hotter than my spanked cheeks.
“That’s right. So, my speed-challenged little swimmer, I’ve devised a lesson with knots for you. Swing your leg over this cord…”
The coach gestured toward a rope tied across one end of the storage room, a rope with about thirty knots tied into it. I obeyed. The rope rode up into my crotch, it rubbed its way right into my slit, one knot rubbed directly against my clit through my bathing suit’s crotch. A jolt like an electrical shock shot through me. I gasped. The coach smiled. I wanted nothing more in this world than to please him at that moment. I appreciated the extra time and effort he was investing in me.
“You are going to ride this rope from one end to the other, back and forth, until I say otherwise,” the coach said, “and to motivate you to do it speedily…”
The coach produced my flip-flop once more, gave my left butt cheek a sound swat with it. As I tip-toed my way down the rope, the taut hemp masturbated my pussy, the knots drove me nearly insane with lust! I got to the far end quickly, where the rope was tied to some pipe scaffolding. I wondered if the coach wanted me to dismount and turn around. He answered my unvoiced question by spanking my bared hip, where my bathing suit was cut up high, instead of across my bottom, so I backed-up the rope in reverse. It was even more titillating going backwards because I couldn’t see the knots coming.
“Remember, Mary, if your time doesn’t improve next meet, you’ll be riding this rope in the nude, after a bare bottom spanking. Understand?”
“I do! I understand!”
What the coach didn’t count on was the fact that I liked riding the rope, I loved getting spanked with that innocent-looking but wickedly painful flip-flop. Mentally, I wanted to excel, to push myself, to improve. But at the meet, I couldn’t make myself swim any faster. Cheers and applause, stupid trophies or lousy blue ribbons didn’t compare with the thrill of riding the rope, turning over for the flip-flop, seeing the gleam in my coach’s eyes when he looks at my bottom and private places.
We are back in our pool’s storage room, after my disappointing performance at the next swim meet.
“What am I going to do with you, Mariko?” he rants. “I thought the bruises visible on your hips and bottom from this flip-flop would humiliate you, motivate you to do better!” (Indeed, I noticed both my teammates and opposing swimmers looking at the bruises visible below where my bathing-suit’s high-cut leg holes covered. Far from feeling humbled, I was proud of the marks that my coach had placed on me.)
“I do not think I am made to be a swimmer, Coach… I think I missed my calling; I was made to be a geisha..” Coach looked at me, as if seeing me for the first time. I continued, looking him in the eye for the first time, “I am a special kind of geisha… I want to give you pleasure. But it also gives me great pleasure to accept your punishment… I want to continue to swim on the team, just so you can bring me back here weekly, and punish me as you see fit…” I peeled my black bathing suit down from my shoulders, down to my ankles, and stepped out of it. I stood before Coach naked. His eyes lingered on my raven-hair-covered pussy, confirming that I was a college-aged co-ed, not some little girl. I walked over to the knotted cord and mounted it by swinging a leg over and aligning it into my core. I broke the heavy silence, “…Please do not waste that coil of hemp by tying my arms… I will not use my hands to lessen the burn of the knots on my sexual knot…Use it to whip my backside… Mark me as yours, as your geisha, as your pain-whore…”
I could see that my suggestion appealed to the Coach. I leaned over the cord between my legs; the contact between my clit and a knot was just as pure, but now my backside was exposed to his lash. He gave my bottom several stripes in a row, making me gasp and cry out, making me climax. Coach knotted the rope in his hands, making it sting more as it bit into my bottom. Being taller than I am, Coach straddled the rope, so as to stand directly behind me, so as to whip me all the harder.
“I wish I could fuck you as I flog you,” he muttered as she flailed.
I leaned over the cord, reached back and parted my butt cheeks with both hands.
“I have two holes…” I suggested, an imploring look in my eyes.
This was an offer that my Dom could not refuse. I heard him unzip. I felt him nudge his big thing against my tight aperture. I grimaced, felt him penetrate. It was pain unlike I’d ever dreamed. He reached around and whipped my tits with the knotted rope, driving me back into him, driving me insane with desire. Then he drove me down the length of the long knotted rope in my crotch one knot at a time with every thrust into my most private place. I climaxed more profusely than I ever had in my life. I would never be able to simply play with myself with my fingers and dream about the Coach ever again. My cumming and butt hole spasms inspired a mighty orgasm in my lover. I sensed its approach. I dismounted from his cock and the rope, fell to my knees, and took him into my mouth, looking up at my lover with soulful eyes. I took him down my throat as best I could. Coach seemed to like it that this made me gag. I cupped his ball sack, played with it like it was a fragile bird. He released jet after jet down my throat.
We laid down together on the concrete floor and cuddled. When he could again think and speak, he posed a variation of a question I’d heard before.
“Mary, whatever am I going to do with you?”
“I was just thinking about that…” I replied. “I think you ought to whip me in front of the rest of our swim team. I think this would motivate them to improve all the more…”

7 responses to “#153) Naughty Means Knotty – GRAPHIC CONTENT”

  1. I guess that it’s obvious by now, I’m attracted to the unconventional. I saw this photo on the Internet and had to write a little something to go with it. I think I missed MY calling; I should’ve been a geisha…

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Dear Naughty Nora,
    If you’re picturing, I want your mind’s eye to be accurate. I stand in front of my computer at home. I have one of those computer tables that can rise & lower. The “warm bottom” part is entirely accurate; today I chose an eighteen inch long metal ruler to spank with as needed. I’m very toasty at the moment!
    Very Warmly, Contentedly, Appreciatively, Truly Yours,


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