#850) Misinterpretation Part II

“Well, that didn’t take long,” Uncle Joe said curtly just after Aunt Kathy had led both Martina and JoAnn into his study, each one gripped painfully by the ear.
Martina had just moved into the household, following the sudden death of her mother, Kathy’s sister. (Her dad had never been in the picture, something else that proper people like this family seemed to hold against her.) With her mother, Marty could speak her mind, openly express her thoughts and feelings. This, she discovered, was frowned upon in this household. For doing so at dinner, Uncle Joe had pushed back from the kitchen table, called Marty over to him, pulled the panties down from underneath the standing girl’s skirt, pulled her over his lap, pushed her skirt up to around her waist, and spanked Marty’s bared bottom hard and long. As he did so, he announced that “this should be a lesson to everyone.” Jane looked on horror-struck as the many hard slaps fell on the pert fanny of her newly-discovered cuz, JoAnn looked pleased, eager to see how hard her daddy would be on this obvious rule-breaker, and how the girl would take it, and Kathy looked as though she thought ‘better her than me.’ This sound spanking was the first one in Martina’s eighteen years. It hurt, but it awakened strange powerful sensations in her front along with the throbbing pain in her rear. Marty went upstairs to her bedroom, crawled under the covers, and addressed those strange tingling vibrations in her sex while rubbing cold cream into her sore backside. Marty was new to this act, too, but had experimented a little with it in the past. It seemed that the inaugural spanking inspired the relatively new experience of jilling-off with Marty’s inaugural orgasm. This cataclysm occurred just as JoAnn walked into the room without knocking, it was the sisters’ bedroom, too. Marty had her eyes tightly closed, so didn’t realize this intrusion until she was finished. It probably wouldn’t have mattered anyway. It was a really powerful climax and wouldn’t have been curtailed by a surprise visit. JoAnn waited until Martina was through and her eyes were opened.
“Did you just… masturbate…?” JoAnn asked with wonder in her voice and expression.
“What of it?” Martina replied, trying to sound worldly, as though she did it all the time. She wondered if this pretty cousin would bust her and go running to tell her mom and dad. The two young women stared at one another in silence for a full minute.
“…Show me how…” JoAnn finally enunciated. She slowly pulled the covers down, exposing the girl with her knees crooked up and one hand still caressing fore and aft.
“You just rub it,” Marty said cavalierly, “You find what feels good and keep it up until you explode inside… It feels like pure release…!” she understated. Showing off, Marty continued rubbing while fully exposed on her bed, while JoAnn hastily peeled off her clothes and put on her nightie. Then JoAnn laid down on her bed, cocked her legs in the air, and started experimenting with both hands. “…There’s a spot… that’s more sensitive… than the rest of the… region. It’s up, near the top of your slit. Rubbing it is especially nice…” Marty advised, as much to memorize the routine as to guide her cousin.
“Found it!” JoAnn sighed.
“Where’s Jane?” Marty suddenly interrupted.
“Eating seconds of dessert,” JoAnn replied dismissively.
Both girls laid back and explored in earnest. JoAnn found that simultaneously fingering her slit with probing fingers while rubbing circles around that special spot was effective, while Martina preferred rubbing her still smarting bum and fingering herself in that rear opening as she rubbed furtively all around that little button that had now poked out at the top of her vagina. Neither of the girls cared to announce their own individual masturbatory styles. Both drifted away into a state of bliss. Marty was completely lost, JoAnn was coherent enough to hear approaching footsteps, but thought it was just her sister. Neither noticed, therefore, when Aunt Kathy came bursting into the bedroom.
And that was how both girls came to be presented to Joe in his study, still gripped firmly by an ear. JoAnn was wearing a translucent nightie; Martina was as naked as the day she was born. Uncle Joe’s first, aforementioned words were directed at Martina, now he added some more.
“What were my last words to you after your spanking?”
“I dunno,” Marty mumbled. This seemed to anger her uncle all the more.
“I told you to behave,” he seethed, “so that you wouldn’t be getting it again soon or even worse! And here you are, not much more than half an hour later! Well, I’ll take care of you in a minute… first to my daughter…”
His attention turned to JoAnn who had been red-faced from her self-pleasuring, but now blanched and stood ashen faced and quaking before her father. She lowered her eyes to the floor, too embarrassed to meet his burning gaze.
“No half measures anymore,” he said as much to himself, then to JoAnn he announced, “You’re getting a dose of the strap. Get it from the closet and get into position!”
Silently, meekly, JoAnn walked to the credenza, opened its doors. Marty saw a great deal of stuff crammed inside, but over on one side hung a wooden paddle, a leather strap, a carpet-beater with a short handle, and a rattan cane. The pretty girl selected the razor strap and removed it from its hook. She carried it across the room. Marty found herself admiring her figure as she moved, she was shapely but slender, unlike Marty who thought her bum was too big. JoAnn put the strap on the desk and then bent over at the waist and leaned over the big polished top of this massive piece of furniture. With both hands, JoAnn reached back and raised the hem of her nightie until it was gathered on her lower back, and her cheeks were exposed and proffered.
Kathy spoke up and startled Marty, who had forgotten that her aunt was still in the room.
“I’ll go tend to Jane. I prefer she know nothing about this whole business! I guess I’ll offer her thirds on dessert to keep her busy…”
Joe crossed the room, picked up the strap, then turned back to Marty.
“You be sure to watch this closely! You’ll be getting yours in just a moment, this and a lot more…”
It all happened so fast. His arm flashed up into the air. The strap came down across JoAnn’s buttocks, sounding like a thunderclap. The girl whimpered, her body jerked, especially her backside that was sent into convulsions from the impact followed by spasming muscles. Before Marty could absorb it all, Joe repeated the entire dance. Marty’s mind jumped to JoAnn, how was she able to absorb what clearly was agonizing? She got her answer as the girl cried out as the second stroke fell, And a third with an even louder yelp, and so on and so on. JoAnn was sobbing and Marty was joining her empathetically. Her buttocks were blazing crimson.
Joe turned around to face Marty. “How many strokes has she gotten?” he barked.
“I… I don’t… know…”
“I told you to watch closely! She’s gotten seventeen, this one’s the last…” and he cracked his daughter with the hardest stroke yet. “Eighteen,” he pronounced, “just like your age. Get up to bed. Don’t say nothing to your sister. Don’t wait up for your cousin…”
JoAnn skeedaddled, holding her bottom with both hands.
An hour ago, Marty had boldly wondered what a strapping would feel like. Now she wished fervently that she would never find out.
“Your turn, young lady…”
Like walking to the gallows, Marty took mincing steps across the hardwood floor in her bare feet. She found the desktop smeared with JoAnn’s sweat, so Marty bent over one corner of the big piece of furniture, instead of at its center. As she was doing this, she vaguely heard Joe speaking.
“You’re eighteen, too, but act so grown-up, you’re going to feel a hell of a lot more… You’re going to remember tonight for a long time to come… I want you to think about just one thing as I’m strapping you. I’m going to enjoy exacting a measure of justice across your backside, young lady! You got up off my lap after your spanking like it didn’t really hurt… We’ll see what you think when I’m done with you this time…”
The eighteenth strap stroke had lifted JoAnn onto her tip toes. This first stroke across Marty’s tender cheeks did the same to her. This time, that thunder was accompanied by a lightning strike; the burning in her butt was beyond belief! Marty worried that he might ask, so she tried to keep count. But each strap stroke seemed to obliterate all thought in her mind except to register blinding pain. Marty, therefore, counted out loud, as soon as she was able after each stroke. As she did, each strap stroke nearly lifted Marty off her feet, causing her pudendum to rub up and down on the desk’s corner. This was the only thing that allowed Marty to keep from blacking-out in pain. Eighteen became twenty, then twenty-five, and thirty. At the thirty-second blast from the leather, he put the strap back down on the desktop. Marty thought that she’d cried all her tears out. Her voice was hoarse from crying-out. Her butt cheeks throbbed and burned and itched and almost felt numb.
“Get up and put the strap away,” her uncle ordered.
Just snapshots of visions and snippets of thoughts registered in her shell-shocked brain. More sweat on the desktop than JoAnn left, along with a smear of jism on the corner’s edge. How difficult it was to move her stiff body, how incredibly it hurt to move any of the many muscles in her ass. How far the credenza was from the desk now. How the strap was shaking in her hands as she lifted it to the hook.
“What else do you see in there, Martina?” Joe asked sharply.
She decided not to answer with ‘a lot of junk.’ She knew what he was referring to. “A paddle… and a carpet-beater… and a cane… sir.”
“If I continue to have trouble with you, young lady, I promise that I’ll give you a big dose of every one of those implements. One right after the other. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Marty squeaked.
“No, I don’t think you do. You’ve never felt any of those implements applied across your deserving butt, have you?”
“No, sir, but I can imagine,” she whimpered.
“Let’s not leave it to your imagination. Get the other three implements down and bring them over here…”
With difficulty, Martina did as she was told.
“I’m going to give you just a small taste of each of these,” Joe told her as he took them from her shaking grip. “Just two licks with each of them. Just so you’ll know what to expect, if there is a next time…”
The prospect of what he was proposing inspired new-found tears to spring forth into Marty’s eyes. “Yes, sir,” she tried to say, but it came out all garbled.
“You get to decide the order… Sit down and think about it, give your bottom a short rest…” He gestured to a wicker chair. Sitting her abused bottom down on that scratchy wicker was agony, reawakened every one of those many strap stokes, and more tears coursed down her face. She squirmed. “Which one first?”
“I guess the paddle…”
“Good girl. Assume the position.”
She stood, wobbled over to the desk, bent back over it.
CRACK! CRACK!
Joe had delivered one solid swat to each cheek in rapid-fire order. Marty stood straight up and grabbed her cheeks and danced and howled. Joe just smiled.
“Which one next?” he gleefully asked.
“Can I have a moment… please?”
“I didn’t say that you could rub! I didn’t put that sting in your tail just to have you rub it away! Remember, rubbing is what got you into this fix… that and showing my innocent daughter how to sin, too! Which one next?”
“I guess the cane…”
“Very well, bend over, stick it right out…”
SWISH-THWACK!, SWISH-THWACK!
Marty found herself bolt upright yet again, her hands held stiffly out to the side to keep them from reaching back to comfort her agonized bum, every muscle in her body rigid except her vocal cords, which were very active.
“Oh, fuck, that hurts! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
SWISH-THWACK!
“Watch your language, young lady! My, you have so much to learn…!”
“I’m… I’m sorry! I can’t… help it… it hurts so…”
“Sit down. Take a moment to compose yourself.”
Martina sat. It didn’t help, just made her wounds scream louder. There was too much to compose; snot ran down her upper lip and tears dripped off her jaw onto her breasts. She was sweat-soaked and stinking, she could smell her arousal mixed in with this funk, wondered if Joe did, too.
“You were wise to put the carpet-beater off until last. You’ll find that it’s the worst, like several of these canes woven into an intricate pattern, a pattern you’ll feel across your entire backside…”
“You don’t have to give it to me…” she whispered softly, hopefully.
“And you didn’t have to misbehave… corrupt my daughter… Stand up, bend over, let’s get this over with.”
She willed herself to her feet, mounted the corner of the desk so that her uncle wouldn’t notice that she was still sinning, even now…
Joe tapped Martina’s tush with the carpet-beater, taking aim, drawing this agony out, and he began to speak.
“JoAnn was going to discover sex soon anyway, I suppose. But not Jane. I do not want her spoiled by you. You are in charge of making sure that she stays innocent. She better not catch you sinning, want to imitate you, like JoAnn just did, or you’ll suffer a thrashing like you can’t imagine! Clear?”
“Yes…”
“Count these three,” he barked and swung at the same time.
“Three? WHOMP! “Owwww! Oh, God! …One!”
WHOMP!
Marty danced and cried for all she was worth. Then fitted the hard corner of the desk into her soft folds and rode the pain out. The number came out “Twwwuuuooo…!”
“Hold still!”
“Yes, sir!”
WHOMP!
“Three! Will that be all, sir?” Marty bit off the words through gritted teeth.
“What? No smart-aleck remarks? …Yeah… Put the implements away… Then get to bed… Behave from now on…!”
Marty limped to obey, wiping the desk corner with her hand as she got up. In the dark bedroom, both girls were asleep, or were pretending to be. Even crawling into bed hurt, just the caress of the cool sheets made her bottom scream holy hell. She listened to her heavy breathing, tried to quiet herself. She’d noticed his words. He said he shouldn’t catch Marty sinning. He didn’t say not to sin. Those were his exact words, there was no misinterpretation. The house’s walls were thin, she heard indistinct sounds coming from the bedroom next-door. Words exchanged, sighs, her aunt’s giggling, one loud smack, the sound of his large hand on her large buttocks, little moans, then the bed creaking rhythmically. It was enough noise to cover any that Marty might make. She reached under the sheet and played with her strangely-aroused sex. Why the fuck am I turned-on? she wondered. No matter, get busy, rub, circle that little button, finger your ass hole, yes, that’s it, just like that… that’s… so… fucking… good!

7 responses to “#850) Misinterpretation Part II”

  1. This is so good!

    It does raise some questions:

    Did Aunt Kathy say, “Where’s my spanking?” and got a playful smack on the butt?
    Did Uncle Joe discipline Aunt Kathy because she was neglectful in her duties in explaining the rules to Marty?
    If Aunt Kathy got a spanking she felt she didn’t deserve, did she get her revenge on Marty’s already sore bottom? With an OTK hairbrush spanking maybe while Uncle Joe was at work?
    Did Marty and JoAnn console each other and fall asleep in each other’s arms?

    This story got the old creative juices going. I like this family!

    Liked by 1 person

    • The way I envisioned the dynamic in the parents’ bedroom was Kathy made a comment about Joe enjoying being able to discipline two errant young ladies. Joe was pleased with himself that he’d been entirely honorable, so he gave his wife a swat to correct this notion. For a while, I considered writing a spanking scene for Joe disciplining Kathy, but was in a older/younger mindset, and didn’t want to switch out to a husband/wife dynamic.
      I would not have written Part II if I didn’t like these characters. I ended the first “Misinterpretation” piece and thought I’d leave the continuation to my readers’ minds. Did mine fulfill your imagination? I liked how I wove two misinterpretations in, one in each part.
      But I TRULY LOVE writing sexy funishment spankings, and sometimes writing harsh lessons puts me in a dark place. I think that when I am able to explore my Dom side (with a female), I’ll be able to work this out (on her poor bottom!).

      Liked by 1 person

      • For me, it’s always good to leave the reader wanting just a little bit more. Including the husband/wife dynamic the way you did was perfect. Just enough of a tease to get someone’s imagination fired up. If you include too much in one story, it takes away from the impact of the main event, so to speak. As a songwriter, ideas just pour out when being creative but learning which ideas serve the song the best and which ones can be set aside is probably the most important concept to master. Prose is the same in that respect. The extra challenge of songwriting is that you have (good) limitations in that it all has to fit in the space of one song. With prose, you can be complex and detailed without the song-writing constraints. That’s a whole other challenge though.

        My imagination definitely went straight to: Did Kathy tease Joe and the swat was a playful response or was there more to it?

        I do need to go back and read the first one again. Looking forward to a series!

        I understand about the “dark place”. I worked hard over the years to write music that was varied in it’s mood. I worked with a production company that did a one-day festival of death metal and the like. 12 bands in 12 hours. I’ve never been around so much darkness in my life! It was palpable. Encompassing light and dark can be a valuable part of being creative. Dealing with darkness should be done carefully though because the art can live on for many, many years. It’s not like a thunderstorm that has a beginning and an end, something that’s here and gone. If we only express darkness, there’s a deep pit to fall into and many people never find their way out. Having said all that, it doesn’t mean there isn’t value in expressing it. It just has to be monitored much more closely.

        I have become more enamored of the idea of funishments. I crave the accountability of a domestic discipline arrangement but, you know what?, sometimes I like the idea that I could just take a hairbrush to a woman, drop ’em and get over her knee and just have her push my limits for no other reason than that we share the experience and enjoy it just as much.

        Sorry for the mini-novel. I should have put it in a song to keep me from prattling on so! 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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