Spanking The Wrong Nurse
From a book called Passion’s Vinyard, via Spank Statement:
I sat down on the bench, I flung her over my lap, I hoisted up the white antiseptic skirt and the whiter slip underneath it, and there was a bottom ideally made for spanking. Spacious, jouncy, sheathed with a white satin-elastic pantie girdle, and the tabs clung to her white stockings as if they loved her legs so much they’d never let go.
“You stop that, or I’ll have you sent to jail for life, you filthy swine you! Who do you think you are to treat me this way?” she yelled at me, straining to get loose. I clamped my right leg over her calves,
I grabbed one of her wrists with my left hand, and I raised my right hand and I let her have the hardest spank she’d probably ever had in all her life, flattening down the plump right cheek of her behind and letting it spring up again. She let out a yowl that would have passed muster for a wildcat, and she tried to throw herself off my lap. I wasn’t having any. My hand rose and fell over her big backside with satisfying, noisy whacks until she stopped cursing and screaming and threatening me and began to sob and finally to yell, “Oh my God, you’re killing me, please stop it, stop it! For God’s sake, give me a chance to talk!”
I let up after about forty wallops, and I rudely shoved her onto the floor. She fell on all fours like a cat, and she shook her head several times as if dazed, and the tears were streaming down her face, and then she put one hand back to her bottom and began to massage it carefully, while she looked back at me and sobbed,
“You big overgrown bastard, you bully you!”
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