It’s Not Smarse To Cuss Upside Down
Here’s an except from one of those fine spanking stories being serialized over at A Taste Of The Birch. It’s in the grand tradition of the unwelcome tutor taming unpleasantly indolent young ladies, and it illustrates one of the most common mistakes of the unwilling spankee in fiction (as perhaps in life). It’s never smart to cuss and insult the man who has you bared and upside down over his knee. As they say, it will surely end in tears:
Redoubling my grip on Cynthia’s wrists, I raised the sole and dealt her a sharp noisy smack across the lower summit of her right arse-cheek, followed by one in the same place on her other globe. Her body stiffened, arched and jerked, and a shrill yell of pained and frustrated rage tore from her.
“Owwww! You hurt me, you bastard! You stop it, you pull my knickers back up immediately, do you hear me?”
“Oh, I hear you quite clearly, Miss Cynthia. And in reply you shall hear the sole whacking against your bottom until you have learned your lesson,” I responded. I then began to spank her elegant patrician arse, amusing myself to bring the sole down here and there on her behind with no particular pattern, so she would have no way of preparing herself and anticipating the next spank.
Her body jerked and lunged and threshed itself all over my lap. She continued her baleful threats, interspersing them with foul curses which really shocked me to discover that a seventeen year old girl could abase the English language so dreadfully. This spanking was more than a little overdue and perhaps I was a little over enthusiastic in my application of the sole, but her insolence had really infuriated me.
By the time I reached twenty, she had somewhat forgotten her curses and threats and was begging for mercy but I ignored all that and continued to administer the sole with grim determination. Unrelentingly, now beginning to alternate on the cheeks from left to right, starting at the tops of the hips and working down to the base of her spacious oval arse, I applied the spanker with rigorous, noisy swipes which soon created a flaming, darkening pattern of burning pain all across her voluptuous young bottom.
“I am sorry to be so harsh with you this very first time, Miss Cynthia, but I will not accept rudeness and insolence from anyone, particularly from a mere snip of a girl who has a keen mind but refuses to use it, except to ridicule and deride,” I lectured, keeping the spanker pressed across the reddening cheeks of her squirming bare arse as I paused to determine what effect this chastisement was having on the rebellious young culprit.
“You brute, you bloody bastard, you’ll pay for this – you’ll see – oooo, you’re hurting me – you’re hurting me awfully!” her young ladyship hysterically denounced me. But since she was still rebellious, I decided to continue. It was the only way to get through to her, it would appear.
The spanker rose and fell five times, all over the plumpest parts of both reddening arse cheeks, delivered in vertical swipes which cracked noisily against the shuddering flesh of her elegant bottom. Her moans and howls were music to my ears and more than repaid me for all the insolent nastiness she had accorded me since our introduction. After about forty five spanks, I paused again and asked her if she thought she could now be more of a lady and pursue her lessons with somewhat less hostility and more concentration. She cried out again, “You can go to hell, you bloody pig! I’d die before I’d do anything for you!”
I could not let her challenge go unanswered. The spanker resumed its work, and once again Miss Cynthia Dartman’s howls and yells rang out clamorously in the study. Her hips swerved so violently that at times she nearly fell off my lap, and I had to lay the spanker down and put my right hand on the edge of her right hip to restore her to the proper position across my body. Then, readjusting the clamp of my right leg over her upper calves, and noticing with wry amusement that her knickers had worked down past her knees and were twisted, I resumed the spanking.
Now I struck diagonally, and at times over the narrow, amber crease that separated the oval globes of her behind, so as to pinch those luscious hillocks together and cause her the utmost pain. Her voice began to break with sobs and was raucous from all her screaming but she was no longer cursing me. She was wailing plaintively that she was in mortal pain, that I was killing her, that she couldn’t take any more. I gave her ten more good ones, well spaced, at each of which she screamed out again for mercy, and then once again I pressed the tip of the leather sole against the crease of her bottom-globes and demanded, “Are you willing to accept my authority now and work to improve your scholastic marks, Miss Cynthia? Or do you want a dose of the cane?”
“Aaaagh no not the cane! Oh you’ve killed me – I can’t stand any more – I’ll do whatever you want – ohhhh you have really hurt me -ohhh let me go!” she blubbered.
