Here’s another bit of my “meme spanking” story.
She didn’t give me time to react; I felt her hand come off my bottom and, a moment later, it crashed into me. It was like being whacked by a very thin, very light, very small paddle. Not quite as small as a wooden spoon, but the pain was in the ballpark.
One thing was certain: I hadn’t expected a spanking from someone Michelle’s size to hurt as much as it did.
Michelle seemed tireless — she spanked me over and over, peppering my bare ass with hard swats, until I felt like my backside was glowing. She meticulously covered each side, leaving not an inch of my skin untouched — and there was a lot of skin to touch.
It took maybe three straight minutes of spanking like that for me to start squirming, and that was when Michelle put her free hand on my bare back. “Hold still,” she ordered — yes, ordered; there was no doubt about that tone.
She slammed her palm against the back of my right thigh and I yelped. “Try harder.”
“I will!” I whined a little bit, and hated the sound of it. I never whined during a spanking. I made other people do it, but me? No.
But yes. Michelle went back to spanking me, just as hard as before, and my backside started to burn, each swat a little explosion of fire that seared its way deep into me. I tried to shift away and WHAP! Her palm hit my other thigh. I was sure I had two pink — or even red — handprints now. “Be a good girl and stay still.”
I wanted to complain, but all that came out was a high-pitched whimper. I did try, though.
The problem was that I’d never had a spanking that felt quite like this one. I’d been spanked harder, and with heavy implements, but somehow Michelle’s hand was making me feel…
I couldn’t even concentrate on how I felt; all I could do was experience the searing sting of her palm on my bare bottom. Each spank was hot on the heels of the previous one, and she’d started focusing on my sit-spots. The heat built quickly as she landed spank after spank, until I was sure my ass was crimson.
At some point, Michelle did stop spanking me, although the burn persisted for several long seconds after. “How are you doing?” she asked me as she rubbed my bare back.
“That really hurt!” I still sounded whiny, and I tried to control it. “I can’t believe you hurt me that much with just your hand.”
“Believe it.” She brushed her fingertips over my thighs, right where she’d swatted them. “Do you want more?”
“Not with your hand,” I grumbled.
That earned me a fusillade of spanks on the backs of my thighs, and I howled, unable to control the reaction.
“Try that without the attitude.”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry!”
“I know you are.”