‘Home James, and don’t spare the arses.’ James – Dave, her husband – knew the routine. It was their game. One they both loved to play. Get into the car, drive round the block, back into the house, that’s how it started. Every time they got into the car ‘It’s Yesterday Once More’ began to play in her head. She remembered the words, Dave helped her remember the feelings. In their bedroom he’d splayed her bottom cheeks and peered between them as though an answer to an old puzzle was in there, putting his finger in as though expecting something to take hold of it and shake it. And in a way it did. Her reaction and his arousal showed them the reason for the game was still alive.
Although he had removed his finger, sitting in the car it felt as though it was still stuck up there in her most private of places. The words came to her as they always did. ‘Just you wait ’til I get you home.’ A dominating voice from the front seat on a car journey years ago. ‘You know what you’re going to get.’
‘The brighter it glows the longer you’ll burn’ played on the radio. Or maybe her memory had just made that up. It was a line from a Tony Bennett song, The Rules of the Road. Her mother’s favourite.
She slid into the past as easily as Dave’s cock shoved itself into her cunt. She remembered reeling under the impact of those words and the way a sudden heavy smell of ripe cunt settled on her. Later when she reflected on the moment she said to herself ‘I was a kitten and it made me a pussy.’ It made her laugh. Nervously. ‘Something shoved itself into me and freed me,’ she told herself, trying to be positive.
Her look. Turning around from the front seat. ‘Just wait ’til I get you home,’ the voice said again. It shocked her cunt and woke it up. Three o’clock on a Saturday afternoon. That look. Seen with blazing blushing red cheeks. She didn’t need to put her hand between her legs to know her pants were soaked. This was the well she knew would never dry up.
Her memory moved on. And this was the room where she changed into someone else. In a body that wasn’t hers. When the car had stopped the wheels inside of her kept turning the way they do when you’re caught up in something you don’t understand. When you’re on the way to something that will kill ‘you’. And cause you to be reborn, a sexual stranger, to yourself and everyone else. Well, maybe not everyone. Not Dave.
There was only one thing that was the centre of attention in that room: her bare arse. But it was filled with ghosts. Forever. She was marched into the room. Clumsy fingers fumbled with buttons and tugged and her skirt fell to the floor. Then her white pants, pulled down deliberately slowly, to make the moments of baring her flesh last a lifetime. Down past all modesty until she was completely exposed. Her huge wobbling bottom cheeks couldn’t keep still even before the spanking had started. They tightened and relaxed, shaking her bottom, anticipating the shock, the sting, the burn to come. It was unthinkably awful standing there with her bare bottom on display knowing what was going to hap – . When the first smack landed it was like nothing she’d ever felt before. The hand descended again. And again. And again. This too was done slowly. Unhurriedly. A long drawn out spanking that was meant to be remembered. Her protests and pleas were loud. But the spanking was louder than her cries. Nothing would stop it until her bottom was a deep red. Her burning bare bottom. It was unbearable. This couldn’t be happening, she thought frantically. But the world just watched. It was just a spanking. On the bare bottom. Matter of fact. Nothing out of the ordinary. She must have deserved it.
The appalling humiliation made her face almost as red as her backside. What a picture she was showing the world. A grown mature person, confident and sophisticated, standing there with her enormous well-spanked bare bottom on display, like a naughty little girl. The thought made her squirm as violently as the spanking.
The memory transported her back to the present. It had lost none of its power. Wow, she thought. Wow. Did it really happen? Yes, it did. She’d never forget it. Well, it wasn’t every day you got to see her – your mother – getting her bare bottom spanked. The look on her mother’s face when she realised she was watching. It was heavenly. . .
Dave had been there before. A different place but the same room. She’d taken him there. She’d held his hand tightly. They were there together now, in the present, walking to where it had happened. That spanking. It had given her hours of pleasure, he knew that.
She’d made him feel it: the raging fire that would never burn itself out. A humiliating walloping that you would return to over and over again. He used to wonder what she got out of it until he had realised it filled a hole in her. She was standing beside him now. Ready to take her place, to re-enact the memory. He would do his best: he had waited a long time for this. He was going to make a good job of it. She was very clear on how it was to be done. He knew the words off by heart, just as she did. ‘I’m going to spank your bare bottom so hard you’ll never forget it.’ They rang out as they always had, filled with power, authority, terror. To hear them was to be helpless. The commanding firm hand of love. ‘By the time I’ve finished with you your bottom is going to be so sore.’ But he knew that her pussy would be squelching wet and that, later, it would greedily fill itself with a hard cock. His cock would be hard. Oh yes, very hard.
It was a spanking he knew that would never end. But for now it was almost over. His palm was hot and red. Not nearly as hot or as red as the sight that filled his eyes. He’d done what he’d always wanted to and it was red raw. Just like his bottom had been red raw all those years ago.
‘I’ve never forgotten it, mother,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve never forgotten what you did to me.’
And as he watched the person he had been spanking, whose bottom he’d tanned so thoroughly changed back from her – his mother – to his wife. At the same time she changed back from her mother to herself, having relived her mother’s delicious chastisement. His wife waited obediently to experience the final humiliation meted out all those years ago: a cock shoved firmly up her bottom.
Their game was over. The drama however would continue the next time they got out out of the car and returned to the room. . .Alan Varty. Click Here To Read This Article From It's Original Source