Souvenir Paddles

I’d passed this place several times in the past. As a traveling factory rep, I had occasion to find myself in this part of the state, perhaps every six months, or so.

This time, I had some time to kill - actually the rest of the day free - and yielded to my curiosity, pulling into the gravel parking lot spanning the front of the building.

The building itself was old and made of concrete block. With windows fronting the store, it looked like it had once been a market - IGA, or whatever.

The sign read “General Store” with another, smaller sign that read “Everything from scoop to nuts” hanging below. I have always enjoyed digging through such a place, looking for that gem that could never be found in a WalMart of Kmart.

As I parked, I noticed that the place was virtually deserted. My car was the only one in the lot and I assumed that employees must park behind the building.

Entering the store, I was charmed by the sound of tinkling bells which announced my entrance to the proprietress, an attractive lady, maybe forty years old, standing behind a sales counter, looking in my direction to see who had rung the bells.

I smiled at her and told her that I just wanted to browse. Not waiting for an answer, I took a quick turn down an aisle and was soon focused on the outstanding collection of eclectic merchandise, putting the lady out of my mind.

Although I was entertained by the variety of bric-a-brac and toys, camping gear and fishing tackle, pet food and horse tack, I’d not found anything to truly appeal to my taste. Until I wandered into the souvenir section.

Immediately I thought back to years past when I’d stop at a Stuckey’s for breakfast and look, always, for the souvenir paddles. They’d always have several choices, all highly varnished, each displaying its saucy message; “Apply To The Seat Of Learning”, “For Naughty Boys”, and so on.

I guess that, as political correctness took hold and ‘spanking’ fell out of fashion, the chain chose to discontinue sales of the paddles and they’d all but become a thing of the past.

Here, though, was a display of perhaps twenty different paddles, all identical in shape and size, all with the highly-varnished finish, all thin and, I imagined perfectly suited to sting and burn a naughty male’s posterior.

Without volition I found myself reaching out and picking up one of the paddles. I could feel my heart pounding and my penis stirred in my trousers, aroused by my immediate fantasy of a stern, strict woman applying this very same paddle to my bared bottom.

Holding the paddle by the handle end, as if I was preparing to use it, I tapped it against the palm of my left hand. As I tap, tap, tapped my palm, I drew a mental picture of removing my clothes, preparing myself for a severe paddling by this woman who was prepared to fulfill my fantasies.

I’d been so absorbed in my thoughts, I’d not noticed the shop keeper’s approach until she was standing next to me.

“You’re not the first to find themselves standing before these paddles. Many travelers have told me that they’ve not seen these for sale for years. When he was still alive, my husband bought a close-out crate of 1,000 of these and I’ve been selling them ever since.

“We liked using them ourselves. We didn’t have children, but my husband, like most men, was part man and part little boy. I found it satisfying to strip him naked and paddle his bubble butt until my arm was tired, his bottom was bright red, his face covered in tears, and his chest heaving from his sobs.

“After this spanking, I’d have him kneel in front of me and give me pleasure with his mouth. I adored the feeling of his tears on my thighs as he licked me and between my cheeks as he rimmed my butt hole.

“His erection would pulse throughout these activities, dripping a steady stream of pre-cum as evidence of his approval of my methods.

“When I’d had enough of his devotions, I’d have him beat off and ejaculate on my ass-crack. After he had cum, two things would happen. First, he knew that he was to clean up his mess - with his tongue, licking the semen from my crack and swallowing every drop.

“Secondly, and this is the truly wicked part, he knew that after he was done licking me clean, he would be bent over for another paddling. Coming so soon after his first paddling, and immediately after his orgasm, this paddling was exponentially more painful.

“He would cry. He would beg. He would sob like a little boy. And, I would paddle harder and faster. After he’d been reduced to a pitiful state of sobbing and crying, I’d cease, pulling his tear-stained face between my thighs once again, eager to feel the slickness of his tears on my skin and the devoted worship of his tongue in my vulva.”

While this woman spoke, I wondered how she knew. How she knew that I would approve of her story. I suddenly felt the tightness behind my zipper and realized that my erection was pressing against by fly, wanting to escape. Wanting attention. Wanting to be the cock in the story she’d told.

“Look at me.”

Her voice was feminine and commanding both. I felt compelled to turn my head to look her in the face and did so, shuddering as I looked into the depths of her eyes, feeling that she owned me.

“I want to use the paddles on your ass. I want to make you cry. I want to make you cum. I want to have you serve me - front and rear.

“If this is what you want, you need to say only two words - yes ma’am. Nothing more. Is this what you want?”

“Yes, ma’am.

My head was dizzy with excitement. My legs were shaky. My cock was hard and throbbing - the pre-cum flowing copiously and filling the pocket of my jockey shorts as if I had peed my pants.

I felt like I was a character in a porn movie - or at the least, a naughty story. I was astonished, though, at the reality. The reality that I was following the lead of a woman that I’d ‘known’ for less than ten minutes.

I didn’t know if I was only imagining the stern look to her countenance; I thought not - the look on her face bespoke determination and resolve. As we walked, she spoke.

“I’ve already locked the doors and turned on the ‘Closed’ light. My husband was very heavily insured with term insurance and I have no need for income now. I maintain the store only as a hobby. I often leave it closed for days or even weeks at a time.

“I maintain one of my residences in the rear of this building. As we pass through this door, we will be totally sound-proofed for your discipline. Trust me, this is important.

“The sound of my wooden paddles connecting with your bare bottom will sound like gun fire. Further, I will be paddling you very hard and very long. Many, many times the paddles will connect with your flesh and each and every time they will resound with the impact.

As she had been speaking, we’d progressed through a foyer into the main living area of her place, stepping down into a sunken living room that was heavily carpeted in white, wall-to-wall carpeting, looking almost like snow.

“Remove your clothing and place it on one of the couches. I’m going to shower and change and I’ll join you shortly. After you’re nude, I want you to assume a position of the carpet, on your knees with your elbows on the floor in front of you.

“When I return, I expect your bottom offered up, the small of your back ‘dipped’, and your knees spread, shoulder-width.

“By the by…. You don’t yet know my name and I’ve deliberately avoided asking yours. I don’t want to know you by name before I first test your sincerity. It’s one thing to say that you are ready to submit to a genuine thrashing; yet another to experience.

“I promise you, you’ve never met a woman like me. I will delight in ‘breaking’ you; like a horse person would break a wild mustang. I will change you today, forever..

“You will cry and beg. You will howl and sob. When I am through you will belong to me. Make no mistake, I am going to hurt you terribly. The payoff for you is two-fold. First, by suffering for me, you will earn the privilege of serving my body.

“I’ll have you lick my vulva until I’ve experienced multiple-orgasms. I’ll have you worship my ass by licking the crack and rimming my butt hole. This is what I like to think of as the ‘submissive kiss’. My late-husband learned to spend literally hours tending to my rear. I always felt that, after his beatings, this act of submission was the next best exercise for his attitude.

While she’d been talking, I’d removed my clothes and placed them on a nearby couch as she’d instructed. As I stood in front of her, nude, ready for her threatened chastisement, my erection pointed at her, its tip oozing a steady stream of pre-cum.

With a look of amusement, combined with a rebuke of a frown, she instructed, “When we are together, there are rules. One of those rules - an important one - is that any pre-cum and cum that you leak or shoot will be eaten by you.

“When you are dealing with your pre-cum, you will accomplish this by running the side of your right-hand, index finger beneath the head of your penis and collect the pre-cum on that finger. To you mouth, then, immediately, and suck off the residue from your finger. However many times this is necessary, you will continue this exercise until your cock head is clean of your arousal.

“Do this now.”

I didn’t even consider disobedience but simply reached down and followed her command. The taste that met my tongue was foreign. Like most men, I guess, I’d often wondered what semen would taste like but never had the courage to taste it - my own or another man’s! A bit salty and definitely runny. While it wasn’t particularly pleasant, I felt a frisson of perverse excitement at this overt evidence of my submission to this woman who’d all but cast a spell over me.

Walking to the couch where I’d left my clothing, she picked up the pile and took them with her. As she left the room to shower and change, she spoke over her shoulder.

“It’s been a while since my husband died and I’ve not had an opportunity since then to master a man. While I’m showering, think about what will happen when I return to the room. The description that I gave you of my time with my husband was pretty close to what you will experience today.

“I guess that the main difference will be a question of severity. I intend, as I said, to break you. To do this I will need to paddle - and possibly whip - you severely. Think, then, while I am changing, about how you will be unmanned. How you will cry and sob like a little boy. How you will beg - to no avail - for mercy. How you will be my personal property - should I care to use you again or not. Not only will you look at me differently after today; you’ll never look another woman in the eye without respect and fear.

“On the carpet now, and don’t you dare get any drippings on my carpet.:

So saying, she left the room and I - nude and on the floor now - wondered anew if I was making a mistake. I knew that this ordeal would hurt a lot. I knew that she was as genuine as a woman could be. Ready to dispense corporal discipline in an amount that I’d only fantasized about in the past.

Twice married, I’d asked both of my wives to spank me. And spank me was about it. Both were too timid to truly punish me and I’d never submitted to a ‘real’ spanking - let alone, ‘thrashing’ - by a woman who seemed ready, willing and able to deliver the goods.

I found it amusing in a little-brain controlling the man, to note that as I imagined the upcoming discipline that my new-found instructress had promised, my cock was still rock-hard. Rock-hard and dripping.

I became aware of a quivering in my buttocks and legs. Almost like what I’d seen of a puppy as it cowered in fear. It seemed that, even if my penis was pleased about the immediate future, my bottom had the good sense to realize that trouble was on the way!

I suddenly heard voices coming from the direction in which she’d left. It sounded like the lady and at least one other female.

Good grief!! This was getting deeper as we went along. I couldn’t imagine with whom she was speaking but figured it wouldn’t need to wait long to find out. I was right in this assumption.

The voices were moving now, towards the room in which I knelt. As they grew closer, it sounded as if there were two other voices speaking with my lady. As they entered the room, she spoke,

“Stay as you are on the floor but you have my permission to look up.”

When I looked in the direction of her voice I was stunned by the sight of two absolutely beautiful young ladies, girls more like it, perhaps teens.

“These are my twin daughters, Tammy and Tiffany. They’re only now, 18 years old. They never had a chance to learn to discipline a man when their father was alive as they were too young and I thought it ill-advised to expose them to our intimate relationship.

“They told me when they were older - after their father was gone - that they’d heard me spanking and paddling their dad but were afraid to say anything to me.

“I promised them that when I next thrashed a man, I’d let them observe. If they wish to, they are also allowed to use your mouth. You will obey their instructions as if it they were coming from me. Believe me - if you give me the slightest reason, I’ll turn your whipping over them and give them an opportunity to experience of hearing a man cry as a result of their discipline.

Speaking to her daughters now, she told them to take seats in two arm chairs and strode to where I was kneeling. I hadn’t noticed at first, but now I saw that she was carrying one of the souvenir paddles that I’d admired in her store. She saw me looking at the paddle and smiled an imperious smile.

“Well, little man, it’s time. Do not move from where you are. You are permitted to cry and scream - and I promise that you will. Ultimately, you will be permitted to sob and the three of us look forward to hearing that sound of you begging for mercy and crying like a little boy.”

Without another word, she moved like a flash and I felt the flat of the paddle connect with my right buttock. The sting imparted by that one swat was a harbinger of what was to come and I trembled in terror as the full import of what I had submitted to come home. I didn’t have time to ruminate though, as she quickly directed the paddle’s attention to my left buttock and then continued with a steady barrage of swats, left-right, left-right - and my bottom quickly took on a sting and heat.

I’d thought about this fantasy so many, many times over the years. I’d masturbated with a vision of this moment in my mind’s eye, never realizing how incredibly painful it would be. The reality, needless to say, caused the fantasy to pale in comparison.