The Bare Bottom Spanking and Wedging

"Oiled buns spank evenly and hot," Angela explained to him. "Once we have
softened and tenderized these solid but pliant muscles into a fatty spanking texture, we
are going to roast your naughty bum until every square inch is bright red- a spank for
every kid in this school whom you have bullied. The disciplinarian will use his hand. At
first, I will use one of these tooshie-warmers from my handbag and, later, finish off your
meaty glutes with my hand. When it comes to punishment, there is nothing quite like the
bare hand of a girl on the bare heinie of a boy. It's a match made in heaven! I've watched
Mom with my little brothers and I think I've got the hang of it. It's spanking time, big
guy!"

She opened a maroon-colored, leather handbag and began placing a wide variety
of tooshie-warmers on the table. They covered the full gamut in shapes and sizes. Danny
immediately recognized a tiny hairbrush that his Mom hadn't used on his little bum since
he was seven. Also catching his eye was a black belt- never used on him- from his Dad's
uniform; and, a wide strap from their den- a souvenir from his uncle's barbershop days.
"Where did you get those?" he demanded.

"You know where I got them, dude! Your Mom and I met last night. After the
latest incidents in the auditorium and cafeteria, she- and I- decided that her hairbrush has
been idle much too long. She also thought that perhaps this belt and strap need some
exercise. And so, she let me borrow them for this special occasion. I like your Mom. She
is sooo sweet!"
Angela then displayed two more straps, one of which was cut into long, thin slits.

"Oh, I do like this one," she mused. "Eight spanks in one! My grandfather says
that it is especially useful for spanking the sweet spot where the lower hindquarters meet
the upper back thighs. He says it takes days before a guy can sit down again on his Easter
hams-comfortably, that is. And, this tiny riding crop from his stable, isn't it just
adorable? Gramps says that this one's marvelous for toasting the inner thighs- after
you've spread the boy's legs, of course. He said something about being cautious not to
redden the furrowed and wrinkled sac too much. Hmmm. Wonder what he meant by
that!"

Angela had Danny's total attention, though he did not comment on how adorable
he found the riding crop or on what Gramps meant about caution in reddening the
furrowed and wrinkled sac too much.
"I brought this picture of three birches, which I find fascinating. Couldn't bring
the birches themselves today. Perhaps some other day- when we know each other better.
There are three kinds: maternal birch (a frightener more than a punisher); the school
room birch (oh, we must invest in several of these, Mr. Principal, to match the different-
sized arses of all the naughty boys); and, finally, the judicial birch which, sadly enough,
is out-dated."
She pretended to pout- offering him a drooped lower lip and a raised upper lip to
express such sadness at judicial birch becoming obsolete.

"Finally, the most delectable of all boy keister-warmers are these," she said,
holding up her hands. "Yup- I'll say it again: Nothing quite like a girl's bare hand on a
boy's bare bum for purposes of punishing."
Angela then spread his legs far apart and, with unnecessary roughness, parted his
supple cheeks in the center with both of her hands, chiding him:
"At least you have some semblance of hair in your butt crevice."
She then vigorously oiled, kneaded, and manipulated his highly visible and
hairless, pink anal muscle- almost to the point of his losing control of his bowels. What
really blew him away was her thumb-encirclement of his entire anal entry-exit, followed
by a heavy pressure onto the inner circle of his teen hole. His thrilling anal muscle
hungrily sucked in her prying middle finger as a plunger sucks in water. For a brief
moment I sensed that he might have enjoyed it until he started complaining:
"It makes me feel like I have to go."

That was Angela's cue. With a quick jab to his supple tummy, she forced his first-
birthday butt even higher into the air . As his rectum opened wide at the luring alimentary
canal, she ruthlessly forced three fingers into his yawning hole, and unrelentingly
invaded his virginal insides. Her other hand grappled her own crotch- as both of their
inner spaces got generous attention . They both went crackers, he in trepidation and she
with glee.

From the looks of things, Angela intended to massage his (now red) little pucker-
upper until he soiled himself. She wanted nothing short of total embarrassment for him
and total vindictive pleasure for herself. This was a boy who loved to control others
(herself included) and who loved to invade others' privacy (her own included); to cause
him to lose control of his own private bowels would be a feather in her cap, pleasing her
to no end.

But I was ready, if need be, to prevent an unnecessary mess. In my shirt pocket I
hosted a butt-plug that would fit perfectly into the lad's petite but deep, waste cavity.
And sure enough, to Angela's delight, he screamed:
"Your fingers feels like an enema tube! I can't hold my bowels any longer!"
I quickly removed the piercing cork from its container. She grinned broadly,
plum-pleased for the once-in-a-lifetime chance to hastily stuff a highly-intrusive rosebud
smack dab up his gaping and throbbing asshole. How often does this kind of opportunity
knock? She did so without batting an eye lash and with a fierce force that tickled her
fancy but violated his rectum. There is nothing quite like a butt-plug slam-dunk to
dwindle a young man's conceit. As she boldly jammed the pyramid insertion up his royal
ass, she ceremoniously asserted:

"With this stabbing stopper, I hereby pierce your stunning anus and butt-fuck your
refuse outlet where the sun never shines. May you be full of cork oak rather than full of
yourself. And, by the way, publicly lift up my skirt or dress- or drop my panties again (in
public or in private) - and I will stick this thingy up your screaming orifice until it comes
out of your belly button."

As the irruptive wad of porous, dark-brown bark gained full admittance into his
dark burrow, a thin stream of bubbly juices both trickled and oozed out of his rear
aperture, making a squishy sound similar to that of tramping through soft mud or
plunging a clogged sink. Except for the popping sound of escaping gas, the insert entered
without resistance- not only because rosebuds are known to do their job but also because
Angela spared no force in mercilessly jamming the soft wood up his offended fanny. She
banged him like no boy has ever been banged. She was brutal!

The look of horror on Danny's face was indescribable. Angela would always
access that look as she captured the moment in timely fashion on Polaroid. I could
imagine the cutline: Angela finally tires of taking Danny's shit by putting a stopper to it!
At one point she accidentally drooled onto the very center of the fleshiest part of
his buttocks. She then used her own spittle to, once again, vigorously rub his inner cleft
from top to bottom- lingering at his excretory opening- scaring him that she might
remove the plug. He didn't want the plug in, but even less did he want it out.

Speaking of out, it would be a formidable challenge to eventually remove the
rosebud because Angela had already fulfilled part of her vow to stick this thingy up your
orifice until it comes out of your belly button. While it had not reached his navel (yet!), it
would not be easy to remove, for she had slammed the cork to the point where it had
become more a part of his intestines than of his rectum. She had strong fingers for a
petite adolescent girl.

The beaming lass had cherished every second just as the crushed lad had dreaded
every second. His fresh and still unmarked buns clenched, unclenched, clenched,
unclenched, clenched, unclenched- as the tight cork held fast at his sweet pucker-upper
entry. Yes- positioning a lad over one knee gives the best view. There is no doubt about
that whatsoever.
With Danny's trousers gone to the wind- and with his underpants gone to
Angela's pocketbook, Angela and I shifted his ensnared body from my left knee to both
knees so that his voluptuous buns- draped across my full lap- would have the full
plumpness and roundness necessary to receive the most memorable and painful of
thrashings .

Danny was now certain that he was in store for a ferocious spanking.
But, again, Angela seemed almost as interested in his voluptuous balls as in his
tasty buns. From time to time, she cradled his teenage spheres in her hand, softly oiling
them in a light but tickling fashion. One last time, she squeezed his ultra-sensitive,
cream-producing nuts until they nearly popped- and he screamed what my dad used to
call blue murder.

Never has a teen tossed and shouted and cursed so loudly during a solid thirty
minutes of spanking- a full sixty seconds between spanks to make his embarrassment and
our pleasure last. And, never has a teen's naked buns ever come so close to the color of
his embarrassed face- crimson red. I noted that Danny screamed and jumped the most
when spanked on the outer portions of his buttocks- where the flesh is softest and where
no muscles can be squeezed to avoid pain. Clenching his tortured cheeks did his outer
buttocks area no good whatsoever.

During such tossing and turning, Angela and I got frequent and repeated views of
his prized genitals. His adolescent prick was wagging like a dog's tail, flapping like a sail
in the breeze. It glistened with a slick lubricant that dutifully moistened his scant, blond
pubic locks to the point of saturation. But most delightful of all, although his male
instrument was fully erect, this same firm and ripe banana was still free enough to flail
and shake and bounce in its avid search for something- for someone- to penetrate or
impale.

Danny's thrashing body, loud shrieks, and supplicant pleas for mercy indicated
that he frantically wanted the assault on his vibrating, happy-birthday cheeks to stop-
especially from Angela's hot hairbrush. His guy apparatus, however, stiff and oozing
with body juices, stated otherwise. While his exposed derriere demanded my spanking
hand and Angela's pounding hairbrush to stop, his pleasure-seeking dick cried out: "keep
it coming."

It was a sight that would fill any spanker with a longing desire to swallow the
lad's alluring prick whole- to gobble up, ingest, and digest all of his glorious pubescence.
I could tell that Angela wanted to stroke and squeeze his quivering, shaking, pulsating,
projecting, trembling, and wiggling boner (as she so aptly described it) but she settled for
devouring his unique equipment with her eyes. At least for now! It was a sight she would
never forget- and to which her memory would often return in the privacy of her own
bedroom- enjoying her own particular brand of adolescent, orgasmic pleasure.
It amazed me- and perhaps Angela too- that such a highly-charged, reddened
boner could remain so deliciously hard and so dripping wet for so long a time without
exploding and erupting like a volcano. Could it be true that this boy-man's spear was
potent to the point of dripping and oozing erections but impotent as to ejaculation. Was
he able to pre-cum but unable to cum? I had heard of such folks- basketball players who
can dribble but not shoot. The look of mixed pain and pleasure on his face assured me
that the youthful missile between his legs would soon answer that question.

All of a sudden, another knock at the art room door.
"Come in," I announced .

Danny freaked out: "This had better not be another student- especially a girl!"
Angela giggled: "You're not going to like this, Danny Boy!"
Into the room strode a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Fifth-Grader. The
Elementary School student sun-beamed with both amusement and satisfaction as she
spotted Danny, naked as a jay bird, arrayed over a principal's knee.

"Hey, big brother! Mom said you'd be here getting your little tushie warmed
royally but I never expected it would be stark naked- on the bare! Wowza! If I had
known this I would have brought all the girls from my class."

I cannot and will not repeat the barrage of expletives that came from Danny's
mouth. Let's just say that his ten-year-old sister, Marge, was one of the last persons in the
entire world whom the lad wanted to see (and vice versa) at this time, in this position, and
in this form of undress.
"The last time I saw you in your birthday suit, Bro, was yesterday morning when
you were getting into the shower!" she bragged.

Danny, at this moment appearing more as a little brother than as a big brother,
stared at her in utter disbelief.

"You never saw me naked in the shower!" he blurted.

"Danny, Danny, Danny! If you only knew how many times I've seen your glazed
doughnuts step into the shower. You'll remember that my bedroom door adjoins the
bathroom. Hello? Earth to Danny? Every morning for the past three months- since the
day you stripped me on the bus (her voice choked up) I have waited for the sound of the
shower to start. That's my signal to pop the lock with a large paper clip because you
never turn on the shower until you are completely bare-assed and ready to step into the
tub. With your back to me, I get the full view of your bubble-butt. Usually that's all I can
see except for a couple of times when you dropped the soap and bent over. Now that was
some view- an added treat. Once I got the full view as you jumped back because the
water was too hot- remember that?- and I saw your springy thingy bounce up and down
like a puppet on a string. When it stopped bouncing, it pointed straight ahead like an
arrow. Alice says that's an erection. I agree with the girls at school that you don't have a
bush but that the hair below is a lot thicker than peach fuzz. I also noticed that the hair on
your dinghy is a lot darker than the hair on your head. I've heard girls call a boy's putz a
snake- but yours is more of a worm. I should thank you because seeing you like that in
the shower gave me, as the librarian would say, a reference for all other boys. Now I
know what every boy looks like in the shower- more or less."
"You are a frieken pervert!" he blasted out.

Ignoring his retort, Marge continued:
"But this is a whole lot better, over the disciplinarian's knee with your favorite
girl Angela and your baby sister Marge looking on. Not exactly what I expected, except
that now if any girl asks me what you look like, I can give her a tad more detail than
before. Like this is the first time I notice you've got a dimple on each side of your
cheeks. Wait until the girls hear about that! Boys' dimples drive girls wacky- especially if
they're where yours are. Of course, I can't see your package (as some girls call it) but I
do get to see what really counts- your wittle, wascally waddling waffles.

Despite Danny's pleas to the contrary, his much younger sister drew closer.
"Geez- how did your butt get so rose-red?" she asked.

Angela grinned demonically- as if to take credit for the full magnum opus.

"You must have been a very bad boy. Did mom catch you with those magazines
under your mattress? I swear it wasn't me who told. Honest to God! But from now on
you better not tease me about anything or I will tell all the kids how I caught you being
paddled- on the bare!"
Angela handed Marge a Polaroid pic taken moments before.
"Keep this in your big brother-little sister repertoire and feel free to make copies
anytime he gives you a hard time. With this pic, you now have your big brother, shall we
say, by the balls. The pre-pubic girl happily and gratefully inserted the photo into her
training bra where it would be safe until such time as she felt the need to use it. It was a
kind of insurance.

"What's that brown thingy sticking inside of your petulla, big Bro? It looks like
the top of one of Dad's wine bottles," she queried.

"Just clogging up the pipes so they don't leak," Angela joked.

"I need a little favor, Angela," said Marge.

"Ask away," replied Angela.

"Well, you missed three spots. There are two places on Danny's bare that are pink
but still not red; and, there's one spot that is still white. I think I can correct that and
make it better."
With Angela's approval to use any instrument she chose, little sister Marge
grasped the riding crop on the nearby table and fearlessly approached big Bro as he
vociferously protested.

"I've used this on a horse's rump before but never on a boy's rump," she teased.
"Trust me to do a good job!"
Marge carefully wound up (as if on a 3-2 pitch), aimed ever-so-carefully,
and came down on his bare bottom with three stunning smacks that reverberated
throughout the room. It did her proud to contribute three perfectly-placed strikes to her
brother's awaiting bum: one to the left side of his crack; one on the top, outer portion of
his left cheek; and, finally, one across the back of the upper thighs just below the sweet
spot. Deliberately or not, the snapping end of the dressage whip caught Danny's
crumpled scrotum, intensifying both its pain and redness. He didn't expect the balls to be
included in this package deal- but they got kissed good.. The final connection between
riding crop and bare boy - at the sweet spot and nuts- drew the loudest shriek from the
victim and was delivered with an accompanying comment:
"This one, Danny, is for all of the telephone calls you screwed up for me. Are you
going to hang up on any of my friends again?" She threateningly waved the riding crop in
the air, as if to convey another blow if he disagreed.

"Yes- I mean No! I will not hang up on any more of your friends.

Like an office worker at 5:00 p.m., Marge proudly viewed her handiwork and
stated matter-of-factly:
"My work here is done! I'm out of here. Tootaloo!"
Surprising her brother with three final smacks from her bare hand (she said she
wanted to get the feel of it), she strolled out of the art room- armed with both picture and
knowledge- a stunning pose of her big bro tucked neatly and securely away inside her
first bra and the knowledge of three bad-boy magazines tucked away under his mattress
at home. Things were going to change a lot around her house from now on because she-
not Danny- would be handing out the daily wedgies. Furthermore, from now on, any
underpantsing that took place in the Bullman home would involve boxer shorts and briefs
instead of panties.