LOVE HURTS ( PART TWO ) Across her knee for the belt

PART TWO:


In Part One...

'I told you ...' my Mom said sternly.  'No peeping at Pamela.'

'I wasn't...I didn't...'  It was all like being in a dream as I heard my own voice shouting.

'They both saw the flash of the sun on the binoculars...  You were peeping through the bathroom window...

and so...

'You know what the Good Book has to say about dirty little devils like you, don't you?  Hmm?  Answer me!  What does the Good Book say, boy?'

and then...

I was over her knee now, entirely naked. My hot hard cock was pressing into her... her soft thigh...

'You are full of the devil's milk, boy...I'm going to beat it all out of you for once and for all. Understand?'

Submitting to her utterly... a dark thrill caused my cock to thicken...



To continue:

 Alarmed by her promise of severe punishment, and confused by my excited arousal in reaction to the prospect of pain, I lay still and helpless across her soft, warm thighs.  My cock was spearing her urgently.  The belt lay furled in her hand.

 My Mom had finished rubbing her pussy beneath her dress, and had finished whipping the belt relentlessly down across Pam's reddened arse.

  Pam, clutching her whipped cheeks with her hands, ran from the room sobbing.  My Mom turned to where I lay naked and slumped over Pam's Momma's knee, bare bottomed and waiting for my pain.

 'You want to do this together, maybe?' my punisher asked my Mom.

 'No, you go ahead. I'll join in...later.'

 Later!  I scrunched my toes in a reflex of anguish.  How long were they planning on whipping my bare butt?

 'Sure thing.  Keep your head down, Peeping Tom, and stay still while I use the belt on you.'

 Peeping Tom.  I hated the name.  But I hated more the threat of an imminent thrashing which would leave me howling and sobbing  - with my bare butt shining bright with the red pain of a severe belt-spanking.

 Pam's Momma swept the palm of her hand over my cheeks.  It was almost a tender gesture.  Almost.

 But I was fooling myself.  There was no tenderness there.  When she spoke, I knew that the words carried a brutal promise in their whispered softness.

 'I'll teach you to spy on my bad-girl daughter and then to spill your evil seed on my stockings, Peeping Tom.'

 From a weird angle I saw my Mom's feet pace slowly up and down on the carpet.  I saw that the belt she had used on Pam's naked bottom now dangled inertly down along her thigh.  Asleep, it still looked potent, malevolent and very vicious.

 A brief touch - the merest fleeting kiss - of leather against the swell of my bare bottom reminded me in a blinding flash that Pam's Momma held just such a belt gripped in her hand...in the hand that hovered over my naked helplessness.

 'Momma' dragged her finger down the cleft between my bunched cheeks.  She scratched her nail at the tight anal whorl I was struggling to conceal from her.

 'Open up your cheeks, Peeping Tom.  I want your butt hole, understand?'

 Panicking in a defensive reflex, I squeezed my cheeks tightly together, denying her my arsehole and trapping her probing finger.

 'Cut that out, Peeping Tom and give me your damn hole.'

 I mewed like a kitten and shook my head in a display of denial.  I felt her withdraw her fingertip and - suddenly - the leather belt cracked down savagely across the soft flesh of my thighs...just an inch or so below the swell of my bare bottom.

 I screamed and threshed my legs in response.

 Snap, lash!  Snap, crack!  Two more fierce strokes of the belt across my stinging, blazing thighs.

 I heard my Mom chuckle.  I cursed her silently.

 'You changed your mind, hmm, Peeping Tom?  You going to give me your butt-hole like I said?'

 'Yes..yes...' I hissed, loosening my cheeks and upper - scalded - thighs.  She folded the belt and curled the leather up tightly...and rested it in the small of my back.  Then I felt her fingertip at my anal whorl...and a heartbeat later I felt her finger sliding into my warm, sticky rectum.

 Whipped and helpless, I offered no resistance.

She pumped my tight warmth slowly, rhythmically...dominantly.  It was a superb display of...owning me ...utterly and absolutely.  My cock stretched in an ache of yearning for release.  Hot tears filled my brimming eyes.  My eyes were swimming...no...drowning in the scald of shame.  Soon, those hot tears fell.  Pam's Momma felt the wet contrition splashing on her leg and foot.

 'What is it with you, Peeping Tom, uh?  Always splashing some kinda wet onto my legs, aren't you?'

 My Mom and 'Momma' exchanged smiles and shared a laugh or two over this little joke.

 'Get your belly up, boy,' Pam's Momma suddenly snarled, mercilessly pulling her straightened finger out of my tight warmth.

  Grunting in response, I blindly, obediently, did so.  Fear choked my throat, denying me any voice.

 'That's good...very good...now you just obey me...every little thing I tell you to do...and we are going to get along just fine, Peeping Tom.'

 Inwardly, I groaned.  Better remain mute and not rile her I thought, deep down in that tiny corner of my mind she did not yet own.

 I felt her hand dip down between my splayed thighs then flinched as her fingers curled around my cock and tug at it until it thickened and lengthened to full measure.  It felt hot.  It throbbed painfully, deliciously.  Oh God, she was going to milk me.  By hand.  Over her knee.  Milk my 'demon seed'.

Upside down, I saw my Mom's feet approach.  I worked out that she was bending down over me, watching.  I shrank back in pure shame.

 'You gonna milk the brat?' she purred inquisitively, a note of doubt in her question.

 'Yep!' came the succinct reply.  'Guess I'll edge him off and on a while then milk him good and hard.  Afterwards, his butt will be much more sensitive...and so my belt will really hurt.'

 I could just squint upwards to see my Mom nodding her approval of this tactic.

 The milking started.  As she squeezed and tugged my hot length, Pam's Momma whispered fiercely, humiliating me with phrases such as "...dirty little Peeping Tom' gonna get a belt-whipping..." and "...nasty little pervert's gonna get it hot and strong..." followed by "...guess somebody we know won't be spying through the bathroom window anymore, will he, huh?"

 She judged it expertly, and - sensing my approaching climax by the squeezing of my butt cheeks - she relaxed her grip on my cock and allowed the gathering tumult to ease and abate.

 The teasing went on and became frustrating...then quite unbearable.  Pam's Momma knew she had been successful and had achieved her goal.

 'You wanna come, boy?  Hmm?'

 I clenched my fists and shook my head defiantly.

 She milked me firmly until she felt me shudder in anticipation of an imminent violent ejaculation.  She quickly released my cock from her gripping fingers.

 'Cat got your tongue, eh, Peeping Tom? I said, do you wanna come, hmm?'

 Slowly, inexorably, the milking recommenced.  I arched my spine and my legs stiffened.  I was on the verge...on the very brink...of an orgasmic explosion.

 She spoke, her mocking, bruising words a whispered stream of softly spoken venom.

 I did not speak.

 The belt spoke.  Harshly breaking the tense silence.  Four savage strokes cracked and barked out down across my bare bottom.  I squealed and threshed as the pain spread like a swift flame across my whipped cheeks.

 'So, you gonna tell me what I need to hear, Peeping Tom, hmm?  Wanna come, boy?'

 'Yes...please...do it...do it...please...' I begged, my voice thick yet urgent.

 Exactly as she had planned...she had broken me. Utterly and absolutely.  She laughed triumphantly as the stream of hot liquid jetting into her thighs emptied my sac entirely - leaving a dull but sweet ache.  The warm smear caused me to skid as I swerved and wriggled across her lap.

 'Like a catfish landed in a net,' my Mom remarked, gazing down at my writhing.  'Whip his butt good and hard, now.'

 Pam's Momma commenced the belt-spanking.  Nobody was counting.  It could have been fifteen severe strokes.  It could have been twenty.  It sure as hell was plenty.

 She paced the punishment.  Each stroked was measured, administered with assurance.  And brutally vicious.  The snapping leather belt barked out aloud each time the hide bit my butt.  Craning up at the dark, dull flat screen, I saw everything.  My bare buttocks receiving each separate bite-slice of the belt.  The reflex spasm and jerk of my hips as the leather hit home.  My Mom, hands on hips, standing over me and gazing down at my naked shame and bare bottomed pain.  The head - slightly bowed - of Pam's Momma.  Every now and then she would toss away the hair that had tumbled down over her eyes.

 My arse was on fire...no...way past that.  It was a mass of bruised, livid heat that was colouring up with reds and blues.  And red and blue make...purple.  The belt welts were turning purple: the colour of pure pain.

 My cock was stiffening up and straining once more.  I honestly thought that Pam's Momma, my strict punisher, had drain every last drop of semen out of me when she had so teasingly...so expertly...given me that pre-punishment milking.  But I was wrong.  I had a whole load left in my sac...and it wanted out.

 Crazy at is may seem, I willed the belt down again and again, for the slicing strokes were stirring up my seed and bringing me rapidly to the boil.  The last three strokes were...beautiful...which left me baffled...and wonderful...which I found...weird.

 Swish, crack!!  My Mom suddenly stood in front of me and trapped my head between her thighs. My face was pressed up into the tight white cotton stretched taut across her wet pussy.  My cock became tense and iron-hard.  She squeezed her thighs.  My tongue flickered and tasted her saltiness through the stretched white cotton.  My arse was in melt down...the pain burning right up through my sore crack.  Deep between my clenched cheeks, a furnace glowed.

 Swish, swipe!!  My punisher spoke curtly and crisply.  'My name is Poindexter, Peeping Tom. You can call me M'am.  Any misbehaviour in the coming weeks and months and you will taste my belt across your bare bottom.  Understand?'

 'Yes...yes...'

 'Yes - what?' she demanded sharply.

My Mom squeezed her thighs. My tongue probed through the tight white cotton into her wet heat.

 'Yes...M...M'am!' I replied promptly, my mind spinning in a whirl of tipsy delight - and dread.

 Swish, crack!

 'That's right, Peeping Tom...you are learning!' Mrs. Poindexter snarled.

 I had no words left in me.  I came violently, soaking my punisher with the last of my seed.



   POSTSCRIPT:

 They sent Pam...Pammy...Pamela off to some sort of religious boot camp.  That was that.

 As for M'am, it only took a fortnight for me to ache for her severe...touch...once more.

 To secure the punishment and pain I desperately needed, I got myself 'caught' using the binoculars from the bathroom window...letting the sun flash on the glass lens as I honed in on Mrs Poindexter - sorry - M'am - putting out the trash.

 Two minutes after she had gone in through her porch...our phone rang.

 My Mom sent me across for discipline.  Mrs Poindexter met me, unfurling her belt slowly, menacingly, deliciously.

 'Hello, Peeping Tom. Guess you just can't keep away, can you? Huh?'

 As she turned away I heard her whisper, 'Get those jeans and shorts down, boy. Time you tasted the belt again...'

 My cock stiffened and rose up to salute her....

                                    .....................................................................................



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