[m55uk4younger]

........



I pulled my arm back and in the moonlight eyed where I would bring the
slipper to rest. I prepared the muscles I would use and turned my mind to
the force I would apply. It felt as if I were debating in the deepest parts
of my mind for eternity what I was about to do, how I was going to do it.
Eventually I switched off my mind and allowed my physical being to take over.
Moving from my shoulder then down it's entire length my arm swung with the slipper descending. It hit with a resounding crack landing on both buttocks. I swear the sound was greater than the roar of the breakers on the rocks below, I hoped nobody heard. The crack was quickly followed by a gasp from Peter as he audibly released a reaction to the pain and at the same time taking a sharp intake of breath.

"You OK ?"

"Absolutely."

The second whack landed exactly on top of the first. It hurt Peter, his cry
this time was of genuine pain but was followed by words telling me not to
stop.

The first time I had been slippered at school I was only twelve years old, I
was given two whacks over my boyish short trousers.
My offence? Untidy presentation of work!
Did it hurt? Too true it bloody well hurt!

My friend's bottom must also have been hurting, hurting more than my own
slippering all those years previously. While I was thinking my auto pilot
had kicked in and my arm was already descending for number three.

Crack !

Three was the usual number for a naughty boy to receive. If the crime demanded more than three then it was probably the cane that would have been used not the slipper.

That said a friend of mine was given six whacks with the slipper.

"You still OK ?"

"Yeh, Ok here."

His words were tight, spoken through teeth clenched and fighting back an outward expression of pain.

"Want to stop?"

"Not yet."

"How many?"

"Go for six."

Even in the diminished light of the night I could see the marks I had left
on my friend's beautiful arse cheeks. Six, three more?

Better get on with it.

WHACK! That was four. I was not quite sure how I felt about what I was
doing. In the short moments between strokes my brain computed at double
speed. Back in the tent I had excited at the prospect of a naked spanking
with my friend, when he bent over and presented his bottom to me it was
erotic for sure. The first whack was sensual and a delight but as the
punishment progressed and the obvious pain I was inflicting left me feeling
ill at ease.

WHACK! Number five. I stroked the slipper down with less force than before.

Just one more and it would be over.

WHACK! There, done it. Finished. I stood with my heart beating, chest pounding, mind racing.

what now?



To be Continued ..........