Irene didn’t have any underwear and the men leaned closer.
“Lift your top outta the way,” Ashwin ordered. “Let’s have a look at yah.”
She gathered the tails of her shirt about her midriff and Ashwin delighted in the sight of a flat tummy and the angular swath of black pubic hair with tight rolls and lips protruding. Then lower, the stalwart thighs. Irene gave him only a moment to gloat before bending over the cargo trunk.
She arched her neck so she could meet his eyes head-on. “This what you wanted?”
Ashwin didn’t answer her, only grabbed her about the neck and pulled her face into his chest. The maneuver stretched her spine and lifted her bum. “Give the paddle to the first girl,” he said.
Pamela had the paddle thrust into her hands and reluctantly took up a position opposite Irene’s hip. She studied Irene’s upturned bottom and wondered how she could possibly do what was demanded of her.
“Smack her,” Ashwin encouraged. “Good and hard.”
Pamela eyes rose to meet his and she raked teeth across a lower lip.
“Well get on with it,” Ashwin was losing patience. “Hit her. And as hard as you can, damn it. If you show any leniency, any at all, you’ll be down on your knees beside her. Understand?”
Pamela tearfully nodded but still she couldn’t bring herself to strike the woman whom she loved. “Irene…?”
Irene twisted her face up. “Just do it, Pamela, please. Hit me. Hit me hard.”
“I’m sorry,” Pamela whimpered. And she raised the paddle in both hands, took aim, and swung with all her strength. The paddle connected with tender flesh, the shaft jolting in Pamela’s hands and a sickening smack overwhelmed the girl’s sensibilities. In an effort to put the despicable task behind her, Pamela quickly took a second swing. In her hast she misjudged the target and the paddle landed on Irene’s upper thigh.
“Missed-stroke,” the man called out.
“Settle down,” Ashwin advised. “Hit her again. This time take your time, I’m warning you…”
A horrified Pamela adjusted her sweaty grip on the paddle and taking careful aim, landed the blade with all her weight across Irene’s right buttock. The sting was enough to bring Irene’s head up in surprise. Pamela was small and certainly not as robust as her other girls. Worse things were about to happen.
At the sound of the second crack, Pamela cried out, dropped the paddle and with hands cupped about her mouth, she ran back into the arms of the other girls. Ashwin laughed. “Who’s up?”
Melissa was next and she picked up the paddle from where Pamela had dropped it. Melissa had always admired Irene’s heart-shaped behind. It was a proper women’s bottom, full and lush like her own; not boyishly like some of the others. A bottom that would be out of place on the basketball court or soccer field. A bum that moved seductively when Irene donned high-heels. A behind that could be deemed a wonderful ass without the term being demeaning. Melissa looked down and had an image of her own pale bottom, proudly propped up on the cargo trunk.
Melissa had the greatest respect for her Captain. Melissa had shared her darkest secret, how she had allowed herself to be blackmailed into giving Scirocco free access to her body. And though Melissa could never love the man, she did anything he asked in the hopes he would take her as his partner. Even to the point of entertaining his business associates with her nudity.
She had shared all that, and Irene had kept the secret close to her heart.
Melissa took quick aim and struck with just enough force to make the blow seem plausible. “Like that bitch?” she sneered in an effort to add substance to the charade. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.” And as she swung a second time, she heard Ashwin giggling like a girl.
Erin, her robust strength in keeping with her Irish heritage, was the strongest of all the girls. And she knew it. She plucked up the paddle determined to get Irene though the pain and humiliation as quickly as possible. She struck twice, hard and in rapid succession. One slap to each buttock to spread the burn. Irene bucked for the first time, the tissues becoming more and more tender at each girl’s turn. But she was determined not to cry out. Irene ground down on her molars as her co-pilot, Bev, moved into position.
Bev touched the paddle to Irene’s bottom. “Does it hurt?”
“It’s beginning to,” Irene admitted, “but don’t hold back. It’s bad enough, one of us being bent across this trunk.
“I’ll try,” was Bev’s answer. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
It took Bev a moment to find her courage. She drew the paddle back over her shoulder like a baseball bat, held her breath, closed her eyes and swung. There was a surprise snap as the blade connected with the lower part of Irene’s behind, the sting reaching up between her legs. Irene seethed.
Bev strangled on the scream in her throat. “Oh my God!”
Ashwin laughed. “Hit her again.”
Bev steadied herself, took better aim and the paddle blade landed solidly this time, the handle bouncing in her hands.
“Next,” Ashwin called out.
Tracy came forward and took the paddle from Bev. “I hit her low down,” Bev confessed in a hushed whisper. “I think I really hurt her. I didn’t mean to.”
“I know how that feels,” Tracy hissed.
After eight strokes, Tracy saw that Irene’s bottom was fire-red. Tracy went suddenly numb inside. She remembered her father’s belt. How he had used it on her relentlessly until she had found the courage to run from home. Tracy was alone, hungry and living on the streets when the man found her. She actually thought she loved him, until he started hitting her and told her she would have to earn her keep.
The massage parlor was a decrepit house broken up into cramped studios, each with a narrow bed. And a massage consisted of a quick rubdown followed by a much longer jerking-off, but it was found she had other, more worthy talents. From then on, she made her living with her mouth.
Something brittle broke in Tracy’s chest and seething, she lashed out at Irene in bloody defiance; striking back at her own father. It was only Irene’s screams that landed her back into the reality of what she was doing. She dropped the paddle, her hand at her mouth in horror. And suddenly, Alex was there. Beautiful Alex, gathering her up into loving arms.
“That’s enough, now,” Alex was saying. “You’re okay; you’re with me.”
With Ashwin’s revolting laughter in her ears, Alex led Tracy back to the others. “Now that’s more like it,” Ashwin was shouting, wiping away tears of glee on the back of a hand.
Alex returned to picked up the paddle. She had a mouthful of venom for Ashwin Franks, but for Irene’s sake, she held her tongue. Looking down, Alex saw that the skin was broken and weeping and purplish bruising was beginning to rise beneath the flesh.
“Permission to speak,” Alex said, searching out Ashwin Franks.
Ashwin’s head came ’round. “W-what?”
“Permission to speak.”
Ashwin waved a hand in front of his face as if to dismiss her. But was curious. “Oh go ahead, but realize you are interrupting the proceedings of this court and may be punished for it.”
Alex squared her shoulders. “I request permission to trade places with my Captain.”
“No!” Irene cried out. “I won’t let you do that.”
“Shut up, Irene.” Ashwin’s eyes narrowed. “You want to trade places?” he asked Alex.
“I’ll take her place for the duration of the punishment. You can spank me instead. Irene has had enough.”
“No,” Irene sobbed.
Ashwin paused to think. He ran his eyes over Alex’s naked torso. She was long, lean, and as sleek as a mink, and very attractive, in a standoffish kind of way. He was certainly intrigued but, he decided, she needed to be taken down a notch or two. “No,” he came to a decision, “a substitute was offered earlier and turned down. Irene will endure the remainder of her punishment. You will commence with the spanking, but, because you have rudely interrupted these proceedings, you are required to execute your duties in the nude. Please take off your swimsuit. And so we can all have a little time to enjoy your body, my dear, you will apply four strokes, not two.
Alex stepped back, shaking her head in bewilderment. She had tried, and only made matters worse. Alex cast her eyes about, willing her pulse to slow. These men wanted to see her naked, and she realized with dread, she was going to have to share with them the parts of herself she reserved for her husband.
She felt the heat suffuse her cheeks and reached behind to fumble the catch.
Alex had impish breasts, but delectable, Ashwin thought. Small cones with puffy aureoles and longish dark nipples as big around as a fingertip. “And your bottoms,” he called out.
Alex tugged at the string positioned below an angular hipbone. The fabric came tauntingly loose and caught on the prominent bone of her pubis. With a flush of shame, Alex had to reach down and free herself from the clingy bikini bottoms. Naked, Alex bent over to pick up the paddle from where it lay in the pine-needles. The movement made her acutely aware of the clench in her buttocks, the taunt pull of thigh muscle.
An image of Rob surfaced. All they had ever wanted was their little cabin in the Colorado Rockies but he was off fighting another stupid war while she stood with her flesh bared for the pleasure of eight strangers. She was suddenly aware of just how badly she had failed the man she loved. The job, flying for the Casino, had seemed like such a lark. And then living with Ditz with her crazy antics. But they got the photographs, her naked with that sex-starved dog, and from then on Scirocco owned her.
Alex raised the paddle above her shoulder. She felt her breasts lift and the nipples twist from the emotional summer-salts that were bounding inside her head. Out of frustration and denial, she closed tearful eyes and swung hard.
Sissy had never been spanked and was of the strict opinion that corporal punishment was abhorrent. It went contrary to everything she had ever believed and she suddenly found herself praying for strength and guidance. It had been a long time since she had talked to her Lord and it provided some comfort in the face of what she was about to do.
She had found her calling early, as a girl. While her contemporaries were discovering boys and decorating their bedrooms with music posters, her bedroom with its plain white walls, only held a crucifix surrounded with the crown of thorns she had painfully woven from nettles. And as soon as she was old enough, she had been accepted into Saint Mary’s. So even now, as a young woman, she was chaste.
Oh, some had tried.
Sissy had always been a tall girl and mature for her age. Her father’s buddy had caught her in the hallway and run has hands over her body. They found him the next day under her daddy’s car, the air crushed from his lungs. The jack had slipped.
It was a mortal sin but Sissy wasn’t worried. She would go to the Sisters and devote her life to God.
But then came Haiti: Simpering women with their dead and dying babies. She gave them her food and all the medicine she had. And still they came, clutching at her skirts. Finally she ran. Had run to the sea. What benevolent God would do this to her? Allow this to happen to her? Well fuck God!
Sissy picked up the paddle and hit Irene twice. As hard as she could.
Irene’s bum was crisscrossed with welts from where the sharp edge of the paddle had dug into her flesh. “Can I use my bare hand?” Linda asked, knowing that her hand would do less damage.
“Your hand?” Ashwin Franks contemplated her request. “You want to feel her ass under your bare hand?”
Linda was well aware of the trap he was setting and wasn’t surprised. But she couldn’t bring herself to pick up the paddle. “Yes, if you’ll permit me.”
Ashwin was intrigued. “You like to touch women?”
“Sometimes,” Linda was guarded, “with the right woman, it can be nice.”
“And Irene is the right woman?”
“She’s attractive, mature and self-confident. I admire those qualities in any woman.”
“I see. So you want to feel her up, is what you’re saying.” Ashwin lifted his camera. “I think I would enjoy watching you touch Irene. With the end of your tongue.”