(a needed re-blog of a post that got deleted!)
"When Chelsea asked me how was it possible that you were such a nice person, I couldn't resort to lie to her.
That's why I told her you were subject to frequent spankings, at least twice a week, in order to make sure you remain so well behaved.
She was really captivated when I told her in detail my modus operandi, how I put you over my knee and spank your bare bottom like a naughty brat.
At some point she asked me how I felt about it and, obviously, I couldn't resist to let my best friend live this experience, could I?
That's why the three of us are here now. And isn't it convenient that she thought about bringing her own slippers?"
I have to admit I asked for it. Not literally or directly, but I asked for it just the same. Because I’d like to be a nice person, but I’m just not - or not always (I guess I am in public, since we seem to have Chelsea fooled!). Hence the frequent spankings, sometimes more than twice a week. That’s a lot of spankings. That’s what I thought, and that’s what Camille thought, too. So Camille thought maybe a bit more of a spanking when I got one might help me need one a little less frequently.
You might see why I wasn’t crazy about this plan. In fact, I sort of rebelled. I just couldn’t seem to stay in place as she stretched out an already bun-burning slippering to the point of tears and beyond.
So while she made it sound like a fun little ‘let’s let Chelsea see how it’s done’, I knew that, really, she’d enlisted some help - and I was in real trouble!
“Kendall’s a little overdue, we have a bit of catching up to do,” Camille said to Chelsea while giving me an evil smile. “Go use the toilet, sweetheart. Come back wearing a towel,” I was told. “Always give clear, specific instructions,” she coached Chelsea. I returned, bare underneath, which was quickly seen when I was asked to hand Chelsea the towel and drape myself over Camille’s waiting lap.
“I suppose I’m getting half a spanking from each of you?”
“Oh, sweetheart - you know I always say half a spanking does no one any good,” Camille said, looking at Chelsea with a chuckle. Chels, taking me in half-naked, grinned from me back to her.
One good (long) solid hand-spanking later, I was ‘allowed’ to get up - so that Chelsea could take Camille’s place.
“For now, at least, try to do it as much like I did as you can - it will give you a good starting point, at least. Focus on the red, make it good and hard, and see if you can keep it up as long as I did,” Camille directed. “Set a pace you think you can maintain the whole time.”
“I can really see Jordan benefitting from something like this,” Chelsea remarked, referring to her live-in lover. “Maybe not every week…” The smile in her voice belied how hard she really was managing to lay it on. “Does your palm sting when you’re done? Mine’s starting to sting already.” This gave me some hope that she might either have to ease up or cut it short. I couldn’t help kicking and squirming and I was already having a hard time cooperating.
“You’ll get used to it with time. Just do the best you can. It might help to think of how Kendall’s red little bottom feels!”
“Oh my God, yes! It must sting like the blazes! Like those bright red cheeks when the towel came off!” she replied. I growled at this comment and was rewarded with much harder, faster, spanks. It was small comfort that her hand must have been on fire.
“Do I need to move around more?” she asked.
“Yes, please!” I begged, but Camille said, “Only if you want. Either way is fine.”
“Maybe next time,” Chels said. Talking about next time already, and sounding like she was looking forward to it!
Then it was into the corner, flaming bottom on display. “So cute!” was the agreed opinion.
“What sort of behaviors require spankings?” Chelsea asked, and Camille started listing everything from ‘home late without calling’ to ‘rudeness during an argument’.
“Oh, Jordan could so use to learn that lesson,” Chelsea told her.
“It may take more than once - or twice. I’ve lost count of how many tears have been shed over that one!” Camille responded.
That was enough! I stamped my foot.
“Do you have something to say, dear?”
“Stop talking about me as if I wasn’t right here,” I said, with good cause. I was standing almost within arm’s reach.
“See?” Camille said (and not to me), “That’s the sort of ‘growling’ the slipper’s for.” Though I’d been very well-spanked, I had known I’d be getting the slipper as well. “This is just the sort of thing that happens when you fall behind. It’s difficult, but really best if you keep right on top of things.”
“Do you ever cut corner-time short?” Chelsea asked.
“Only to give myself more time for spanking!” Camille laughed. “Which, from the sounds of things, we need right about now!” The two jumped up and moved back to ‘the chair’.
“Come along, dear! We need to get started on the second half of your spanking!”
“Can’t we just drop the hypocrisy and call it what it is? My second spanking? Or third and, I assume, fourth?” I asked.
“Bend over my lap and we’ll call it whatever you want,” Camille said cheerfully, her slipper already in hand. “Way over, elbows on the floor,” she added.
This was new, but she explained (to Chelsea), “Kendall’s been having a bit of trouble staying in position lately, so this may help. And, since you’re here, if I need any assistance…”
“Of course! Glad to,” Chelsea agreed with an excess of enthusiasm. “Do you find yourself spanking lower when you use this position?”
“To be honest I haven’t tried it before. But I do like to apply the slipper to the lower half of the bottom and the upper thighs, at least,” Camille said as I cringed. “That always gets - and keeps - Kendall’s tears flowing.”
“This ought to allow that wonderfully!” Chelsea observed.
“Hello!” I interrupted. “I’m right here!”
Camille’s answer was her first dozen smacks. After that I didn’t care much that, or how, they were continuing to talk about me. They hurt! I don’t know, I knew my already-sore bottom was ‘in for it’, but I was still surprised.
“Oh, did you feel that, sweetie?” Camille said to me, at last acknowledging my existence. “Chels, would you like to say something to Kendall?” she added as she continued with another dozen nasty slipper-spanks.
“Just hang on, Kendall, baby - we’ve got lot more of those for you!” she said, leaning down to my face. “Plenty enough to teach you to mind your tone, don’t we Camille?”
“We sure do!” my hard-working girlfriend assured her. “I figured I’d do half, for you to see, then we’ll swap. You should try to do double what I do, if that’s not too much for you - then I’ll finish with my second half, plus any of yours I need to make up.”
“Oh, I shouldn’t have any trouble doing my share - not will all of the encouragement Kendall’s provided! I only stopped early with my hand because I’m not as used to it as you are.”
“Of course you weren’t! It’s not a problem, really!” Camille assured her. “If you could just take Kendall’s wrist… and sort of lean…” I was having trouble staying on her lap, since my butt and thighs were being roasted!
“Like this?” Chelsea said, pinning me down as Camille kicked things into high gear. “It won’t be a problem once I’m using my slipper,” she said, and then to me, “Want to make sure you get every last little smack you need!
As I struggled, she informed Camille, “I see lots and lots of tears already. Your slipper must be working perfectly!”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” she explained. “It’s sting-y.”
“Oh, is it? Is it stingy, Kendall?” she asked in a baby-talk voice.
“Yes, very,” I just managed to reply, panting and crying.
“Very? Very stingy? Does it feel like the Fires of Hell back there?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I promised her.
“Oh, it’s ‘Ma’am’ now,” she said triumphantly. “I can see that it’s working! There’s the wonderfully polite Kendall I know and love!”
“Just wait until you’re being asked nicely to provide your double-dose of this slippering!” Camille told her. (See? I knew this was a lot more than one spanking, no matter how many parts it had!)
“Oh? Will I be?” Chelsea was clearly looking forward to it.
“How lovely. Is that a standard requirement?”
“Absolutely. Iron-clad,” Camille told her. I took little satisfaction - or even hope - in the fact that she was out of breath. “In fact, let’s get started now. I think I’ve run over my half a bit.”
“It was a bit lengthy,” Chelsea observed, and I whole-heartedly agreed. “Back to the corner?”
“No, let’s get right at it. We’ll each hold a wrist - can’t take a chance on rubbing!” Camille instructed. “Ready? Switch!
“They’ll always want to rub if you let them. Then you have to start over.”
“So… it would be pretty mean to let them, then!” Chelsea laughed with evil intent.
By now I was kneeling in front of Chelsea, who had taken the chair, her slipper in her lap. Each woman still held one wrist. I leaned forward against her knees and tried to catch my breath. I had no hope of stopping my tears or sobs.
She stroked my hair and I looked up at her. “Ms. Chelsea?” I asked, “Would you help me remember to keep my speech polite and respectful?” Under the circumstances that was about the best I could do.
“And just how should I do that?” she teased.
I knew I was supposed to ask her to spank me, but I just couldn’t. I fell back on, “However you think best.”
“Kendall,” Camille warned.
Chelsea came to my rescue. “Should I put you over my knee and smack your little bottom until you’re so, so sorry?”
“Yes, please,” I said miserably.
“Until your bottom’s so sore that you never want to be rude again? Would that help?”
“Please, Ma’am,” I begged.
“Okay! Since you asked so nicely!”
They quickly maneuvered me into position and she immediately started smacking my bottom. I was so sore I could hardly feel individual spanks, they just all blurred together into one torrent of pain. I howled but between the two of them, Camille and Chelsea were able to hold me in place.
“You may want to slow down,” Camille suggested, which was good, along with, “It’s important that it goes on for a good long time,” which was bad. “You know, give them time to regret and repent and all that.”
“Oh, right,” Chelsea agreed as she slowed down. “Twice what you did, right?”
“Well, I ran a little long, like I said, so use your judgement.”
“I can’t imagine spanking Jordan this long,” Chelsea said casually, sounding as if she wasn’t energetically torturing me over her lap at that very moment.
“Not at first, definitely,” Camille agreed. “You probably want to go with more frequent, shorter spankings at first.” My pleading, begging, howling, and twisting didn’t seem to faze either of them. “If you need them, that is.”
“Oh, we definitely need them,” Chelsea noted, sounding fierce - which was reflected in her spanks. “And thighs - continue, or done?”
“Oh, continue,” Camille directed as I tried to beg ‘Done! Done!’ through my sobs. “That is, alternate, but go on. Like I said, it stings, but it doesn’t really hurt, not really.”
“Kendall, don’t contradict me,” Camille intoned.
“Yeah, Kendall, you’re not in a very good position to disagree with her,” Chelsea supported her as she switched her focus to my sit-spots. I hadn’t heard Camille tell her, so maybe she knew instinctively. “No contradicting, that should be a rule, too!”
“Time and place,” Camille said.
“You know, you could just run long, like I did, and we’ll skip my second half. You’re doing really well.”
“Would you like that, baby?” Camille asked me. “We’ll just get it done in a hurry?”
“Yes, please,” I tried to say.
“Then you’ll be all done. Won’t that be nice?”
“Can you spank any harder?” Camille asked Chelsea. “Slower would be okay, if you need to.”
“Yeah, I think so. Like this?”
I couldn’t believe it but she managed to spank even harder. I thought I’d been blubbering for a long time but not compared to this.
“That’s good. How’s your arm?”
“Got tired but I sort of caught a second wind.”
“Great. Probably shouldn’t have had you go so long your first time.”
“Well, I’m going to need the practice!” Chelsea said. “And that, I think, is about all!”
Her remark didn’t register with me at first - I didn’t even realize she’d stopped, not right at first. I still twisted and thrashed and bawled. This was way more than twice the worst spanking I’d ever had from Camille! Speaking of, she was holding my wrist and stroking my head, saying ‘there we go… now you’ll be good!’ while I did my best to agree with her.
Again they sort of ‘arranged’ to let me up, keeping control of my wrists so I wouldn’t rub (though I wondered if Chels wanted me to). Back to the corner, I was bent over the back of a chair ‘to display my bottom better’. “Also, if you start to reach back, maybe we can stop you,” Camille told me.
Again the two of them sat a few feet away, discussing me like I wasn’t there, how I struggled, how I cried, what I gave the greatest reactions to (particularly my sit-spots, ‘peppered’, they called it). This time I didn’t object, afraid they might decide to keep going!
“Next, I think,” I heard Camille begin, “I think we should meet at your place, get Jordan started.”
“Not like this, though,” Chelsea specified.
“Oh, no - definitely not like this. But if we can get Jordan to submit to one, we can work up from there,” Camille predicted evilly. But I wisely kept my mouth shut, hands gripping the chair even though my butt, if anything, felt like it was getting hotter!
“Then,” my lovely lady continued, “We bring Jordan over here and we can do them both.”
“A demonstration of what can be done would put the fear of God in anyone,” our guest agreed.
“More the fear of the slipper, right, Kendall?” Camille asked me.
I nodded, which did little to no good. “Yes, Ma’am,” I managed to get out.
Chelsea stood up, saying, “Sounds like Kendall’s got everything back under control.” I flinched instinctively, thinking she my slap my still-upturned ass. She laughed.
“Okay, babe. Till next time. Be good,” she said.
Chelsea was still thinking about that afternoon at Camille's even if she tried not to. Besides Jordan's recent behaviour and attitude didn't help with it, far from it.
She'd felt so empowered when she had Kendall over her knee, relentlessly spanking and slippering the sassiness out of her (lovely, she had to admit it) bottom, that it was becoming obsessive.
Chelsea knew Jordan and her had strong feelings towards each other but she really needed to shape her "roommate" into someone more easygoing, as to hope for a better future together.
During the last week alone, Chelsea estimated Jordan would have, at least, deserved twice the discipline that both Camille and her had administered to Kendall.
Thus she decided Jordan's last night's tantrum about having to cook had been the last straw. Little Missy wouldn't act up anymore without consequence, she swore it to herself.
And she should better accept that her roundy buttocks had to pay a high price...or else. (meaning, in her mind, if the troublemaker enjoyed sitting down!)
Well Chelsea didn't have to wait long. Just three days around 1.30am, when Jordan got back home, barely able to walk straight, after celebrating one of her work colleague's promotion with a "couple of drinks...
The fact Jordan had phoned to tell she'd be back around 11pm had only reinforced Chelsea's resolution.
And a few moments later...
"It's still early ?! Are you kidding me ?! You mean early in the morning don't you ?! You know what I've just heard enough of your nonsense!!"
"Don't you dare darling me! And talking about 'butt', since you persist in acting like an insuferable teenager, you're going to park yours over my lap! And with eve-ry-thing off!! Do you hear me?"
"I'm gonna give you 'sexy' young lady! Now you're really going to get it!"
Young lady. Chelsea couldn't believe how these words had come out of her mouth so naturally...
Jordan took off her shoes, pants and knickers in a clumsy mocking striptease, like if there was a playing atmosphere.
From her side Chelsea didn't wait Jordan to execute the order. As soon as there was nothing left between the wrath of her slipper and her 'under influence' girlfriend's bottom, she caught her arm and drove her forcefully across her knee.
Without further words, the dance began with an upbeat tempo.
During the spanking, Chelsea's scolding words were sharpened spears and the slipper's continuous smacks were like an overflowing cavalry assault. There would be no mercy or respect for cheeks' skin that night...
She finally stopped well past Jordan's first tears. probably ten good minutes afterwards. Not that she wanted to but rather because she had no strength left.
She'd forgotten Camille's advice about pace and was heavily panting. She stood up a sobbered Jordan (an unexpected yet interesting virtue of a sound spanking it seemed...) and sent her to wash herself but not without one last tremendous slap on the way.
"I'm not mad anymore but I still have to forgive you. I'm confident you'll find to make it happen, won't you?"
If Jordan had recovered enough sense she'd really better opt for a cold shower unless she wanted a very unpleasant reminder of the soreness emanating from her scarlet backside.
Chelsea could have used some fresh water too. She was hot on the oustside but nothing compared with her inside. Her groin was a leaking volcano but not with lava.
That 'yes Miss' retort had managed to grow even more her body's temperature if it was conceivable. Chelsea was quite certain it wouldn't take long for her to literally implode once Jordan had started 'apologising' so to speak.
She even wasn't sure she could hold until then because she'd just remembered they were invited for lunch at Camille's in two days. Kendall would probably have some naughtiness to address, wouldn't she?
And with that night's Jordan' episode... Mmm.... That perspective... Oh! Yes! She was definitely going to bring her slippers again!
