Marina, Part Five

I spanked her with all the force that my arm could muster and each smack resounded throughout the room as if a gun was being fired. I counted each one silently in my head as my hand bounced down, first on one cheek and then on the other. By the third smack Marina was wriggling like an eel and by the seventh - yes, I really did make these mental notes - she was screaming like a scalded cat.

The battle to keep her in position meant that I had to slow down the rate at which my hand smacked against her bottom. That said, any relief she got from that was outweighed by the fact that I began to swing my shoulder as I brought my arm down, so the smacks became even harder and Marina's bottom began to turn a fiery shade of red under the onslaught.

I reached smack number fifty and paused for a moment. Marina was still screaming at the top of her lungs and she took the opportunity of the respite to roll over with all her might and fall onto the floor.

"I hate this fucking country! I hate it! If I was in the United States someone would have come to my rescue, but here they just ignore everything so long as they have been fucking paid!"

She rubbed her bottom, but made no move to rise. I saw the look of utter fury on her face and decided that this spanking was far from over, so I grabbed her around the waist and quite literally hauled her back into position.

"No, please, I've had enough! Please, I'm sorry," she wailed, as I lifted her skirt for the second time.

"I decide when you have had enough," I told her, bringing my arm down in another great retributory arc down upon her sorely tried buttocks. I remember smiling as I admired my existing handiwork: Marina was about to find out just how much she could take, whether she liked it or not.

I lost count of the smacks around that point, but I do remember laying on a flurry of hard, made to punish whacks the sounds of which echoed of the walls in that hotel room. Each smack was given with the full force and weight of my arm behind it, each one meant to teach Marina her place so that it would be a long time before she ever needed to receive such severe correction again.

She probably should have been given more, but it has to be admitted that my lungs are shot from a lifetime's smoking, and I had only been in Mexico City for less than a week, so the altitude was getting to me. As I gasped for air and struggled to hold the Moose in position for the next hard smack, something happened inside me and I decided that I had had enough at least, and Marina slithered off my lap for the second time.

"I'm sorry," was all she said, very softly, as she rubbed her bottom.

I nodded by way of reply, but I do not think that she saw me. Her head was down, as she sat on her side, making sure that the carpet did not touch her well-spanked rear end. There was silence in the room, other than the panting of two people trying to draw breath and the whimpering of one of them as she tried to extinguish the fire that was raging under her skirt.

I sat back and enjoyed the show. Marina has always provided me with endless hours of entertainment as she complains about something or other and that day was no exception.

The day was not going to end with this theatrical moment, of course, and perish the thought that it even might. There is nothing finer than bedding a freshly spanked female, and Marina who is a delight between the sheets whatever the circumstances becomes a sensual delight after her backside has been thoroughly barbequed.