Spanking a Moose, Part Four

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, but 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 twenty-first 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 gave her, all told, another fifteen hard smacks, each one 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 be corrected again.

She probably should have received 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, anyway. 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.

It was over. For that day at any rate.

Postscript. On the 10th January 2010 I spoke briefly to the dear lady on the telephone and I took the opportunity of asking her how long her bottom had stung from my ministrations?

"Four days! I could feel it for four days!" The Moose was clearly in a moaning mood, so I let her ramble on, secure in the knowledge that she will remember that spanking for a long time to come.