The story of Kylie’s spanking spread like a California wildfire through our gated community. This was far from our intention. All that we aspired to was to encourage our neighbor to think twice about disparaging her kind husband in public (and perhaps in private as well).
According to Chloe, who heard the story from her tennis partner Lisa Markowitz, Kylie was climbing out of the indoor pool at the club the Monday after her Saturday night “bottom warming.” Apparently, the seat of her swimsuit had ridden up after her adult swim team workout and revealed a distinct red handprint on her right butt cheek (which may have received the majority of my slaps as she twisted futilely to avoid her well-deserved spanking).
Kylie’s swimming partner Suzanne McCarthy saw the now obvious handprint. Assuming that the handprint represented the result of feisty bedroom antics between Kylie and Bart, Suzanne discreetly pulled up next to Kylie and whispered in her ear: “Looks like you and Bart had some fun last night.”
“What?” Blurted Kylie?
“That red hand print on your backside,” said Suzanne.
Kylie seemed initially confused as they entered the women’s locker room.
“Look in the mirror,” urged Suzanne.
Kylie turned around with her back to the mirror and gasped.
“Oh my god,” she said under her breath. The red handprint was still visible and undeniable.
“Looks like Bart got his hands on that firm little butt of yours,” Suzanne whispered in Kylie’s ear.
“Uh… Uh …" Kylie stammered. “Oh no…”
Suzanne laughed and smiled. “Looks like Bart is quite the tiger in the sack,” Suzanne teased. “I never would have guessed!”
Suzanne added wistfully: “I miss the days when Blake and I were first dating. He would grab my ass with his big hands and take me from behind and hammer away with that fat cock of his. I remember seeing handprints on my ass the next day just like yours.
“Now he just sits in his den, reads stories on Lush and beats off into a tissue.”
Kylie was still at a loss for words. In an effort to change the subject, she responded to Suzanne’s musings. “I find it hard to believe that Blake would be more interested in jacking off to internet porn than giving you the attention you deserve.”
“Oh he gives me a good fucking twice a week but it kills me to think of all that semen that is going to waste,” Suzanne volunteered offhand “I guess a woman just needs to expect less attention after she turns 40.”
“Well that’s his loss,” offered Kylie, admiring Suzanne’s prominent firm and muscular haunches and her natural C-cup breasts.
Suzanne returned, eager to mine details from her original observation.
“Come on girl! Share details! You know I live vicariously through you and the other girls on the swim team!” pleaded Suzanne.
“Well it’s a bit more complicated…” volunteered Kylie.
“And?” Suzanne persisted.
“I really can’t …” Kylie protested.
“Come on!” Suzanne demanded.
“No,” Kylie responded.
Suzanne stared into Kylie’s eyes with a look that said, “We have all day and we are not moving until you share ALL the details.”
“You swear to god you will not tell anyone else about this,” Kylie whispered.
“You have my word,” Suzanne whispered back, “You are my best friend, I promise. I will never divulge anything you tell me. What is shared in this locker room stays in this locker room.”
And so Kylie described in detail the humiliating and painful heavy-handed spanking Rob had given her on her bare white ass in front of Chloe and her husband Bart. She shared that Bart sat there passively while Rob delivered stinging slap after slap to her unprotected and reddening backside. She admitted to the erotic thrill she experienced feeling Rob’s engorged penis rubbing against her left thigh as he spanked her. She also shared her sense of power when she saw the tent in Rob’s pants as she stood before him rubbing her sore butt cheeks while he stared at her sweet trimmed beaver only a few feet from his face.
Finally, she acknowledged the submissive delight of swallowing Bart’s semen - imagining it had actually come from Rob’s thick cock and heavy balls.
Suzanne’s eyes followed Kylie as she peeled off her swimsuit and walked to the shower. The pink handprints from Saturday’s spanking were clearly outlined on both of her cute butt cheeks.
Of course, by 5 pm that evening, every woman and half the men in the gated Indian Lakes subdivision knew the explicit details about Kylie’s painful spanking.
The word is out
At first, we all assumed that the story of Kylie‘s spanking was a private matter between Kylie, Bart, Chloe and myself. Unfortunately, over the following week, both Kylie and Bart got a sense that perhaps confidentiality had been violated.
According to Kylie, on Tuesday night she and Bart had gone to a local restaurant in the neighborhood. They had a reservation, but their table was not yet ready. They were directed to the bar. As Kylie approached the bar, a gentleman, seated with his wife and one other couple, stood up from his barstool - ostensibly to offer her his place.
“Can I offer you a seat?“ the gentleman asked. At that moment, he seemed to recognize that it was Kylie to whom he was speaking. At that point, he smiled and added, “Of course maybe you’ll be more comfortable standing.” He chuckled and the others at the bar appeared to try hard to stifle their laughter.
Bart reassured her that the comments had nothing to do with the events of the prior Saturday night.
The following evening, however, Bart was having after-work drinks with some male friends celebrating the engagement of one of their junior associates. After the hostess poured shots of Tequila for the men, Mark Pendergast, Juniper Bank’s Senior Vice President and Bart’s boss, looked Bart in the eye and shouted, “Bottoms up!” at which point the other men at the table began laughing uncontrollably, spilling most of their drinks on the table.
Bart did not mention this to Kylie when he returned home that evening.
Over the next few days, however, Kylie and Bart received other hints suggesting that the story of Kylie‘s spanking was now in the public domain.
Thursday morning, a 16oz bottle of aloe vera gel was left in their mailbox by an unknown benefactor.
Of course, subtle and less-than-subtle hints also started to be directed toward us.
At an evening gathering at Lisa Markowitz‘s house for her sister Ellen‘s thirty-fifth birthday, one of the female guests announced, “So Rob perhaps you should be in charge of administering the birthday spankings.“ the room, erupted in laughter. When the first wave of laughter subsided, Ellen jumped from her chair, grabbing both of her butt cheeks with her hands and shouted “NOOOO WAY, after 35 spanks from those big hands I wouldn’t be able to sit for a month!” More laughter followed as other women stood up, mockingly rubbing their backsides as if they had just been spanked as well.
As disconcerting, as it was to realize that our “secret“ was no longer a secret, watching this gaggle of housewives, grabbing their backsides in contemplation of my giving them spankings caused my cock to thicken and throb in anticipation. I tried to quickly and discreetly adjust myself before my erection became too obvious but Lisa, our hostess, caught my eye and smiled broadly as I squirmed in my seat and adjusted my pants. She then turned to the woman sitting next to her, Eliza Patrick, the 25-year-old second wife of a local urologist, and whispered something in her ear. They then covered their mouths and chuckled.
After most of the guests had left the party, Chloe and I approached the birthday girl. “Ellen,” Chloe asked in a soft voice, “What have you heard?”
Ellen recounted the entire story of Kylie’s spanking experience in explicit detail from the moment Kylie chastised Bart for breaking the television to the moment she swallowed Bart’s semen. Ellen accurately described Chloe’s unbuckling of Kylie’s belt, pulling down her jeans and the hard loud slaps of my calloused hand upon her snow-white ass.
Neither Chloe nor I had told this story to anyone.
“Of course I wish I could have been there to watch it in person,” commented Ellen. “I would have loved to watch that nasty bitch get her ass beaten and watch her try to squeeze that bright red sore butt into her skinny jeans. Have you noticed how she has only been wearing a loose-fitting sundress this week?”
We said we had not noticed. We just shook our heads and responded, “People really need to stop spreading these kinds of rumors, they are really hurtful.”
That evening we invited Kylie and Bart over to talk. We informed them that the detailed story of Kylie’s Saturday night spanking was out in the community. We also reassured them that we had not told anyone anything about that night.
“How can we know that you didn’t share the story?” enquired Bart.
“Because even we would not have been aware of some of the details that are being discussed by our friends and neighbors,” I explained.
“Such as...” asked Bart.
“Well,” I asked somewhat awkwardly, “Kylie, did you happen to tell anyone that you imagined you were sucking MY cock and swallowing MY semen when you gave Bart his blowjob after your spanking Saturday night?”
“No!” shouted Kylie followed immediately by THAT FUCKING BITCH! That fucking bitch! That fucking bitch promised me she would NEVER tell ANYONE about this! I trusted her! God dammit I can’t believe she did this to me.” And then Kylie started to cry.
“You told someone you were imagining sucking ROB’s cock and swallowing ROB’s semen when you gave me my blow job!” Bart asked angrily.
“I can’t believe she said that! That bitch! That bitch!,” Kylie cried more.
Calmly I asked, “Kylie - who? Who did you tell this to?”
Kylie continued to cry and punch the sofa pillows.
“Kylie - who?” I tried again.
“Suz,” Kylie stammered, “Suz … Suzanne … Suzanne McC… McCarthy … that BITCH!”
“Perhaps we should invite the McCarthy’s over for a discussion,” Chloe suggested as she poured herself a glass of Cabernet.
