How I Became A Spanko - Sex Stories

How I Became A Spanko

... master-at-arms said when the girl ahead of me had finished slurping her way into the sorority.

I stepped through the doorway and caught my first glimpse of the final hurdle to acceptance into the sorority. The sorority president was sitting on a towel on a wooden chair, completely naked with her legs spread, nodding her head and fingering herself invitingly as she assessed her next prey. She was surrounded by the rest of her sorority sisters, many of whom already had their cell-phones out and ready to record my performance.

At this point in my life, I had no lesbian aspirations, and, although performing oral sex on members of the opposite gender had been a favorite activity of mine for several years, I could not imagine being that intimate with a member of my own gender, even as part of an initiation. So I was the first to select the latter choice, despite the lack of padding on my backside, or really anywhere on my lean body.

"On your knees or over mine," the president commanded, licking the finger with which she had been preparing her wares for their next oral exploration. She smirked broadly when I announced my choice, then received the paddle from her master-at-arms and motioned for me to bend over her naked lap.

"It looks like a taco," I muttered under my breath to the sorority president, just loud enough to be heard by the girls on the other side of the curtain still waiting their turn, before assuming my position across her naked lap. In retrospect, making ...

... a disparaging remark to the person holding the paddle that is about to deliver a severe spanking on the unprotected flesh of one's bare backside might not be an advisable strategy, but I was understandably nervous and could not control my smart mouth. I fully deserved the fury I received from el presidente and her paddle.

There was a momentary hush as she patted my backside gently with her other hand, apparently in search of the perfect place to begin, and then the first loud sting of the paddle opened the floodgates of those in attendance for all manner of chatter and merriment.

"Ow!" I shrieked, as the painful blow sent needles and jolts of electricity into every part of my slim body.

WHACK!

Again I hollered in pain, involuntarily raising my legs and kicking my feet as though swimming.

WHACK! WHACK!

By the fourth spank, I could not hold back my tears, and by the fifth, my crying was loud and out of control.

After about eight or nine assaults on my reddened flesh, the sting of each subsequent spank seemed less severe, even dull, although I was nonetheless wailing emphatically as my future sorority sisters mocked me by imitating my distress. I was crying so profusely, in fact, that a puddle of my tears and the nasty contents of my running nose had taken form on the floor beneath my face and was ever-growing.

Still, the paddling continued: WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! My adversary was unrelenting, despite my childish bellowing and trashing about, and she ...