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 {ASSTR 12} Belles Ring, Bottoms Sting {Big Billie} (F/FFF spank, c.)

   Belles Ring, Bottoms Sting

   By Big Billie

   (C) Big Billie 2003.  Not to be distributed or sold for monetary gain.

   Author's Statement: Big Billie is opposed to spanking except for
consenting adults.  However, spanking sexually excites him, so he writes
about it.

   Some of you may be interested to know what has happened to Mrs.  Sally
Henderson, Well, as we enter the third millennium she is quite a bit older
than when she was in her heyday.  Indeed, she is now a lady in her
late-fifties.  Mrs Henderson's maiden name, you may recall, was Trubshawe
and she used to be a teacher by profession - a headmistress no less.  Now,
however, she has given all that up.  Her husband is now retired, and she
herself has come into quite a bit of inherited wealth.  So she took
advantage of her favourable economic circumstances and decided to join her
husband in retirement.  You will be pleased to read below, however, that
Sally's disciplinary exploits are by no means at an end.

   My name is Angie Phillips and I am 18 years old.  With my two best
friends, Tracey Williams (who is also 18) and Sarah Page (who is 17) I make
up an aerobics dance trio, "The Dumb Belles." We have been dancing together
for about 18 months, and our aim is to win the national aerobics dance
championships at the end of next season.  We are training hard, and every
Saturday or Sunday we keep ourselves sharp by entering into some
competition or other, often travelling quite a long way for a good event.

   Just over a year ago, after we had started to show some promise, we were
lucky enough to get Sally Henderson as our new trainer and coach.  Since
then she has dedicated herself to training us, and she makes a very good
job of it.  She is particularly strong on the choreography since she is a
qualified ballet instructor.  But, as you know, she also used to teach
gymnastics so she is excellent on the acrobatic skills and movements as
well.  With Sally helping us we have won a lot of competitions, many more
than we did before, and we are up there very near to the top in our field.

   As soon as Sally became our coach she implemented some new work
practices to sharpen us up.  One of these is the "talk bitterness"
sessions. Every week, after our weekend competition, Sally drags us out of
bed for 7 a.m.  on Monday mornings and gets us to change into our
performance leotards.  Then she lines us up and, while we are half naked
and feeling at a disadvantage, she really tears a strip off us about the
inadequacies of our performance in our weekend competition.  She always
does this, even when we win.  Sally's husband, Dave, is our driver on our
weekend excursions, and he takes videos of our performances.  We then go
back to the Hendersons after our competitions before we are taken home. 
Sally leaves us alone to watch the videos, analyse them and discuss among
ourselves how we did, and how we could do better.  She then studies the
videos herself and uses them as the basis for the severe dressing down that
we get on Monday mornings.

   There is another aerobics trio called the Balletics who are coached by
Sally's archrival Nancy Smithers.  At 16, 16 and 15 years old they are
younger than us.  They are also more willowy, supple and gracefully built.
We are all big, tall, buxom, strapping girls with plenty of meat on us. 
Sally contemptuously refers to the Balletics as "the Bimboes" and nothing
gets up her nose more than if they come anywhere near close to beating us.
In fact, except for once (see below) we have always finished ahead of them,
and usually well ahead.  But, in her speak bitterness sessions, Sally never
gives us any credit and always ascribes this to the fact that we have, as
she puts it, "bigger and more provocative arses to wiggle about."

   On Mondays, after she has torn a strip off us and told us in no
uncertain terms what we are doing wrong, Sally follows on with a more
constructive talk about how we can put it right.  We then have a hard
training session followed by a hot shower.  Then we go to Sally's home for
breakfast and from there off about our own business.  At the training
sessions later in the week the unpleasantness of Monday mornings is
forgotten and Sally is all sweetness and light, helping, cajoling,
encouraging and bringing out the best in us.  In these sessions she will
tell us that she enjoys going into what she calls her "kinky bitch mode" on
Monday mornings, and that she does it for our own good.  But when once it
is over, she will add, it is over, and we can get on with the serious job
of working on our weak points and improving our act - until next Monday
that is!

   Three months after Sally became our coach we went to a competition one
Saturday.  We were not on form and for the only time ever the Balletics
actually beat us.  The next Monday morning Sally was furious.  She stripped
us down to our dance leotards and lined us up as usual.  Then she strode
about imperiously in front of us, and really tore into us.  "You were
pathetic!" she screeched, looking us in the eyes and balling us out.  "You
went wobbling your great fat arses around that floor like a trio of
elephants.  Oh, my God!  Great strapping fully grown women beaten by a
scrawny pack of nymphettes!  You two, Angie and Tracey, you are supposed to
be adults now.  You know: grown up!  You've got the vote and everything. 
And you, Sarah!  You are almost there as well!  The three of you think your
so damned professional, and yet you go and get beaten by a pack of rank
amateurs.  Yes!  You were all given a bloody good hiding by three bimboes
hardly out of nappies.  Why, one of those little madams isn't even old
enough to be legally screwed.  And you let her and her pals go around the
place thrashing the tails off you!"

   Sally added a lot more in the same vein, but you get the picture.  "I
tell you," she went on, "I despair.  I've told you and told you, and it has
done no good at all.  I've wasted three months of my life on you clowns,
and for what?  My God, when I was a headmistress, I've slippered the bare
backsides of girls who were older than you for annoying me a tenth as much
as you have.  Lord, how I wish I had that slipper in my hand now.  Big as
you are I'd take you down a peg.  I'd soon rattle your great fat arses for
you and no mistake.  I've been a damn sight too soft on you lot.  It's no
good talking any more.  I've got to do something about it." There was a lot
more, but you get the picture.

   Then Sally began to ball each of us out in turn.  She stood with her
face close to ours, stared into our eyes and yelled at us.  "You, Sarah!"
she shouted at our youngest member after she had given Tracey and me a
roasting.  "You danced with all the grace of a hippopotamus.  What the hell
were you doing?  And what the hell am I supposed to do with you.  Go on. 
Answer me." There was then a long embarrassed silence while Sally waited
for an answer.  "Well, boss", answered Sarah at last.  (On Mondays we are
under strict instructions to refer to our coach as "boss" and not as
"Sally" as we normally do).  "If you think it will help, I am prepared to
get my arse walloped.  I deserve it.  We all do." Any way, to cut a long
story short, all three of us were annoyed with ourselves and furious that
we had let the Bimboes beat us.  We all said that we agreed with Sally and
that we would do whatever she ordered us to do in atonement for our cock
up. "Right, well I can't stand the sight of you any more this morning"
fumed our coach.  "Get out!  I'll see you here at 6 a.m.  sharp tomorrow.
And don't be a second late or you'll regret it."

   6 a.m., of course, was a lot earlier than we had ever had to show up
before, but we were nevertheless all there on the dot.  Sally, however, had
beaten us to it.  She told us to strip down to our leotards as usual and
line up.  "Right", she said.  "Let's get on with it."

   To understand what Sally made us do, you need to know a few details
about our kit.  Our leotards are very high cut.  They are cut away higher
than our waists and expose most of our bums.  This is pretty standard these
days with aerobics costumes, but ours are, if anything, even more daring
than most of the others, and this fits in well with the image that Sally
has developed for us.  We are big, strapping, raunchy and sexy rather than
thin, graceful and elegant.  Sally likes us to show a lot of arse, and to
dance with our big legs and our meaty thighs all bare.  She encourages us
to be provocative and titillating.  It follows that one of the cardinal
sins for Sally is for us to pull down the gussets of our leotards over our
bums during a performance, particularly since any such unchoreographed
movement distracts attention away from the dance.  "Let them ride up" she
will say.  "The more bare arse the better." Her view is that you cannot
take the sexiness out of this kind of dancing without destroying it.  You
might as well, she says, try to take religion out of the churches.  I think
that is one reason why she chose to train us rather than a thinner, less
meaty and less womanly group like the Balletics.

   To digress for a moment, by the way, I am very curious about Sally's own
sexuality.  I know she has a husband, and from what I know, and the
vibrations that I have picked up, they seem to have a pretty wild and
exciting sex life, even though they are both well on in years.  But I have
noticed that she also seems to find the three of us very stimulating.  She
gets us to train without tights or leggings.  She says this is because she
wants to see our leg movements better.  Whenever she can she always takes
the opportunity to strip off and join us in the showers.  And she really
enjoys tearing into us with both her tongue and her slipper on Monday
mornings, just like a fierce, kinky old lesbian.  I reckon that she is a
bit AC/DC and likes a piece of plump, nubile feminine arse to slap and to
gawp at.  Not that we girls mind very much, at least as far as the gawping
bit goes.  It is all very flattering.

   Anyway, to return to what happened on that Tuesday morning.  First of
all Sally barked out an order that we should bare our bottoms.  What she
got us to do was to hook our fingers under the gussets of our leotards and
pull the fabric into the cracks of our bums.  This created a G-string
effect and left our bottoms naked and vulnerable to assault.  When we had
done this, Sally walked around the back of us to make sure that her order
had been carried out to her satisfaction.  "Right!" she said.  "Now you
will see three crosses marked on the floor in chalk.  I want you each to
stand on the one that is nearest to you, and face the window.  Right, now
all bend over and touch your toes, keeping your legs straight.  And I am
putting you on your honour to relax and take what is coming to you freely,
openly, generously and without resentment.  I want no tightening of the
arse muscles.  Do you promise?" "Yes, boss." We all mumbled our assent and
did exactly what Sally instructed us to do.  Then we waited in
embarrassment and trepidation for what would happen next.

   Sally then stood behind us and, addressing our arses rather than our
faces, told us what she intended to do.  "From now on", she said, "you will
win every event you enter.  If you do not you will be chastised.  If you
come second, you will take two slaps each across your bare arses on Monday
morning.  If you come third, you will take three, and so on.  This time you
will only be getting two.  But in view of the fact that it was the Bimboes
who beat you and not serious opposition, I shall be making you feel it.  I
suppose we have to be careful that your great fat arses are in good
wiggling condition for the weekends, so I will never be able to slap them
as hard as I would like to, or as you deserve.  We cannot have your bottoms
bruised or discoloured, so the most you will ever take at any one time is
6, and I will be holding myself back as far as I can control my irritation
with you.  Also, now that you have promised that you will never tighten
your arse muscles against the slaps, I will dispense with the extra little
tail flicks that I usually use to soften up the target area.  But don't
ever come lower than 6th.  If you do I will carry the surplus slaps over to
the next day and double them." The effect of this, if you think about it,
is that if ever we come 11th, for example, we will take 6, 6, 6 and 4 slaps
on successive days.  Sally has vowed that she will exact that penalty, even
if it means that we go into our next competition with red marks across the
backs of our fanny meat.  That would be very embarrassing, she says, but
serve us right.  If ever we come 12th, of course, the chastisement will go
on for ever, but Sally has said that she might be prepared to make a
concession on that!  Fortunately, we have never, as yet, come lower than
6th!

   Sally then went on to tell us how lucky we were.  When she was a
teacher, she said, she used to give big strapping wenches of our age and
size 12 of the best every time, and she used to whack them a lot harder
than she would be able to whack us.  And, in addition, she used to soften
them up with some stinging little flicks beforehand, as she had already
explained.  "God, you girls these days don't know you are born" she
concluded.  Wow!  I can tell you from sharp personal experience that that
was a straight lie!  Shortly after 7 a.m.  on a lot of Monday mornings my
arse, especially its plump undercarriage across the back of my twat, knows
that it has been born all right!  AND it knows that it has just taken a
very sharp, sexy, embarrassing, humiliating and, to everybody except me,
hilarious punishment right where it did not want to take it!  "Anyway"
concluded Sally, "to business!"

   Sally then took up her stance adjacent to my bare arse and gently
pressed the sole of her spanking slipper to the exposed meat of my
undercarriage adjacent to my pubes.  As you already know from what she has
told you, this is her favourite part of the arse, the most intimate bit
right across the back of the fanny where the pubic hairs sprout thickest
and the meat is plump and tender.  Sally then pulled back her arm, and I
waited in trepidation for what was about to hit me.

   Now Sally does not usually whack us as hard as she did this first time.
If, for example, we have been narrowly beaten by top class opponents she
sometimes goes a bit easier with her slipper on the following Monday
morning.  It still comes very sharp but not quite so sharp as you feared it
might.  But on this occasion Sally was very strict with us.  For one thing,
she had not had the chance to smack very much butt in recent years.  She
enjoys slapping bare bottoms, and had been missing it.  Now she started to
make up for lost time with a vengeance.  She also knew that she had only
two slaps to play with, and she wanted to make sure that we felt them.  She
thus whacked us very sharply and landed the second slap onto exactly the
same part of our rumps right where they were already stinging from the
first slap.

   But the main reason that we caught it so sharply that particular morning
was because Sally was very, very angry with us for letting the Bimboes beat
us.  She knew, as we all knew, that Nancy Smithers was not in the same
league as her when it came to coaching, and that we Dumb Belles when we
were on form were on a different aerobic planet from the Balletics.  And
yet the Balletics had beaten us.  It really got her goat, and now she was
going to make us pay for it.  She was going to teach us a very strict and
sharp lesson after which we would never be so stupid as to lose to them
again.  So she put real spite, malice and venom into those two slaps that
she gave to each of us on that Tuesday morning.  She laid into us hard,
using all the skill in corporal punishment that she had built up over years
of experience.  And, wow, as you will now hear, our big fat arses felt it
something wicked!

   But back to my narrative.  Sally was now ready to commence her
chastisement of us.  She started by bringing round the slipper very sharply
right across the back of my fanny hairs.  I heard it swish through the air.
There was then a sharp, high-pitched crack of slipper sole against bare
fanny meat.  The force of the slap was a very sharp shock and I let out an
involuntary and most undignified little scream.  "Ouch" I cried. 
Meanwhile, I felt my bum quiver and start to sting sharply.  Over the next
4 or 5 seconds, as Sally moved on to her next victim, this sharp stinging
was supplemented by an infuriating tingle and my bum started ringing like a
bell.  When my own first slap had landed my stinging rump had distracted me
from just how loudly it had rung out.  But when Tracey took it the sharp,
sexy crack of plimsoll onto bare meat rang out like a rifle shot and it
sent a tingly frisson down my spine.  We girls make a good team.  We are
best friends.  We always support each other and are always very sensitive
and sympathetic to each other's problems.  Now, the crack of that slipper
across Tracey's bare bum outraged me.  I was furious that anyone, even
Sally, should dare to do that to her.  Even though I was tingling myself, I
felt indignation against Sally and pity for Tracey welling up inside me. 
What has that nasty cow gone and done to her?  I thought.  Wow!  That must
really have stung!  Tracey seemed to agree.  "Aagh!" she yelled, much
louder than I had.

   Then Sarah took it.  Whack!  Sarah, I suppose, is the baby of the
troupe, and I felt even angrier for her.  Sally showed her no mercy and the
crack that rang around the room as the slipper struck the back of her bare
fanny was every bit as sharp, shrill and high pitched as the two before it.
Oh, God, I thought, you poor kid.  God, I'll get that spiteful bitch! 
Meanwhile, Sarah cried out gently but in a tone of great urgency "Ow, ow,
ow, ooh...  Oh my God, that stings, that really stings."

   Immediately I felt the slipper pressed against my rump again as Sally
pushed it to the bare meat in preparation for the second shot.  "Oh no", I
thought to myself, as my bum tingled and sizzled from slap number one. 
"She is lining it up for another slap to exactly the same piece of arse.  I
don't want to take another one like that!  Not there, where it's already
ringing and stinging.  Please!  Please!" And my bum seemed to give an
involuntary shudder in trepidation of what was about to hit it.  Then round
came the slipper again.  Crack!  Right onto the exact same part of my bum
across the back of my fanny hairs, where the meat was already tender and
tingling.  Wobble, sting, tingle went my big fat arse!  "Oooh!  Ooh!" I
muttered, biting my lip in pain as the tingling from the second slap seemed
to be incrementally added to the first.

   Now Tracey took her second slap.  Crack!  This slap too was so loud,
sharp and high-pitched that it sent another quiver down my spine.  "Aagh!"
she yelled again, even louder than before.  Again, resentment and anger at
her plight welled up inside me.  "Oh, you cow!" I though to myself, "You
mean, spiteful hag!"

   Now as well as being the baby of our troupe, Sarah is also the most
cheeky, bubbly, lively and vivacious of our number.  Unlike Tracey and me
who have dark hair, Sarah is a stunning blonde with a very curvaceous
figure, and she is always the life and soul of the party.  She also has a
very open and generous spirit, and it was, as you may remember, her that
first freely offered to take the slipper across her arse in atonement for
our failings.  Now I knew exactly what was going on in Sarah's mind.  She
is fantastically loyal to the troupe, and if Tracey and me were being
punished, I knew that she wanted to be too.  She wanted to take that second
slap just as we had, in solidarity with us.  And she wanted it to be just
as hard as the slaps that we had taken.  She is also very brave, and was
prepared to take it.  But being also a very chirpy and talkative girl it
was too much for Sally to expect that she would take it in silence.  Thus,
as Sally pushed the pump to Sarah's bare bottom Sarah continued with her
verbals.  "Oh, God, that's lined up right where the first one landed.  God,
I'm going to get another one.  Right across the fanny hairs again!  Oh,
God. That first slap really stings across a big fat arse like mine.  Oh, my
God, that first one really, really stings.  And now I've got to take
another one.  Right across my big fat arse again.  Aw, aw, aw!" Sally
seemed amused by this, and paused until Sarah had finished her running
commentary.  Then she delivered her sharp, sexy and inevitable riposte. 
Crack!  Sarah's bare arse took it again.  Again Sally gave absolutely no
quarter to our youngest member.  Yet again the slap echoed and re-echoed
around the room.  In spite of my own tingling arse, I felt another surge of
sympathy for Sarah welling up inside me.  "Oh, my poor baby" I thought. 
"I'll get that wicked, spiteful witch!" Meanwhile, to Sally's amusement,
Sarah continued with her impromptu commentary.  "Oh, oh, oh!" she murmured.
"Oh, hell, that stings!  Oh, God, that came really sharp!  My big fat arse
really, really stings!  Oh, God!  Why did you slap us all so hard?  Why did
you have to give it to us so bloody hard?  Right across our twats again! 
Oh God, that really, really stings!" And so on, while Sally, amused and
gratified, waited patiently for her comments to die down.  I, of course,
heartily endorsed Sarah's views, as I know did Tracey!

   Actually, my anger with Sally was very short lived and I soon recalled
the promise that we had all given beforehand that, in Sally's words, we
would submit to the slipper "freely, openly, generously and without
resentment." After the immediate sting had subsided I realised that she had
done us no real physical harm and that we deserved and needed to be sharply
punished for our unprofessionalism in getting beaten by the Bimboes.  In
any case, I felt no particular resentment about what Sally had dished out
to me.  It was how she had treated my two best friends that had got to me.
Discussing it afterwards, however, I found that that was exactly the way
that Tracey and Sarah felt.  In any case, afterwards we saw the funny side.
We are like three great strapping Teutonic Rhine maidens from a Wagner
opera, and for us to get spanked like naughty little girls is very
embarrassing and humiliating, but also very funny and very sexy.  And what
makes it even sexier is that we are spanked very hard, and right onto our
bare bottoms.  Later we all agreed on this, after we had rubbed our
stinging rumps and swallowed our initial sense of outrage and indignation.
So even when Sally started teasing us about it that very morning when she
came with us into our shower we were already willing to join in the joke.

   Then Sally asked us if we wanted to carry on with the new system of
discipline, and after talking about it among ourselves overnight we gave
her our answer at the next training session.  Yes, we said, carry on
slapping, at least for the time being.  And that has been the position ever
since.  We know we could make Sally stop if we wanted to, but we don't. 
For one thing, that slipper really has sharpened us up.  The answer to
Sarah's question as to why Sally slaps us so hard is that it works, and
Sarah and the rest of us now accept this!  Take the issue of the Bimboes,
for instance.  As I have said above, wow, but did Sally let us have it
after we had lost to them.  But also, was the chastisement effective!  You
bet it was!  We are all absolutely determined never to take another two
slaps like those again, and now we always dance the Bimboes off the floor!
It is also very important to us that, if we are slapped, we all get slapped
together and all get the same dose.  We are a team, and if one of us louses
up, we are all prepared to take the rap; and to take it all together builds
up our mutual sympathy and support for each other.  We often have a laugh
and a joke about how Sally strips and slaps us, but always as a trio, and
never at each other's expense.  Sally, of course, is a skilful trainer. 
She realises all this and consciously uses her system of discipline as a
means of building up our team spirit.

   Anyway, let me return again to the events of that Monday morning.  We
were still, you may remember, bending over with our fingers on our toes. 
Then Sally barked out an order.  "Right", she said, "Lift your fingers off
your toes and put them on top of your heads.  Then line up and listen up.
Wincing and tingling, and feeling very humiliated and chastened, we
obediently did as we were told and stood there with our big bare bums
ringing.  We were unable to rub them as Sally dished out another verbal
roasting.  "I want you to remember what it feels like right now.  As Sarah
says, the slipper comes very sharp across a great fat bare arse, doesn't
it? Well, let me tell you, it will go on coming sharp in exactly the same
place unless there is a big improvement in your attitude and your work
rate." And so on.  Sally really rubbed it in, but after she had chastised
us and humiliated, teased and taunted us with some very sexy verbals, she
adopted a more constructive tone, and told us how to improve.  Then she
told us to pull down the gussets of our leotards over our butts.  Before we
did that, however, we all took the opportunity to give our bottoms a
thorough and rueful rubbing.  Then we got stuck into a hard training
session.  There followed the usual shower, as mentioned above, during which
we ruefully inspected each others' reddened bums and compared notes on them
while Sally, who was in the shower with us, lasciviously eyed up our rumps
and grinned broadly.

   And that is what has happened ever since, with minor variations.  On a
lot of Mondays we do not take the slipper, since we win a lot of our
competitions.  But we still get a verbal roasting, and Sally always tells
us that we deserve it, and that she is itching to give it to us.  (I bet
she is!) But when we do take the slipper, Sally only ever slaps us the
stipulated number of times.

   On the Mondays when we get slapped, Sally strips us to our leotards and
makes us line up.  Then she softens us up with a verbal roasting, starting
in general terms and then analysing each of our performances in turn.  Then
she winds us up with some persiflage about what will happen next.  "Do you
know what I am going to do now?" she asks us.  Then she walks along the
line eyeballing us each in turn from a distance of a few inches.  "Go on,
you, Sarah, tell me.  Do you know?" Pause.  "Yes, boss." "Well, go on. 
Tell me.  Start at the beginning." "You are going to bare our backsides for
us, boss." "Yes, what then?" And so on.  Then, "And why am I going to do
that, Tracey?" "Because we were crap on Saturday, boss." "That's right you
were crap.  What were you, Angie?" "Crap, boss." "What?  Louder!" "Crap."
Etc., etc.  "Right, ladies." (On Mondays Sally only ever refers to us as
"ladies" in the most disparaging of tones!) "Bare your arses, take up your
positions, and bend over." Swish, crack, sting, tingle, next arse.  Swish,
crack, sting, tingle, next arse, etc.  "Now hands on top of your heads and
line up again." Then follows the more constructive analysis, which we take
in very well with the sharp spur of our tingling arses to remind us of the
consequences of not paying attention!

   After we have taken the rap, verbal and also sometimes physical, on
Monday mornings, all unpleasantness is forgotten and Sally is very nice to
us for the rest of the week.  She makes no secret of the fact that she
enjoys playing the part of the stern dominatrix, and that she likes
spanking us.  She says that the ruling of the European Court in the 1980s
on corporal punishment in schools, which effectively ended the practice in
state schools, had made it more and more difficult for her to pursue her
interest as part of her job.  Then, in the 1990s, the government finally
banned all forms of spanking and caning in private schools, such as the one
in which Sally worked.  She thus welcomes the chance to take up her
interest again now.  And an advantage with us, she adds, is that she is
able to rub it in a lot more with her sexy verbal windups.  This, she says,
was more difficult, apart from the odd sexy quip, when she was smacking
schoolgirls' bottoms.  She also tells us, from time to time, that we are
"sports" and that she really appreciates what we are letting her do to us.

   The fact remains, however, that the main justification for our roastings
is that they definitely seem to improve our performance.  Sally is so
experienced and skilful with that slipper!  She knows exactly where, and
exactly how hard to apply it for maximum effect.  It always seems to land
exactly on the plump, hairy fanny meat across the back of the twat, right
where you don't want it to and where the meat is all juicy and tender. 
Believe me, there is no more sexy, embarrassing or humiliating place to
take it!  Sally always finishes us off with three whacks there, if she has
them to play with, after she has spread any others evenly over the rest of
the bum.  She says that she always used to whack her bigger teenaged
victims at school 6 times across the twat and six times across the rest of
the bum, a total of 12 of the best.  So, she says, we are getting off very
lightly.  Are we hell!  Sally knows just how to tease, torment and
infuriate us with that slipper.  God, but she winds us up, and she doesn't
half make it sting!  And afterwards, having to stand there with your hands
on your head unable to massage your stinging rump is really maddening
especially when you have to take all the sexy verbals, mickey taking and
put downs at the same time.  Yet she is also so damned skilful at not
seriously injuring or permanently marking or bruising our butts, which are
always arse-waggling good again by the next competition.  Sally says that
she never really bruises or discolours our butts, and that therefore no
real damage is done and that the whole business is no big deal.  But, my
goodness, it is!  She really gives it to us, and, as I say, it doesn't half
sting.  She always makes us grunt, gasp and curse at the force of the
blows, and bite our lips at the way she makes us tingle.  But she just
thinks that all that is funny, especially if she can goad Sarah into one of
her impromptu running commentaries.  She loves that!  Anyway, as well as
being very sexy, embarrassing and humiliating, our punishment is also very,
very effective.  When we have had one of our periodic spankings from Sally
we really buckle under to our training programme, no matter how onerous it
is.  It works wonders for our motivation and in my view is the single most
important reason why we are so successful.

   Sally has sworn that she will never tell anyone what she is doing to us,
to save us from embarrassment.  However, Sally adds that she has no secrets
from her husband, Dave, and that she tells him everything.  Dave Henderson
is a retired Police Chief; he is a great favourite of the troupe, and has
absolutely no side.  He is always kind and considerate to us girls, and
spends a large amount of his time and money driving us around, looking
after us, buying us food and other things and generally being generous to
us.  He is, in short, a perfect gentleman, and always treats us as ladies
and with the greatest of courtesy.  But he is also a very dirty old man! 
Since we started taking the slipper Dave has been driving Sally and us to
the gym on Monday mornings.  It is quite clear that he contrived to do this
so that he could see us get slapped.  The lascivious old bugger!  Sally,
indeed, is quite open about it.  She asked us what we thought about Dave
coming along, and we said we had no objections.  As far as we are
concerned, if it turns Dave on then he deserves it for all the help he
gives us.  And according to Sally, wow, but does it turn him on!  While he
waits to drive us all off to breakfast at the Hendersons' place he watches
our training sessions.  From where he sits he has a perfect view of our
bare arses as they take the rap, since Sally makes us face the window with
our naked twats and our hairy cunt meat pointing towards him.  And, of
course, he gets to hear all the rollockings and the sexy verbal wind-ups.
Sally says he finds it all very stimulating.  Yes, I bet he does!  I bet
the randy old pervert thinks all his birthdays have come at once! 
According to Sally, it gives him a real hard on, and it works wonders for
her sex life when he gets her home!  Apparently, Dave has always been
turned on by Sally's disciplinary exploits.  I believe you have already
heard the story about how they got off in the first place when Sally was a
recently qualified teacher.  That tale too features a number of young
ladies getting their bare bottoms smacked!  With us, says Sally, Dave is
really turned on when his diminutive wife (Sally is only 5'3" tall) takes
down and humiliates three big strapping sexy ladies by stripping them bare,
bending them over and slapping their great fat arses.  This may seem kinky,
but, well, wouldn't it turn most men on?  You bet it would!