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Archive name: phs05.txt (mf,blkmale,spanking,humil)
Authors name: Wiley06
Story title : Portervill High: Spanking Amy
Part 5 of 11 parts
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© 1998 This work is copyrighted to the author. No
changes may be made to this story, and the author
information must remain intact. This work may be
copied freely for non-profit purposes only.
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Porterville High: Spanking Amy
Part 1.4
By Wiley06
Thursday at noon, Achilles Brown, eating his
lunch, was quite pleased with himself. He had talked
to Jim and had arranged to be picked up at 7:40 near
his house. From there, they were going to pay a visit
to Ms. Sara Ellsworth. Achilles had been, and still
was, a little nervous about it, since it would be his
first time with a woman, but Jim assured him that he
would take care of everything -- all he needed to do
was to lay back and enjoy. He certainly needed some
relief, since his games with Amy were exciting him so
much he was having trouble holding back. If he did or
said something wrong, he knew he would lose her.
His "date" with Sara was not the only reason for
his smugness. Like he had guessed, Amy Sanders had
chosen today to test him: she had worn pants. They
were those loose, oversized, dirty pants which were
cinched at the waist, and that Achilles found so dis-
tasteful. Worst of all, though, was that he had for-
bidden her to wear pants. He found it amusing that
she seemed to search him out and, while at a comfor-
table distance talking to some friends, parade her
defiance in front of him. The one time he had bothered
to meet her eyes he had only frowned and shaken his
head sadly. Well, he thought to himself, he had
planned for this, and knew exactly what he was going
to do. He would be finished by five at the latest,
which would give him plenty of time to prepare for Sara
Ellsworth. He savored the sound of her name in his
mind: Ms. Sara Ellsworth.
Amy Sanders had decided that she had had enough.
The Wednesday picnic had been humiliating enough; she
wasn't going to put up with Achilles' bullying anymore,
even if he did have those pictures of her. He would
never use them, she thought, he wanted to play his
little games with her too much. Well, she wasn't going
to have it any longer; she would put up with some
things to keep him quiet, but she wanted some say in
the matter. No more of this do as I say crap. Still,
she was nervous; she wasn't sure what he _would_ do
when he saw that she had decided to ignore his demands
and had worn pants. She tried to catch his eye all day
at school, but the one time she did all he did was look
glum and shake his head sadly, which just infuriated
her more.
Deciding he couldn't skip his last period class
again, he had to run over to Amy's house as fast as he
could to make sure he was there before she was. He was
glad she had left the window to her room open, since it
made things easier for him. He climbed into her room
and rummaged through her closet, picking out her
sophomore cheerleading outfit (she had quit, obviously
figuring been there done that) and laying it on the
bed, large colored panties and all. He then sat down on
her bed and waited for her to come home.
Amy went straight home after class, wanting to
confront Achilles as soon as possible. She figured
that she would find him in her room: she wasn't
disappointed. She strode purposefully into her room,
dropped her bag on the floor, swung the door shut, and
faced him from across the room.
"Get out," she said assertively.
"I don't think you want to do that." He spoke
softly, menacingly.
"I said, get out," her voice raising.
"What's the matter, honey," a voice drifted up
from downstairs.
"Nothing mother," Amy called, turning back to
Achilles, who she found standing.
"Before I go, you should listen," he said, looking
her in the eyes, stopping her before she could speak.
"At 5:30 my father comes home from work. He walks into
the kitchen, swings his coat over the back of a chair,
puts his briefcase on the kitchen table, then picks up
the mail my mother and I leave on that table. He
immediately takes that mail and walks the four blocks
to the mail drop -- he calls it unwinding -- and then
returns." He paused. "Right now, sitting on my
kitchen table, are the photos of you I have, in an
envelope, stamped and addressed to the police. If I
leave now, I don't think I'll go home 'till at least
7:00, and by this time tomorrow, you'll be under
arrest."
She had stood there listening to him, anger and
fear warring within her as he spoke. She began shiver-
ing as despair began to banish both as the stark
reality of her plight became clear to her: either do
as he wished, or go to prison.
He watched her carefully as he finished his
speech: "Now, if you do exactly what I say, I'll make
sure to be home before five, and you won't have to
worry about a thing. Do you understand?"
She stood there for a moment as he finished; she
wanted to cry. She nodded jerkily, and saw him motion
to her old cheerleading outfit on the bed.
"Put that on. And don't worry, I won't watch."
Not speaking, she picked up the uniform and went
to the corner of her room where she began to undress.
Turning around and grabbing a low chair, he sat
down facing the bed, his back toward her. He let out
a sigh of relief that his gambit worked: he had let
her run and then pulled her back in. He figured that
she thought he would never mail those photos in, and
based her defiance on that. He guessed that once he
made it abundantly clear that she could either obey
him or have the police solve a murder, she would break.
She had, and he felt a surge of emotion at his success.
The next part he was going to enjoy immensely.
Amy finished dressing and turned around and faced
Achilles, who was sitting down with his back toward
her. She walked over, despairing at what he had in
store for her, and stood between him and the bed.
Achilles looked at her standing before him: her
firm, shapely legs almost completely revealed by the
little mini; her breasts straining against the sleeve-
less tee which was now a little to small for her; her
hair cascading around her graceful neck, white as
alabaster. He stared at her for a moment, taking in
her stunning beauty, and then commanded her to turn on
her stereo, and to turn it up rather loudly.
"Now stand to my right, facing me," he told her
when she had turned on the stereo. "Kneel down."
Her head was now on the same level his was, and
he looked hard into her pale blue eyes which seemed to
stare through him.
"You've been a bad girl, haven't you Amy?"
He saw her lips move in a silent yes, but no sound
came out.
"I said, you've been a bad girl. Isn't that true?"
he said louder.
Again her lips moved, and this time he heard a
quiet "yes" come from them.
"Lean over my legs. More. Put your hands flat
on the floor on the other side of me. Over more. Good.
Stop now."
As she climbed over his legs, she knew what he was
going to do. She started crying silently, tears leaking
from her eyes. She remembered her boyfriend from
freshman year -- he was a big guy -- telling her one
day that when he got together with a couple of his
friends to beat on someone, it wasn't the physical
damage they did that was worst -- it was the humilia-
tion. The guy couldn't stop them: he was powerless,
and just had to take it. That was the bad part, the
helplessness, the impotence, knowing there was nothing
you could do. She felt just like that: helpless,
defeated.
His penis was rock hard as he positioned her over
his thighs. Her breasts were hanging over the chair to
his left, her lower chest/upper stomach pressed against
his left thigh. She was balancing herself atop him
with her hands and the balls of her feet. Her back was
tilted down to his left, and he placed his hand between
her shoulder blades, holding her there. She was bent
at the waist, her upper thighs pressing against his
right thigh, thrusting her ass out and up. With his
right hand he pushed up her cheerleading skirt until
it bunched at her waist, revealing the twin bulges of
her ass through her red underwear.
"I'm going to spank you now," he said, rubbing his
right hand over her ass, "and you're going to thank me
after each swat. Do you understand?"
He looked down at her head and smiled as she nod-
ded, her hair falling to the ground on either side of
her face. He thought he heard a sob, but didn't really
care: she shouldn't have challenged him.
Laying across his lap in this obscene position,
her ass thrust high into the air, she began sobbing
quietly. It was all too awful. Despair crowded in on
her consciousness as she felt him carefully pull her
underwear around her upper thighs, and a cool draft
ran over her exposed asscheeks. He cried out "One!"
and a loud <SLAP> rung in her ears, coincidental with
a stinging pain in her left ass cheek which caused her
to gasp through her sobs. Horrified at what was
happening to her, her mind froze as he rubbed his hand
firmly over where he had slapped, and then called out
"One!" again, and then <SLAP>.
He was about to burst through his jeans while he
edged her underwear down over her ass, leaving it
encircling her upper thighs. Looking at her twin ass
cheeks, so smooth and white, firm and luscious, he
couldn't resist running his hand over their silky
flesh. Hearing her sobbing, he called out "One!" and
brought his hand down hard on her left ass cheek,
stinging his hand as well as earning a gasp from Amy.
He rubbed her ass for a moment, waiting for her to
thank him, and then called out "One!" again and slapped
her other cheek.
For a moment Amy was confused, and then remem-
bered: "Th... Thank... you" she sobbed out, loud enough
to be heard over the music.
"Two!" <SLAP>
"Thank you."
"Three!" <SLAP>
"Thank you."
By the tenth strike, her ass was a burning mass of
pain and her chest heaved in great sobs of pain and
humiliation. He was striking her hard, her body jerk-
ing in his lap each time his hand came down across her
ass. The worst part, though, was the way he rubbed his
hand all over her ass between each blow, spreading a
painful warmth throughout her ass.
He watched as his hand turned her ass a dull red,
beautiful against the creamy whiteness of the back of
her thighs. He especially loved the way each blow sent
her asscheeks quivering, the firm flesh having given
way before his hand. His right hand was killing him,
smarting from the blows he had landed. Five more, he
thought, to make fifteen, then he would stop. He
wanted so badly to just throw her over the bed and fuck
her -- he quivered in desire at the thought -- but he
resisted the urge; he couldn't afford to spook her. He
could get away with a spanking, but if he tried any-
thing more now, she was sure to freak out on him. Oh
well, he thought, this is good enough for now, rubbing
his hand over her ass once again.
She heard him call out "Fifteen!" and felt the
familiar pain of another blow on her ass. "Thank you,"
she replied automatically through her sobs, her whole
body tense and on edge, awaiting more punishment. She
jerked on his lap when she felt him pull her underwear
gently over her throbbing ass, and kept her head down
-- she couldn't look at him -- as he helped her to her
knees and then onto her bed. She collapsed on it and
curled up into a fetal position, still sobbing out her
pain and humiliation.
Several hours later she fell asleep in the same
position, tears still coursing down her face.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 8 - Text 8412