“So which of you wants to go first?” you say. Neither of the two blondes move a muscle, their eyes locked onto the large wooden paddle.
You frown, angry with their resistance. You set the paddle on a stand in the room. You walk up to the bound actresses, watching as they begin to shake in fear. Grabbing both of them, you grunt as you lift the two girls over your shoulders. You carry them outside the house to the front porch. You hang them over the railing. After undoing the hog-tie, you tie their arms to the railing to prevent them from falling.
You smile at your handiwork. The two girls were bent over the railing, presenting their rears to you, their mini-skirts stretched tight revealing the outlines of their underwear.
Silently, you head back into your house and return to the porch with the wooden paddle. Without expectation, you swing the paddle at the blondes’ buttocks. Whack! Whack! You alternate between the two actresses, smiling at their muffled screams.
After a few minutes, you let up and set the paddle off to the side, their screams fallen away to sobs.
“Now,” you say. “Which of you wants to strip first? Scream to tell me that you do.”
The two actresses maintained their silence. Rolling your eyes at their resilience, you reach into your boots and pull out a hidden Bowie knife. With the knife, you slice their taut mini-skirts away, revealing red cheeks and their underwear: Sarah’s a bright red g-string, Melissa a deep black satin thong.
“One more chance to strip, girls,” you say as you pick up the large paddle. “If you do, I’ll paddle you when you’re done. If not, I’ll take the paddle to your behind once more, strip you myself, and then take a cane to your backside. What’ll it be?” |