Forged by Desire

by Greg Babcock

  And I didn’t fare any better in Toledo – whenever I’d come home on furlough. Mother had long since driven Sue away. And she’d managed to drive a significant wedge between your humble correspondent (the kid, here) – and any other “broad” (her definition) who seemed as though she might be interested in me. Ergo – may I present? A 22-year-old virgin!

  That being the case, I’d never had a woman run her hand across the shivering surface of the tingling flesh that comprised the ol’ ass! And these rubs – these caresses – had me doing exactly the opposite of what I’d have imagined! I was relaxing! (Also in spades!) I was like a huge flounder or something (a dead one) – lifelessly draped across those yaller pants! All those blue skies – and fluffy clouds – were drifting by my clenched-shut eyes! And there I lay – in semi-conscious splendor! I was waiting for a 24-piece orchestra to pour forth a Mantovani arrangement!

  That is until her hand found its way up over her shoulder – and came clapping down smack-dab in the center of my naked ass! Her hand was terribly “muscular”! It was hard as a slab of cement! Not unlike any of the other ladies who inhabited the core room, I’d imagined. There was a big splotch! (One bigger than I’d have thought her hand could’ve imparted!) A patch of hot-pink – on both sides of my crack! And the sound! Noisy foundry or not, I could’ve imagined that the explosion – when hand met bare flesh – would’ve rocked Mr. Boswell out of his comfy, leather, high-backed, executive, chair upstairs! The vibrations from that first slap had to have knocked every ounce of dirt loose from every mold out by the furnaces! Had to have reduced every made-of-sand object in the core room to so-many-millions of grains! I’d taken some awfully tough paddlings, through the years, from my mother! But, the sound – and the force – of that initial handslap from Lorna had me totally rattled! A woman’s hand, for heaven’s sake!

  She did not follow up – with a second whack! Not immediately! I guess she was letting the “significance” of that first spank sink in! Or maybe she was worried that she’d just caused our sainted owner to be ejected from his comfy chair – directly overhead! (Not likely!) I think that she was just letting me “digest” that first slap!

  Actually, it wasn’t all that long before she delivered the second spank! Then the third! Each landed at the center of my right – and then my left – naked buttock! Three shots! And already my ass was a symphony in hot-pink! And – let me tell you – the pink was hot!

  “My,” remarked Greta. “He does color up nicely!”

  “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” assured Lorna!

  Whereupon she launched a mind-warping, rapid-fire, rat-tat-tat barrage! That steel palm of hers clapped down upon the exposed skin of my already-seared seat! Time after time after time after time after time! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! It just kept coming! Spank after spank after spank after spank! It was a withering barrage! One for which I’d been entirely unprepared! Obviously, her hand – I don’t care how formidable her palm might’ve been – could not have compared with my mother’s fabled, storied, overpowering hairbrush! Yet, why was I clenching and unclenching this early in my spanking? I’d always held out longer – much longer – when I was getting spanked by Mother. Obviously, it had something to do with this well-constructed lady in the gaudy slacks! But, what? Actually, I was in no condition to try and analyze the question! Not while my ass was caught up in an unending fusillade of incredible handslaps!

  “You GO, Lorna,” cried Portia – before that expression had become a sort of a patented “encouragement”.

  “Look at his bottom!” exclaimed Beverly. “Man! Does he color up beautifully … or what?”

  “My compliments,” added Greta. “My compliments, Lorna! You’re doing a tidy job.”

  That she was! My “bum” was getting sorer and sorer. The soreness and the reddened complexion and the heat were beginning to rival even the more celebrated paddlings I’d gotten across the maternal knee! Why should that be? I guessed that it all came back to the lady who was administering the punishment! Who was administering it – with great exuberance! How could anyone not expect this spanking to be different – substantially different – than a paddling applied by my mother? Of course it was different! Again, in spades!

  That fact became clear – crystal clear – when I felt the climax begin to explode! Obviously, I’d known that the hard-on was there. Was conscious of it – from the moment it returned! But, the orgasm? That came strictly out of left field. “I did not see that coming”, is, I believe, the correct bromide! But, I never really did – “see it coming”! I wound up making an absolute mess out of those hallowed Marigold-Yellow dungarees of Lorna’s! She, of course, knew it!

  I’d not “come” in a good long time. I was never a great one for masturbation. I’d never let myself wonder about such things – but, I wasn’t given to wild sexual fantasies! Not “orthodox” fantasies, anyway! Not with anyone! Even as the movies were getting a little more “scandalous” back then (you could actually say “damn” and “hell”) there’d never been any particular “spicy” scene that I’d been able to hold onto – and use as fodder for my masturbatory well-being. I certainly didn’t want to admit that virtually all of my erotic feelings – what erotic feelings there ever were – had come, strictly, from the spanking arena! Consequently, what I found myself spritzing out – all over the front part of those looked-as-though-they-had-been-sprayed-on slacks of hers – was almost a torrential rainstorm! Once the all-time cork had popped, it had really popped!

  “Why you little shit,” she’d exclaimed as the first tidal wave inundated her thighs! “You positive little shit!” Then, looking up at her compatriots, she half-shrieked, “He’s coming! He’s coming … all over the place! All over me! The little shit is coming!”

  “Has anyone got a hairbrush?” asked Millie. “Something that she can really use on him? Something to make him learn that something like this is … is … is totally unacceptable?”

  “Here you go,” said Portia. She’d just withdrawn a brush – every bit as deadly-looking as my mother’s storied slab of the Petrified Forest! “Here you go, Lorna! I’d give it to him good! We can’t have someone coming … just because he’s getting a little spanking! Especially when all that’s happening … is that he’s just getting a little spanking, for God’s sakes!”

  The spanking did not remain “little”! Lorna took hold of that dreadful weapon – and began to really whack my woe-begotten wazoo with it! Again and again and again and again and again she bounced that thing off the torched terrain! It didn’t take more than a couple-dozen mustard-laden smacks with that unforgiving implement before she’d surpassed – far surpassed – anything Mother had ever done to me back there! And Lorna was showing no signs of stopping! No signs of even slowing down!

  My ass, by then, had swollen up – to where it was practically unrecognizable as a bona fide, real-life, ass! It was as lumpy as could be! Almost disfigured! Further, it was beginning to bruise! And, once the almost-pretty pastel purples and sickly-looking yellows began to appear, it didn’t take more than six or eight all-her-might whacks with that God-awful thing – before my ass was a study in ominous blacks and menacing blues! And the splotches were spreading – willy-nilly – with every additional, ruthless, brutal, smack!

  “I dunno,” offered Beverly. “Maybe he’s had enough! I’ve never seen an ass like his! Never seen an ass all tore up like his is! You might want to think about quitting, Lorna.”

  Well, if she was thinking about quitting, it would not become apparent until she’d landed maybe 25 or 30 additional, overwhelming, cracks with that sucker! By that time, I was screaming! I’d not known that I was shrieking like that. Don’t know – can’t tell you – when that started. Don’t even know if I’d begun responding to the severe tanning – by crying or not! Haven’t the foggiest! All I know is that I wound up screaming! And, at that point, I didn’t care if Elmer – or anyone else came trundling into the core room! Who ever it turned out to be would �
� undoubtedly – rescue me!

  Finally, I didn’t need to be rescued! The ferocious paddling halted! I wasn’t quite aware of that significant fact. Well, not at first, anyway. Took, probably, 10 or 12 seconds for the stoppage to pierce the new-and-different shroud which had enveloped me! But, I finally did take note that that wooden sucker wasn’t blistering my poor ass any longer!

  I laid there on that almost 45-degree angle that was Lorna’s yellow-clad (and fairly saturated) thighs! Listen, she seemed just as drained – equally as lifeless – as me! We remained there! In that position! Almost like some kind of damn statue! Remained there for the better part of 15 minutes. Hell, maybe longer! Once I was beginning to come out of the miasma into which the spectacular spanking had sent me, my first thought was totally off the wall: I wondered if Lorna would be able to make up the time! Would she be able to construct enough cores – to meet her quota for the hour?

  <<>>

  After we’d lain/knelt there – in that position – for a long while (I really don’t know how long – I’d lost all conception of time) Portia finally announced, “Maybe you guys had better get up now. No one’s come in … but, we may be pushing our luck a little bit. And, if that happens, it’s my ass.”

  No, Portia! It was my ass! I’d had a good bit of difficulty pulling myself up. For one thing, with my pants and shorts down around my thighs, you don’t get a great deal of leverage. But, the real reason was that I was still terribly drained. The well-known weakened condition.

  But, I did manage to pull myself up. And before I could make myself presentable, Millie remarked (far too loudly) “Migawd! He’s still hard! That cock of his … is rock hard!”

  It was true. But, fat lot of good it was going to do me!

  Lorna’s pants were a complete and utter mess! I’d spewed gallons of my spunk all over the obviously not-stain-resistant yellow material. Greta threw her the roll of paper towels – the one that they’d always kept in the middle of her table. Lorna did her best – to try and clean away the overwhelming evidence of my “passion”. She wasn’t very successful.

  The condition of her clothing caused Lorna to have to miss the morning john break, at 10:45AM. But, by the time lunch rolled around – 11:30AM – the damage wasn’t nearly as noticeable. In fact, a person would have to look very closely to note the discoloration. Hmmm. Could that be the reason for those particular slacks? They “cleaned up” pretty well.

  <<>>

  When the whistle blew the call for lunch – I walked out of the foundry with my six cohorts. Everyone went to lunch at eleven-thirty. The foundry was virtually deserted.

  Almost all the work force walked a block-and-a-half to a dingy bar that (I was to find out, eventually) made the most delicious hamburgers ever known to man. A few guys brought their lunch – and ate in the employee’s lounge, a skuzzy little room with a couple card tables and 12 or 15 rusted metal folding chairs. Oh, and a Coke machine.

  Scotty – who was making more money than I could’ve ever imagined – ate his peanut butter-and-jelly sandwiches in his office. (Also skuzzy.) He also brought a huge Thermos that was older than I was – filled with orange juice. Mr. Boswell usually drove out in his Cadillac. I have no idea where he would’ve eaten. Every now and then, he’d not come back in the afternoon. Bill Globe seemed never to leave his office, up on the second floor. Ate his lunch up there. Don’t know what he’d have for his meal – or how basic (or how sumptuous) it was. He may have had filet mignon – or fish and chips – delivered, for all I knew. Pizza, maybe.

  I usually ate at a hole-in-the-wall Coney Island a half-block away from the foundry. But, on this day, I was advised – by Portia – that we would all go to Lorna’s apartment. It was only three blocks away. We piled into Greta’s five-year-old Oldsmobile 98 (well, I eased myself into it) – and she headed for Lorna’s place. I wondered if anyone was going to feed me! I have no scientific data to back this up, but – at first blush – I’d determined that getting spanked within an inch of your life produces massive hunger pangs!

  Once we got to Lorna’s apartment, she immediately removed her yellow pants – and her panties! (They were baby-pink – and very sheer – just for the record.) She dropped them to the floor – in front of her. They laid there – between the two of us. The other five “girls” stood, kind of off to the side.

  There, she stood – this beautiful Lorna! Naked from the waist down! I really couldn’t see her ass – standing before me, front side-to-front side, as we were. I was sorely tempted to walk around her – so that I could behold that wondrous butt, “in the flesh”! But, I’m not totally stupid. I knew better than to strike out on my own – especially when it came to eyeballing a splendiferous rear end!

  “I’m going to want you to wash out my pants … and my panties,” said my semi-nude hostess. “You can use the kitchen sink. There’s detergent in the cupboard … below the sink.”

  Well, I had my orders. As I bent down to pick up the soiled garments, Lorna half-shouted, “STOP!” The almost-shriek rattled every bone in my body! It shouldn’t have shocked me! Not after the morning I’d just spent! Nothing should’ve surprised – or shocked – me! But, this did. I was shaken to my – ah – core!

  “Before you wash my slacks and underpants,” she decreed, “I want you to get down on the floor! On your knees! And … since you had your come … I feel as though I’m entitled to have an orgasm too! So, I want you to service me … down there! I want you to service me … orally!”

  Now, I’d never come close to “eating out” a woman’s vagina! Hadn’t actually come close to a woman’s vagina – period. I’d seen my mother and/or sister without any clothes on, from time to time. Neither of them had really gone out of their way to flaunt their bodies – their nakedness – especially Melinda. But, I had lived with them for the most part of my life – and such things, I assure you, are inevitable! But, now – to “service” a woman? Orally? I’d always bought the old line – the one that I’d heard many a master sergeant (and a few of those with lesser ranks) state! That I’d heard them proclaim – many times. The one to the effect that, “She pisses through that thing! She bleeds through that thing! And I’m supposed to put my mouth there? My tongue there?” I’d also heard that the odor coming from that orifice was akin to “rotting tuna fish”.

  And there I was! Faced with a direct order to perform cunninlingus on this very beautiful woman. Even her “snatch” was beautiful! Something that I’d never thought I’d ever think – let alone say!

  As tentatively as could be, I lowered myself to a kneeling position – close by her genitalia. She leaned forward – and pressed her vagina up against me! If I’d have thought about it, I doubt that I’d have been quite so – ah – forward, but it seemed most logical for me to grab one of those glorious ass cheeks in each hand! So, I did!

  Then, my tongue probed her “garden”! I’d had absolutely no idea as to what I was going to do. I’d heard “suck”! But, that didn’t seem to be to be the thing to do. There was this little membrane (well, hers wasn’t quite so little) at the top of the opening! I kind of flicked at it with my tongue! The fact that her wondrous buttocks clenched – immediately – told me that I was on the right track! So, I worried that thing a little more! (Who knew that it was called a clitoris?) Then, I flicked at it – toyed with it – a lot more!

  Before a minute (maybe a half-minute) had passed, she was moaning and undulating and clasping my ears (the classic pose – pictured in photographs and cartoons)! She pulled me further in to her! My nose was in danger of becoming disjointed – crushed to smithereens – pressed, as it was, up against the hardness of her feverish body, just above the opening! However, the ol’ schnozzola was the least of my concerns! I slavered all over that little dickens of a clit! And I pressed it back against the “firewall” inside her! Her writhing assured me that I was doing good! And I was! It didn’t take but another minute or two before she was gyrating – frenetically! And gasping – frantically! And moanin
g – furiously! And strangling me – most definitely – by pulling me even more fully into her womanhood!

  As the earth-shaking climax overtook her – I mean really consumed her – I found myself actually holding her up! Steadying her – by those magnificent buttocks! (Looking back, that was a tenuous-at-best situation! Why we didn’t both topple over, I’ll never know! But, at the time, I’d become quite the Lothario! In my own mind, anyway! I was doing just fine! So, propping her up by her glorious rear end just seemed “the thing to do”!)

  Finally – after what seemed an eternity – the palsied spasms died down! Her breathing returned to somewhat normal! She even let go of my ears! They were enflamed by then – and were probably twice their normal size! (As if – from that moment on – anything was going to be “normal”!)

  She managed to summon enough energy to back away from me! She turned – and staggered out of the room. To the bathroom. I managed to summon enough energy to take in those wondrous, glorious, exquisite, superb, undulating, swiveling, mounds that made up her to-die-for ass!

  <<>>

  It was decreed that – since we wouldn’t have enough time for me to wash out Lorna’s pants and/or panties – I should merely “put them to soak”. (We only had a half-hour for lunch – and the girls would get docked 15 minute’s wages, if we got back more than three minutes late.) While I poured out the detergent into the sink – and ran the hot water therein (then not-so-hot water, after being warned by Millie as to the damage that water that temperature does to apparently-rather-fragile panties) – Lorna donned another pair of yellow slacks. And, presumably another pair of panties – although I wouldn’t have pretended to have known the color (or sheerness) of the latter.

  We got back to the foundry at twelve – straight-up! I’d had no idea – not the slightest – as to what the afternoon (or the rest of my life) was going to hold in store for me! Would they spank me again? Someone else spank me? Portia, maybe? Was my ass in any condition to take another industrial-strength walloping? It was with a great deal of trepidation that I returned to the core room. But, with a surprising amount of anticipation – and (yes) excitement!