by John Rivers
“Ginger, this is my friend John. Did your uncle call you about the small change of plans?”
My heart sunk. I knew I was about to be told this corpulent individual would be giving me my therapy. “No, Uncle John didn’t call me.”
“Well, he called yesterday and said he’d been thinking about the suspension unit. He told me about you practicing yoga and how you could do handstands. He also said that with him being a holistic healer he knew it was healthy for someone’s blood to flow downwardly for a few minutes. He told me that instead of you “riding” the horse, I should suspend you just enough that you can do a handstand. It won’t be like you’re just hanging there. Most of your weight will be on your hands.”
As surprise as I was by what I was being told, I was even more surprised that my uncle hadn’t informed me about this. Maybe he thought it was such a minor detail that it wasn’t important. Maybe he forgot after talking to Gordon. I was disappointed that I wouldn’t be riding the horse.
“You can also ride the horse if you like,” Gordon added.
I could have kissed him if the fat man had not been there. “What is he going to do? Is he going to be giving me my treatment?”
Gordon laughed. “No, I’ll be doing all that, but if you don’t mind, John is going to help me. I’ll be spanking you while you’re suspended and I might need John to keep you from teetering. Also, you uncle wanted me to take a couple of picture so he could see how well the suspension went. I’ll need John to do that.”
If it wasn’t for the fact my uncle had left instruction for this, likely, I would have objected. I didn’t mind the fat man’s presence as much as I worried about being suspended.
A few minutes later I was naked and lying under the hoist while the two men buckled the leather strappings around my ankles. Seeing the fat man appeared to be fascinated with my breasts, I wondered how they would look while I was upside down. Shortly I was strapped in and the fat man was pulling on the rope that would raise me off the floor. My butt was already clear when I saw Gordon turn toward the wall where he kept his whips.
Gordon hadn’t lied when he said he would allow me to support myself with my hands. The fat man stopped just before as my extended hands cleared the floor. I have since come to learn that most people are suspended with their arms bound behind their back and all their weigh supported by the ropes. I don’t believe I’d like that very much. That could be painful.
I tried to watch and see what he was going to use to administer the “punishment” phase of my session, but as soon as I was positioned, the fat man placed a stubby hand on either side of my hips and turned me so that my back was to Gordon. A little apprehensive, with my palms planted on the floor, I waited.
“Ginger, this going to sting a little, but I’m only going to give you ten licks and then John is going to take some pictures. Once we’re through here, if you like, you can ride the horse, ok?”
The fat man now had something to say. Squatting down to look me in the face, he said, “Honey, I know you won’t intend to, but a lot of time when you ladies are being disciplined you forget and make a lot of noise. For your benefit, I’m going to put a ball gag in your mouth. It won’t hurt a bit. You want to open your mouth for me?”
For the first time, I was afraid. I had never been afraid before any of my treatments. Apprehensive and nervous, but never afraid. “Did my uncle say you could do this to me?”
“He asked that you be suspended. This is all part of being suspended.”
Without giving him further argument, I opened my mouth.
“Open just a little wider, honey.”
I opened a little wider. Regardless of how humiliating this was, at least now I wouldn’t have to count.
This spanking, I guess some would call it a flogging because a small whip was involved, stung. A couple of times the fat man, John, had to reposition me after I squirmed about in reaction to the pain. I had thought he was just being mean when he put the gag in my mouth, but I now understood why. He was right, I did need it. As it was, I screamed around the gag. Not a lot, but a little. I have no idea why he left the gag in mouth until he had taken the pictures.
After this was over, I wasn’t sure I still wanted to ride the horse. I definitely didn’t feel I needed any more spanking. Nonetheless, it was John who suggest I go ahead and mount up so my butt would be positioned for him to apply a special lotion. Not only would this lotion ease the stinging, but prevent most of the marks that might develop after my “punishment.” I appreciated him doing so.
They didn’t spank me anymore, but they did leave me turned up for a while. It was sort of restful in this position. John reapplied the lotion a couple of time. At first I was a little uneasy with him having this unobscured view of my pussy and butthole, but I got over it. After applying the lotion the first time, he had been nice enough to positon my boobs so they wouldn’t be pressed between my chest and the horse.
Gordon positioned me on the examination table for the second time. The fat man watched, but didn’t take part while Gordon did the insertion. Gordon, like anyone giving me a treatment, didn’t have a lot to do once they had inserted the probe into my butthole. Most of the men would simply sit and watch, their eyes scanning my body and more so my pussy. Most were nice. Some, noting me getting wet, might make a comment, but it was never vulgar. After Uncle John hadn’t objected to me masturbating during the second phase, which I usually did, that had eliminated the need for him or anyone else to clean me up as they’d once done. After making the adjustments and flipping the switch for the second phase, they would still not have a lot to do. Several of them would check and make sure the probe was still seated, but that was pointless. With its shape, the larger part would be well seated past my sphincter once it was inserted. I can never recall it slipping out. Then, my Uncle John had invented it and he was a genius at such things.
Watching and having an excellent view of my ass, John made the statement that it appeared the lotion had worked; it was almost impossible to see I’d had a flogging and by tomorrow all sign should be gone.
Gordon sitting with his arms folded, mumbled something. It appeared he was concentrating. He glanced at the fat man. “John, go to my desk and get my small butt plug with the vibrator.” If I had known at the time what a butt plug was, I might have suspected he was going to put something else up my anus. Instead, I was curious.
John returned to hand Gordon a small object. Gordon flipped the switch on my machine. “Ginger, I going to try something. I’m going to take this out for just a moment and put something else in its place. Just hold on.” Before he inserted it, apparently, he turned on a switch and I could hear the object buzzing. Once he put it up my butt, it felt almost the same.
“Does that feel about the same?”
“Yes, why?”
“Just wondering,” he replied and removed the object. Wrapping it with Kleenex, he laid it aside and reinserted my probe.
I heard the fat man mumble something to Gordon in a low voice as if he didn’t want me to hear. It sounded something like, “It’s just a vibrator, ain’t it?”
It sounded as if Gordon had scoffed and said, “That’s all.” He tapped the gadget and said in the same low voice, “This is just a battery pack.”
I had no clue what they were talking about. I supposed that he was talking about the smaller object John had brought from the desk. I forgot about it since it was time for the second phase.
Chapter Six
Mr. Innis, as I might have mentioned earlier, has been taking care of me for years. I’ll explain how that came about if you’ll just bear with me. About the middle of my senior year of high school, Aunt Milly took ill. She was deathly sick for a month or so before passing away. Uncle John and I were both devastated by the loss, but as it usually does, the grief slowly diminished. It wasn’t long before I realized Uncle John and I were now in the house alone. As anyone reading this might have by now concluded, I am an exhibitionist. I have been since the first time, w
hen at the age of three, I was told not to run around the house without my clothes on.
Even before my aunt died, there had been a couple of times, when in her absence, I had been nude in Uncle John’s presence. That does not include my therapy. I think he knows I enjoyed doing so. In turn, he never mentioned it after the first time. Then he had told me not to let anyone see me, including Aunt Milly.
Now that Aunt Milly was no longer around, I went nude as much as possible. The few times I couldn’t do so would be when a client might be coming over. Although he worked until three or so in the afternoon, he had continued to keep the clinic open for a couple of hours after he was home. Mrs. Watson continued to come. Her consultations were often quite lengthy. Often, I could hear her moaning and knew she was continuing with her treatments. Good for her. She still looked great.
Several other women started to come as well. Some I had seen before, some I hadn’t.
I accidently made a discovery one day as I was searching for something in a room adjacent to the “clinic.” Inside the closet of that room was an area where the wall paper as well as the plaster forming the wall itself had fallen over the years. Before the advent of sheetrock, strips of wood were nail to supports and covered with plaster to form a wall. Often with age, the material would crumble.
To make a long story a little less lengthy, on this particular day, a lady somewhat on the chunky side had come over for a consultation with Uncle John. While in the closet, I realized I could see into the clinic. Being a little on the nosy side, I put my eye to the hole. To my surprise, this lady was also getting a treatment. Just as Mrs. Watson and myself, she was receiving her treatment nude. Her chunky legs were spread and her feet were in the stirrups.
Uncle John sit between her legs and blocked my view of her lower body to some extent. Although I couldn’t see his hands, I knew he was masturbating her because her oversize breasts were jiggling just a little and her eyes were closed. For a moment, I felt jealous because he had never masturbated me. The closest thing had been to run a tissue through my pussy. Now, here she was getting the royal treatment. I had to remind myself he was my uncle and it wouldn’t be right for him to do that to me. Some people might have even considered it not right for him to put his finger up my butthole when he was lubricating me for my treatment, but you know how some people are.
With my spying, I come to learn that most the women coming for consultation were receiving treatments the same as Mrs. Watson, the chubby lady and myself. Although he was only administering these treatment as a professional, I was a little jealous. Sometime these women would be here into the night and during the time I should be alone with my uncle.
The notion was mind. I was now fully grown and my hormones were surging. I had been receiving a spanking once a week for some time now, and in what some might call less than an overt manner. I often felt, even in the middle of the week, it would be nice to have a little spanking. A little tide me over spanking. It would also give me an opportunity to be nude.
I knew my widowed neighbor, Mr. Innis, had eyed me ever since I’d first come to live here. He never said anything out of the way and we chatted on several occasions. I supposed to some extent, he was the grandfatherly type. I had only visited him on a few occasions, but on this particular day, I chose to visit him again.
He was watching television. He invited me in and we chatted about the news and he asked me about school and such. Using the plan I’d manufacture over the last few days, I lied. “I just had a birthday, Mr. Innis.” In actuality, it was several months until my birthday.
“Great. Happy birthday.”
One needs to remember I was now a full-grown woman in body, if not in mind. I also had a body some grown men would die for.
“You know what, Mr. Innis,” I said, putting a little girl pout to my voice, “I don’t have anyone to give me a birthday spanking.”
That got the old man’s attention. He turned the television off. He didn’t know what to say.
“Would you give me a birthday spanking, Mr. Innis?”
By now, he’d got his voice back. “What would your uncle say, Ginger?”
“He wouldn’t care,” I didn’t tell him that several other people had spanked me with my uncle’s knowledge. “Besides, I’m eighteen now. I’m a grown woman.”
“I…I don’t know, Ginger.”
“I’d really like you to spank me, Mr. Innis. Please.”
“Well, I guess now that you’re grown, I could give you a couple of little swats.”
“Thank you. Can I lay across your lap?”
“Well, ah…sure, but lock the door first.”
I got up and locked the door. I walked back and stood by his chair. I was still wearing the little short plaid skirt of a school girl. He might have been looking forward to seeing my panties. However, I went him one better. Rather than lying across his lap with my fully cover behind, I ran my hand into the waistband of my skirt as well as my panties. Before the old fellow could object, if indeed he was going to object, I pushed both garment to my feet and stepped out of them. Nude from the waist down, I positioned myself over his lap before he had time to say yea or nay.
He must have simply looked at my bottom for a while because he didn’t touch anything and he didn’t say anything for what seemed like two minutes or so.
“Go ahead and spank me, Mr. Innis. It’s alright.”
I guess he just needed further encouragement. He brought his hand down across both my buttocks very lightly a couple of times. “It’s all right. Go ahead and really spank me.” I shifted around and raised my butt a little higher.
I finally got a few good swats out of him, but he was still hesitant. “We’d better stop, Ginger, before we get in trouble.” The way he sounded, you’d thought we had been having sex.
Rising off his lap, I stood by his chair a moment, rubbing my butt, not that my butt needed rubbing. I let him have a good look at my pussy. “Would you spank me again tomorrow, Mr. Innis?”
“I…I guess.”
The next day I cut a small switch off an Azealia bush before I went to my old neighbor’s house. He might be more comfortable giving me a few swipes on my behind with this rather than spanking me. This way he would not have to make physical contact. This time, taking off my skirt and panties, I didn’t lie across his lap. Instead I position myself a few feet from his chair and bent over and touched the floor, exposing not only my butt, but most of my pussy as well.
If it hadn’t been for knowing I could move away and out of reach of the switch, I might have regretted bringing it. A couple of the licks stung. Standing, I again rubbed my butt as I presented him with a view below my waist. Now that he had spanked me a couple of times, I felt something of a tender feeling for the old man. Even before I put my clothes back on, I bent and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Innis.”
The next day, betting Mr. Innis would be expecting me, I was also betting he hadn’t thrown away the switch. He hadn’t. I could see he was looking forward to spanking me as well. This time, I got even bolder. Once I’d located the switch and handed it to him, I locked the door and removed my skirt and panties. I was very brazen. Lying on the floor, I lolled onto my back. I drew my legs up near my head. I let them spread. In this position he had a unobscured view of my pussy as well as my butthole. This time he was very gentle. I bet he didn’t want me moving and spoiling his view.
I knew I had him hooked now. The next day, I removed all my clothes, giving him his first view of my “Playboy” breasts. Once I was nude, I lay on the floor. I told him it would take me a few minutes before I was ready. I immediately began stretching until I was able to get myself into a Yoga Nidrasana pose. He wasn’t too much interested in spanking me then. He mostly wanted to look. I didn’t think about it at the time, but I now realize I could have given the old man a stroke.
A few day later when I got a chance to talk to Uncle John, I asked him if the next time he was out of town and needed someone to administer my th
erapy, could we please get Mr. Innis. That began a beautiful friendship. I love the old man dearly despite the fact that even now he sometimes sticks his finger up my butt even when he’s lubricating my pussy.
Chapter Seven
Not long after that, Uncle John began letting Mr. Innis watch my therapy sessions. These two had become even better friends than before. Since Uncle John and I were the only one living in the house, we’d started conducting my therapy in the living room. I liked that better. It was more cozy there as compared to my bedroom. Also, with the furniture, the two men could relax while I receive my treatment. Of course, as always, I would be spread out in all my naked glory for them to keep an eye on should the need arise. The only need that every arose was for them to change the machine at the end of a phase.
As I got older I suppose my hormones would make me become even wetter than I did a year or so ago. Uncle John was now constantly having to dry my pussy with a tissue. Other times he would let me go until I was thoroughly wet and my juices were flowing into the crack of my butt. Uncle John had also told me that since I was all but grown, if I felt I needed to rub my breast during my therapy, it was alright to do so. He had previously said it was alright to rub my clit. I didn’t know about my uncle, but Mr. Innis seemed to enjoy watching me do that. I mostly did it for him.
On one occasion Uncle John went to the kitchen to get them a beer and Mr. Innis, seeing the need arise, was nice enough to dry me himself. He then spread my pussy to make sure I hadn’t started again. I didn’t know it then, but he’d check my pussy many times over the coming years.
As time went on, I suppose to better familiarize him with the process, Uncle John let Mr. Innis handle my spanking. Or as some might say, my whipping. If they were spanking me with a hand, well, I considered that a spanking. As in the case with Mr. Innis where he often used a switch, it was more of a whipping. Either way, the disciplining was good for me. I was growing like a weed. I was now taller than either Uncle John or Mr. Innis. I was approximately five-eight, which was tall for a girl my age.
