Last Wednesday, I was at Natasha’s for what had become a weekly after-work ritual of a few drinks, some spanking and maybe sex. We took turns hosting and this time we sat on the stools facing the counter bar in her kitchen. She was telling me about tagging along with her friend, Sarah, to an estate sale the previous weekend. “Look what I found,” she gushed, showing me what was likely intended to be a narrow cutting board or charcuterie tray with a handle, but to a spankaholic like me, its true purpose was paddle for bare fannies. Natasha and I both were fans of household items that were imminently pervertable as spanking implements. I knew that this item was going to be an excellent spanking tool and needed to be tried-out immediately.

“Bend over,” I instructed, testing the heft of the wooden tool in my hand.

“What?” Natasha asked.

“Bend over. We need to test-drive your discovery,” I replied. She shrugged her shoulders, got off her stool and bent over the counter. I came behind her and tugged down her sweatpants and panties. I turned over a one-minute hourglass that she watched intently as I paddled her ass with the estate sale treasure.

“One minute,” she called, when the last grain of sand fell. Her bottom was gloriously rosy and I was very hard. I unzipped and moved behind her. She widened her stance to facilitate copulation and pushed back to take me inside. Sex from behind provides such a great view and the friction is often incredible, that I tend to not last long. I came inside her, feeling like it was voluminous. As I pulled out, she began to leak and I used the paddle like a spatula to collect a generous pool of our combined juices.

I tasted the results and opined, “We taste great together.” I offered her the spatula and she sucked it almost clean.

Later, she mentioned that the coming Saturday, she would be hosting her four other yarn-obsessed friends for their monthly meet-up. She suggested that I should attend and create some mischief that the group of fiber artists might address sternly.

On the drive home, I thought about ways to provoke the whole quilting bee. Suddenly, I have an idea. When I get home, I open my laptop and find Natasha’s social media page and a link to a photo gallery of previous meetings. My wicked idea congeals and I practice creating the provocative image I aim to surprise them with.

When I arrive on Saturday, the whole gang is already there, seated around Natasha’s kitchen table. “How about I take a photo of you for your web page?” I suggest. They arrange themselves per my instructions and I snap a few shots of the group. “I need to do a bit of tweaking and I’ll send it to you,” I promise and retreat to her living room and open my laptop. I quickly selected the heads from my picture and pasted them onto a photo I grabbed from a porn site. In this other photo, five completely nude women were sitting side-by-side at the edge of a hot tub. The women on each end were angled away slightly but the center three were providing explicit crotch views and two appeared to be fingering themselves. The resulting edit did not have to be deep-fake convincing, just provocative. I easily scaled and positioned Natasha and her friends faces onto the porn base photo and then texted the result to Natasha.

I heard her phone chime and then a gasp. A voice said, “What is it?” Then another asked, “What’s the matter?” followed by giggles and groans.

Then I heard Gretta call, “Boris, can you come in here?” I walked into the kitchen where the five women were attempting to act distraught. “As much as I appreciate the body you’ve given me, this is clearly inappropriate and we all feel you need to be taught a lesson.” The others nodded and verbally agreed. Gretta pushed her chair back and said, “Come over here, young fellow.” I moved close and she began to unbuckle my belt and then open my pants. “We’re all gonna take a turn at blistering your backside.” I glanced over and Sarah had found the cutting board and Natasha retrieved the hourglass and put it on the table. When Gretta hauled me over her knee and began to spank, Natasha turned over the timer.

After Gretta, I stood and moved over to Bess’ lap and she asked Natasha, “Can you hand me that big wooden spoon?” Natasha retrieved the desired utensil and for a minute Bess applied it vigorously to my already sore tush. Then it was Amy’s turn. She pulled my belt from my pants and folded it to make a short double-layer strap that really stung. Next, Sarah wielded the cutting board for an interminable minute and finally it was Natasha’s turn. Sometime in the rotation, she had retrieved her wicked hairbrush and gave me a brisk and very intense finale. Afterwards, I retreated to her couch and considered wanking myself to fruition.

Eventually, the klatch disbanded and I heard Natasha and one other voice talking - Sarah, I thought. I returned to the kitchen and Sarah looked at me with a sly smile and held-up the cutting board. Natasha said you weren’t the first to feel her treasure, she was. I nodded. “Can you do the same for me?” she asked.

“The whole package?” I inquired for clarity. She nodded, turned towards the counter and shrugged down her stretch pants. I picked up the tool and glanced at Natasha who was watching with eager anticipation. I paddled Sarah’s round butt for the prescribed minute and then set the paddle on the counter. When she heard me unzip, she arched her back and proffered her backside, then guided me inside. I began slowly but soon was unable to throttle my enthusiasm and was banging her quite energetically. I pulled out as I felt myself approaching apex and emptied onto her pink cheeks.

“Wow,” Natasha observed, touching her friend’s hot, pink rump, now warm, colorful and sticky.