HIS, HERS AND HERS

Part l - His

It started about seven years ago, during the first few months of being a
newlywed. My wife Janet is a nurse who works at a small suburban hospital in
Westchester, NY. I'm a teacher at a private school in New York City. Our sex
life was, and is still, good. We experimented with different things which
included spanking. After reading several letters in magazines such as
Penthouse. we each took turns being the spanker and spankee, using the open
hand and a variety of positions. Our favorite is the classic "over the
knee" position, with the receiver having a bare bottom.

Janet has a full and muscular backside, which I like to make pink and
tingly. She can really dish it out as well and has given me many a reason to
sleep on my stomach. All in all, we never get too severe, and always end up
by applying a soothing lotion to the recipient's hot buns. I must also
mention that, up until the time of this incident, we only spanked for fun.
never using it as a form of discipline.

One particular Sunday we were supposed to drive down to the city to attend a
family party that her folks were throwing. I really was tired and balked at
the idea of sitting in traffic for the hour it usually took to get there.
Going down my list of excuses, I decided to be sick, and asked that we not
go. She looked disappointed, but appeared genuinely concerned and agreed to
stay home.

Things went well for about two hours, until I eventually presented myself as
cured (she caught me raiding the fridge, and watching a ball game on TV).
Her suspicions piqued, she announced she'd be back to check my temperature,
"just to see how sick I was."

Casually Janet returned, shaking down a thermometer in her right hand.
What caused my eves to bug out however, was a small jar of Vaseline and
tissue she carried in her left. Catching my reaction, Jan smiled, taking
charge of the situation.

"OK now, little boy, roll over so your nurse can take your temperature,"
she teased, dipping the thermometer into the lubricant.

I argued and protested, but Jan remained firm, stating that the rectal
method was the most accurate and that she used it all the time in the
hospital. I became very embarrassed, blushing a deep shade of red. Janet
took full advantage of my discomfort. as she playfully lowered my pajama
bottoms and briefs. I felt her hands separating my cheeks as the cool probe
found its place. As the instrument registered, my tricky wife sat at the
head of the bed, asking me questions on the etiology of my "sickness." When
the five minutes were up, she removed the thermometer with a "let's see
what's cooking." Suddenly the air was still. I knew that she knew that I was
perfectly fine. In defense I spoke first, hoping to get the upper hand.

"What's wrong honey?" I meekly asked, knowing trouble was about to erupt.

"Nothing!" she said loudly, "and that's what's wrong with you - absolutely
nothing."

Much to my amazement and surprise, she sharply brought her open palm down
hard across my still bare backside, accenting the word "nothing." I flinched
as the smack really hurt, the area already turning warm. I tried apologizing
as I hitched up my pj bottoms. but it was of no use. Janet refused to speak
with me, turning down all attempted explanations.

For the rest of the afternoon, she was sullen, watching TV on the living
room couch. It was only after I went to the bathroom and noted the angry
mark on my buttocks that I had my brainstorm. Silently I walked back into
the living room and asked for three minutes of her time, saying I had an
idea for a just punishment. She regarded me cautiously, but let me talk.
In short I proposed that she, "finish what she started before," meaning
the smack she gave me in the bedroom.

"What?" she asked, looking annoyed. "A spanking for punishment? No, I
don't think I'd like that."

"Well, at least I tried," I thought as I lay down for a nap.

I awoke refreshed and immediately detected the odor of fried chicken
coming from the kitchen. Making my way there, I noticed the dining
room table was set for dinner, complete with candles and flowers. Janet's
cheerful mood also confused me as she was not the kind to forgive easily.
"I did some shopping while you were asleep," she said, I thought she was
referring to the meal. "Besides the groceries," Janet continued, "I also
picked up this."

Now it was clear, for "this" was a brand new, oval shaped wooden hairbrush,
the expensive kind with a clear, natural finish. "I've decided to take you
up on your offer, and as soon as dinner is over. you're going to get the
spanking of your life... that is, if you don't back out."

I gulped and shook my head negative. A deal being a deal, I would take my
medicine.

Janet acted like nothing had happened, chatting away about current events,
not once mentioning what was to happen. I picked at my food, thinking about
the hairbrush which sat in the nearby wall unit. Jan ate heartily, cleaning
her plate before bringing it into the kitchen.

"Dessert can wait," she announced, picking up the brush, and patting it
against her palm. "I think we have some unfinished business in the bedroom."

Feeling like a naughty twelve year old, I followed her into the room,
watching as she sat on the bed.

"Stand over here," she commanded sharply, "and keep your hands at your
sides." Once again, my wife methodically lowered my pajama bottoms and
underpants. It was humiliating. standing there with back and front
uncovered. while she lectured on my wrongdoing. At a motion of the
hairbrush, I placed myself across her lap, wriggling into position. She
then clasped my hands to the small of my back, making me feel very
vulnerable. I could feel the cool air circulating about my cheeks, knowing
that in minutes they would be a different temperature.

"Now," she said, picking up the hairbrush, "Let's give this cute heinie
some much needed attention." She often told me I had a cute rear end.

As the first whack fell. I knew I was in trouble. The sting was incredible,
causing an immediate sensation of pain. As she alternated from cheek to
cheek, I got more and more out of control. All plans of taking this bravely
went out the window as the brush repeatedly smacked my poor bottom. Soon
pleas of "I'm sorry," "ouch," "please stop," "that hurts," filled the room.
I tried breaking free, but Jan's grip was like a vise. I tried the old trick
of clenching and contracting my bottom cheeks, but this did not work, as
Janet just changed her rhythm to confuse me. I couldn't believe it when I
began to cry. Not just whimpers, but loud sobs came from deep in my lungs.
Kicking wildly, my pj buttocks came completely off, followed by my
underpants.

The whole thing was an incredible experience. When it was over. I was so
stiff that Janet had to help me up. Once on my feet, however, I went into
the classic spanker's dance, trying to put out the fire with my hands. Jan
left, but immediately returned with a jar of Noxema and instructed me once
again to lie prone on the bed. At first I could not stand the touch of her
fingers on my burning behind, but soon the medicine took effect and I let
her help drown the pain.

Later, with me on my belly and Janet at my head, we discussed the spanking.
My rear was still a deep shade of crimson, feeling like a radiator. My
loving wife brought over a small mirror, allowing me to assess the damage.
Jan's face was flushed and her own eyes wide as she admitted to really being
worked up over the paddling and what she did to me.

From that day on, we placed the hairbrush in a special spot. We agreed that
hairbrush spanking would be a good way to keep each other in line and would
be used for serious offenses committed by either of us.

Part 2- Hers and Hers

Janet's hairbrush spanking occurred about three months after mine. Knowing
that any serious misbehavior would be treated with a hairbrush session
really improved our attitude around the house and to one another. Just
looking at it up there on Jan's vanity made my hands travel southward.

Nonetheless, it finally happened. Both of us were working hard one
particular week, and we agreed to go out on the town on Friday to relax and
celebrate. I would break from work sooner than usual, catching an early
train which would coincide with Janet's return from the hospital day shift.
I arrived even earlier, washing up in preparation for the big night. Time
went by slowly and as 5:30 approached I began to worry. Calling the
hospital, I found out that Jan had left with Karen, a young lady freshly out
of nursing school, who works on the same floor. I was thinking about what to
do next when I heard a loud noise coming down the hall. With a tumbling of
keys, in walked Karen and Janet, laughing and giggling, obviously in a
moderate state of drunkenness.

When questioned, my wife admitted that she and her friend had stopped off
for a few drinks with several other nurses, losing all conception of time.
As she wandered off to the kitchen (to brew some coffee), she apologized and
hoped I wasn't too mad.

Obviously I was mad as hell and reminded her that she could at least have
called and that I too was looking forward to an evening out. We argued some
more with me ending in, "you're going to get a sound spanking when Karen
leaves."

In the heat of the argument I failed to notice Karen standing at the
entrance of our small kitchen. She had a funny look on her face and asked
for a chance to talk. 

Calmly, but in broken phrases, the young nurse admitted hearing the part
about Janet getting a spanking. She added that she too should be punished
in the same way as it was her idea to go out in the first place.

I was astonished, but reacted quickly, taking her by the hand into the
living room. Sitting down on the couch, I flipped my wife's friend over my
knees and began whacking the seat of her uniform pants. Right away I knew
the spanking was going to be ineffectual as my hand produced a dull thud as
it struck her heavily padded backside. Karen started to say something,
craning her neck to get my attention. I paused for a moment, thinking that
the girl had changed her mind about the whole thing and wanted to call it
off. I let her up and again was surprised at what she had to say. Speaking
directly, she explained that her fanny was protected by three layers of
clothing, a situation she could easily fix. "I'll just take these off," she
said, playing with the elastic band of her uniform pants, shaking off her
shoes as the garment was removed. She then peeled off her white pantyhose,
explaining that they were quite expensive and she didn't want to risk a run.
Finally she stood, clad only in her nurse's top and white bikini panties.

At 21 years of age, Karen was a cute girl with a trim figure, shoulder cut
sandy hair and big green eyes. I was anxious to get on with it but decided
it was my turn to have the upper hand. In a firm tone, I explained that
Janet would be spanked with a hair brush and on the bare behind. Her eyes
widened a bit as she nervously stood there thinking. After a few seconds
passed she gathered her composure and stated, "whatever Janet gets, I should
get, too."

Seating myself once more on the couch, I instructed Jan to fetch the
hairbrush as Karen obligingly stretched out across my knees. Clasping her
hands, I grabbed the waist-band of her panties, and brought them down to
thigh level. Once they were bare, I stared at the twin cheeks, evaluating my
favorite piece of female anatomy. It was a pretty heinie, each buttock was
on the oblong side, with two symmetrical dimples, roundish at the summits.

As I picked up the brush, I almost changed my mind, wanting to use my hand
on the satiny hillocks. But that would be unfair to Jan. I brought
the brush down sharply on the nurse's right buttock. Karen's body tensed
in a tight arc, as the area immediately began to discolor.

"My God," she cried, a tear already coming down her perky face. I used about
half my force, bringing the hairbrush down in crisp, biting swats. I covered
every inch of her backside, turning it a nice shade of pink. She took it
well, starting with the usual "ouches" and "eeeks," going on to promises of
being good, finally winding up with real - very real - tears. By the time I
delivered the final whacks to each cheek, Karen was out of control, kicking
her feet wildly, straining at my grip. Rising to her feet, she immediately
brought her hands to a very well spanked and hot backside. (The pink had
turned to a dark red.) Still crying loudly, Karen jumped about the room,
oblivious to the fact her panties had worked themselves completely off,
leaving her nude from the waist down. Calmly, but, obviously shaken, Janet
took hold of her friend's shoulders, leading her to the bedroom where she
could try and recuperate.

Jan returned, asking me to unzip the back of her one piece uniform dress.
Standing there in a bra and half-slip, she bent, over and removed her
panties, explaining how Karen's undies were now ruined due to all the
kicking she had done. With a shrug of her shoulders. she hiked up the hem of
the slip and went directly over my lap, bare backside positioned for
attention.

"What a difference," I thought, as Jan's full and muscular fanny twitched in
the cool air. I often teased her, saying that her derriere was something out
of a painting by Reubens. But no fanny is a match for the hairbrush, as I
found out as the second spanking began. Even the tone of the brush on her
seat was even different. Janet began wriggling in discomfort after about the
eighth whack. Soon the crying started as my sorry wife bucked up and down,
contracting her now crimson globes. Recalling the intensity of my
punishment, I continued on, giving her a real good hiding.

When it was over, Jan stayed across my lap sobbing rather than hopping right
off. I eventually had to help her up, as she had helped me. Karen appeared
from the bedroom still sniffling, a towel wrapped around her midsection.
Together we helped Janet onto the bed. Her friend could not take her eyes of
Jan's well punished rear as she said, "your cheeks look like somebody
painted them red."

I went for the cold cream and drinks, asking Karen if she would like some on
her. Blushing, she nodded her head, tossing off the towel, and stretching
out alongside my wife. I'll never forget that picture, two splendid female
rear ends, one a bright shade of pink, the other a dark crimson. As I
applied the cream to her rear, Karen commented on the spanking, stating it
was unlike anything else she'd ever experienced. She said, "I don't think
I'll be doing any sitting for awhile."

Returning with another round of drinks, I found my wife being massaged by
her young friend. Most of the immediate pain had subsided, although Jan
said her buttocks were still numb. Later on we called out for Chinese
food, which the girls ate in a kneeling position.

That night we asked Karen to stay over, and she decided she would. As we
talked I found out that the whole thing was really a scam and that I had
been deliberately set up. It seems that Karen became fascinated by Janet's
story of spanking me, but did not believe it totally. Wanting to experience
spanking "from the bottom up," they came up with this plot, knowing it would
work, but not realizing how well.

Unfortunately, I never got another chance to paddle Karen, but she would
always give me a wink when we met, rubbing the seat of her pants with a
smile.