{ASSTR 12} Belles Ring, Bottoms Sting {Big Billie} (F/FFF spank, c.) 
 
Belles Ring, Bottoms Sting
 
By Big Billie 
 
© Big Billie 2003. Not to be distributed or sold for monetary gain. 

Author's Statement: Big Billie is opposed to spanking except for consenting adults. 
However, spanking sexually excites him, so he writes about it. 


Some of you may be interested to know what has happened to Mrs. Sally Henderson, Well, as 
we enter the third millennium she is quite a bit older than when she was in her heyday. Indeed, 
she is now a lady in her late-fifties. Mrs Henderson's maiden name, you may recall, was 
Trubshawe and she used to be a teacher by profession - a headmistress no less. Now, however, 
she has given all that up. Her husband is now retired, and she herself has come into quite a bit 
of inherited wealth. So she took advantage of her favourable economic circumstances and 
decided to join her husband in retirement. You will be pleased to read below, however, that 
Sally's disciplinary exploits are by no means at an end.

My name is Angie Phillips and I am 18 years old. With my two best friends, Tracey 
Williams (who is also 18) and Sarah Page (who is 17) I make up an aerobics dance trio, "The 
Dumb Belles." We have been dancing together for about 18 months, and our aim is to win the 
national aerobics dance championships at the end of next season. We are training hard, and 
every Saturday or Sunday we keep ourselves sharp by entering into some competition or other, 
often travelling quite a long way for a good event. 

Just over a year ago, after we had started to show some promise, we were lucky enough to get 
Sally Henderson as our new trainer and coach. Since then she has dedicated herself to training 
us, and she makes a very good job of it. She is particularly strong on the choreography since she 
is a qualified ballet instructor. But, as you know, she also used to teach gymnastics so she is 
excellent on the acrobatic skills and movements as well. With Sally helping us we have won a 
lot of competitions, many more than we did before, and we are up there very near to the top in 
our field.

As soon as Sally became our coach she implemented some new work practices to sharpen us 
up. One of these is the "talk bitterness" sessions. Every week, after our weekend competition, 
Sally drags us out of bed for 7 a.m. on Monday mornings and gets us to change into our 
performance leotards. Then she lines us up and, while we are half naked and feeling at a 
disadvantage, she really tears a strip off us about the inadequacies of our performance in our 
weekend competition. She always does this, even when we win. Sally's husband, Dave, is our 
driver on our weekend excursions, and he takes videos of our performances. We then go back to 
the Hendersons after our competitions before we are taken home. Sally leaves us alone to watch 
the videos, analyse them and discuss among ourselves how we did, and how we could do better. 
She then studies the videos herself and uses them as the basis for the severe dressing down that 
we get on Monday mornings.

There is another aerobics trio called the Balletics who are coached by Sally's archrival Nancy 
Smithers. At 16, 16 and 15 years old they are younger than us. They are also more willowy, 
supple and gracefully built. We are all big, tall, buxom, strapping girls with plenty of meat on 
us. Sally contemptuously refers to the Balletics as "the Bimboes" and nothing gets up her nose 
more than if they come anywhere near close to beating us. In fact, except for once (see below) 
we have always finished ahead of them, and usually well ahead. But, in her speak bitterness 
sessions, Sally never gives us any credit and always ascribes this to the fact that we have, as she 
puts it, "bigger and more provocative arses to wiggle about."

On Mondays, after she has torn a strip off us and told us in no uncertain terms what we are 
doing wrong, Sally follows on with a more constructive talk about how we can put it right. We 
then have a hard training session followed by a hot shower. Then we go to Sally's home for 
breakfast and from there off about our own business. At the training sessions later in the week 
the unpleasantness of Monday mornings is forgotten and Sally is all sweetness and light, 
helping, cajoling, encouraging and bringing out the best in us. In these sessions she will tell us 
that she enjoys going into what she calls her "kinky bitch mode" on Monday mornings, and that 
she does it for our own good. But when once it is over, she will add, it is over, and we can get 
on with the serious job of working on our weak points and improving our act - until next 
Monday that is!

Three months after Sally became our coach we went to a competition one Saturday.  We were 
not on form and for the only time ever the Balletics actually beat us. The next Monday morning 
Sally was furious. She stripped us down to our dance leotards and lined us up as usual. Then she 
strode about imperiously in front of us, and really tore into us. "You were pathetic!" she 
screeched, looking us in the eyes and balling us out. "You went wobbling your great fat arses 
around that floor like a trio of elephants. Oh, my God! Great strapping fully grown women 
beaten by a scrawny pack of nymphettes! You two, Angie and Tracey, you are supposed to be 
adults now. You know: grown up! You've got the vote and everything. And you, Sarah! You are 
almost there as well! The three of you think your so damned professional, and yet you go and 
get beaten by a pack of rank amateurs. Yes! You were all given a bloody good hiding by three 
bimboes hardly out of nappies. Why, one of those little madams isn't even old enough to be 
legally screwed. And you let her and her pals go around the place thrashing the tails off you!"

Sally added a lot more in the same vein, but you get the picture. "I tell you," she went on, "I 
despair. I've told you and told you, and it has done no good at all. I've wasted three months of 
my life on you clowns, and for what? My God, when I was a headmistress, I've slippered the 
bare backsides of girls who were older than you for annoying me a tenth as much as you have. 
Lord, how I wish I had that slipper in my hand now. Big as you are I'd take you down a peg. I'd 
soon rattle your great fat arses for you and no mistake. I've been a damn sight too soft on you 
lot. It's no good talking any more. I've got to do something about it." There was a lot more, but 
you get the picture.

Then Sally began to ball each of us out in turn. She stood with her face close to ours, stared into 
our eyes and yelled at us. "You, Sarah!" she shouted at our youngest member after she had 
given Tracey and me a roasting. "You danced with all the grace of a hippopotamus. What the 
hell were you doing? And what the hell am I supposed to do with you. Go on. Answer me." 
There was then a long embarrassed silence while Sally waited for an answer. "Well, boss", 
answered Sarah at last. (On Mondays we are under strict instructions to refer to our coach as 
"boss" and not as "Sally" as we normally do). "If you think it will help, I am prepared to get my 
arse walloped. I deserve it. We all do." Any way, to cut a long story short, all three of us were 
annoyed with ourselves and furious that we had let the Bimboes beat us. We all said that we 
agreed with Sally and that we would do whatever she ordered us to do in atonement for our 
cock up. "Right, well I can't stand the sight of you any more this morning" fumed our coach. 
"Get out! I'll see you here at 6 a.m. sharp tomorrow. And don't be a second late or you'll regret 
it."

6 a.m., of course, was a lot earlier than we had ever had to show up before, but we were 
nevertheless all there on the dot. Sally, however, had beaten us to it. She told us to strip down to 
our leotards as usual and line up. "Right", she said. "Let's get on with it."
 
To understand what Sally made us do, you need to know a few details about our kit. Our 
leotards are very high cut. They are cut away higher than our waists and expose most of our 
bums. This is pretty standard these days with aerobics costumes, but ours are, if anything, even 
more daring than most of the others, and this fits in well with the image that Sally has 
developed for us. We are big, strapping, raunchy and sexy rather than thin, graceful and elegant. 
Sally likes us to show a lot of arse, and to dance with our big legs and our meaty thighs all bare. 
She encourages us to be provocative and titillating. It follows that one of the cardinal sins for 
Sally is for us to pull down the gussets of our leotards over our bums during a performance, 
particularly since any such unchoreographed movement distracts attention away from the 
dance. "Let them ride up" she will say. "The more bare arse the better." Her view is that you 
cannot take the sexiness out of this kind of dancing without destroying it. You might as well, 
she says, try to take religion out of the churches. I think that is one reason why she chose to train 
us rather than a thinner, less meaty and less womanly group like the Balletics. 

To digress for a moment, by the way, I am very curious about Sally's own sexuality. I know she 
has a husband, and from what I know, and the vibrations that I have picked up, they seem to 
have a pretty wild and exciting sex life, even though they are both well on in years. But I have 
noticed that she also seems to find the three of us very stimulating. She gets us to train without 
tights or leggings. She says this is because she wants to see our leg movements better. 
Whenever she can she always takes the opportunity to strip off and join us in the showers. And 
she really enjoys tearing into us with both her tongue and her slipper on Monday mornings, just 
like a fierce, kinky old lesbian. I reckon that she is a bit AC/DC and likes a piece of plump, 
nubile feminine arse to slap and to gawp at. Not that we girls mind very much, at least as far as 
the gawping bit goes. It is all very flattering.

Anyway, to return to what happened on that Tuesday morning. First of all Sally barked out an 
order that we should bare our bottoms. What she got us to do was to hook our fingers under the 
gussets of our leotards and pull the fabric into the cracks of our bums. This created a G-string 
effect and left our bottoms naked and vulnerable to assault. When we had done this, Sally 
walked around the back of us to make sure that her order had been carried out to her 
satisfaction. "Right!" she said. "Now you will see three crosses marked on the floor in chalk. I 
want you each to stand on the one that is nearest to you, and face the window. Right, now all 
bend over and touch your toes, keeping your legs straight. And I am putting you on your honour 
to relax and take what is coming to you freely, openly, generously and without resentment. I 
want no tightening of the arse muscles. Do you promise?" "Yes, boss." We all mumbled our 
assent and did exactly what Sally instructed us to do. Then we waited in embarrassment and 
trepidation for what would happen next.

Sally then stood behind us and, addressing our arses rather than our faces, told us what she 
intended to do. "From now on", she said, "you will win every event you enter. If you do not you 
will be chastised. If you come second, you will take two slaps each across your bare arses on 
Monday morning. If you come third, you will take three, and so on. This time you will only be 
getting two. But in view of the fact that it was the Bimboes who beat you and not serious 
opposition, I shall be making you feel it. I suppose we have to be careful that your great fat 
arses are in good wiggling condition for the weekends, so I will never be able to slap them as 
hard as I would like to, or as you deserve. We cannot have your bottoms bruised or discoloured, 
so the most you will ever take at any one time is 6, and I will be holding myself back as far as I 
can control my irritation with you. Also, now that you have promised that you will never tighten 
your arse muscles against the slaps, I will dispense with the extra little tail flicks that I usually 
use to soften up the target area. But don't ever come lower than 6th. If you do I will carry the 
surplus slaps over to the next day and double them." The effect of this, if you think about it, is 
that if ever we come 11th, for example, we will take 6, 6, 6 and 4 slaps on successive days. 
Sally has vowed that she will exact that penalty, even if it means that we go into our next 
competition with red marks across the backs of our fanny meat. That would be very 
embarrassing, she says, but serve us right. If ever we come 12th, of course, the chastisement 
will go on for ever, but Sally has said that she might be prepared to make a concession on that! 
Fortunately, we have never, as yet, come lower than 6th!

Sally then went on to tell us how lucky we were. When she was a teacher, she said, she used to 
give big strapping wenches of our age and size 12 of the best every time, and she used to whack 
them a lot harder than she would be able to whack us. And, in addition, she used to soften them 
up with some stinging little flicks beforehand, as she had already explained. "God, you girls 
these days don't know you are born" she concluded. Wow! I can tell you from sharp personal 
experience that that was a straight lie! Shortly after 7 a.m. on a lot of Monday mornings my 
arse, especially its plump undercarriage across the back of my twat, knows that it has been born 
all right! AND it knows that it has just taken a very sharp, sexy, embarrassing, humiliating and, 
to everybody except me, hilarious punishment right where it did not want to take it! "Anyway" 
concluded Sally, "to business!"

Sally then took up her stance adjacent to my bare arse and gently pressed the sole of her 
spanking slipper to the exposed meat of my undercarriage adjacent to my pubes. As you already 
know from what she has told you, this is her favourite part of the arse, the most intimate bit 
right across the back of the fanny where the pubic hairs sprout thickest and the meat is plump 
and tender. Sally then pulled back her arm, and I waited in trepidation for what was about to hit 
me.

Now Sally does not usually whack us as hard as she did this first time. If, for example, we have 
been narrowly beaten by top class opponents she sometimes goes a bit easier with her slipper on 
the following Monday morning. It still comes very sharp but not quite so sharp as you feared it 
might. But on this occasion Sally was very strict with us. For one thing, she had not had the 
chance to smack very much butt in recent years. She enjoys slapping bare bottoms, and had 
been missing it. Now she started to make up for lost time with a vengeance. She also knew that 
she had only two slaps to play with, and she wanted to make sure that we felt them. She thus 
whacked us very sharply and landed the second slap onto exactly the same part of our rumps 
right where they were already stinging from the first slap.

But the main reason that we caught it so sharply that particular morning was because Sally was 
very, very angry with us for letting the Bimboes beat us. She knew, as we all knew, that Nancy 
Smithers was not in the same league as her when it came to coaching, and that we Dumb Belles 
when we were on form were on a different aerobic planet from the Balletics. And yet the 
Balletics had beaten us. It really got her goat, and now she was going to make us pay for it. She 
was going to teach us a very strict and sharp lesson after which we would never be so stupid as 
to lose to them again. So she put real spite, malice and venom into those two slaps that she gave 
to each of us on that Tuesday morning. She laid into us hard, using all the skill in corporal 
punishment that she had built up over years of experience. And, wow, as you will now hear, our 
big fat arses felt it something wicked!

But back to my narrative. Sally was now ready to commence her chastisement of us. She started 
by bringing round the slipper very sharply right across the back of my fanny hairs. I heard it 
swish through the air. There was then a sharp, high-pitched crack of slipper sole against bare 
fanny meat. The force of the slap was a very sharp shock and I let out an involuntary and most 
undignified little scream. "Ouch" I cried. Meanwhile, I felt my bum quiver and start to sting 
sharply. Over the next 4 or 5 seconds, as Sally moved on to her next victim, this sharp stinging 
was supplemented by an infuriating tingle and my bum started ringing like a bell. When my 
own first slap had landed my stinging rump had distracted me from just how loudly it had rung 
out. But when Tracey took it the sharp, sexy crack of plimsoll onto bare meat rang out like a 
rifle shot and it sent a tingly frisson down my spine. We girls make a good team. We are best 
friends. We always support each other and are always very sensitive and sympathetic to each 
other's problems. Now, the crack of that slipper across Tracey's bare bum outraged me. I was 
furious that anyone, even Sally, should dare to do that to her. Even though I was tingling myself, 
I felt indignation against Sally and pity for Tracey welling up inside me. What has that nasty 
cow gone and done to her? I thought. Wow! That must really have stung! Tracey seemed to 
agree. "Aagh!" she yelled, much louder than I had.

Then Sarah took it. Whack! Sarah, I suppose, is the baby of the troupe, and I felt even angrier 
for her. Sally showed her no mercy and the crack that rang around the room as the slipper struck 
the back of her bare fanny was every bit as sharp, shrill and high pitched as the two before it. 
Oh, God, I thought, you poor kid. God, I'll get that spiteful bitch! Meanwhile, Sarah cried out 
gently but in a tone of great urgency "Ow, ow, ow, ooh... Oh my God, that stings, that really 
stings."

Immediately I felt the slipper pressed against my rump again as Sally pushed it to the bare meat 
in preparation for the second shot. "Oh no", I thought to myself, as my bum tingled and sizzled 
from slap number one. "She is lining it up for another slap to exactly the same piece of arse. I 
don't want to take another one like that! Not there, where it's already ringing and stinging. 
Please! Please!" And my bum seemed to give an involuntary shudder in trepidation of what was 
about to hit it. Then round came the slipper again. Crack! Right onto the exact same part of my 
bum across the back of my fanny hairs, where the meat was already tender and tingling. 
Wobble, sting, tingle went my big fat arse! "Oooh! Ooh!" I muttered, biting my lip in pain as the 
tingling from the second slap seemed to be incrementally added to the first.

Now Tracey took her second slap. Crack! This slap too was so loud, sharp and high-pitched that 
it sent another quiver down my spine. "Aagh!" she yelled again, even louder than before. Again, 
resentment and anger at her plight welled up inside me. "Oh, you cow!" I though to myself, 
"You mean, spiteful hag!"

Now as well as being the baby of our troupe, Sarah is also the most cheeky, bubbly, lively and 
vivacious of our number. Unlike Tracey and me who have dark hair, Sarah is a stunning blonde 
with a very curvaceous figure, and she is always the life and soul of the party. She also has a 
very open and generous spirit, and it was, as you may remember, her that first freely offered to 
take the slipper across her arse in atonement for our failings. Now I knew exactly what was 
going on in Sarah's mind. She is fantastically loyal to the troupe, and if Tracey and me were 
being punished, I knew that she wanted to be too. She wanted to take that second slap just as we 
had, in solidarity with us. And she wanted it to be just as hard as the slaps that we had taken. 
She is also very brave, and was prepared to take it. But being also a very chirpy and talkative 
girl it was too much for Sally to expect that she would take it in silence. Thus, as Sally pushed 
the pump to Sarah's bare bottom Sarah continued with her verbals. "Oh, God, that's lined up 
right where the first one landed. God, I'm going to get another one. Right across the fanny hairs 
again! Oh, God. That first slap really stings across a big fat arse like mine. Oh, my God, that 
first one really, really stings. And now I've got to take another one. Right across my big fat arse 
again. Aw, aw, aw!" Sally seemed amused by this, and paused until Sarah had finished her 
running commentary. Then she delivered her sharp, sexy and inevitable riposte. Crack! Sarah's 
bare arse took it again. Again Sally gave absolutely no quarter to our youngest member. Yet 
again the slap echoed and re-echoed around the room. In spite of my own tingling arse, I felt 
another surge of sympathy for Sarah welling up inside me. "Oh, my poor baby" I thought. "I'll 
get that wicked, spiteful witch!"  Meanwhile, to Sally's amusement, Sarah continued with her 
impromptu commentary. "Oh, oh, oh!" she murmured. "Oh, hell, that stings! Oh, God, that 
came really sharp! My big fat arse really, really stings!  Oh, God! Why did you slap us all so 
hard? Why did you have to give it to us so bloody hard? Right across our twats again! Oh God, 
that really, really stings!" And so on, while Sally, amused and gratified, waited patiently for her 
comments to die down. I, of course, heartily endorsed Sarah's views, as I know did Tracey!

Actually, my anger with Sally was very short lived and I soon recalled the promise that we had 
all given beforehand that, in Sally's words, we would submit to the slipper "freely, openly, 
generously and without resentment." After the immediate sting had subsided I realised that she 
had done us no real physical harm and that we deserved and needed to be sharply punished for 
our unprofessionalism in getting beaten by the Bimboes. In any case, I felt no particular 
resentment about what Sally had dished out to me. It was how she had treated my two best 
friends that had got to me. Discussing it afterwards, however, I found that that was exactly the 
way that Tracey and Sarah felt. In any case, afterwards we saw the funny side. We are like three 
great strapping Teutonic Rhine maidens from a Wagner opera, and for us to get spanked like 
naughty little girls is very embarrassing and humiliating, but also very funny and very sexy. And 
what makes it even sexier is that we are spanked very hard, and right onto our bare bottoms. 
Later we all agreed on this, after we had rubbed our stinging rumps and swallowed our initial 
sense of outrage and indignation. So even when Sally started teasing us about it that very 
morning when she came with us into our shower we were already willing to join in the joke. 

Then Sally asked us if we wanted to carry on with the new system of discipline, and after 
talking about it among ourselves overnight we gave her our answer at the next training session. 
Yes, we said, carry on slapping, at least for the time being. And that has been the position ever 
since. We know we could make Sally stop if we wanted to, but we don't. For one thing, that 
slipper really has sharpened us up. The answer to Sarah's question as to why Sally slaps us so 
hard is that it works, and Sarah and the rest of us now accept this! Take the issue of the 
Bimboes, for instance. As I have said above, wow, but did Sally let us have it after we had lost 
to them. But also, was the chastisement effective! You bet it was! We are all absolutely 
determined never to take another two slaps like those again, and now we always dance the 
Bimboes off the floor! It is also very important to us that, if we are slapped, we all get slapped 
together and all get the same dose. We are a team, and if one of us louses up, we are all 
prepared to take the rap; and to take it all together builds up our mutual sympathy and support 
for each other. We often have a laugh and a joke about how Sally strips and slaps us, but always 
as a trio, and never at each other's expense. Sally, of course, is a skilful trainer. She realises all 
this and consciously uses her system of discipline as a means of building up our team spirit.

Anyway, let me return again to the events of that Monday morning. We were still, you may 
remember, bending over with our fingers on our toes. Then Sally barked out an order.  "Right", 
she said, "Lift your fingers off your toes and put them on top of your heads. Then line up and 
listen up. Wincing and tingling, and feeling very humiliated and chastened, we obediently did 
as we were told and stood there with our big bare bums ringing. We were unable to rub them as 
Sally dished out another verbal roasting. "I want you to remember what it feels like right now. 
As Sarah says, the slipper comes very sharp across a great fat bare arse, doesn't it? Well, let me 
tell you, it will go on coming sharp in exactly the same place unless there is a big improvement 
in your attitude and your work rate." And so on. Sally really rubbed it in, but after she had 
chastised us and humiliated, teased and taunted us with some very sexy verbals, she adopted a 
more constructive tone, and told us how to improve. Then she told us to pull down the gussets 
of our leotards over our butts. Before we did that, however, we all took the opportunity to give 
our bottoms a thorough and rueful rubbing. Then we got stuck into a hard training session. 
There followed the usual shower, as mentioned above, during which we ruefully inspected each 
others' reddened bums and compared notes on them while Sally, who was in the shower with 
us, lasciviously eyed up our rumps and grinned broadly.

And that is what has happened ever since, with minor variations. On a lot of Mondays we do 
not take the slipper, since we win a lot of our competitions. But we still get a verbal roasting, 
and Sally always tells us that we deserve it, and that she is itching to give it to us. (I bet she is!) 
But when we do take the slipper, Sally only ever slaps us the stipulated number of times.

On the Mondays when we get slapped, Sally strips us to our leotards and makes us line up. 
Then she softens us up with a verbal roasting, starting in general terms and then analysing each 
of our performances in turn. Then she winds us up with some persiflage about what will happen 
next. "Do you know what I am going to do now?" she asks us. Then she walks along the line 
eyeballing us each in turn from a distance of a few inches. "Go on, you, Sarah, tell me. Do you 
know?" Pause. "Yes, boss." "Well, go on. Tell me. Start at the beginning." "You are going to 
bare our backsides for us, boss." "Yes, what then?" And so on. Then, "And why am I going to 
do that, Tracey?" "Because we were crap on Saturday, boss." "That's right you were crap. What 
were you, Angie?" "Crap, boss." "What? Louder!" "Crap." Etc., etc. "Right, ladies." (On 
Mondays Sally only ever refers to us as "ladies" in the most disparaging of tones!) "Bare your 
arses, take up your positions, and bend over." Swish, crack, sting, tingle, next arse. Swish, 
crack, sting, tingle, next arse, etc. "Now hands on top of your heads and line up again." Then 
follows the more constructive analysis, which we take in very well with the sharp spur of our 
tingling arses to remind us of the consequences of not paying attention!

After we have taken the rap, verbal and also sometimes physical, on Monday mornings, all 
unpleasantness is forgotten and Sally is very nice to us for the rest of the week. She makes no 
secret of the fact that she enjoys playing the part of the stern dominatrix, and that she likes 
spanking us. She says that the ruling of the European Court in the 1980s on corporal 
punishment in schools, which effectively ended the practice in state schools, had made it more 
and more difficult for her to pursue her interest as part of her job. Then, in the 1990s, the 
government finally banned all forms of spanking and caning in private schools, such as the one 
in which Sally worked. She thus welcomes the chance to take up her interest again now. And an 
advantage with us, she adds, is that she is able to rub it in a lot more with her sexy verbal wind-
ups. This, she says, was more difficult, apart from the odd sexy quip, when she was smacking 
schoolgirls' bottoms. She also tells us, from time to time, that we are "sports" and that she really 
appreciates what we are letting her do to us.

The fact remains, however, that the main justification for our roastings is that they definitely 
seem to improve our performance. Sally is so experienced and skilful with that slipper! She 
knows exactly where, and exactly how hard to apply it for maximum effect. It always seems to 
land exactly on the plump, hairy fanny meat across the back of the twat, right where you don't 
want it to and where the meat is all juicy and tender. Believe me, there is no more sexy, 
embarrassing or humiliating place to take it! Sally always finishes us off with three whacks 
there, if she has them to play with, after she has spread any others evenly over the rest of the 
bum. She says that she always used to whack her bigger teenaged victims at school 6 times 
across the twat and six times across the rest of the bum, a total of 12 of the best. So, she says, 
we are getting off very lightly. Are we hell! Sally knows just how to tease, torment and infuriate 
us with that slipper. God, but she winds us up, and she doesn't half make it sting! And 
afterwards, having to stand there with your hands on your head unable to massage your stinging 
rump is really maddening especially when you have to take all the sexy verbals, mickey taking 
and put downs at the same time. Yet she is also so damned skilful at not seriously injuring or 
permanently marking or bruising our butts, which are always arse-waggling good again by the 
next competition. Sally says that she never really bruises or discolours our butts, and that 
therefore no real damage is done and that the whole business is no big deal. But, my goodness, 
it is! She really gives it to us, and, as I say, it doesn't half sting. She always makes us grunt, gasp 
and curse at the force of the blows, and bite our lips at the way she makes us tingle. But she just 
thinks that all that is funny, especially if she can goad Sarah into one of her impromptu running 
commentaries. She loves that! Anyway, as well as being very sexy, embarrassing and 
humiliating, our punishment is also very, very effective. When we have had one of our periodic 
spankings from Sally we really buckle under to our training programme, no matter how onerous 
it is. It works wonders for our motivation and in my view is the single most important reason 
why we are so successful.

Sally has sworn that she will never tell anyone what she is doing to us, to save us from 
embarrassment. However, Sally adds that she has no secrets from her husband, Dave, and that 
she tells him everything. Dave Henderson is a retired Police Chief; he is a great favourite of the 
troupe, and has absolutely no side. He is always kind and considerate to us girls, and spends a 
large amount of his time and money driving us around, looking after us, buying us food and 
other things and generally being generous to us. He is, in short, a perfect gentleman, and always 
treats us as ladies and with the greatest of courtesy. But he is also a very dirty old man! Since 
we started taking the slipper Dave has been driving Sally and us to the gym on Monday 
mornings. It is quite clear that he contrived to do this so that he could see us get slapped. The 
lascivious old bugger! Sally, indeed, is quite open about it. She asked us what we thought about 
Dave coming along, and we said we had no objections. As far as we are concerned, if it turns 
Dave on then he deserves it for all the help he gives us. And according to Sally, wow, but does 
it turn him on! While he waits to drive us all off to breakfast at the Hendersons' place he 
watches our training sessions. From where he sits he has a perfect view of our bare arses as they 
take the rap, since Sally makes us face the window with our naked twats and our hairy cunt 
meat pointing towards him. And, of course, he gets to hear all the rollockings and the sexy 
verbal wind-ups. Sally says he finds it all very stimulating. Yes, I bet he does! I bet the randy 
old pervert thinks all his birthdays have come at once! According to Sally, it gives him a real 
hard on, and it works wonders for her sex life when he gets her home! Apparently, Dave has 
always been turned on by Sally's disciplinary exploits. I believe you have already heard the story 
about how they got off in the first place when Sally was a recently qualified teacher. That tale 
too features a number of young ladies getting their bare bottoms smacked! With us, says Sally, 
Dave is really turned on when his diminutive wife (Sally is only 5'3" tall) takes down and 
humiliates three big strapping sexy ladies by stripping them bare, bending them over and 
slapping their great fat arses. This may seem kinky, but, well, wouldn't it turn most men on? 
You bet it would!
 

 
 
