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100 Spankings

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“I’ve always fantasized about being spanked by a group of strangers.”

It had taken forever for her to spit it out. Wicke wasn’t exactly ashamed of her sexual interests, but there was no telling how Guzma would react to anything, and the former Team Skull leader was a bit of a blabbermouth. Wicke knew that once she was “out” as a masochist, she’d never hear the end of it from people who thought they knew everything about the world of BDSM, thanks to its increasing prevalence in cheap romance novels.

“Huh.” Guzma took a sip of his Tapu Cocoa, staring thoughtfully into space. “As stranger-themed fantasies go, that one’s pretty mild. It also happens to be one you could do something about.” He looked around the malasada shop and lowered his voice—a bit too late for that, Wicke thought. “I don’t tell this to just anyone, but you’re special and I’ve always liked ya, so I won’t beat around the bush. I’m a member of the Stinging Palms Club. We’re a group of folks who either enjoy giving spankings or receiving them. On the third Friday of every week, we get together for a spank-a-thon.” He raised an eyebrow. “That’s in two days. You interested?”

“I might be,” she said, trying to suppress her excitement. “But isn’t it sort of short notice? I mean, don’t you people have to prepare and everything?”

“Naw. Right now, we’re in the middle of a spankee shortage. I dunno what that’s about, ‘cause when I joined, everyone wanted to be spanked.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a heavily creased packet, similar to something one might fill out at the doctor’s office. “Just fill this out and give it back to me by tomorrow evening. If you’re interested, I mean.” He looked embarrassed all of a sudden. “Not that you have to answer me or anything, but…Are you experienced in being spanked? I wouldn’t recommend this if you aren’t.”

“I am.” She slipped the sheet into her purse. “About four years ago, I was in a relationship with someone who introduced me to spanking. Don’t you worry—I’m tougher than I look.”

He nodded and grinned at her. “Never doubted that, ma’am.”


That night, Wicke unfolded the form Guzma had given her. It was two-sided, with a great deal of questions. The Stinging Palms Club had put a lot of effort into ensuring that every taste and orientation would be catered to. This form was for spankees; it appeared that there was a different form for spankers.

The rules of the spank-a-thon were simple: 10 spankers would administer 10 spankings each to the spankee. Guzma was right--this wasn’t an event for beginners.

A spanking bench would be provided at the location of the spank-a-thon; spankees were encouraged to bring anything else they would like to use (such as blindfolds or gags) or would like to be used on them (floggers, paddles, etc.). Spankers were also allowed to bring their own tools, but only from a list of instruments that had been pre-approved by the spankee. Over-the-knee spankings were allowed, but only with the permission of the spankee. Spankers were not to touch the anus or genitals of the spankee; however, groping and/or spreading of the buttocks and/or thighs was allowed at the discretion of the spankee. Orgasm was allowed, but any mess made would have to be cleaned up by the one who made it.

In order to deliver the ultimate in spanking experience, we would like you to fill out the following section as completely and honestly as possible.

How much experience in being spanked do you have? Please be as specific as you are comfortable with regarding number of partners, what sorts of implements you were spanked with, length of time, and intensity.

It was an open-ended question with several blank lines provided. She answered the question in as much detail as she could. A surge of excitement ran through her body as she realized that someone would be reading these intimate facts about her life. Did they want to know about the pussy spankings her ex-boyfriend had given her? The heavy flogger he had used on her breasts? Or were these spankings limited to the bottom? She decided that she should mention the other experienced areas, just to be sure.

Which instruments are you willing to have used on you? Please check all that apply.

Wicke had considered herself to be quite experienced as a spankee, but her eyes widened and her stomach did flip-flops as she looked at all the options. “Hairbrush”? “Towel”? “Slipper”? The image of a footprint embedded in her pale flesh came unbidden to her mind, and she placed a very dark, very satisfying checkmark next to the “Slipper” option, as well as the “Hairbrush” option. (Which side would the spanker use?)

The open hand was a given—she had loved the intimacy of her ex’s hand, the way it had stroked her, gripped and squeezed her flesh, occasionally slipping a finger inside…. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a minute to savor the memory before checking off the “Open hand” option, as well as “Flogger,” “Ruler,” “Paddle (smooth),” and “Paddle (studs).” The list went on for the remainder of the page: “Paddle (holes),” “Paddle (electric),” “Cane,” “Riding crop/horsewhip,” “Signal whip,” “Tawse,” “Cane (rattan),” “Cane (metal),” “Cane (bamboo)” …. There were also ten spaces for “Other (please specify).”

Well, she certainly wasn’t up for all of these. Canes had always made her nervous, and electric paddles, while intriguing, sounded terrifying. Would a feather duster even hurt? And she had heard single-tailed whips were dangerous, although she wasn’t sure why. Brycen had never tried them.

Brycen…No. If she started thinking about him, she’d never get this filled out. She licked her lips and continued to study her options. She made a few more selections and turned the page.

For the next section, please indicate your preferences regarding the various elements of a scene.

These questions were to be answered on a scale of one to ten. Even the first element, “Pain,” would take some time to answer. She had been able to endure some pretty intense spankings, but what did she truly prefer? No, there was no hiding it—Wicke was a true pain slut, and the harder the spankings, the better. She marked “9” on the scale, just in case even she could not handle the spankers at their toughest.

The next element was “humiliation.” What did they mean by that? There were so many different ways to humiliate a person: verbal abuse, exposure, commenting on the particulars of one’s body parts. She’d better call Guzma and see if he had any insight.

“Y’ello.” Before Wicke could respond, Guzma yelled, “YO! I’m on the phone here!” to someone (or several someones) in the background. “Sorry ’bout that. Someone started up a hose fight. You got a question, or did you just call to chat?”

“I have a question. On the humiliation scale, what sort of humiliation are they talking about?”

“Uhhh, hold on a sec.” Once again, Guzma shouted at whoever he was with, “I’ll be right back! The place’d better still be standing when I’m back!” The background noise faded into silence. “You still there, Wicke?”


“Well, there are all kinds of humiliation, y’know. Some of the spankers get pretty nasty with the verbal stuff, saying things like ‘You’re digusting’ or telling the spankee that no one will ever love ‘em. It’s not really my style. Others will just embarrass the spankee by taking notice of their physical reactions, tease ‘em a bit. And some just like to cop a feel—that can be humiliating to the right person.”

Wicke instinctively squeezed her thighs together. “I imagine. How do I indicate which type of humiliation I want?”

He sighed. “I don’t know why they did this, but you can explain all that jazz at the end of the packet. There’s an entire two pages of blank lines where you can customize your experience, so to speak. It’s important that you be specific, because we won’t do anything you don’t explicitly ask us to do.”

We, he had said. Her entire body felt sensitive, and she wondered if she’d be able to get through the application without getting distracted.


“Um…yes,” she blurted out. “Thank you. I’ll try not to bother you again tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Ask me any time. The pleasure’s all mine.” He guffawed. “Just kiddin’! See ya!” But before he hung up, he added, “I mean, I’m kidding about the innuendo. Sorta. But not about you asking me any time.” Then he hung up.

Wicke slowly set her phone down and leaned back in her seat. She had always liked Guzma, even when she disagreed with his behavior. His respect for Lusamine had been charming, in a way—until she had realized how much pain it had caused him, at least. And he was attractive, even though no one else ever seemed to notice.

He had said he was joking about the innuendo, but was he trying to tell her something? Was he looking forward to seeing her bent over on one of those spanking benches, to striking her fat bottom with his hand, with a paddle, with a riding crop? Her thighs parted unconsciously as she remembered her last spanking experience.

“You’ve got a such a squeezable, fuckable, spankable ass.” Dirty talk wasn’t Brycen’s thing, she knew, but he was a superb actor and played the role of cocky horndog excellently. “I bet all the men at work can’t resist staring at this fat ass as soon as you turn around.”

“No, not at all!” she insisted as he trailed his cool fingertips over her sensitized skin. “They’re all very good men. They would never--!”

“How do you know if you’re not looking at them?” He squeezed her ass cheeks together before letting them go and giving her bottom a good slap. “I know you’ve been hoping they would. I know how you like to tease. You’re a bad girl, Wicke, and you know what happens to bad girls.”

“Ahh….” Wicke pushed her rump against his hands. “They get punished.”

“Indeed.” He got up from the bed, walked across the room, and opened a drawer from his dresser. “And I know just what I’m going to use on you….”


Wicke’s eyes fluttered open.

Her bedside clock told her it was 7:30 in the morning. She sighed, then smiled. Oh, well. She still had until tonight.

Typical, she thought as she stepped into the shower. I can’t keep my hands off myself when I remember that spanking. Even though it had proven to be too much for her, the memory never failed to drive her into a lustful frenzy, especially when she imagined it from Brycen’s point of view. How helpless and pathetic she must have looked, her eyes wide and brimming with tears, saliva spilling from her mouth, her ass and legs spread, exposing her slick, red netherlips….

Well, that was why she had spent the rest of the night pleasuring herself after quickly marking an “8” on the Humiliation scale. How many orgasms had she had? Three? Four? It was all a blur to her now.

Clean and refreshed, Wicke made herself an egg-and-toast sandwich before returning to the packet.

The next scale was “Speech,” an indicator of how much she wanted her spankers to talk to her. 1 was complete silence; 10 was never shutting up. She chose 7; a big part of her humiliation fetish involved being spoken to.

The next three scales were similar: “Touching,” “Groping,” and “Spreading.” Touching was the tamest of the three, refering to simple brushes or caresses of the skin. Groping involved squeezing and fondling of the buttocks and thighs, and spreading was pulling the ass cheeks and/or thighs apart to expose the spankee’s genitals and anus; however, touching of these parts was not allowed. Wicke marked 9 for touching, 9 for groping, and 3 for spreading.

There were two scales left. First, there was the “Sting vs. Thud” scale, with all Sting being a 1 and all Thud being a 10. She had tried “thuddy” spankings before and didn’t like them; she marked 2.

The final scale was “Surprise.” A low scale indicated that she wanted the spankers to explain what they were going to do to her, what implements they would use, etc. A higher scale meant that she wanted no explanations, and no mental preparation—she wouldn’t know what her spanker would use, or whether they would start with lighter spanks and work their way up, or how rapid the spanks would be. After thinking about it, Wicke marked 9.

She turned the page. The next section discussed the use of safewords: a safeword was necessary if she planned on pretending to resist the spankers by saying “No” or “Stop.” A safeword was also used by many people, even if they were not planning on roleplaying—something that might stand out in a scene more than “No.” Wicke knew about the “traffic light” system, which the packet outlined as an example. Wicke didn’t feel she needed a safeword, but decided to agree to the traffic light system, just in case.

The last two pages were, just as Guzma had said, filled with blank lines for her to write specifics pertaining to her fantasy. She filled in as many details she could. No one was to say anything about her identity, even if they knew who she was—except for Guzma. No one was to spank her over the knee—except for Guzma. She wouldn’t complain if her anus was exposed, but she preferred to have no intentional spreading. Her thighs could be spread minimally. No comments about her weight. Comments about her ass were appreciated if they were complimentary. Etc., etc.

The more she wrote, the easier it became; she could see the entire fantasy playing before her. The final spanking was the most important; it should be Guzma. It had to be Guzma. Who would read this? Would they laugh at her? She felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. It was strange; after being with Brycen, she had never imagined she would want someone like Guzma to touch her.

“I’m sorry this didn’t work out.” Wicke buried her face in Brycen’s chest so he wouldn’t see the tears in her eyes.

“Me, too.” He squeezed her, resting his chin on the top of her head. “But you’ve got to follow your calling, just like I did. I know you’ll make hundreds of Pokemon happy—and, hopefully, a few men or women, too.”

She snorted with laughter. “I don’t know about that.”

“I do. Look at you—you look no different from when I first fell for you. And more importantly, you’re no different on the inside. You still care about Pokemon. You’re still kind and generous with everyone. And you’re still the best spankee anyone could ask for.”

She laughed again and pulled away from him before wiping her eyes. “Thank you, Brycen. I’m going to miss you.” She turned around and headed for the boarding dock.

“Wait, wait. There’s something I want to give you.” Brycen reached into his backpack.

Wicke’s eyes widened when she saw the long, thin box he held out to her. “Is…is that…?”

“Yeah.” He grinned. “You said you wanted to work up to it again someday, but we never got around to it, did we? Give this to someone who can help you surpass your limits.”

“Is it really okay?”

“I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of finding a box if I didn’t plan on giving it to you.” He placed the box in her hands. Oh, God, there were tears in his eyes. “I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have it used on than you. And I mean that with the utmost adoration and respect.”

She took it from him and held it close, like a stuffed animal, her heart pounding. “Thank you so much. I promise to take good care of it.”

“Do what you want with it. It’s yours now.” Brycen stepped back a couple of feet and waved. “Come back and visit sometime. We can exchange stories.”

“I will!” she called after him. “I promise!”

It wasn’t that Wicke had intended to break that promise; and indeed, she hadn’t. It was just that she didn’t want to return to Unova without having even one spanking story to tell Brycen. With everything that had happened at Aether Paradise, she had been too busy to date anyone, let alone discuss spanking with them. Guzma had really been the only one she could even call a friend; everyone else simply saw her as “Ms. Wicke,” the maternal assistant branch chief (and now acting president).

She was attracted to Guzma; he was different from the other men she’d known in her life. He was honest, blunt, and cocky, yes, but he was also friendly. He made her laugh. He spoke to her like she was one of his buddies—somehow, he had sensed that that was what she wanted. He must be a nice person, if he had taken in so many teens who had failed their trials and given them a place to stay.

What would he say, what would he think, when he heard about the special role she wanted him to play in the upcoming spankathon? If he rejected her proposition, fine. It was impersonal enough to not be a problem. But if he didn’t…Well, she might be even more flustered than if he did.

She stood up and stretched. Now, all she had to do was return the packet to Guzma.


Guzma, much to her happy embarrassment, offered to look over her packet before turning it over to the Stinging Palms Club. “Some people come up with wild, crazy ideas that just aren’t doable,” he explained. “Like, one crazy motherfucker—sorry—wanted us to use a fishing rod on him, of all things. Not a single one of us was willing to do it.”

“I would imagine.” And she had thought a slipper was strange! “Yes, I wouldn’t mind. But don’t tell me what you think of my final proposition. I want to be surprised.”

He stared at her for a moment, then finally nodded. “Understood.” He opened the packet and began to read.

She enjoyed watching his reactions, subtle as they were. A couple of times, she thought she saw a hint of a smile, but she couldn’t be sure. Now and then, he raised an eyebrow. She wondered what, exactly, he found so perplexing.

Finally, a real smile flashed on his face when he got to the end of the final page, but it disappeared as quickly as it had shown up. He cleared his throat, then folded up the packet.

“Yeah, we can do this,” he told her. “Your amount of detail was better than a lot of the first-timers wrote. I don’t think very many people get that the less detail they give us, the milder we have to be. Someone’s far more likely to be traumatized by spankings that are too intense or frightening than by those that are too mild.” He stuffed the packet into his backpack and grinned. “I know some of the other spankers are going to be pleased by this, too.” He gave her the location and time of the spankathon. “Be sure to be on time, unless you want some extras.” He winked at her. “Just kiddin’. I’m lookin’ forward to it!”


Wicke had avoided arousing material all day; she doubted she would get wet enough to soak the floor (or someone’s knee), but it had been a long time, and for all she knew, the spankers might even be more skilled than Brycen. Part of her was disappointed that nobody would be fingering her or touching her clitoris, but it was probably just as well, as she wasn’t sure she was willing to expose that much of herself to strangers.

Her legs felt wobbly as she stepped into the elevator. Who would have thought that Alola’s Grand Resort would allow clubs like the Stinging Palms to meet in one of their basement floors? Or maybe the owner himself was interested in spankings? It was an exciting thought.

When she stepped out of the elevator at floor B2, it was so dark that she thought she had selected the wrong floor. Her heart pounded in her chest; part of her wanted to be at the wrong place. She could still turn back. But no, that would be rude.

Get over it, she told herself. You wanted this. You want it now. Think of how long you’ve waited for this. Think about how many people will get hard or wet from leaving their marks on your ass.

“Having second thoughts?” Guzma’s voice made her jump; she had not seen him in the shadows. “It’s okay if you wanna back out, y’know. We’re used to it. No hard feelings.”

Knowing she had the choice to change her mind cleared away any doubts Wicke had. She straightened her back and stepped forward decisively. “I’m ready at any time, Mr. Guzma.”

“Pfff.” He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s just ‘Guzma.’ ‘Big, bad Guzma,’ or ‘your boy Guzma,’ but never ‘Mr. Guzma.’ We’re friends now, aren’t we?”

She chuckled. “I guess so. You could have told me sooner, you know.”

“Yeah, well….” Guzma looked away, scratching his head with what he probably hoped to be a nonchalant air. “I’m never sure what to expect with you. You’re full of surprises, Wicke.”

The way he said her name sent shivers down her spine. Was he embarrassed? How adorable. “So everyone else is here, then?”

“Not everyone. Just ten of us. We adhere to a strict sequence so that everyone gets a chance.” Now that Guzma was back to playing the expositor, he seemed to have regained control of himself. “If you’re ready, come with me, and I’ll tell you what to do.”

She followed him down the hall to a door marked “Storage D.” Guzma pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door, then stepped inside and turned on the lights.

“This room is always locked,” he said, “and both the keys belong to the club. You won’t have to worry about anyone coming in here while we’re in session.”

She stepped into the room and took in her surroundings. There were drab, beige walls walls and a cement floor, except for an old, pale pink sofa in one corner, and what she knew was the spanking bench in the center.

“Have you ever used one before?” Guzma asked.

Wicke shook her head and slowly approached the apparatus. It wasn’t difficult to figure out; there were places to rest her body, arms, legs, and face. “What’s the weight limit?”

“Four hundred pounds. It can hold me, so it shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“Ha, ha….” Wicke felt herself blush at his words. “I think I can figure out how to do this. Are you going to strap me in?”

“I’d be honored,” he said. “But first, I’m going to leave the room so you can undress. Just let me know when you’re done, and I’ll come back inside.”

“Why leave the room?” she asked. “You’re going to see my bottom anyway.”

He shrugged. “Consenting to one thing isn’t the same as consenting to everything else. Undressing for someone is a very intimate thing that not everyone wants to do. If you want, you can even keep your clothes on and just take off your panti—um, your underwear.”

At least he was respectful, Wicke thought. After considering it, she realized it would be more exciting if he saw her naked rear end for the first time when he was about to spank her. “I think I will just take off my panties, then. You may as well stay here; I can remove them without you seeing anything.” She sat on the sofa and removed her shoes and stockings, the latter of which were attached by garters.

“I’ve always been an old-fashioned sort of woman,” she explained to Guzma, who was watching her with a bemused expression. “I never did trust elastic.”

“I never thought about it,” Guzma admitted. “It’s not like I wear hose myself.”

Something in his eyes made her want to throw herself at his feet. Intentionally or not, he was tapping into her submissive nature. Was he looking forward to this as much as she was? She hoped so.

Wicke removed her panties in a swift, smooth motion, then put them in her purse along with her stockings. Immediately, she felt naughtier, bolder. She stood up, and even though she knew Guzma couldn’t see anything, she felt as naked as if she’d just stepped out of the bath.

“Okay,” she said, “I think I know where I need to put everything, but I might need the spanking bench adjusted.”

Guzma nodded. “I tried to set it up to match your size and proportions, but we’ll have to see.”


Guzma had never touched Wicke so intimately before. He moved in a detached manner, never touching her needlessly or inappropriately, but his hands were steady and deliberate.

“How’s this?” he frequently asked. “Are you comfortable? Do you want your legs closer together? Can you breathe?”

“Yes, I’m very comfortable,” she answered. “I feel like I’m about to get a massage.”

“Okay, then….” Guzma licked his lips, then knelt next to the bench. “The blindfold is in your purse?”


She listened with anticipation and excitement as he opened her purse and searched its contents. Her panties were neatly folded inside, along with the blindfold and one more thing….

“Ah, I see you brought the object you mentioned on that final page.”

“Y-yes.” Did this mean he had accepted her proposal? With her legs slightly spread, she felt even more exposed than before. Were her juices glistening on her outer labia? Could Guzma see?

“Okay,” he said, giving nothing away as he returned to the bench with only the blindfold. Her heart sank with disappointment, but she had asked him to surprise her; if he brought the other item over now, she would know for sure that he intended to use it. “You want the blindfold on last?”

“I do,” she answered, although she would be able to see very little with her face resting on the head restraint. “How did you know?”

“Experience.” He set the blindfold on the floor and began to strap her in. “There’s a certain…finalness of having your vision taken from you, right? And it kinda sets up a barrier. It’s like you’re becoming someone else.” With the manner of a man who knew what he was doing, he slipped two of his fingers under the straps binding her left arm. “How’s that? It ain’t too tight?”

“No, it’s very comfortable.” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears. Breathless. Youthful. Like a girl on her first date. How sad, she thought, that she associated excitement with being so young. Her everyday life had become dreary, devoid of pleasure and passion. She had needed something like this, she realized, ever since she had finished studying the Ultra Beasts and returned to the more monotonous aspects of office life.

After Guzma had checked the other three restraints, he said, “I’ll need to take your glasses if you want to use the head restraint.”

“I do. Please place them in their case in my purse. I’m sorry I didn’t remove them before.” How silly of her to forget. Then again, Wicke only ever took off her glasses to sleep and shower.

“’Sokay.” Guzma did as Wicke said, came back to the bench, and picked up the blindfold. “Here ya go.” He knelt in front of her, looking directly into her eyes. “Heh, heh. My face’ll be the last thing you see for a while.”

Wicke smiled at him. “No complaints here.”

“Didn’t think so.” He gave her a lopsided grin before obscuring her vision with the black silk he placed over her eyes. “All right, it’s just about time. Remember, any time you want us to stop, just say so. Any time you want, you can leave, no questions asked. We want you to have a good time tonight, but we won’t force it on ya.” He lightly tousled her hair. “See ya later, Wicke.”

Guzma’s retreating foosteps echoed throughout the room as he made his way to the door. Wicke heard the sound of a door opening.

The lights went out, and the door closed with a final-sounding click.

After that, there was only silence.

Wicke counted the seconds in her head: One, two, three, four…all the way to thirty. Where was everyone? They wouldn’t leave her down here alone, would they? No, of course not. Guzma, if no one else, wouldn’t do that. He’s a coarse man, but he wouldn’t abandon anyone when they were this helpless.

The door opened.

She heard the sound of someone approaching. She couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like they were wearing heels.

“Good evening,” the voice said. A woman. Wicke wasn’t certain, but it sounded familiar; perhaps she had heard it on TV. “While I do not expect you to answer, I would like you to think about what you desire from tonight’s experience. Does the sting of a whip or paddle excite you? Is it the impact that you enjoy? Or do you love the anticipation? The dread? What sounds and smells please you the most?”

Ah, this one was a talker. Wicke’s sense of familiarity faded; she was certain she did not know this person. If she had heard her voice somewhere, it had not been for long.

“The sound of this instrument flying through the air brings me to the heights of ecstasy. I hope you will appreciate it as well.” There was a tickling sensation at the base of Wicke’s spine, and she immediately knew the tool this woman would be using. “Here I come.”

Wicke had but a brief moment to consider the whistling sound of the riding crop before it landed soundly on her bottom. It was a light, teasing hit, but the one that followed was much more intense. Two, she counted, before three more strikes landed in quick succession. A stinging sixth strike struck her at the top of her left thigh. There was a pause, then the final four were carried out, slower than the previous three, but just as hard. At the same time, Wicke wasn’t sure that painful was the word she would use to describe them.

“Well done,” the mystery woman said. “I must admit, I may have gone a bit too easy on you. Don’t expect the next one to show you any mercy.”

I hope they don’t, Wicke thought. Her rear wasn’t even tingling.

As she waited for the second spanker of the evening, Wicke couldn’t help but feel nervous. Maybe 9 had been too high a level for pain. Maybe her threshold was lower than she thought. What if her 9 turned out to be a spanker’s 2?

Remember, any time you want us to stop, just say so.

That’s right, she reminded herself. I can stop at any time, and it’s my responsibility to do so, even if it’s embarrassing. I can’t let pride get in the way of safety.

“I see you enjoyed the first set.” It was another woman; she sounded like she was trying a bit too hard to humiliate her subject. “Because I can see how excited you are. But this next one will be for my enjoyment, not yours. I intend to take my time. If I hear any complaints, you will be severely punished. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Wicke answered, then stifled a moan as she felt the woman’s hands on her bottom. They were smooth and soft, modest in size, but not at all uncertain in their skill.

“Don’t bother trying to deny it,” she continued. “I can see how…how wet you are.” Even as she stumbled over her words, tipping Wicke off to the possibility that she might be new to this sort of setting (or to verbal humiliation, perhaps), her hands continued their gentle assault on Wicke’s ass.

Wicke managed not to groan from disappointment when the spanker’s hands pulled back. She longed to feel them again, but this was a spanking event, after all.

“Good. I can see you’re ready for me.”

This time, just as Wicke had hoped, there was no warning before the tails of the flogger hit her flesh. Her breath caught in her throat, but she wanted her cries to be forced from her, so she stayed silent.

“Did you like that, little dove?” A single finger trailed over Wicke’s skin. “You’re so pale. The red marks and welts will contrast nicely, don’t you think?”

God, she wanted that finger in her pussy, or even in her ass. She wanted those gentle hands to spread her open. To hell with the paperwork! What had she been thinking? They should have had her fill it out now, when her tolerance for embarrassment was much higher. Let them see her asshole. Who cared?

“Do you want more?” The spanker’s voice was breathless. “How about you try asking me? And don’t forget to say ‘please.’”

Wicke wanted to laugh. This woman was so bad at this, but at least she had spirit. “Please spank me some more, mistress. I deserve it.” She did deserve it. She had been working so hard lately, and deserved all the pleasure she could get from being spanked.

“All right, then.” The woman might be a bad actor, but her formula in delivering the next six strikes was honed down to a perfect rhythm, and each hit was harder than the last. And then the hands, oh! Those delicious, soft hands were on her ass again, rubbing it, massaging it, moving down to her thighs, then back up again.

This woman had a magic tough; she seemed to know all of Wicke’s “feel-good” points instinctively. She could get used to this. It would certainly help her relax at night.

The woman pulled her hands away. Just like before, she gave no warning as she delivered the final three blows. They definitely stung more than the previous ones, leaving the first woman’s spankings in the dust.

“That was very satisfying,” the woman said, letting out a contented sigh. “I was right about the contrast on your skin. The others will be delighted.” She gave Wicke’s bottom a few more rubs before walking away.

There was no hiding her arousal now, Wicke thought. Maybe she should have held on to the panties. Then again, the room was still pretty dark…but the other woman had said she could see how wet Wicke was….

The door slowly opened, and the distinct sound of squeaky rubber soles came from the entrance and quickly approached her. She smiled, thinking how hilarious it would be if the only person she knew whose shoes squeaked were here. But no, surely that would be too much of a—

“Well, what have we here?”

Oh, God, it was him. She’d know this high, nasal voice anywhere. Sometimes, when she couldn’t think of anything else to fantasize about, she had allowed the surprisingly sexy voice to speak to her in her mind, saying the filthiest things, things that would make the man himself blush…or so she had thought.

“I see this marvelous posterior has already received some punishment tonight, but do you really know who it is you are dealing with, my dear? I, the Great Master F, will not be gentle. Grovel and beg all you like, but there is nothing you can do to escape your fate. You will feel the sting of my palm against your backside.”

Wicke couldn’t help but let a small laugh escape. Dear God, he spoke like a cartoon supervillain. And “Great Master F”? Was he serious?

“Ahem. I said, grovel and beg all you like.”

He sounded displeased, but she had never been able to take him as seriously as he took himself. Were the others watching? Had they ever seen him? If Guzma knew….

Still, this little roleplay “Master F” was requesting was exciting, and Wicke didn’t want to disappoint. “Please, Great Master F,” she whimpered in the most pathetic, needy voice she could manage, “please let me go. I promise I won’t tell anybody about this place. I’ll tell my boss I failed. I’ll do anything you want!”

“Ah, but what if this is what I want?” His fingertips settled lightly on her backside, but only for the briefest of moments before they were snatched away, then carefully placed on her bottom again. “Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to make you scream from the blow of my hand.” His voice had grown husky with what she hoped was arousal.

Wicke had worked with Faba for as long as she had been an employee of the Aether Foundation, and while her feelings for him were nothing like those she had for Brycen or Guzma, she had long wondered what sex with such an odd individual would be like. She sensed that just beneath his workaholic surface lay a passionate man who was desperately hungry for a power fuck. She had played it cool, not wanting to make him uncomfortable, but now, she would finally get a chance to see what kind of man Faba became after hours.

Faba placed his left hand on her ass, as if to steady himself, but she noticed that he moaned a little and snuck in a squeeze before bringing down his other hand to deliver ten very quick blows. He was no newbie, she realized—his technique was second-to-none, and he had obviously studied how to make each one count. These slaps of his truly stung, but even though she enjoyed the pain, she was disappointed that it was over so quickly. She’d barely had time to cry out.

When it was over, he was breathing as hard as she was. “I…shall let you go this time,” he panted, “but if you cross me again, I’m going to make it even harder for you. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, I do…F.”

“Y…You--!” Faba gave a frustrated sniff. “I poured everything into that, I’ll have you know. And this is how you treat me.”

Wicke chuckled, but said nothing.

“Anyway…Don’t get cocky. You’ve still got 70 more to go. Can you handle it?” He turned on his heel and left the room, his shoes squeaking all the way.

Indeed…It felt like she had been here forever, but Faba was right; that was only 30 spankings. It might have been better if she had left her panties on; she was sure she must be dripping by now. Instinctively, she tried to reach back to touch her sore bottom, but the restraints held fast, and she was unable to move her arm an inch.

The door opened, and someone with quick, light footsteps approached the bench. “I’ve come a long way to do this,” a male voice said. Her pussy spasmed; she couldn’t say why, but she was willing to bet money that the owner of the voice was quite a looker. “I expected to be amazed by the bodies here, and I have not been disappointed. Yours is one of the best I’ve seen yet.” He cleared his throat. “I mean…Wow. So smooth, and…and round, and fat—I mean, big, I am sorry. It is a compliment. I meant, that is to say, it arouses me.”

“Thank you,” Wicke said, to show that there were no hard feelings.

“Permit me, if I may, to place my hands upon this alabaster jewel.”

“Yes, sir. Do whatever you want to me, sir.” She moaned as he lay both hands on her bottom. They were powerful and strong, yet gentle. As he squeezed and rubbed her cheeks, he gave a little moan of his own.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You are very generous to share this divine posterior with me. I take it you are ready for my blows?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Without another word, the man delivered a hard smack to her ass. It was heavy and powerful, and it made her jump. It took a few more whacks before she realized that he must be using some sort of footwear. She wished she could spread her legs further, maybe even let him spank her pussy. God, that would be amazing.

“This is arousing you, isn’t it?” He stopped, and she could feel his warm breath on her skin as he took a closer look. “Your labia are swollen and glistening with your arousal. I, too, can barely contain my own sexual excitement.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Do not apologize. You have done more than enough for me.”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it; this man was so witty and charming.

“Good. Good girl.” He lightly ran his fingertips over her bottom. “I will never forget this as long as I live.” And he finished off the last three, which were relatively mild. “Thank you,” he added, before leaving the room.

That made forty spankings so far. Wicke couldn’t believe it. Has she really received as many as four tens? Even Brycen had never spanked her this many times in one go. Yet she didn’t feel exhausted; she wanted more. She wondered when Guzma would show up. She wanted him to see her ass after it had been spanked by all these people. What would he think? The thought of him looking down at her bright-red bottom was—

“Ohhh, we’ve got a ripe one tonight!” Her new visitor had a booming, jovial voice. He sounded older, maybe in his 50s or 60s. “How long has it been since I’ve seen an ass as fine as this one? I believe we’re talking decades here.”

Wicke felt herself blush at the compliment. “Th-thank you, sir.”

“And a lovely voice, too.” Large, calloused hands squeezed her bottom before moving down her legs. “Nice, thick thighs. You’re almost too good to be true.”

Such a flatterer, she thought. I wonder who it is.

“I can’t wait to add to this work of art,” he continued. “I hope I can really make you holler with this lot.”

And holler she did.

Brycen had used a paddle on her countless times, but this one was different. Maybe it was one of those paddles that had holes to reduce resistance. It made a satisfying crack when it hit her skin, and she was crying out by the third strike. Now, this was a man who wasn’t afraid to hold back, and she was finally experiencing that high that could only come with intense pain.

She must have zoned out, because the next thing she knew, a new voice was greeting her, and she immediately knew who it was.

“Alola sure is a beautiful place, isn’t it? The sun is always shining down on the blue, crystalline water… At night, the moon bathes the sand in a shimmering silver…” A gentle hand caressed her right cheek, making her moan a little in pain. “And the local color is incredible, yeah?”

Wicke wanted nothing more than to allow this man to have his way with her helpless ass, but she had to know one thing. “Is your wife okay with you spanking another woman?”

“Okay?” There was a smile in his voice. “She loves it! I know she had an interest in spanking you herself, but it’s not her turn this month. Now, are you satisfied? Are you willing to let me have a go now?”

“Yes, that will do.” If he was lying, it would be on his own conscience, not hers.

There came the sound of something being slapped against Professor Kukui’s palm. “Good, because tonight, I’m gonna make you scream. Oh, yeah!”

The instrument that came down on her bottom was a blunt instrument of some sort, but it left a stinging pain unlike anything she had ever felt. She tried to go over what sorts of implements she had requested, but the endorphins rushing through her blood made it impossible to concentrate. “Oh, please, more,” she heard herself murmur, although she was unsure if the man heard her.

“…seven, eight, nine, ten! Woo!” The Pokemon Professor sounded pleased. “I gave that one all I had, and you barely made a peep! You’re the real deal, oh, yeah!” He patted her shoulder. “Only 40 more to go. How are you doin’?”

“Good.” In case he didn’t understand, she made a thumbs-up with her left hand. Her ass was throbbing with pain, but her pussy was throbbing with excitement, and her brain was in heaven.

“Glad to hear it, cousin. Just say the word if it gets to be too much.”

“I will, thanks.” She sighed with contentment as she listened to the professor’s retreating footsteps. She felt a drop of nectar trickle down her leg, and could not recall a time when she had been more turned on without being able to immediately take care of her needs. She was starting to sweat, too, and it was a tad uncomfortable. Maybe she could ask the next person to scratch her back….

“Well, look at what we have here.” A woman’s voice, warm and sweet but low, like rich honey or aged wine. “What a beautiful ass. It’s just the right combination of roundness, thickness, and color. These marks make it glow. When I place my hand over your scorched flesh, I can feel the heat rise up from it. Your pussy is so wet, and almost as red as your ass. Are you getting off on this, you hussy?”

Wicke moaned, but didn’t answer. If she could somehow fuck a voice, it would be this one. It seemed to wrap itself around her thighs and breasts and even between her legs, reaching deeper than any tongue, finger, or cock could reach.

She recognized the sharp, metallic sensation of studs that were far too dull to hurt in any meaningful way. The studded paddle was an old favorite of hers, and on the sixth stroke, she had a small orgasm, which she had never experienced while being spanked. This made her bottom extra sensitive for the final four. The pain was almost unbearable, but she gritted her teeth and held on.

“Good girl.” The woman stroked Wicke’s hair for a few moments, then added, “Are you all right? That was pretty intense for you, wasn’t it?”

“I enjoyed that a lot more than I expected,” Wicke admitted. “I’ve never enjoyed a spanking this much, if you know what I mean.”

“Ah, I see now.” The woman’s voice had a hint of laughter, but it was of the good-natured kind. “Well, I’ve been told by many men that I have a gift. I guess it works with women, too. Anyway, I wouldn’t mind seeing you again. My name is Cynthia Bakewell. Look me up some time; I’ll be in the Alola region for a while.” She patted Wicke’s bottom, seeming to find the only place that wouldn’t hurt like mad.

Thirty more to go. She could feel every drop of sweat on her body, and every time one slid across her skin, it itched like a tiny pinprick. It was far more uncomfortable than the pain. If the next person didn’t come soon enough, it would prove to be her undoing.

Wicke’s next spanker was wearing high heels and jewelry that jingled and clinked as she walked. “I’ll make this quick,” she said. “It’s hard to find time to do things like this when you’re a kahuna.”

Kahuna. There was only one female kahuna who was old enough to be here, and Wicke had admired her from afar ever since she first heard about her. With a body that could turn anyone’s head, regardless of gender or orientation, and a delicate, feminine charm that contrasted with her rugged, manly Pokemon, Olivia never failed to make Wicke’s heart race. She couldn’t believe her luck at having this lovely lady deliver the eighth round of spankings. Good things really did happen to good people.

Although Wicke enjoyed the lashes inflicted on her sensitized flesh, she couldn’t quite place the sensation. It was definitely a whip of some sort, but it was sort of fluffy. It almost tickled.

True to her word, Olivia finished up quickly. “I hope you liked that as much as I did. It was my first time using a Poke Tail like this. I hope you’ll be coming back next month. We need more spankees.” She got close then, so close that Wicke could hear her calm, steady breathing, and kissed her on the cheek. “I hope we’ll meet again.”

Wicke was glad no one could see her face, because she had the silliest grin, even as her ninth spankee approached her.

“So you’ve made it this far.” The man had a lazy, gravelly voice, and Wicke was unsure if he was sad or just tired. “You’re a real slut for spankings, aren’t you? I can see how thoroughly soaked your cunt and thighs are. You just love being spanked like the naughty little tramp you are.”

Oh, damn. Now, this was a man who knew how to talk dirty. Somehow, he knew exactly what to say to turn her on, and unlike Brycen, he didn’t sound like he was acting. Here was a man who was genuinely interested in dominating and humiliating his partner. She felt her limits melt away, and she sorely regretted requesting that her asscheeks not be spread. She wanted him to embarrass her by pointing out her twitching assbud, wondering if she was as much of a butt slut as she was a spanking slut.

Instead, he traced his fingers down her waist and cupped her ass, squeezing her cheeks and making her moan. “I can’t wait to see you jump when I whip you. If you don’t jump, then I’m doing something wrong.” He lightly dragged his instrument over her bottom; instinct and experience told her it was a belt. “Maybe I could even make you cry. Would you like that?”

“Oh, please,” she whined.

Her begging was met with a quick explosion of pain on her left ass cheek. No, not an explosion—it was over too quickly.

“No speaking unless I tell you to,” he commanded. Rather than scary or forceful, his tone was calm and neutral, as though he took for granted the fact that he would be obeyed. “Understand?”

She gave him a thumbs-up.

“Good girl.” He rubbed the spot with the palm of his hand, then gave her three more strikes with the belt. “I love seeing all the different marks on your skin. I bet they really made you squeal. I wish I could have been there to watch you try and wriggle away from them.” He used his thumbs to spread her thighs further apart. “Now, I can be slow with the final six, or I can give them to you all at once. Which would you like? You may answer me.”

“All at once.” As much as she was enjoying this man’s attention, she wanted to hurry up and find out who her final spanker would be.

“Hmmm....” The leather was dragged across her skin a second time. “I do prefer to take things slow. I’ll tell you what. Beg for your punishment, and I’ll be swift and merciful.”

She whimpered as pathetically as possible. It wasn’t difficult; she was about ready to squirt all over the floor. “Please, sir, inflict as much pain as you can onto this sorry ass. Give me all the punishment I deserve. I’ve been such a bad girl.” Oh, God, she was crying. It was just a little, but she felt a tear run down her cheek as she pleaded for him to whip her.

True to his word, the man counted out six rapid strokes, bringing the total number of spankings to 90. “Well done, my dear. I never expected you to be so tough.” She heard his smile as he added, “You’re in the final stretch now.”


It felt like hours before the door opened for the tenth and final time. Her heart rate increased as she heard the faint fall of steps on the floor. They were soft, slow, and careful, as though whoever it was wanted to disguise their identity. As they drew closer, however, it became clear to her that they were sneakers.

She longed to say his name, but she held her tongue; it would be so mortifying if she was wrong. She felt him pass her bottom and walk right up to her face, then kneel down and gently begin to undo her restraints.

“Did I surprise ya?” asked the voice she’d been longing to hear.

“I hoped it was you.” A sob made its way out of her throat. “I’m so happy you came for me.”

“I didn’t even have to think about it.” He helped her down from the spanking bench and took her into his arms. “I would be honored to be the grand finale for you tonight. Can you stand, or do you need me to carry you?”

“I think I can make it to the couch.” Her legs shook as she walked, and her ass was burning with pain, but she somehow managed to walk across the floor with Guzma helping her.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all night,” he said quietly as he sat and pulled her down into his lap. “Let’s do this.”

Carefully, Wicke lay across Guzma’s lap. Her heart was pounding again, and she wondered if he could see how painfully aroused she was. She must be making a mess on his pants.

“I can’t believe you entrusted me with this,” Guzma said with wonder in his voice. “Even I can tell that this ain’t no ordinary strap I’m lookin’ at. It’s a work of art.”

It was an Acuity tawse, the most high-quality of its kind. It was made of rich, fine-smelling leather, with a braided handle and a split down its center. It was the item Brycen had used on her then—it had hurt so much that she had screamed their safeword on the second blow.

“It would be crazy to use now,” Guzma muttered. “Besides, you wanted the hand, right?” His breath caught in his throat. “God, Wicke…You have the most spectacular ass I’ve ever seen. And you know what?”

His hand moved through the air, lightning-quick, and came down, hard, on her bare bottom, making her yelp.

“I’ve wanted”—Smack!—“to bend you over the nearest desk”—Smack!—“and spank you until you couldn’t walk”—Smack!—“from the moment we met.”

Saliva trailed from Wicke’s mouth as he landed blow after blow on her sore ass. She must look a mess, with her makeup running and her hair flattened by the head restraint. It didn’t matter; she was approaching the end of her adventurous night, and nothing could bring her down, not even the inevitable final strike.

As soon as Guzma was done with spanking number nine, he paused, and she heard him pick up the tawse. She heard the leather tails sing for a split-second before they hit her burning flesh, and she screamed, beautifully, loudly, and tears formed in her eyes and streamed down her face, and then Guzma had pulled her upright and was holding her, stroking her hair, kissing her nose, forehead, cheeks, and chin.

When she came to her senses, she looked up at him, and her heart skipped a beat at the concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked her. “I gotta admit, that was one of the more intense ones. I’ve never used one of those before.”

“I think my soul left my body,” she managed to say. “But it’s back now, safe and sound.” She cringed, propping herself on her knees so her ass was out of contact with Guzma’s pants. “Thank you. That was amazing.” Her legs wobbled, and she instinctively threw her arms around his shoulders to keep from falling. “Oh, I’m—”

“It’s all right.” Guzma stroked her back for a few moments. “I was real flattered that you wanted me to play such a special role tonight. But why me?”

Wicke laughed. “You’re so dense. I want you, Guzma. I want to date you. I’ve wanted to for a long time. You’re sexy, you’re fun….” She ran her hands through his hair. “You have the most delightful smirk I’ve ever seen. You’re laid-back. And you make a big deal out of being ‘Big Bad Guzma,’ but you’re really a good guy, you know what? Especially now.”

“Awww, geez.” Guzma’s face was turning red. “You’re makin’ me feel bad for what I said about wanting to spank you from the very beginning. But….” He leaned in close. “It wasn’t just that, you know, once I got to know ya. I…definitely want….” He looked into her eyes and traced her lips with his thumb. “Is it okay?”

She nodded, and he kissed her, putting his tongue in her mouth almost immediately. His fingernails teased her scalp as they explored each other’s mouths. Wicke moaned as he withdrew his tongue and sucked and nibbled at her lower lip. His hands ran down the curves of her body to her hips. These hands, which had inflicted such sweet torment on her skin, were now gentle and steady. She wanted to feel them all over her body.

“Guzma,” she sighed as he began to kiss her neck, “please….”

He swore and stopped what he was doing. “Not yet. You need some time to recover. There’s going to be some nasty pain once the high wears off, and I have to make sure you get the care you need. I got some lotion and aloe vera, if you’ll let me apply it.” He helped her to her feet. “Lie on your side or stomach. ‘Sokay if I put some of that stuff on your a—I mean—” His face turned red again.

“It’s all right.” She smiled up at him as she lay across the couch on her belly. “You can say ‘ass.’ I may seem prudish, but that’s just at work. And yes, I would definitely like some of that. I’m sure you can imagine why, but being on my stomach isn’t very comfortable. And I still need to clean up the bench and everything.”

Guzma knelt next to her backside and gently rubbed a cold, soothing substance into her skin. “I’ll take care of that. If it don’t make you uncomfortable, I mean. But even if I didn’t want to, lots of people wait until the day after to clean up, when they’re not so exhausted. Some of them can barely stand, let alone do any kind of housecleaning.” He finished applying the cream, and Wicke was almost disappointed when he moved his hand away from her bottom. “It ain’t a problem.”

“Is it really okay?” Even through her arousal, Wicke was finding it difficult to get up.

“I just said it ain’t a problem, didn’t I?” He patted her shoulder. “Relax. I’ll clean up and everything.”

Wicke rolled onto her side, taking care not to aggravate the painful marks on her body. She watched lazily as Guzma moved about the room. He walked out the door for a few minutes, returning with a bottle of cleaner and a rag. He winked at her, then got to work cleaning the bench.

The next thing Wicke knew, she was being carried. A cool breeze on her skin told her she was outside. She opened her eyes to see Guzma looking down at her. “Hey. Guess I fell asleep.”

“Guess ya did.” Guzma chuckled. “I got your underwear and stuff back in your purse. Don’t worry, I didn’t root around or anything.” He frowned as they approached her car. “You okay drivin’ yourself home? Or do you wanna leave your car here, come and pick it up tomorrow?”

“I’ll drive. You can put me down now.”

He set her on the ground, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her on the forehead. “So…I guess I didn’t give you an answer, did I?” He lifted her chin to gaze into her eyes. “Yeah, I want to date you. I want to continue what we had goin’ in there. Call me this week, okay? I won’t be waitin’ by the phone or anything, but I’ll be sad if I don’t hear from you soon. You don’t wanna do that to your boy, do ya?”

She just shook her head at him, then gave him the biggest hug she could remember ever giving anyone. “Thanks, Guzma,” she sighed. “You and the others gave me something I’ve been needing ever since I came to Alola. I just didn’t know how badly.”

“Aww, glad to help.” Guzma rubbed her back, adding, “I got a lot out of this, too, you know. Take care drivin’ home, alright?”

“I will.” She stepped back and gave him the once-over. What would it be like, being under this huge man? If things get that far, anyway, she reminded herself. Guzma has a say in this, too, after all.


Wicke waited a respectable two days before calling Guzma. He picked up on the first ring. “What’s up, pretty lady? You really like to keep a man waiting, you know that?”

“I like to tease,” she said. “You, of all people, should know that. Are you available tonight? The Lone Breeder has a showing at 7:30.”

“Sure. It’s a date.” He lowered his voice, and she could hear him grinning as he added, “How about this: First one there gets to be in charge next time we do something kinky. And neither of us will know which role the other is hoping to get.”

“Perfect. This is exactly why I wanted to date you. I’ll see you then.” She hung up, then fell onto her bed and sighed happily. She would need a few days yet to fully recover from those spankings, so she should use the time to come up with some ideas for Guzma, just in case she showed up first. She imagined he would be a pretty demanding bottom. And a very sexy one….

Wicke stared down at her phone to check the time. A quarter after six. There was still time before she had to get ready. She spread her legs and slipped her hand into her panties. As always, her pussy was slick, hot, and ready.

With her other hand, she set an alarm for a quarter to seven, just in case she didn’t finish in time.

After all, Guzma might underestimate just how willing she was to top.