My Bet with Marsha by Excluvius (excluvius@hotmail.com) A boy is punished by his girlfriend and rescued by her mother, sort of. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Disclaimer: The following story is a fantasy intended for entertainment of adults. It contains explicit descriptions of consensual and non-consensual corporal punishment and sexual acts performed by and to possibly underage boys and girls. If this offends you or if it is illegal for you to read this material, don't read this. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- My Bet with Marsha (fff/m, non-consensual whipping, strapping, sneakering; masturbation) Marsha and I made a bet, and I lost. Not much unusual there, but I was so sure of myself, I let her talk me into making the wager for more than usual. Not a nickle or even a dollar, but a ten minute bare-ass spanking. The thought of getting her over my knees and smacking her ass, let alone baring it! It was just too much of a temptation. The more I think of it, the dumber it seems. Marsha just knew me too well. I was the undisputed champion of this one computer game, but I never worry much about it when I play. But I started thinking while I played that fateful round, and I missed the score by almost 20,000 points (which isn't all that much in game terms, but ...) So here I was in her bedroom, blushing furiously as she ordered me to bend over a chair back and wait for her. I stared down at the satin cushion on her desk chair as I heard her rummaging in her little sister's room. I heard her muttering to herself as she came in "... can't find it when you want it." And then more brightly to me, "We'll just have to improvise. I tell you what, let me make you more comfortable while I go searching for stuff. Stand up and I'll put this pillow over the back so you can lean on it while you wait." "Why do I have to be bent over while I wait. Bad enough having to wait! What are you looking for anyway?" "Well, you wanted to get your hands on my bare ass so bad, you made a stupid bet. So I get to make you pay! Ha ha! I'm looking for a paddle we have here some place to spank you with." "Hey, the bet was a ten minute spanking, not a paddling. I've been here ten minutes already. I wouldn't have made you wait!" "True, but you haven't been spanked yet, so your time hasn't started. And you'd have been so mad to get my pants off, you probably wouldn't even have come inside. Mrs. Mitchell would have had a field day watching us on the porch, and then she'd have called your mom, and we'd both be grounded. So it's a good thing I won." I was stunned by her logic. And she was probably 100% right on every count. I was so taken aback, I just leaned over the pillow she had so considerately put out for me. And it didn't quite register just what she was about when she placed my hands atop the chair legs and wrapped a plastic jump rope around one wrist. By the time I realized, she had my other hand in both of hers, and she was tying it to the other chair leg. There I was bent over the chair with a wrist bound to each front leg. "What are you doing?" I yelled. "We didn't say anything about getting tied up!" "We didn't say anything about not getting tied up," she rejoined. "Like I said, you'd have just been in a big hurry to get my pants down and spanking my ass. I prefer to do it properly! Now don't go away. I'll be right back." As soon as she left the room, I tried to get loose. I tried to stand up straight, picking the chair up. Had I succeeded, I had no plan how to get loose. But I couldn't get enough purchase anyway, so I just strained for a couple of minutes to no avail. Then I decided the thing to do was to tip the chair over sideways. As I fell, I heard her laugh aloud and realized she had been watching the whole time. She was on me immediately, grabbing my right leg and tying it to the right rear chair leg with another jump rope. She had a little trouble lifting me up, but she managed to right me and the chair. "That was really stupid," she said to me. "That deserves a penalty punishment." "Bullshit!" I yelled. "We just agreed on a spanking. None of this tying up stuff!" "True," she said. "And we didn't say anything about the spectators either. But this is just too good an opportunity to pass up!" With that she reached around me and unbuckled my belt, unzipped my jeans and pulled them down my legs. I kicked at her with my left leg, since that was all that was free, but I didn't do much damage, and suddenly my pants were on the floor around my right ankle. A moment later my underpants joined them, and she was pulling my left ankle toward the left chair leg. I finally managed to get in one good kick to her face. That really got her mad. She sort of tackled my leg, ramming it into the chair leg with her shoulder. My knee and shin went crazy with pain, and I screamed. She whipped the other end of the jump rope around my left ankle and within moments had me totally trussed up. She came around to the front of the chair, grabbed my hair, and pulled my head up. I looked her in the face and gasped. Her lip was cut and bleeding. But it was the eyes that made me gasp. I had seen her mad on a couple of occasions, but never at me. I had always said to myself I would never, ever get her that mad at me. And now I had. "Dickie-poo, I am seriously mad at you now." She stated the obvious. "I am not sure what I am going to do to punish you for that last bit, but you can bet you will regret it. Now, I am going to get cleaned up and make a few phone calls. And then we will proceed with your punishments. If you don't want to get more than you already have, I suggest you stay quiet in here." And with that she left the room. I heard water running in the bathroom and a sharp intake of breath. Then a minute or so later a little moan. I felt the cool breeze over my ass, cock and balls. The chair back pressed in to my hips and abdomen, but so far wasn't too uncomfortable. My feet and ankles were jammed uncomfortably against the rear chair legs. My hands were against the front chair legs. I tried to reach the end of the jump rope closest to my right hand, but only succeeded in rubbing a raw spot on my right wrist. "Hi, Ellen. Marsha. Are you busy? ... I have something really great to show you, but it has to be right now ... Yeah just come to my door and ring the bell. OK bye." She was standing at her desk right beside me. I didn't know when she had come in, but she had been quiet. I looked sideways at her with wide frightened eyes. "Marsha, if you do this, I will never be you friend again!" She held a finger to her lips and raised the other hand threateningly. I hung my head. Marsha was my closest friend in this neighborhood, where there were no boys my age. But that meant she knew my weaknesses and dislikes. Ellen and I had known each other for many years and did not get along. The only girl in the neighborhood I liked less was June. She punched another number. "Hi, June. Marsha. Are you busy? ... I have something really great to show you, but it has to be right now ... Yeah just come to the front door and ring the bell. OK bye." I felt my face burning and tried to think of a way out of all this. Maybe she had just been pretending. Maybe she had the phone on the hook. Maybe ... The doorbell rang. Marsha left the room. I heard the door open and an indistinct chatter of female voices. I recognized Marsha's and Ellens's. Suddenly the sound was of shrieks. "June, she's got Dick Martin tied up upstairs with his pants down, and she's gonna whip his butt! Is this great or what!!" There was loud chattering and stomping up the stairs, and then they were bursting into the room and more shrieking and hysterical laughing. "Look at it just hanging there! Have you ever seen anything more hysterical in your life?" And with that notice, my cock rapidly came erect. "Oh my god did you see that? Too funny! Hey Dickie, do that again!" I tried to squeeze back there, but that only brought more laughing and yelling. "Oh yeah, do that again! Make it dance!" I burned with shame, anger, and frustration. What could be worse? Pain. Suddenly, my ass made a splatting sound, and another of those damn plastic jump ropes stung my ass, wrapping around my hip on the right side. "OH YES! COME TO MAMA!" yelled June. "Dickie-poo, your first punishment has started. Ten minutes for the bet you lost." The other girls started laughing and hooting again. Marsha began whipping my legs and ass back and forth with the jump rope. About every two seconds it would swipe by from the right and then after another two seconds again from the left. Each stroke stung, and soon my entire backside was flaming. I was not too proud to yell, and the girls enthusiastically yelled back at me. After a couple of minutes I started begging. "MARSHA PLEASE STOP! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE!" "MORE MORE MORE MORE!" yelled the girls. "Dickie-poo, I have another three minutes left. What do you think I ought to do with the time?" I was crying so hard I started hiccuping. I made some sort of inarticulate croaking sound. She changed the jump rope for a gym shoe, stood beside me, and began battering my ass, alternating sides. Ellen started jumping around and yelling "I want a turn! I want a turn!" June joined in "Me too, me too!" Marsha said simply, "No this is my bet that I won. I have a little over a minute left." And with that she took the jump rope again and began whipping between my ass cheeks. "Done," was all she said. June and Ellen were still bubbling, but Marsha, was apparently tired from her efforts, poor girl. "That was seriously hot!" Exclaimed Ellen. After a pause she asked, "Can he see around?" "Not after you blindfold him," said Marsha. I was too far gone to notice when they wrapped a handkerchief around my eyes. As I calmed down, and stopped crying, I became aware of noises behind me. I heard slurping noises like somebody sucking on a lollipop, and occasionally a loud pop. I heard panting and mumbling. One of the girls started breathing hard and suddenly Ellen yelled, "Oh god Yes" June started muttering "fuck fuck fuck fuck" and then sort of roared. For awhile, the subdued sounds punctuated by occasional outbursts were all that was heard in the room, along with my occasional sob. I was vaguely aware of the activity around me, but I hurt all up and down my ass and legs. The restraining jump ropes had rubbed raw spots on all my wrists and ankles, and my legs were starting to cramp. Without warning, Marsha was beside me saying, "His left hand is turning purple. I have to loosen the ropes." When she did, my hand started to feel big, and then the prickles started. Behind me, Ellen said. "It's a good view, but we need some variety." Marsha said, "What do you suggest? He still has two punishments coming, a little one and a big one." After a pause, Ellen said "Let's stretch his cock out and whip it! That will do for the little one." All the girls burst out laughing. Marsha, the considerate hostess, said "Go ahead. But be careful. We don't want any serious injuries!" I mumbled "Please no!" But this just seemed to amuse them. They laughed at me and soon hands were all over my cock. Despite my pain, I was erect within a minute or so. I felt something being tied around the end of my cock. I felt my cock being pulled backward away from my body, and then I felt it being slapped with a jump rope. At each stroke the jump rope wrapped around my shaft. It hardly hurt at all compared to what I had just suffered, but it amused them immensely for a few minutes. June said, "My dad always does me with his belt." I heard and felt my belt being pulled from my jeans. "Not as heavy as Dad's but I'll bet it will work OK." "Remember the fourth of July last year?" June asked. I made some sort of noise. I had no idea what she was talking about. "Pay-back time!" she yelled and started whipping me with my belt. "What are you talking about?" asked Marsha. "He threw firecrackers at me and my sisters last fourth of July at the town picnic. And then he wouldn't even admit it when I accused him next day ." "He didn't go to the town picnic last year. We spent the afternoon at my uncle's cottage on Lindsay Lake." June paused from her exertions. "Gee, I'm sorry Dick. I accused you falsely. I apologize. But I still don't like you ." And she was back in rhythm blistering my ass with my belt. When June started to slow down, Ellen yelled "My turn!" and took the belt from her. She applied it to me with even more vigor than June had, and with more creativity. June had mostly hit my ass. Ellen went all the way up and down my legs, and came at me from both sides. She pulled my shirt up and started laying stripes on my back. And then she hit me in the balls. I have no idea what kind of noise I made, but it was loud and really hurt my throat. But that pain was nothing compared to the pain that slammed through my gut. I spasmed, tearing at my bonds. The chair rocked a little, but otherwise did not move. Next she snapped the belt between my legs. It struck between my ass cheeks and left a burning sting beside my asshole. She snapped it again, lower and struck my shriveled up cock. June cheered. Three more snaps struck my cock. Then a snap connected with my balls again, and again an inhuman sound escaped me. I already hurt so much, I just sort of curled in on myself. Marsha intervened at that point. "No No No!" she yelled. You could really hurt him like that. The last punishment is over." Ellen and June protested, but my torture stopped. At some point I drifted out, because the next thing I remember was Marsha slapping my face and yelling my name. I was lying on her bed, and she had a wet cloth on my face. I was feeling very fuzzy, and closed my eyes again. "Dick, wake up! You have to get out of here. My Mom's due home from work!" I started to move, but everything hurt. Suddenly my ass and legs were on fire. My wrists and ankles were raw. My balls ached like nothing I had ever experienced. Memory returned, and I looked around for the others. "We're alone," she said simply. "When you passed out, we all got scared. I had them help me untie you and get you on the bed. You've been out for over an hour. But now you've got to get out of here!" I tried to focus, but couldn't. "I can't move my legs," I said truthfully. "Oh please try!" she said, running her hand up and down my chest. It was then I became aware I had no pants on. I slowly turned my head to the side and looked where my clothes were piled by the chair. Marsha jumped up and ran to get them. She lifted up one leg and started to slip my underpants on. I screamed. There was a shuffling and the distinctive sounds of Mrs. Macon climbing the stairs. Marsha dashed to close the door and met her mother with her hand on the door. "I heard a scream. A distinctly male scream. Coming from here." From the door she could see my bare leg. She stepped into the room and looked at me. "Richard, why aren't you covering yourself and hiding?" she asked. "I can't," I replied. She looked at me expecting a further explanation, but none was forthcoming. As she continued to look at me, two things happened. She noticed the angry coloring on my thighs. And I quickly became erect. "My, my, my!" she murmured. She stepped beside the bed, reached over me, and pulled me over on my stomach. And she gasped. "Oh we have been busy haven't we!" she exclaimed. I turned my head to the side so I could see Marsha. Her face was white, and she was wobbling on her feet. "Oh my god, Dick! I am so sorry!" she blurted out and began crying. Mrs. Macon looked back and forth at the two of us. "I think you better tell me about this, Marsha." She pulled the reading chair up close to the foot of the bed, and prepared to settle in. Before she did however, I was surprised when she reached between my legs and pulled my cock down. "Spread your legs young man." She admonished in her sternest voice. "You're in a lot of trouble as it is." I saw her wink at Marsha as she arranged my cock and balls for her display. "Turn your head to the wall and don't look back until you're told to," she ordered. As I faced the wall, I heard the swishing of fabric and the creak of the chair as she settled in. "Now Marsha," she said, "suppose you tell me what is going on here." And Marsha began relating the tale of the bet, the stakes, and the escalation. I heard considerable slurping, heavy breathing, and muttering. Several times I felt the bed shaking. When Marsha and her mother had finished, there was a long pause, some swishing of fabric, and the chair creaking as Mrs. Macon arose. "My dear boy, you have been through a lot today. Let's turn you over, and you can add whatever you feel is needed to that story." So saying, she rolled me over on my back again. I yelled as my bruised and battered back side contacted the bed. My raging hard-on stood as the center of all our attention. "What would you like to add?" she asked. I shook my head. Finally I said, "I kept my word. Marsha took advantage of me." "I must agree," she said. "But she didn't lie to you. Still, under the circumstances, I feel you are entitled to some compensation." So saying, she reached down and began jacking me off with her hand. It didn't take long. As I reached orgasm, she pointed my cock straight up, and I pumped gob after gob in a high arc onto my stomach. The highest must have gone six feet in the air. "Marsha, you're entitled to lick this up," she said. Marsha looked at her askance. "No thanks, Mom," she said. "Suit yourself," said Mrs. Macon and proceeded to lick all the cum off my stomach. "Thank you Richard, I did enjoy that. Ever since Mr. Macon passed on, my satisfaction has been erratic. And I have enjoyed myself immensely today. I'm not really angry, but I think you both realize you've got into a potentially very dangerous situation. I have some experience here, and I will be happy to give you some pointers the next time you want to play these games. Richard, I think you will have to spend the night here. I'll call your mother and make arrangements. Marsha, turn him over, and I'll get some ointment to treat his abrasions." By the next morning I could walk, and slowly made my way home. I was sore for a good two weeks. My butt turned all kinds of colors. But Marsha never got to see them. Our relationship was ruined. I never felt I could trust her again. I pictured her ganging up with the girls on other boys, maybe not the way they did to me, but constantly conspiring against us. And I started projecting the same paranoia onto other girls I met. Unfortunately, usually it was justified. I have never again had as truly deep a relationship as I once had with Marsha. Everywhere I go, I see conspiracies of women against men, and there is little likelihood I will change my attitude. On the other hand, I did take up her mother's offer. Oh, she is GOOD! For erotic satisfaction, she remains at the top of my list. I visit her a couple of times a month, being careful to avoid running into Marsha. Mrs. Macon (I still call her that!) is always in control of our sessions. Sometimes they are tender and erotic, sometimes humiliating and painful, but always terrifically exciting. Once she stripped me, tied me up and beat me in front of Marsha. I was humiliated and excited, but Marsha was just mortified, and she ran away and left the house after about ten minutes. Go figure! (c) "Excluvius" 6/08/98 Revised 12/4/98