Camp Roanoke III

ADULT FANTASY STORY. MATERNAL SPANKINGS. ALL CHARACTERS FICTIONAL. IF YOU ARE NOT OVER 18, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER. READING THIS STORY MEANS YOU ARE OVER 18.

Camp Roanoke Part III by Randy

The next night, I arrived at 10:00 as promised and found Mrs. Zemmer wearing a low-cut, pink sun dress with lace along the bodice. The top two buttons were undone and her breasts poured out the top, held up snugly by a lacey pink bra. I was already hard even before I arrived but the sight of her openly displayed breasts made me throb painfully in my jeans. Once again, she took me by an ear and led me into the back bedroom. The straight-backed chair was still there where she had left it the night before. Without either of us saying a word, she unzipped my jeans and lowered them, helping me step out of them. She then lowered my briefs to mid-thigh as before and began spanking me with one hand and frigging me with the other.

"I thought we would use another method tonight to get past this problem before starting your second spanking," she said with a meaningful tug at my penis. Not knowing what she meant, I continued to ogle her breasts as she masturbated me and smacked my bottom and drew me closer. Eventually, she held my erection a few inches from her face. And before I realized quite what she had done, she took the whole length of my penis deeply into her warm mouth and began sucking it while frigging the base with one hand and smacking my fanny with the other. Of course, I began moaning immediately and kept up moaning for the next three minutes until I cried loudly and jerked back and forth shooting a load of sperm into her wet mouth.

Unlike the previous night, Mrs Zemmer didn't wait an instant to change gears. As soon as my last spasm had died away and she had sucked out the last few drops, she pulled away from me and yanked me over her full-skirted lap without stopping to tie my hands. Immediately my spanking began and it was harder than ever. Knowing not to postpone the inevitable, I began crying like a little boy and for the next ten minutes, sank further and further into a small child's state of utter helplessness, dependency and yet security as I received my second of two very sound spankings.

When I was finally allowed off her lap, she held me closely to her instead of ordering me to stand in the corner. Lifting her skirts, she pulled me deeply between her thighs while she began rubbing the sting away and comforting me with words. In this position, my penis poked directly into the tops of her breasts. Pausing for a moment, she undid the rest of the buttons on her sun-dress top, unhooked the frontal clasp of the brassiere, and pulled me back against her, my hard penis now thrusting in and out between her open breasts. With my hands free, I took full advantage by reaching down in front and squeezing them and thrusting between them. After a few minutes of this, Mrs Zemmer spit onto the fingers of her right hand and gently slipped the tip of her index finger into my rectum where she gently wiggled it while spanking me with the other hand. With so many sensations, I soon found myself crying out for the second time in the evening as jets of sperm shot onto her breasts making them even more slippery.

After I recovered, Mrs. Zemmer stood up, her sun-dress top falling to her waist so that she was completely naked above the hips. With her dancing breasts accentuating every movement, she led me by the hand over to her bed. Once again she took me deeply between her thighs and made a man out of me. It was clearly shaping up to be the summer of my life.

Since Mr. Zemmer returned the next day from his camping trip, it was impossible for me to get another spanking for quite some time. I did, however, make every excuse to visit Mrs. Zemmer. She made it easier for me by telling her husband she needed a counselor to help her a few hours a week with paperwork and the field trip planning and suggested my name. While we couldn't do anything during my visits, she found every opportunity to tease me by bending over my shoulder so her breasts rubbed against me or by wearing low-cut sundresses.

About a week later, I was helping Mrs. Zemmer organize her husband's next field trip one afternoon when a quiet knock came on the screen door.

"Come in," Mrs. Zemmer called out.

The door opened and in trudged two boys, Andy Goldman who was ten and Sam Walker from the cabin of thirteen year olds. Both looked glum and anxious.

"What are you two young men here for," Mrs. Zemmer asked sternly, her hands on her hips. After hemming and hawing, the boys confessed to fighting and said their counselors had ordered them to report to Mrs Zemmer.

"Sam Walker, I'm really surprised to see you back here so soon. After your last visit, I thought you had learned not to get into more fights. I'm going to have to make sure you really learn your lesson this time, won't I? And as for you, Andy Goldman, I'm very disappointed to have to see you here too. Do you know how I punish boys who misbehave at Camp Roanoke? Do you, young man?"

"No maam," Andy replied, looking at the ground and digging at the rug with his shoe.

"With good sound spankings on their bare bottoms. And that's exactly what both of you are about to get. Do you understand? You're both going to be put over my knee and paddled until I hear real tears and see two red little fannies. A spanking is a lesson and it's clear both of you have earned a good lesson right now."

Both boys immediately began begging Mrs Zemmer not to spank them but she brushed off their protests.

"Don't be silly, you two. Of course I am going to spank you. It's by far the best remedy for naughty boys in my experience. And believe me, I've had a lot of experience at this camp teaching bad little boys what happens when they misbehave. A sore bottom is a lot more effective than an afternoon's confinement to your cabin or some other such punishment. I find I really get a youngster's full attention once I take his pants down and put him over my lap."

Then turning to me, she added,

"David, I'm sorry these two boys have interrupted our quiet afternoon. If you don't mind waiting for fifteen minutes or so, I think it best if I deal with these children right away. We can get back to our discussion of your cabin's upcoming camping trip afterwards. "

"Anything you say, Mrs. Zwemmer. Quiet hour still lasts another thirty minutes. That should give us enough time to cover everything."

"Good. Now listen up you two. I want both of you over there kneeling on the sofa. That's right, both of you up on the couch, kneeling against the back ... yes ... that's it ... all the way up and leaning over the back. I want both of you to stay put here until I'm ready to deal with you. Do you understand? Now let's get these pants down, just so you're both good and ready for your spankings."

With those words, Mrs Zemmer yanked Sammy's shorts and briefs down to his knees in one tug. Andy's followed suit moments later. By this time, both boys had already begun to cry softly, each feeding off his companion's anxiety. And they both continued begging not to be spanked. In response, Mrs. Zemmer gave each of them three or four resounding smacks on their bare cheeks.

"If you didn't want this spanking, all you had to do was behave yourselves better. I suggest you keep that in mind for the future so you don't have to come back here again. Now I want both of you boys to stay right there without moving while I go get the spanking chair in the dining room. You've both knew the penalty for fighting yet you went ahead anyway. Now it's time for me to teach both of you a good lesson on your bare bottoms. You can cry and plead all you want but it's not going to stop me from spanking you. David, do me a favor, please, and keep an eye on them and make sure they don't move."

"Yes, Mrs. Zemmer, I sure will," I chimed.

Mrs Zemmer disappeared into the dining room and reemerged with a straight-backed chair a few minutes later. Placing it in front of the armchair where I was already seated, she returned to the sofa and took Sammy by the ear, with a couple hard smacks on his bottom to get his attention.

"Come with me, little boy. It's time for your spanking. Andy, watch closely because you're going to be next."

With that, Mrs Zemmer led a crying Sammy over to the spanking chair. With his pants and briefs tangled at his knees, he ended up waddling, his fat cheeks swinging back and forth behind him. To make sure he kept moving, Mrs Zemmer smacked his fanny every few steps.

Drawing her skirts up high and seating herself, Mrs. Zemmer took Sammy deep between her thighs, bent him over her left thigh, and then gripped him firmly her legs. Ignoring his cries not to be spanked, she began peppering his bottom with rapid, hard spanks, back and forth, one cheek and then the other, right and left, SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK SPANK. Within half a minute, Sammy was transformed from a whimpering young teen to a bawling child frantically drumming his feet against the floor and waving his arms back and forth. Despite his vigorous struggles, there was nothing he could do to alter his position locked between Mrs Zemmer's strong, plump thighs. His red bottom danced and wagged with each spank but it remained locked in place, nicely elevated over Mrs Zemmer lap and completely open to the relentless descent of her hand.

"You're not going anywhere, young man, until you've received a very thorough spanking. And because this is your second trip over my knee in ten days, you're going to be spanked even more soundly this time."

Mrs Zemmer then calmly proceeded with the job at hand. Her palm rose and fell with an assurance which bespoke much experience in the administration of corporal punishment. After about five minutes, she succeeded in painting Sammy's bottom bright red from upper thighs to the very tops of his cheeks and from one hip to the other. Yet on she spanked, determined to teach the sobbing youngster a harder lesson this time.

Finally, the onslaught ended and she let Sammy up to do the usual hot fanny dance around the room for a few minutes. She then took him by the ear and led him back to the sofa where he resumed his kneeling position. By now, the younger Andy was crying loudly and even reaching to rub his unmarked fanny with both hands as if anticipating his fate. At the same time, his little penis was rigid, as if the sight of his bare-bottomed playmate being spanked over Mrs. Zemmer's bare thighs had seized more than his fearful imagination. As Mrs. Zemmer took hold of his ear and began leading him to the chair, his crying rose a notch in pitch. Because he was smaller and more easy to control, Mrs Zemmer simply put Andy across her lap, skirts well pulled up as usual. And because of his more tender age and the fact that it was his first offense, she spanked him less forcefully than Sammy. Still, it was enough to reduce the eleven year old to a sobbing child with a very red, sore bottom within four minutes. She then directed Andy back to the sofa as well, that we finished our official discussions with two well-spanked little boys crying over the back of the nearby sofa, their hands busily rubbing their red fannies.

(Sarah and Randy appreciate email from f/m couples and strict mommies, especially in the LA area).