Another collaborative e-mail punishment with my medical student friend jasmine.

Our Hike Through the Woods

"jasmine, do you remember our hike?" "What hike?" (coyly) "The hike when I paddled you?" "Oh, *that* hike! . . . yes, I remember." (laughing). "You start the story, and I'll finish it. OK? We'll tell the story together."

** jasmine . . . ** I close my eyes and it's there right in front of me.

It is a beautiful weekend in which we are both free. Since you love the outdoors and exercise you decide we should take the opportunity to go to the state park. I am not too excited about spending the day in the great outdoors, but I am excited about spending the day with you. It has been quite a while since I had a spanking and my butt (and another region) is just tingling in anticipation.

<<Excuse me for interrupting . . . I have to say, I would be excited to spend the day with you anywhere, jasmine. But I do want to get you off your duff. And of course I want to get your duff over my lap, but that's another topic . . .>>

You drive out and we spend the time just chatting about mundane topics. Since it has been such a long time I am sending every signal I possibly can. I am wearing short shorts, sitting with my legs wide open. I also have on a skimpy tank top that is cut very low. I am frustrated because you seem to be oblivious to my very available charms. Finally, out of desperation I unbuckle my seat belt and slide a little closer to you. You glance out of the corner of your eyes and see that I am no longer buckled in and say, "What are you doing? Buckle yourself back in." I just stare at you and say I want to be closer to you. "Now," is your one word reply to me. You don't raise your voice, but there is no doubt that you mean it. I should know better, I know how safety conscious you are.

<<I am smiling to myself. I am so fond of you . . . hard working, sexy, mature and yet impulsive. I can't spank you while I'm driving, can I?>>

I sigh very loudly but buckle myself back in. At this point I’m cursing you in my head, wondering if you aren't the densest man I know. Aren't men supposed to be suckers for an alluring female? You once again look at me out of the corner of your eyes and see that no longer am I sitting provocatively; I am sitting with my legs and my arms crossed, staring straight ahead and pouting. Your tart comment: "jasmine, get a grip. You need to trust me. Things will happen when I decide they should, not when you impetuously want them."

<<You are so obvious, jasmine, and so adorable. Honestly, I don't know whether to laugh or cry that you can't wait the few minutes till we get to the park. You know that once we're there I will wrap you in my stern but loving control.>>

You start the conversation up again and start to ask me some questions about school. Since I’m still pouting I give you one-word answers. You are starting to get irritated now. After all, I’m 24-year old woman acting like a 3-year-old child denied her favorite toy. You say, "stop acting like a child." I start to protest, but you cut me off. You remind me that you are in control and things will happen when you are ready. I think about that and realize that is exactly why I like you so much. You are constantly reminding me who is in control. I decide to quit pouting and we begin to chat again. You actually get me talking again, telling you how my surgery rotation is going, my goofy friends, and you tell me about your work.

We finally reach the park and decide to take a hike through the woods. Well, *you* decide to take a hike. You've done a little research and found a trail that's hardly ever used to an abandoned mine shaft in a remote meadow. The trail isn't on the map any more, but there's an old description and you are quite confident you can find it. You have a topographic map and a compass and set out into the middle of nowhere, obviously expecting me to follow along behind you. You say the trail used to be "somewhere along here." I only hope you can find the car again this afternoon!

We hadn’t been hiking for more than five minutes before I started to complain. This so-called trail is overgrown; you don't know where you're going; we will be lost and all anyone will find is our skeletons, years from now. You laugh and tell me you've been doing this for years and that I need to show a little trust. I bite my lip and we hike for a good half-hour. I suppress my protests but I am getting more and more annoyed. You are a fast hiker and I have to scramble to keep up with you, which doesn't help. Fortunately you stop frequently to check your map and compass.

When we reach the edge of the woods, though, there it is; a meadow, and at the other end is the creek, and nearby the abandoned mine shaft (talk about somewhere that is really nowhere!). I am fed up with you, with your domineering ways, with your long legs, with your "I can do anything" attitude. The creek here, a shallow part we can wade over, and just beyond it the open mine shaft, a huge, ancient overturned wheelbarrow, some rusty cables leading from the mine. Despite all your confident talk and fussing with the compass I am astonished that you actually found it.

<<Hey! I have to admit I'm a little surprised myself. But here it is, and it's very cool, the wheelbarrow overturned and left to rust, the mouth of the mine supported by decaying timbers, frayed cables running from it to long-abandoned cart tracks.>>

You are so pleased with yourself, you big jerk, and you set up the camera on the tripod and focus it on the wheelbarrow. You climb up on the wheelbarrow and pull me up next to you. You're going to take a picture with the remote release. "Smile on three," you say. I have a different idea, and on "three!" I give you a wicked push, hoping to get a picture of pissed-off me pushing idiot-you off that wheelbarrow and onto your butt on the ground. And it more or less works out that way, we do have a picture of you tumbling off the wheelbarrow, your feet tangled up.

I feel a catch in my throat . . . are you hurt? . . . but no, you are OK. You look funny. It was funny, wasn't it? You're not laughing . . . and before long I realize that perhaps I have made a Big Mistake. Uh-oh, with you that is definitely something to avoid. I have made big mistakes before and it's never long before you teach me a lesson.

You get up, brush yourself off, and stare at me. My laughter dies in my throat; I know that look. Hmm, correction, that Look. It's a part of you that I adore, but I like it better knowing that you *can* be that way. When you *are* that way, my butt always suffers the consequences.

You say, "We'll see how funny this seems in a few minutes, jasmine," and turn on your heel. You walk off into the bushes, pulling out your pocket knife. You select a branch. You cut it, then strip off the twigs in that maddening unhurried way you have. You turn toward me, holding it in one hand, and look at me meaningfully.

I'm not laughing any more; I'm hastily wiping my tears. That switch looks lethal! There is *no way* I am going to let you whip me with that. Where to go? How about, back down the trail? I turn and run . . . . . . I'm running . . . . . . I run so fast, but it feels so slow . . . you've got me!

"I'm going to teach you a lesson, jasmine," you say. You unbutton my shorts, tug them down to my knees, and pull down my panties too. You bend me over and tuck me under your left arm. I struggle but you force me to stay in position and begin spanking me with your hand. I can see you are genuinely annoyed, and you're spanking me hard, one smack over the next, the sound of your hand on my bare butt like rifle shots. You keep on spanking and spanking until I am in tears and I know my bottom must be really red.

You are just unfair! We made this stupid hike just for you, I walked all this way with you just to let you have your way, I just gave you a push, it didn't hurt you, please stop, you're really hurting me, stop now, please! Oh my butt, it's burning up, you've spanked me too much, stop now! No more! Noooo! But you keep on spanking and spanking. I'm on fire. Your hand slaps into my tenderest places and I am burning up. I try to stand up but you hold me firmly. I know you need to hurt me, well you've done it, I am hurting! So STOP! Enough! Please!!

You just shake your head, tighten your grip, and keep on slamming your hand into my tender quivering painful butt. I think you will never stop, no matter how much I beg you, as you continue to spank me. Finally, finally!, you let me up. Let me tell you, I've learned my lesson! You can spank me so hard that anything extra, like the switch you cut or the paddle I love, really isn't necessary. Your bare hand on my bare bottom is all the punishment I want or need when you smack me as hard and as long as you did today.

Oooo, what a spanking. I rub my burning bottom with both hands, trying to get some of the sting out. I am burning up . . . but I'm burning in more places than one. Now I know you will attend to the other burn I have and the morning will be wonderful after all. My eyes grow wide as you pick up the switch and come back to me. I just stare at you . . . haven't I been punished enough?

"Bend over and touch your toes." Is this the sweet, lovable Doc I know? You sound . . . so stern . . . almost mean! "Please, no more. I have had enough; my bottom is burning already. I’m sorry I pushed you but you have spanked me enough." I reach for my panties, intending to pull them up. But you hold me by the arm, unnecessarily hard I might add, and bend me over again. You push my panties back down. I burst into tears again and plead for you to stop. I have been punished enough!

"You have to accept the consequences of your actions, jasmine. You've been irresponsible and now you are going to pay the price. I told you to bend over and touch your toes. If you know what is good for you that is exactly what you will do. I don’t care if you think you’ve had enough, I don’t think you have so you will be getting some more. Now bend over." >From your tone of voice I know you mean business. My mind is screaming "no," but I do as you order. I bend over and touch my toes. That action stretches my already sore butt.

"Swiiiick!" I hear the switch whizzing through the air and the sharp sound it makes as it bites into my bottom. It hurts like hell! My tears begin in earnest. It takes everything I have to stay in position and wait for the next cut. I don't have to wait long. The second one is even worse and I can't stop myself from jumping up and grabbing my sizzling butt.

"Back in position, jasmine," you command. I obey, slowly and with considerable discomfort. The next two strokes come so quickly that the third doesn't register before you apply the fourth. Once again I jump up and grab my butt. "No more, please, Doc, please no more." You force me back into position and place your hand on my back to keep me there. Whack! "No!" Whack! "Oweeeee!" I struggle to rise but you press me down. Whack! (Breathlessly) "Oh my god oh my god oh my god" Whack! "Aiieeeee!"

The pain is so intense I can't help reaching back to cover my poor butt. "Move your hand, jasmine, unless you want to feel the switch on your hand." I move my hand and submit unwillingly. You reward me with another hard one across my already very sore and welted butt. The next three are very close together and all on that sensitive spot where butt meets thigh. I am crying and begging you to stop.

"Doc, please stop, honestly, I can't take any more." You pause . . . and I hope desperately that you are realizing I have been punished enough. Then I realize that you are just thinking over where to land that wicked switch next. Your hand rises, then brings the switch down hard right at the tender top of my thighs. "Owweeeee!" I thought I was in pain before, but this is unbearable. You continue to switch me and I can only cry. Finally, you throw the switch down.

I am crying so hard I barely realize that you have stopped. Sometimes at the end of one of these long punishments I am half out of my mind, my burning butt is hurting so badly. This is one of these cases, except on top of the spanking you've switched me so hard, I can feel the welts rising all over my bottom and upper thighs. My head is swimming and I'm trying to regain my equilibrium. Must I suffer so, under your dominance?

You take my arm, thank you Doc, you're going to soothe and comfort me now. I've suffered so much but now you will take me in your loving arms. . . But wait . . . you draw me over to a log, sit on it, and start to pull me across your knees. What are you thinking? Are you crazy? I fight you, kicking and squirming. You give me one hard slap across my very sore butt.

"Settle down, jasmine! Stop it!" you say. I stop squirming and beg frantically. "You can’t spank me again, you just can’t. I’m in so much pain. I’ve had enough, actually way more than enough. Please stop." But you give me another slap. "I wasn’t planning on spanking you anymore, I was going to rub some of the sting out, but since you fought me and tried to control your spanking I will have to teach you a lesson. I spank until I am done. I don’t care if you feel you’ve had enough, I make that decision, not you. Do you understand that?"

I burst into tears. You give me another hard smack and repeat your question. I nod, meaning, "yes I understand, of course I understand!" but you expect an answer, a spoken answer. You slap my ass again and repeat your question for the third time. Even though my bottom is on fire and my mind is reeling I am in one of those stubborn moods and I will not answer you. You push me off your lap. You walk back towards the picnic basket, pick it up, and walk back over to the log.

I am grateful that my punishment is finally over. I can't say I'm hungry for the sandwiches, but I am certainly relieved. I'll admit I'm surprised . . . I didn't answer a direct question, yet you are letting my stubborn defiance slide. And then I find out what you had in the picnic basket . . .

* * * * Doc, will you tell the rest of it? What happened then? * * * * * **

Doc . . . ** "Sure I will, sweetie. You did a great job on the beginning, and there's not too much left to tell. You can chip in when I leave something out."

"OK, Doc."

Let's see, I have the basket now over by the log. I open the basket and spread the blanket on the ground. Out come a couple of neatly wrapped sandwiches and two containers of water. I put them on the blanket. You think I've forgiven you and you are thankful. You slide your panties and shorts back up, wincing as they cross the switch lines. I smile to myself, thinking they won't be up for long. I pull out some napkins, cookies in a baggie, and a plastic package of those alcohol wipes meant for washing hands. You are fastidious about being clean, I know you'll appreciate them.

Now on to business. I pull out a small paddle, and instead of laying it on the blanket I hold it up and turn to you. Your feelings of surprise and relief vanish and I can see panic overcome you. "I was going to give you a nice thorough paddling after lunch, jasmine, but you need one now. Let me warn you, it's going to hurt a lot on your switched bottom."

<<<Panic doesn’t begin to describe how I feel at this point. My poor bottom is so sore I can barely stand it. It is throbbing and I can feel every welt you have given me with that awful switch. The thought of taking a paddling after that immediately brings tears to my eyes.>>>

Your tears and protests begin again. I ignore them and pull you back across my lap. "I believe I asked you a question, but you were too stubborn to answer. Maybe this will loosen your tongue." "No! No! No!" "You are the most *childish* (smack!), *incorrigible* (smack!), *immature* (smack!), *willful* (smack!), and *headstrong* (smack!) girl I know!" These five rapid swats all land in the same place.

<<<At this point I can’t think of anything other than the extreme pain those five swats added to my burning bottom. I am feeling really sorry that I chose to be defiant rather than obedient. I should have known better because you never let me get away with defiance and now my poor bottom is going to pay the price.>>>

"I'm sorry. I'm really really sorry!"

"I spank until *I* am done. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, I understand," you scream.

<<<I’m not about to make you ask me again. I’ve learned my lesson, when you ask me a question I answer it.>>>

"Good," I reply. "Now, I am going to give you a good paddling and I want you to ask me to paddle you, count every swat, and thank me for each one as well. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir, I understand. I have been very naughty, will you please paddle me until you think I have had enough."

"Very good." I then begin to paddle you. Your bottom is on fire, heaven only knows how you manage to count and thank me for each swat. I can barely understand you through your sobs. I have never paddled you this hard before, but it is my right to do so. It is my right to punish you as I see fit. I love watching you like this, over my knee, your welted butt flattening with each sharp smack of the paddle. I can hear in your voice how much this is hurting you, but you have certainly earned it, and I am not going to hold back at this point. I am going to keep on disciplining you until you have truly learned your lesson.

<<<I’m not sure how I managed to count myself. The only thing that kept me counting was the fear that if I missed a count you would think I was being defiant again. My poor bottom is already extremely sore and I am going out of my mind with the pain. If you were to just rest your hand on my butt it would cause pain, but you keep wielding that piece of hard wood as hard as you can. Every single swat sends pain deep into me.>>>

Your butt was covered with welts from the switch already. Paddling you hard like this, each blow makes you buck and howl, and I can hear from the sound of your voice that the pain isn't momentary, it has lasting power, the burning building and building as one whack builds on all the rest. I can see sweat on your legs and lower back. Your butt muscles are churning as I paddle them hard; none of your wiggling keeps me from landing the paddle just where I want to each time . . . I choose the place the paddle lands with care, intending it to hurt you, and hurt it does. This is the paddle with the small holes, and you are blistering up nicely. I keep on going. I paddle all of the resistance right out of you until finally you hang limply over my lap accepting each and every stroke.

<<<The fire in my bottom, Doc, I could never believe such pain existed. After a few minutes of that hard paddling I stop struggling. The pain is still unbelievable but you keep paddling me because it is your right. My butt is yours to do with as you choose. My atrocious behavior is the current reason I’m being paddled, but it is your right to paddle me even if there isn’t a reason. I just lay there accepting each swat. I’ve been overcome by the pain and now calmly accept whatever you choose to give me. The pain is still incredible, but it is also spreading inside me.>>>

Your bottom is a mess, and your face is red and covered with tears, crying hard, your nose running. You have certainly learned your lesson; you are one well-paddled girl. And how lovely your bare bottom looks, the signs of your suffering clearly visible. There are switch lines from just above the middle of your bottom down to the top couple of inches of your thighs, blisters from the holes in the paddle, and your whole butt is a fire engine red color. All the fight has gone out of you and there are heartfelt sobs coming from deep in your chest. When I look at the switch lines I can see your skin is quite abraded. It's not broken anywhere, but it is roughed up, and I know that sitting will be very hard for you for several days.

<<<I don’t even need to see my bottom to tell you what it looks like. I can feel every welt from the switch, every blister from the paddle, and the intense heat radiating from the whole area. I can tell you have paused, but the sobs just keep coming. I’m hoping you are done since I hurt so bad, but I’m not going to say anything because I’ve learned my lesson well. You paddle me until you are done and I just have to take it.>>>

I put the paddle down on the log next to me. Your behavior was atrocious, but I have disciplined you quite severely for it. I have given you all the punishment I can justify. You don't deserve any more. But although you have had all you deserve, I haven't given you all I want to give you. I reach down and pick up the box of alcohol wipes, open them, and put them on the log next to the paddle.

I put my right leg carefully over the back of both of your knees. "Give me your right hand, jasmine." You shake your head "No!" but you obey. Unsteadily you reach back up and I take your right wrist in my left hand. I hold it firmly in the small of your back, pressing you down, immobilizing you. With my right leg over yours you are completely at my mercy. I am not continuing the punishment because of your misbehavior. I'm doing it purely for my own pleasure.

I take the entire wad of hand wipes and place them firmly on your bare bottom, squeezing them against you and making the alcohol pour out, all over your butt, gushing down your crack and dripping between your legs and down to the ground. I press the soggy pad down, hard, on your flaming ass. The alcohol immediately penetrates all the raw, inflamed areas created by the switch and paddle. You throw your head back and scream.

<<<Doc, Doc, my bottom feels like it's been thrust into a blast furnace . . . this is unendurable! Even though I have reminded myself that this is your right I try to struggle, but I cannot move. You have me completely immobilized with your superior strength.>>>

I toss the wipes back in the box, take the paddle, and bring it up high, then down hard across the center of your bottom. This vigorous swat on your alcohol-bathed bottom is painful beyond your imagination, and you scream again. Your whole body is writhing in agony. You aren't exactly trying to escape . . . you can't think that clearly; you are simply responding involuntarily to the pain. Fortunately I knew this was going to happen and I hold you too securely for you to do anything but struggle. I bring the paddle down again, lower. You jerk violently as I deliver a third, and fourth, blows to your boiling bottom. You are going out of your mind as I paddle you again and again, driving home the fiery lesson that I will hold you down and make you take the punishment I choose to give you.

<<<If I thought the alcohol was unendurable I cannot begin to describe the feeling of that hard and unyielding paddle on my alcohol soaked, abraded flesh. It hurts so badly I cannot even think. All reactions are purely involuntary because the only thing I am capable of thinking about is the pain. I try to submit to this, but it hurts so much I can’t help but struggle and scream.>>>

Each blow of the paddle is separate and distinct, and with each your screams become more frantic as I drive you beyond the limits of your endurance into that unimaginable space and time where there is only the agony of your fiery bottom and the sweet power of my complete control. This incredible experience brings us far beyond simple intimacy. Our souls fuse as I dominate and punish, as you suffer and submit. * * * * * * Much later. It is all over. We are back on this earth, I am once again over the log and you are over my lap, crying hard. I soothe you. "There, there, it's all over now," I say. You are limp over my knees, unable to move. I help you up and get you sitting on my thighs, facing me, your knees on the outside of my thighs and your butt in the air in between them.

"Ohhhh, the pain in my ass is incredible, Doc." "I know, sweetie, I know. You are very brave." "It's throbbing and burning, it's too much for me to bear, I can't stand it. . . ." You hold on to me tightly, your body shaking. "jasmine, sweet jasmine, I've punished you enough." You flop your head on my shoulder, crying unrestrainedly. I hold you so close. I rub your back, snuggle you closer to me, whisper in your ear that you are forgiven and that you are wonderful.

You continue to bawl- -I know your butt is still on fire- - and I continue to comfort you affectionately. Slowly your sobs settle down to heavy sniffling. Now my instincts of compassion yield to a desire for a more personal intimacy. I scoot you closer to me, your breasts in the skimpy halter top pressed against my chest, your belly close to mine. I have been so focused on your ass, but now I am only aware of how close your pussy is, and how much you need me now.

This pain-into-passion is part of the magic of spanking, isn't it? You remind me of the evergreens in the nearby woods. There are some evergreens whose cones can only grow in the aftermath of fire . . . certainly your erotic nature blooms best when your ass is ablaze . . . I love this part of you. "Take off your top, jasmine." You comply, and I kiss each lovely nipple.

I slide one hand down from your back to your bottom, kneading your delicious cheeks, keeping the fire burning, reminding you that I own your ass, that I set you on fire, that you are mine to punish and love as I wish. I command you, and now I command you to move into pleasure. My fingers run along the crack of your ass, my palm squeezing your flesh, feeling the welts. You gasp and moan, moving your butt away from my exploring hand and then thrusting it against it once again. You speak again. "It hurts when I push my butt against you, Doc. "I know, sweet jasmine." "I need that hurt, I love that you hurt me like this." "And I love to hurt you, almost as much as I love to love you." Your body shivers against mine, your excitement growing rapidly as your pain settles down to a steady throbbing.

We kiss, a hot kiss like your hot ass squirming over my thighs. I take hold of one cheek in each hand and squeeze, hard. You are already boiling; I squeeze again, and you cry out as you slide rapidly to a hot, sweet orgasm. I hold you close to me as you ride through it.

Sexual arousal- - the orgasm cycle- - usually builds, reaches a crescendo, and then dissipates, leading to calm satisfaction. Your hot bottom alters this process, moving you from decrescendo directly into the moving-toward-orgasm phase once again. I kiss you again, knead your bottom again. You gasp, and I squeeze again; you rub your breasts against my chest. I move one hand from your butt to pinch your nipples. We continue these squeezes, pinches, rubbings, for short minutes and then you are ready to go over the top again. Perhaps five minutes for two orgasms; a good paddling certainly augments your responsiveness. I caress you softly as you recover; after this climax your eyes are beginning to focus again. But I know that the fire from your burning bottom still flows through your pussy and up into your belly and heart and breasts.

I kiss you again, sliding one hand over your lower back and down to your bottom. My other hand reaches up and squeezes one tit, hard, and you gasp through the kiss. Now I slide that hand down your chest, down your belly, and into your crotch. You are sopping, of course, and I slide my fingers across the surface, over your wet girl flesh, feeling the tugging and friction and slipperiness all together as your heavy breathing comes from deep inside you. Now my fingers dive in, sinking into your pussy up to the knuckles, rubbing against your clit as they penetrate, withdraw, and then penetrate again, deeper. You break off the kiss and bite my shoulder, then throw your head back, mouth open, your body becoming rigid by degrees, you are pure hot ass-and-pussy as I squeeze your butt and stroke your clit as you go tight and stiff, your pussy squeezing my fingers hard, your eyes glazed, shouting as it all rushes over you while I probe and knead and kiss you, you carrying me with you as you are transported far beyond glory. This journey lasts a long time, until finally, slowly, languorously, you drift back to earth, still wrapped in my loving embrace. * * * * *

We recover together, faces near, breathing each others' breath, arms round each other, settling down little by little. In the warm morning in this meadow there is only the two of us, feeling the gentle breeze, hearing birdsong above the rush of water in the creek.

* * * * * Now it's my turn (not that all of this hasn't been for me, it certainly has). I lie on my back on the blanket and you join me. You unbuckle my belt and unzip my pants, then slide them down far enough to pull my throbbing cock from my shorts. You give it a good squeeze and suddenly I'm the one that's groaning. You take my face in your hands and kiss me as I take my cock in my own grip. I would like to linger and enjoy this heaven slowly, but my self-control is stretched to the breaking point. As you kiss me you murmur, "I loved my spanking, Doc. Thank you for spanking me so hard." You take my idle left hand and put it on your red-hot ass and wiggle, then you kiss me again. "Come for me, Doc, like you spanked me." Your passion sends me hurtling over the edge, and I let go. My release is intense, enhanced by your sweet kisses. You whisper, "I want you to spank me again, Doc, I need you to spank me." "I'll spank you again soon, jasmine," I reply.

The end

jasmine and Doc Tsai

© 2002 Doc Tsai

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