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Wednesday, 18 April 2018

Waves of Hurt

By Andrew Grantham from Janus 163
Kelly Andrews caught sight of herself in a mirror. She thought how smart she looked in the naval officer’s uniform with the two gold rings on the sleeves. Very becoming. The twenty-year-old blonde girl’s hair was tucked beneath a peaked cap with its gold embroidered badge. It was much nicer than the headgear she, herself, had been issued with when she had enlisted.
Kelly was not entitled to wear the uniform presently adorning her shapely frame. She was not an officer. She had never been to Dartmouth — didn’t really know where the place was!
However, she would not be wearing that outfit for very much longer. It would be coming off — along with the clothing beneath it, with the probable exception of her dark stockings.
‘Where did you get the uniform, Andrews?
The questioner was an authoritative-looking but not unhandsome man in his early forties. The three gold circles on the epaulettes of his white shirt indicated that he held the rank of commander in the Royal Navy.
‘I sort of borrowed it, sir,’ was the response. It sounded cheeky but Kelly had not really intended it that way.
‘Why did you decide to wear an officer’s uniform?’ the other man wanted to know.
He was younger than the commander, with rugged good looks and tousled fair hair. The two rings on his epaulettes indicated he was a lieutenant — two ranks below his colleague who was sitting in another easy chair.
‘Well, sir,’ began Kelly, thinking that the change of uniform had maybe not been such a good idea after all. ‘I thought it would heighten the erotic content of the… er… proceedings more so than watching me take off my own rig!’
‘That sounds a good explanation, David.’ The younger man turned to his fellow officer.
‘Okay Edward,’ nodded the commander, running a hand through his slightly greying hair. He then addressed the blonde rating who was wearing a uniform to which she was not entitled. ‘Please begin, Andrews.’
Kelly could feel her heart thumping. She was no stranger to taking off her clothes in front of blokes. These guys, however, were officers no less and she would be performing a strip rather than just undressing. There would be no sex awaiting her at the end of it. What was in store for her, however, was something which would be quite painful and humiliating as well. It would also be, despite the fact that she was a ‘worldly’ girl, a first. Kelly had never had her bottom smacked before!
The punishment which awaited her would not be found in any of the pages in Queen’s Regulations! That august manual did, however, make it quite plain that the charges which could presently be levelled at the female rating would be dealt with by a court martial and nothing less.
The night before, when Kelly had been on duty on her own, both of the officers now in the room with her had discovered her the worse for drink and incapable of carrying out duties, so endangering the safety of several vessels at sea. The lieutenant, Edward Youngman, had taken over Kelly’s post whilst a furious David Trent had managed to sober up the drunken sailor girl with copious draughts of coffee.
The two men had decided to ‘cover up’ the offence in order to save a great deal of inconvenience and awkward questions from ‘higher up.’ The ‘cover up’ depended upon Kelly being willing to having her bottom ‘seen to’ in the ‘good old-fashioned way’, being both spanked and paddled.
Kelly had been only too willing to agree to the proposal. Both the officers knew she was a girl who could keep her mouth shut.
Even if Kelly had ‘kissed and told’ she knew it would be her word against theirs and who would believe a lowly rating such as herself in the face of a denial from two officers? Although the three people involved all earned their living by the sea, they were, nevertheless, on very safe ground on account of the class distinction practised by the services.
The blonde-haired girl unbuttoned the jacket and laid it neatly on a small table. It would have to be returned in pristine condition to its rightful owner. The white shirt beneath was well pushed out by her bosom and the black tie had to follow the contours of her breasts.
She unknotted the tie but left it within the collar and then began to unbutton the shirt. With all the buttons undone, she pulled it out of her skirt so that it hung loose.
All the time that she was undressing, Kelly stood squarely in front of the two officers. She had to admit to herself that she was quite enjoying this part of the proceedings. Performing this private strip was quite good fun.
Kelly quickly decided what to take off next. She would go topless before removing her skirt and briefs. The two men would enjoy watching her tits bouncing and shaking about. She was very grateful to the officers for letting her off so lightly. This was much better than spending time in the brig.
She shrugged out of the shirt and this time laid it over a chair back so that it wouldn’t crumple. Her lace-edged bra could not conceal all its contents and the long slants of her breasts were, she knew, quite a pretty sight.
Lieutenant Youngman crossed one leg over the other and Kelly knew why!
She took her time in unclipping her bra strap and in slipping the thin straps down her slender arms. Then, with a theatrical flourish, she pulled away the cups from their contents. Next, in another theatrical gesture, she held the discarded garment up to head height between finger and thumb before letting it drop to the chair.
Kelly’s now exposed breasts were the obvious centre of the men’s attentions.
‘Do you like me tits?’ she asked. Kelly was proud of her ‘up top assets’ and justifiably so. They were pear-shaped and a light honey in colour, like the rest of her. She gave them a shake which highlighted their youthful firmness. The tiny, pink nipples were reminiscent of pencil erasers.
‘Er… yes.’ Edward Youngman had to clear his throat before answering the question.
The commander said nothing but gave a barely perceptible nod of approval.
Kelly swung her body to one side to enable her to lower the zipper of her skirt. The material became a crumpled heap at her feet and she side-stepped neatly out of it.
The glorious sight of her youthful, moving breasts was clearly appreciated as Kelly made the act of removing her skirt a performance. The men’s eyes also took in the sight of her skimpy, lace-edged briefs. The wad of pubic hair beneath the thin nylon was very evident. Kelly kept ‘down there’ trimmed a little, but she did not depilate her love mound as she liked to prove to lovers that she was indeed a natural blonde!
She made to skin down the briefs but David Trent held up a hand to stop her. Clearly, he would have the pleasure of removing them when she was across his lap. He would obviously spank her before his fellow officer, as he outranked his colleague.
‘You had better remove your shoes, Andrews,’ remarked the commander.
Kelly bent forward to unfasten and take off her regulation-issue footwear, so giving the men the opportunity of surveying her shapely bosom from a higher angle.
She noted the fact that, despite the intimacy of the occasion, there were no first name niceties. Kelly was very much ‘other ranks’ as opposed to an officer!
Her breasts moved slowly and majestically as she stood upright again.
‘You may leave your stockings on!’ David Trent graciously informed her. He stood up, a tall and imposing figure. ‘Move that seat to the middle, will you.’ He pointed to an upright chair.
Kelly complied but the shirt-sleeved officer re-positioned the chair to suit himself. He then sat down, patted his thighs and beckoned her with a forefinger. Kelly took a deep, bosom-heaving breath and began the process of draping herself in a submissive position across the man’s lap.
As she settled herself, she was aware of the pole-like structure within his trousers. It was to be expected of course. She realised that her bottom was right in front of the lounging lieutenant. He would have a close-up view of the action!
Trent hooked his thumbs into the sides of Kelly’s briefs and slowly, reverently almost — as if he were lowering the white ensign, he began to lower the skimpy nylon triangle over her bottom.
Kelly was sure that the two men now obviously viewing her rear would appreciate the sight of her naked bum. She knew for a fact that she looked good back there.
Indeed, she did. The nude female matelot’s rear was alluringly peach-shaped. The parting between the cheeks was long and deep. She made no attempt to squeeze together neither her nicely-moulded thighs nor her buttocks, so that the officers could clearly see the swell of her labia.
The commander took the briefs all the way down her legs and away completely from her feet. Then, in a rare display of light-heartedness, he threw them at his fellow officer. Youngman, grinning, caught the wispy nether garment and held it aloft in both hands as though it were a sporting trophy.
‘Sir.’ Kelly’s voice came from down near the floor. ‘How many spanks are you giving me?’
‘One does not administer a set number of spanks,’ was the crisp response. ‘I shall stop when I want to stop and then I shall hand over to Lieutenant Youngman.’
Kelly made a face and poked out her tongue, the floor acting as a surrogate for the commander.
She gave an involuntary flinch at the touch of the man’s hand as it followed the shapelycontours of her well-presented buttocks. There were, however, no straying fingers prying into her private parts. Had there been, she would naturally have objected, but she really would not have minded!
The strong male hand was raised and Kelly waited for the first ever serious smack to her bottom.
Kelly certainly felt the contact, but it didn’t seem as bad as she had expected.
Another equally forceful slap landed in exactly the same place. That stung a bit.
The commander then delivered a salvo of about half-a-dozen crisp smacks to Kelly’s summits, alternating from one cheek to the other. The stinging sensations in the struck areas began to build up and Kelly started writhing in the man’s lap. There were no cries from her throat, but she was now feeling the effects of the officer’s hard-hitting hand.
A brief pause followed, during which time the commander pursed his lips and gave a nod of approval to his colleague. Youngman returned the nod with a smile. Both men were clearly satisfied with the progress so far.
Further progress was made. Trent raised his punishing palm even higher and then brought down his hand as sharply as possible. The cupped palm moulded itself to Kelly’s reddening left bum cheek, making a resonant SLAP as contact was made.
‘Hmmmpphh!’ Kelly exhaled audibly as the sting began to increase.
Commander Trent then landed another slap of equal intensity onto the twin rouged orb. Again, Kelly blew out her cheeks. Things were really hotting up now.
The officer’s arm rose and fell several times, filling Kelly’s backside with ever-increasing stinging fire.
Up until now, the commander’s left arm had rested upon the small of the naked girl’s back but as Kelly’s writhings became more acute, he ringed her trim waist with it.
‘Can’t have you falling overboard, Andrews,’ Another rare moment of humour from the commander.
He carried on slapping Kelly’s rosy hummocks as he spoke.
Kelly now began responding with the application of each sonorous smack and she bounced up and down in the man’s lap. She was more aware of the extent of David Trent’s increased arousal. With a bit of luck, he might just explode in his pants!
The slaps were unhurried and landed on different areas of the girl’s nates each time, including their quite steep outer slopes.
Kelly began to move her legs around in swimming-like movements. Her thighs became wider apart and her private area ceased to be private. It was, in fact, very much on display. The chastiser paused for a moment to peer down upon that prize. Lieutenant Youngman uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in his easy chair, engrossed by the erotic sight before him.
Kelly had expected some hurt but she had also thought it might be a fun situation as well. Any fun, however, was being obtained by the two men. The hurt she was experiencing was much more than she had expected.
Owww!’ Another severe slap landed on her hot hemispheres. Her body contorted yet again.
The commander added more fire to the delinquent rating’s beleaguered buttocks. The tortured flesh was now ruby red in colour and the antics of the stricken Kelly were most vulgar.
Edward Youngman chose not to relax in the comfort of the easy chair, much preferring a close up view of what was going on. He had seen some lewd performances in various ports in the world in his time, but the one he was now witnessing was one of the best. He saw his senior officer signal to him with a raised index finger that, after one more slap, he himself, would be continuing the proceedings — albeit in a different manner.
The pain signal hit Kelly’s brain, causing her body to spasm and her legs to perform marionette movements so prolonging for some time, her obscene performance. She did not know, of course, that the spanking had ended. Her spirits were thus raised when the officer released her waist. By then, her frantic movements had subsided somewhat and there was no danger of her ‘falling overboard’ as the commander had put it.
‘Time to change watches now, Andrews!’ announced David Trent to her. ‘Up you get!’
Wincing, and aided by the officer, Kelly struggled upright. Her eyes were puffy, although there were no signs of any tears. Her hands clutched her scarlet-skinned hemispheres in an attempt to give them some comfort. Her standing position, next to the officer, provided him with a close-up view of her youthful, firm and shapely breasts.
‘Lieutenant Youngman will attend to you now.’ He quickly dismissed the dejected girl with a wave of his hand.
Poor Kelly was now wondering whether a severely sore bottom, the humiliation and the tears which would definitely come sooner or later were, indeed, better than a court martial and the inevitable consequences. She quickly decided that the short, sharp, shock treatment she was undergoing was infinitely better. It was teaching her a lesson, as well.
‘I’m going to paddle your bum, Andrews,’ stated the lieutenant, cheerfully. Kelly turned to face him, still clutching hold of her behind as if it were in danger of falling off. He was now standing with his hands behind his back. ‘Paddling, by the way, has nothing to do with propelling a dinghy!’
David Trent laughed. Kelly did not appreciate the joke the officer had made at her expense. She felt very much a second class person.
Kelly’s mouth dropped open and her eyes widened as she watched the younger man produce from behind his back a hefty-looking, white gym shoe. It looked capable of inflicting a great deal of serious hurt, notwithstanding the fact that her bottom had already been tenderised by the spanking.
‘Bend over! Legs apart! Take hold of your ankles!’
Youngman was used to giving orders. Kelly was used to taking them. A little stiltedly, she took the few paces to the spot indicated and jack-knifed her body into the required position.
Her bottom felt much more vulnerable and exposed than it had done when she had been over the commander’s lap. Kelly was no prude, but she did believe the pose was most undignified, if not downright vulgar. Her moist quim was blatantly exposed.
‘I’m giving you six swipes, Andrews!’ declared the younger officer, moving behind her. ‘Don’t get up or I’ll start all over again! Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir,’ sniffed Kelly. Having to refer to him as ‘sir’ in this humiliating posture rankled with her.
Youngman lightly tapped the crown of her upthrust bum-cheeks a couple of times before raising his arm. Kelly tensed her body, clenched her nates and held her breath.
The force of the blow nearly bowled Kelly over. The hurt was instantly severe and penetrating, far worse than she had expected.
The effects had not had time to wear off before the second blow jolted through her body. She, herself, was unable to see just how the flesh of her bottom was dented by the hard-hitting gym shoe. The piece of footwear was one of the largest sizes available and the flexible sole smote equally each burning cheek.
Kelly’s scorched seat swung from side to side in response to the hit. Her dangling breasts did likewise.
Youngman tapped the shoe against his uniform trousers as he waited for Kelly’s simmering summits to slow their movement somewhat. He turned his head to look at his senior officer, who responded with an approving ‘thumbs up’ sign.
As the luckless girl’s buttocks began to lessen their activity, he raised the makeshift paddle to prepare for the next downward swing. Then, satisfied, that the time was ripe, he delivered another robust smack onto the young female ratings upthrust buttocks.
Kelly gave out a high-pitched yell as the sole of the soundly applied gym shoe impacted against the meaty rounds of the unmissable target. Her raw-like rump began a frantic circular movement, rivalling any performance that matelots of earlier generations would have witnessed in the fleshpots of Aden and Hong Kong.
Kelly, herself, realised what she must look like back there, but she was not at all concerned about the lascivious show she was putting on. She could not realise just how scarlet was her derriere.
‘Her bum could serve as a navigation beacon — port side, of course!’ drawled the commander, a man not normally noted for his humour, sick or otherwise.
Youngman laughed as he watched the female sailor’s behind decelerate its motions. Up went the footwear once more. It stayed aloft until, with great determination, it was brought crashing down onto Kelly’s tormented bum mounds.
It landed with the loudest sounding Whapp! yet.
‘Yeeecchh!’ Kelly’s resultant cry was higher in pitch than her previous vocal protests.
Her knees buckled under her. She managed, however, to brace herself and then her knees began to pivot furiously up and down.
Kelly’s tortured bum-flesh was now even brighter in colour although she, herself, was unable to see the hot sheen of her buttocks. She could, however, feel white hot pain spreading its tentacles through her body from the blazing source of the anguish.
The lowly female rating resolved never to be guilty of dereliction of duty ever again.
The footwear-wielding officer waited patiently for the agitated movements of Kelly’s severely sore posterior to subside before preparing to launch a further assault upon the rubied rotundities.
Kelly managed to bring her body under control and she tensed herself, blinking back the tears, in readiness.
‘Yowwww!’ Another blistering impact jerked Kelly’s demented nates into action again, the gym shoe rebounding from the springy hemispheres.
Both men observed the wild cavortings with a mixture of both amusement and satisfaction. Through her anguish, Kelly’s brain continued to work. She would have expected the more senior of the two officers to have applied the more horrendous part of the punishment. Perhaps the commander preferred the intimacy and the actual hand contact of the spanking.
‘One more remaining,’ announced the lieutenant. Kelly was glad to hear it, although she had been counting all along.
Gradually, the sunset-like orbs became still and Kelly steeled herself for the final swipe.
‘Yeeeeeccchhh!’ The speeding rubber sole colliding with the stationary, rounded-out female flesh sent ripples of anguish through the naked girl’s body. The gyrations of her stricken rear were the most frantic and the most obscene of the whole session.
‘Well done, Edward.’ The commander complimented his subordinate.
Smugly pleased with the antics of the errant rating, the two men observed Kelly’s distress without informing her she could get up when she wanted. It was Kelly, herself, who sought permission. ‘Can I stand up now, please?’ she blubbered.
‘No! Stay where you are!’ commanded David Trent, getting up from his seat. He moved to stand in front of the tearful Kelly. Then, he tilted up her chin so that she was looking at him with her wet eyes. ‘I’m now going to give you six strokes of the cane!’
‘What!’ screeched the girl, shooting upright. Horror was etched on her pained, though pretty, features as she beheld the long, whippy wand the commander had been hiding. ‘Why?’
The officer delivered his response in an icy tone. ‘Earlier on, you were wearing the uniform of someone who holds the Queen’s Commission were you not?’ Kelly nodded, dumbly.
‘Impersonating an officer in the armed forces is an offence of the most serious nature!’


  1. A proper thrashing is good for the man who delivers, as well as the young female who receives it; it is better to give than receive.