“Marcus, please this is uncomfortable,” the inventor’s wife said in some annoyance.
“Hetty the world of science is a perilous thing, now stop your squawking and let me make some adjustments,” Marcus Tyler snapped.
The ever fashionable Mrs Tyler might have felt better if she had been allowed to keep some of her finery, but now she was strapped unceremoniously across a stiff leather saddle in just her shift and bloomers.
“Are you going to be much longer Marcus?” Hetty whined.
“I think all this underwear is affecting the fine tuning,” Marcus said impatiently. “I think perhaps if we lower these out of the way…”
“Marcus, don’t you dare,” an outraged Hetty gasped.
Too late for Marcus quickly tugged on the draw string to her voluminous underwear and lowered her bloomers down to her ankles to expose her naked derriere.
“Marcus, Marcus,” she said frantically in shrill tones, “Cover me up at once.”
“Now, now this is almost the 20th century and I am your husband. Just think of all the fripperies I can buy you if the ministry approves my invention,” Marcus chided her.
“Invention, you fool, who wants to buy a God benighted spanking machine?” she spluttered. By now she was quite red in the face and exceedingly anxious that the made or worse the gardener would venture into the shed.
“Ready for the first test?” Marcus said in a serious tone.
“No I am not,” Hetty snapped back.
“Of course you are,” Marcus replied as he pulled the lever.
The clank was followed by a light hiss and the sound of a bicycle chain turning over a cog rattled the frame. As the wheel turned a medium sized stiff leather paddle swung down and delivered a firm smack across Hetty Tyler’s bare bottom.
“Yiiikes,” she gasped, “That’s too hard.”
“Well your bottom is only a little coloured and…” he peered at her upturned round behind coolly as the machine spanked his wife again, “It is only on setting four of 12,” he told her.
“Aaaah, you…” she growled, “That hurts.”
“Well it supposed to,” Marcus said sagely and made a note. “Test subject’s posterior moderately red after…” he watched the third spank, “Only three swats. Consummate with a brief slippering I would say.”
“Marcus, stop this infernal thing at once,” Hetty demanded before another swat made her yelp.
“I am going to drop it to a level two for a minute or so and see how it runs,” Marcus said thoughtfully, “It won’t be too bad.”
“M-Marcus, Marcus d-don’t you dare,” she warned and then added another shrill, “Marcus,” as she was spanked again.
“Maybe you are right, best leave it,” Marcus said absently as he got down onto his knees to view the mechanism running from underneath.
Distracted by the workings it was almost 15 minutes before he shut off the machine and during that whole time the only sound was the gentle clank of the device and an ever more distressed Mrs Tyler pleading for her husband to switch it off.
*
Lori Tyler frowned as she studied the bearing case and pondered where she might get a replacement. The postgraduate engineering student had found the Invention at the back of her Great Uncle Henry’s house in a shed. She knew at once what it was. Her Great, Great Grandfather’s spanking machine was something of a legend in the Tyler family, a kind of amusing monument to the eccentric old man and his work.
Few had ever actually seen it and until Lori had stumbled across it she hadn’t even known it still existed. But for the tom-boyish 26-year-old this family heirloom combined two of her passions in life: spanking and engineering.
If she hadn’t just had a monumental bust-up with Graham her boyfriend and if she hadn’t been between jobs, she might never have found the time for the venerable machine. But as it turned out, restoring the old thing to its imagined glory days had become this summer’s project.
Stooping down Lori sucked on a strand of dark brown hair and reached into her dungarees for a small bike spanner.
“Maybe if I just clean the bearings and repack them…” she mused aloud.
It would have been easier if she had had some plans or even a photograph of the intact machine, but then where would be the challenge? In any event, 10 minutes later the bearing canister slid home and she engaged the small sewing machine motor to watch it run.
“Finally,” she grinned and then whooped around the room punching the air.
Pity it wasn’t an achievement she could share with anyone. Graham might have cared, but sadly he was never much of a spanker. But who needed a boyfriend when a girl had a patented spanking machine?
She thought of all the times she had goaded him. His spankings had been lacklustre and he had never made her cry. He hadn’t even managed to bruise her bottom come to that. All in all, she was probably best without him.
“I bet you know how to be really strict,” she cooed as she patted the machine and then she giggled.
The remaining issues were making the right adjustments to the striking mechanism and testing it. Test subject: one little old Lori Tyler, tick, she listed in her head. But then who will operate it? She bent down and looked at the motor. Hmmm, a simple timer plug from the mains instead of a battery might do, she pondered, but then I might need a transformer. Then she was lost again in the world of engineering as she sucked on hair and made a face like her great, great grandfather over a hundred years before.
*
“What are you doing there?” the woman held herself with a stern demeanour in a way that had prompted Lori’s many fantasies. Pity she was just her uncle’s housekeeper.
“N-nothing,” a startled Lori said as she quickly threw a sheet over the machine. “I am just…”
“Well, I was just looking for you to say that your uncle and I are going out… I have to drive Mr Tyler into town for his monthly check-up,” Mrs Bailey said impatiently.
She had evidently taken some time to find her employers niece, but quite why the woman felt she needed to be informed Lori couldn’t guess.
“We will be a few hours, I expect there will be some shopping after,” the woman said dismissively as she turned to go. “Do you need anything?”
Lori glanced behind her to see if the machine was still covered. Not that she was sure why she had hidden it. “No, nothing thank you,” she said with an exaggerated enthusiasm.
“Alright then,” Mrs Bailey said as she walked away.
Lori sighed and turned back to her project.
The machine had been cleaned and polished. She had oiled all the moving parts and cleaned the bearings. The motor worked, although it was clear that this had been a later addition added sometime in the last 50 years. Now that was a curious thought, Lori decided.
She set the timer for two minutes and set the dial at four. She shrugged, she had run it empty a few times and it hadn’t appeared too brisk. Even allowing it to slap her hand had seemed feeble. But the main thing was that it worked.
Lori waited until she heard the car drive away and then she checked the time. It was doubtful that anyone would come back to the shed until teatime, if at all. There was no chance at all of that happening until after two. Lori nodded decisively and bolted the none-too-sturdy door.
Then with an excited sigh she slipped out of her dungarees and then slid her underwear off so that she was naked below the waist except for her trainers.
It didn’t take much bend over the saddle, which was pleasantly firm beneath her hips and she wondered if she should place a towel there in case… she shrugged as she abandoned the idle thought.
“Two minutes at level four, oh God, I hope this works and doesn’t kill me,” she said nervously to herself and with a cross of her fingers and tentatively chewing her lower lip she rammed home the operating lever.
The paddle swat stung and she gasped. Not too bad, she thought and she coped with another. The speed seems to deliver about… she gritted her teeth and counted as the third swat spanked her. It was a moderate struggle but hardly an ordeal and when the machine cut out she had barely broken into a sweat.
Her bottom tingled hotly enough and a quick inspection revealed two satisfying dark pink ovals covering the crowns and underside of her bottom.
“I wonder if I can increase the spank rate?” she mused and without dressing turned back to the machine’s workings.
*
Finally Lori was satisfied and she took a deep breath. “Round two,” she said in an expectant voice.
Her bottom still tingled, but much of the redness had faded and she gave it a rub. At the back of her mind she considered that elusive mind-blowing, bottom-busting spanking that had always been out of reach. She had long wondered what it would be like to cry, to be spanked so long and hard that her begging was as sincere as it was futile. She laughed, Graham had been a bastard sometimes, but the machine would be pitiless.
This time she set it for five minutes at setting six and she could already feel her heart pounding. The lever spring was a natural limiter for the spank rate but she reckoned that she had edged it up to 10 or 11 spanks a minute. For a sustained session it was more than adequate, but she would have liked to get it to 15 for a short sharp sustained beating. She repeated the phrase in her head and grimly wondered if she were mad.
Once across the frame a restraining bar lifted to stop her rolling and offering up anything other than her bare bottom to the paddle. The same feature would also make it impossible to escape the machine until it stopped.
“Oh God,” she sighed as she reached back for the lever, once pushed it would be out of her reach and she would be spanked for the duration. “I am going to regret this,” she muttered.
The paddle came down hard and she grunted at the impact. Her whole body rocked as she was slammed into the leather saddle. Thank God she hadn’t chosen a higher setting, she thought and then the delayed burn added heartfelt sincerity to that prayer.
“Sheesh,” she gasped as the machine spanked her again far sooner than she was ready for. “Okay, okay, this is going to be…. Uh, quite a… ooh… ride.”
It took a minute to leave her panting and by then her bottom was infused with a fiery sting and tears pricked her eyes. “Oh God, I wish I could see the time, I wish I had tested this setting for two minutes… I wish… damn that hurt, damn, hey…. Omigod, omigod, omigod…”
*
Lori thought that it would never end. Her bottom fizzed like a son-of-a-bitch and although the tears weren’t flowing, she had come close.
“Oh my God,” she said breathily and with a slow deliberation.
It was hard to gain her feet and free of the machine she did a little dance with her hands clamped firmly to her bottom.
An inspection in the mirror revealed a bottom that was as red and sore as she had ever seen. She attempted to sit for a moment and found the operation punitive so that she quickly stood again.
“I’m gonna spank you until you can’t sit down for a week my girl,” she quipped. If a man had spanked her like this she would have married him. “That Tyler, is a result.”
Somehow her bottom didn’t know the spanking had stopped and she took some time to rub it vigorously. She checked the time.
“It wasn’t so bad, I mean I could handle more,” she muttered aloud.
She looked in the battered mirror again. Her behind was red, but not heavily bruised. If I set the spank rate a little lower and… well maybe.
It wasn’t lost on her that this game could get addictive and she considered setting a 10 and running it for two minutes. In an empty test the machine had rocked at 12 and even the 10 setting was about as hard as a large man could manage. A useful application for a few minutes, but a girl would be bedridden for a month for a long session.
“Oh God, dare I?” she said to the machine and double checked the time. “Ooh, I’m crazy.”
The dial clicked to an eight and she set the spank rate to standard. Then she paused and her fingers hung over the timer. Without looking she twisted it to approximately 15 minutes and then remounted the machine.
The spank was a minor species of hell and Lori yelled. Okay, she told herself, she knew at once that she had overcooked it.
The second spank made her yell again and her bottom entertained something like a quick once over with a blow torch.
“Not good, not good,” she wailed, but the spanking was on now.
This time it took little over a minute for her to start to cry and the machine just wasn’t going to quit. “Please,” she sobbed, knowing that there was no one to save her and no way to stop it.
Not that she wanted it stop, not yet. This is what she had intended. Well kind of. I just have to keep telling myself… oh Christ, who am I fooling.
“Please help,” she yelled.
*
The fifteen minutes came and went and a sagging Lori had given up bawling like a banshee and was trying to keep it together. It had to stop, it had to.
“I’ll never do this again, never,” she sobbed at the universe. How approximate had she been with the timer anyway?
After 20 minutes Lori knew it would never end. They would find her in the morning and if there was anything left she would never live it down. The girl who couldn’t sit down for a year.
For Lori a small geological age had passed and she started running maths in her head. If I have been spanked for two hours then how many spanks have I had? But the burn and continued impacts robbed her reasoning power. Instead she started to beg again, there was at least some satisfaction in that.
*
The machine had stopped sometime before Lori had noticed. Her bottom felt like it had been skinned and she was exhausted. Realising that it was finally over she let herself break down into full hard sobbing as tentatively she touched her fire-throbbing behind.
Five minutes later the view in the mirror was impressive. “Narcissus rules,” she said ruefully, not able to take her eyes of the machine’s art.
Sitting was off the agenda for the rest of the day and probably the next. But all in all it wasn’t too bad. For one thing she had surely been punished for her folly, but she could hardly complain.
“I wonder if I could set the stroke number and change the paddle for a cane,” she mused aloud.
In the morning, or the next day she would look into that.
