The Machine

In an interview with a reporter, an engineer discusses an old discovery.

By Lorna Brand

“How did I find my inner spanko?” George repeated with a chuckle. “Well it’s quite a story. I can tell you if you have the time?”

“For you, I have all the time in the world,” laughed the rather lovely young lady.

As she moved closer, perching herself at the edge of a footstool in front of the silver fox gentleman, leaning in to grasp every detail.

“I came to the joys of spanking late in life compared to most. It wasn’t until I was clearing out my late great granddad’s attic that I found something that caught my interest. My great granddad was a hoarder of epic proportions, not in the empty milk bottles and piles of newspapers way you may think off but he had collected everything from every relative that had passed away in our family. It was as though it would be tremendously disrespectful to pass on a souvenir snow globe that great aunt Hilda picked up on her travels.

“I loved my granddad very much but there was no way I could take on his collection. I had grown very fond of my clean clutter-free home and sadly don’t have anyone to pass the stuff on to.

“It took me months to get as far as the attic, the crazy amount of odd trinkets finally dealt with, although I had enjoyed learning about our family history along the way. I discovered a unsent letter mixed up with lots of plans for various pieces of furniture. As an engineering and wood work teacher, I am no stranger to carpentry and indeed many of my own pieces are made by myself, as I am sure you can tell. Naturally I was curious and instead of preserving this very old wax stamped letter in the way it had been for generations, I had to open it.

“The paper was very brittle as I unfolded and smoothed it out to read its contents. I recognized it’s importance almost immediately. I was holding an application form for the Great Exhibition of 1851; truly amazing. I had so many questions running through my mind. Why wasn’t it posted? Who was the person that was held in such esteem that he could exhibit a piece of work at this historical event? Ah, I can tell you I was exited; just recalling that moment still gives me goose-bumps.”

“And was that the plan for the…?”

“Yes it was, my dear.” George quickly injected. “It took a moment to see its true purpose. Can you imagine discovering one of your relatives invented a spanking machine? The gigantic device was simply labelled: ‘A Correction Device’.

“I immediately thought back to a Walt Disney cartoon called ‘The Three Little Pigs – The practical pig’ which I had long forgotten all about. I had seen it as a youngster and I am sure your readers will be watching it later.”

He laughed.

“My mind was whirling. This was something that I had to find out as much as possible about. To start with, I only wanted to know about this man but one curiosity led to another.” He smiled mischievously.

His company blushed and giggled as if she was hearing something naughty for the very first time, giving her the appearance she was somewhat younger than the mid-twenties young woman she was.

“Well, I found out this relative of mine was an odd chap for his time. He was the head of a grammar school, a learned man but, like me, he enjoyed working with his hands,” George winked. “And he made a great deal of things. I found his diary and discovered he had made and used this device at his school. I didn’t have to read any further, I had to make this and see how it worked.

“It was much harder than I expected. The best way to describe this gloriously cartoon-like device is like an old wind-up toy. The arm part strikes the target with what looks like a ping pong bat before pulling back with little jerky movements as the teeth click and turn the wheels until it’s at maximum tension and striking again. This process takes about 20 to 30 seconds, giving the victim plenty of time to think about what is coming.

“There is an A shape frame for the target to be placed over which can be adjusted and is beautifully upholstered in a red leather, just like in the plan. It also has a strap that goes across the back of the knees and two individual leather restraints for the wrists.

“Once it was built I practiced on pillows but I couldn’t tell if the force was right or if it would work on a real person like intended, so I took out an advert in your magazine.”

“Oh yes! I have it here,” she says enthusiastically. “It’s very short. All it says is: ‘Volunteer wanted for spanking machine’.”

“Well that’s all it needed to say because I got hundreds of replies. I had no idea spanking was such a popular thing. I narrowed the choice by age and distance. I wanted to find someone in their twenties, not for any ‘pervy old man’ reason but to keep it close to the age range the machine was intended for as well as at a point where I was comfortable with the maturity of the volunteer.”

“What was that first meeting like?” Asked the young reporter as she nervously played with her hair, twiddling it through her fingers in anticipation of the answer.

“I am sure I was more apprehensive than the young lady that came by. We had talked before, and I told her how unsure I was about the machine but I had tested it as much as I could and she was keen to help test it further.

“The very first time, we adjusted the frame to a comfy position but didn’t use the straps just in case she needed to make a quick exit. However, she assured me that despite her slender frame she could withstand quite a spanking. We also kept her jeans on for that first spanking in case the force was too great.

“It was in that moment when I was faced with the most amazing sight my interest turned from family history to spanking. I was deeply embarrassed. I couldn’t control it. She was bent over the leather padded frame gripping on to the wrist restraints despite the fact they where not attached to her. Her blue jeans stretched tight across her bottom with her T-shirt tucked in to the waist band. Even now it makes me smile to think about it,” he said in a thoughtful way, gazing into his own past.

“That first swat wasn’t perfect, but it was the most vivid and defining moment I have had in quite a number of years. I cranked the handle just enough for a single blow. The creaking and pinging of the gears made the tension of the arm greater until it was finally released like a horse out of its stall. It shot off only to be stopped by that tight little bum. It didn’t land dead centre as we expected, but there was a delightful accompanying squeal which sealed my fate. I was hooked from that point on.

“We made a number of little alterations to perfect the technique before we attempted our first proper session. I am being careful not to mention the young lady’s name for her own privacy as we still see each other for the odd session but she was very instrumental in this whole endeavour.

“I still remember seeing her dear little naked bottom for the first time, her white panties just pooled down to above the leather restraint. Her long black hair was tied up out of the way into a bun in case it flapped about and got caught in the machine, but the most surprising thing was that she had chosen not to wear her top but instead to feel the sweat of the leather on her skin as she got hotter and hotter. She retained her matching bra on this occasion but it took nothing away from the view.

“I leant down beside her and asked her if she was sure about being strapped in and that cheeky minx whispered: ‘That’s half the fun!’

“I made sure those straps were good and tight after that. Standing behind her I could see she was starting to breathe heavier as she heard me start to wind the handle, the wood and springs creaking and groaning.

“Then, all off a sudden the first whack thundered down, striking her in the middle of her glorious rump. The effect was intense on both off us as she let out a little moan, clearly trying to hold back.

“I listened to the arm winding back like an old rollercoaster, ready to go again. Then a loud bang like a starting pistol marked the next strike. I watched hypnotically as the spot on her bottom got darker and darker with each stroke and the screams became louder. Her skin started to glisten in the light of my spare room and she started to strain and pull on the straps. Then, as quick as it started it had finished. I was in complete awe of this little lady taking such a punishment. She lay there breathing rapidly, glimmering and looking completely broken.

“I rushed to undo the strap over her legs and carefully replaced her panties for her. The heat coming from her body, and in particular her bottom, was spectacular. It wasn’t until I walked around to undo her wrists that I saw her red tear-stained face. I felt incredibly guilty in that moment for inflicting such pain on this poor girl and taking such a voyeuristic pleasure in it. I started apologising straight away as I helped her up off of the frame. I couldn’t believe what I had done.

“She was shaking all over before she finally said: ‘Was it good for you too?’

“Then she laughed. She told me that it was such an intense feeling because she knew no one was in control except the unrelenting machine and as it always hit the same spot it was more painful than she expected.

“Over time and after many, many volunteers, it became clear to me why my relative didn’t enter his unique invention to the Great Exhibition.”

“Why?” Blurted the riveted journalist, her big green eyes wide and focused entirely on her subject.

“Why? Do you not see the problem? The appeal is also the downfall, my girl. As much as I loved watching those first victims in all their different shapes and sizes bent over and all looking so beautiful awaiting the impact, I longed for more. I wanted to feel what it was like to have the bat make contact and bounce back. I wanted to be able to cover the whole of their bottoms and see the results of an unpredictable routine, or to see what happens with different implements. The joy in spanking is in the contact, the hands-on feeling and the control you are given by the person allowing you to spank them. I am sure my relative didn’t enter his invention because of similar views.”

“So, do you enjoy having someone draped over your lap?” Smiled the reporter, acting seductively and more adult than she had up until this point.

“Well, if I didn’t you wouldn’t be doing an article on me for your CP magazine. But if you have the time, I have the stamina!”

The End

© Lorna Brand 2015


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