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The double-dozen club

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A spanking fetish drives a man to find a club offering consensual release - at a price.

He was naked and kneeling on the inclined platform and trembling a little. His knees were parted and firmly secured to the padded rests. He tried to remain calm, but his heart raced as he heard footsteps approach from behind. He didn’t look back. It didn’t matter who he or she was. The only thing that mattered was passing the test.

“You understand the rules – yes?” It was a female’s voice.

“Yes miss.”

“Just to be clear, once you grasp the bar, if you release it for any reason before we reach the count of 24, the test is over.”

“Yes miss.”

“Grasp the bar and announce when you are set to begin.”

He looked down, bent over, and took hold of the steel bar. It felt cold in his hands, and they were already clammy with perspiration. His fingers flexed and found a good grip, and he took a few breaths before he said “I’m ready miss.”  He was truly on display for her now, and she was in charge.

She decided to start with a butt plug. It helped to humiliate the candidate, and she liked the way the base of the plug spread the ass cheeks open to reveal the more sensitive parts close to the anus. With a gloved-hand, she lubed him and worked two fingers deep inside of him abruptly. She smiled a little at the noise he made and for a moment she thought he might release the bar already, but he just took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. She lubed the plug and worked it in and out of his hole until the widest part slipped past his ass ring as a loud guttural sound escaped his lungs followed by several deep breaths as he adjusted to the invasion.

For as long as he could remember, he had the fetish – a spanking fetish. He wanted to spank and cane the bottoms of all the lovely girls he had met, and even those he had never met. The very sight of certain ample rumps made him fantasize and dream of inflicting pain upon the unsuspecting women he would see in public places. Even the women with very large bottoms that would never qualify for a girlie-magazine or a porn movie would send him into a daydream. “Oh - the flesh they carry around!” he would think to himself. “How I would love to make them bend and scream under the lashes!”

He had tried to satisfy his desires with some of his girlfriends, but none of them would allow much more than a pink butt before they stopped the play, and he was always left wanting more. Thankfully the internet provided him with the groups and forums and information he needed to enter the secret society that provided him with the chance to live his fantasy – but first he had to pass the test.

He was brought back to reality by the sight of her leather boots in front of him and then the glimpse of the penis-gag she intended to place in his mouth. There was no way for him to see her face, but he knew what she wanted. She wanted to increase his humiliation. He opened his mouth slightly, and she toyed with him, pressing the head of the fake dick under his nose and rubbing it back and forth across his lips until he opened wide and held his pose. Like a baby waiting on food, he waited for the thick silicon member to enter his mouth. His tongue searched for a place to rest as well as curled to protect his virgin throat, but the cock-gag was a little longer than he thought, and it forced his tongue to submit. His gag-reflex kicked in and a few retching noises now escaped from his mouth. The gag had a flange piece that fully filled his mouth and she buckled the device onto his head and neck with strong Velcro straps. He was still getting used to the anal and throat invasion as he heard the sound of a cane accelerating through the air and landing firmly on his upturned-ass. The blow caught him by surprise. She wanted to make him release the bar from the shock and surprise of the first strike, and she intentionally swung without warning or “test taps” as some might do. There was a certain amount of pride in making a newbie release early among those that were members of the society, and she had made more than one candidate release from just one swing.

“That’s one honey.” She said it with a sugar-sweet voice that concealed her inner sadism, and she let the pain radiate through his body. His breath was shallow and rapid already from just one stroke, but he bit down hard on the gag as two more strokes landed in rapid succession, very close to the first red stripe. “Two and three” was all she said. Her swings were about 80% of her full strength, but she told him “Those are half-force, just for me to get my aim down.”  The mental part of this exercise was all part of the fun for her, and it provided him with something to consider as he gripped the bar.

She delivered three more blows in quick order, hoping he might not be able to take the pain of the first six coming so fast and centrally located on his ass. “Four, five, and six weren’t so bad now were they?” She had a mocking tone now, but he barely heard it. The last three lashes had blinded him with pain, but he held on tight to the bar. When his mind cleared a little, he thought about the fetish, the naughty, perverse desire he had to be the one swinging the cane. He tried to imagine the up-turned female asses waiting for him to test their endurance. Perhaps one day it would be the very female that was now testing him.

Each member of the club had to re-test twice per year. The bi-annual review was necessary in order to maintain membership, and the members never knew who would be caning whom. There were drawings or competitions conducted to determine the member to swing the cane. Some of the members preferred to be the top and some the bottom (literally). But the desire was strong enough for each member to test and re-test every six months. For a member like him, the secret society not only allowed him, but guaranteed him that he could live his fantasy each month, spanking and caning females – as long as he could pass the test every six months. He tried to concentrate on that dream and hoped that if he focused hard enough, he could survive the entrance exam.

Number seven ignited new nerve-endings, a little lower on his legs, and indeed it was almost a full-strength blow. She let the pain linger and settle into his soul before landing three more lashes, each one slightly lower than the last.

“And that’s eight, nine and ten! – or is it nine?” She teased him and brushed her hand over his warm ass, now dark pink and quickly turning red.

He would have had a hard time telling the difference on the count - if it was nine or ten, but he couldn’t complain even if he wanted to. He was at her mercy, and he was determined to make it into the club.

Snot and slobber dripped from his nose and mouth as the count entered the early teens, and somewhere before twenty, the butt plug popped from his ass. She re-inserted it and scolded him before continuing the strokes to the full twenty-four. His hands were so firmly gripped to the bar, he was afraid to remove them, even when the strokes finally stopped. She had to convince him that he had indeed received the twenty-four strokes required.

“You did it baby! You’re in the double-dozen club!” She stroked his hair and began to remove his gag.

As the words sunk in to him, he slowly removed his hands from the bar, but he could barely straighten himself up. The thrashing was severe and brutal, but so was the desire he had struggled to live with all his life. He finally got a look at her. She was good-looking and fit, and he looked forward to competing to be the one to re-test her bottom one day.  

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