Hey Nineteen (Part 3)

Hey, Nineteen! (Part 3) 

Birthday Contest #1 was completed.  After weeks of training and orgasm denial, my mistresses celebrated my birthday by holding a handjob contest, milking my orgasm onto my birthday cake to the delight of their friends.  

Still blindfolded and bound to the heavy coffee table,  I took a beat to bask in the afterglow of my success, I felt a familiar twinge in my groin.  “Ma’am, I need to pee.” 

Mistress placed my water bowl under my penis. “Go ahead. Pee.”

Well… damn! Any hope of a stretch break evaporated. I knew there was no sense in arguing.  So, I relaxed my bladder and peed into my own water bowl.  Ms J♠️ just laughed and dug the heels of her go-go boots into my shoulders and pushed her chair back.  She stood up  carefully, regained her post-orgasm balance and pulled the water bowl beneath my face.  “Drink up!” she chided as she wandered off to go wash any remaining ice cream off her nether regions.   

Blindfolded, I couldn’t see the urine in the bowl.  But the smell was heavy.  I imagined bubbly bits of albumin floating in the bowl.  Ms Margie scoffed.  She seemed a little annoyed at Ms J♠️’s impertinence.  “Wait, baby,” she countermanded, carrying off the bowl and returning with fresh water.  

After permitting me a few minutes to rehydrate, my bone gag went back into my mouth.  Ms Margie once again called the attention of the crowd. As hostess and mistress of ceremonies, she managed the crowd like a professional event planner. 

“If I can get everyone’s attention please! I hope you’ve enjoyed this party showing off our prized Irish PussyHound so far.” 

Following a smattering of applause, some affirmations and laughter and, Margie continued, “Up until now, we have kept his blindfold on so as to maintain suspense and the anonymity factor.  But for our next game, the judges  need to see his eyes.  So, if you brought a mask or hood, you will want to put it on now.  If you need a mask or hood, please take one from the back table. It’s time to move on to tonight’s Game #2!  If everyone will ensure that you’re on the betting pool board, gather your remaining cards, and then please make your way to your seats, we will continue shortly.” 

Their instructions now received, my ears filled with the sounds of people and furniture being rearranged.  I tried to envision might be happening, but my senses had been  so overwhelmed and disoriented that any such efforts proved futile. 

Ms Sally took the lead.  “As you can see on the poster board, our second game is called, ‘Tears for Years’.  Our birthday boy turns 19 today.  A little background on this young man. He reportedly hasn’t cried since he was 10 years old.  That kind of stuffing down his emotions just isn’t good for him. Tonight we aim to give him a good healthy cry! Your aim will help!”

Some laughter resulted from the voyeurs as I began  uncomfortable squirming.  That led to some teasing and sadistic taunts from the women looking forward to taking out their frustrations on my restrained and vulnerable flesh.

The Mistresses came along either side of me.  They ran fingers through my hair and massaged my neck.  Ms. Margie took my face in her hands, pulling me into her breasts and said quietly, “Trust us, baby.  We all agreed it’s what you need.  Don’t hold back.  Don’t fight it.  Let all that hurt out. Do you trust us?”  I nodded in the affirmative.  Both mistresses kissed my shoulders and turned back to the guests.

“We have consent,” Ms Sally continued, “so away we go! Each participant may give him up to 19 swats using an implement of your choice from this cart. Depending on which chart block you have your name on, you may want to go easy or go hard to try to win the prize.  Same deal as last time.  Half the money goes to our winner, the other half to the birthday boy.”  

Ms Sally took two jumbo magic markers from the implement cart and began writing on my body.

“The red zones”, she explained, “are no-go zones.  Any swats in a red zone will immediately forfeit your turn and disqualify you from winning the prize.  Further, it’ll probably result in our bouncers beating your ass.  So stay away from the red zones!  The blue zones have numbers assigned, valued 1 to 4 depending on vulnerability.  If you want to deliver a lot of swats, stick to the low point zones. 

Each participant will get to add points up to 19, but no more.  Again, exceeding 19 points will disqualify you from the prize.”  

My nervous squirming and shifting resumed when I realized that the mistresses had used a marker on my ball sack!  Not sure…red or blue? Probably red, right? Or maybe a blue 4!  What if it was a blue 1?  No. Surely not.  

The mistresses shifted my position on the table.  My backside was now more prominently displayed to the onlookers.  They removed my blindfold.  I blinked heavily as I realized the room was very dark, except for some makeshift stage lights.  In front of me were two chairs for the judges.  On the wall behind them was a large mirror, positioned such that the audience could fully see the look on my face, but their identities were obscure in the bright lights.  

Ms Sally wheeled the implement cart over, so that I could have a look at the tools to be used to evoke my first tears in years. She then rolled it back behind me. 

The mistresses took their positions in the judges seats.  Both ladies were dressed in calf-high boots, garters & stockings, and short skirts. Ms. Margie wore a leather skirt and bustier, while Ms Sally wore a vinyl skirt, and a white silk blouse that revealed a lacey black bra. 

The Mistresses smiled at me.  “Trust us.  You need to let it out.” Ms Margie reassured.  

“I do trust you, Ma’am.”, I replied, “I really do.”  

Ms Sally picked up the deck of cards.  “The first order is left over from Game #1.  4❤️, 6♣️, K♦️.”

Some shuffling behind me as Ms 4❤️ came forward.  She looked at the table and selected an implement. She showed it to my Mistresses, then turned and raised it to the crowd.  Whoops, hollers and jeers and laughter, along with catcalls, like, “Ya girl! Whip that ass!”  She came around to look me in the face.  She was wearing a hood, and she didn’t speak.  She just rapidly flicked a willow switch in front of my face and moved back into position behind me.  The room fell silent, as it seemed everyone wanted to hear every thing: the whooshing of the switch, the impact on my flesh, and any sounds I might make in response.  She began flicking her wrist, the whooshes like “1-2-3-4” then the impact… ONE! The switch landed firmly across the center of both cheeks.  It stung, but barely. Again the flick of the wrist,  “1-2-3-4” followed by the impact… TWO! “1-2-3-4” …impact…THREE! I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the mistresses.  I could see my own reflection in the mirror, but I was watching them watching me.  1-2-3-4” …impact…FOUR, then FIVE, all the way to 19.  

“Thank you, Ms 4❤️.  19 swats total. No tears. Ms 6♣️ please come forward.”

Ms 6♣️ followed the same protocol, selecting an implement, showing it to the mistresses, the audience and then to me.  In retrospect, it seems odd that she chose a flogger. Floggers are known to produce a more “thuddy” pain.  Still, there we were.   Compared to the narrow stingy willow switch, the flogger was easily tolerated for 19 swats.  But it did probably have the effect of bringing blood the skin surface and awakening nerve endings.

As Ms 6♣️ retired, Ms K♦️was already standing by.  As she made her selection, Ms Sally drew 3 more cards. 

“10♦️, 2♣️, 3❤️, please get ready. You’re up next.”

Having endured some 38 swats now, I felt rather cocky.  I know the Mistresses wanted this, and I really did trust them to have my best interest at heart.  But I didn’t understand how such a thing could work.  How could being weak make me feel better.  

As if she could read my mind, Ms Margie leaned forward and slapped my face - hard! The slap rang out unexpectedly across the nearly silent room!  Ms K♦️ paused. I was dumbfounded! 

“You’re being a bad boy! Defiance will NOT be tolerated!”, Ms Margie scolded. “You know what we expect!  Now trust us and do as your told!” 

I mumbled an apology, but Ms Margie wasn’t having it. Ms K♦️showed her choice to them and to the crowd. The Mistresses nodded in approval and Ms Sally gave a cruel grin.  Ms K♦️ did not show the chosen implement to me.

The first swat landing with almost no warning whatsoever!  It sliced across both butt cheeks evenly, and even wrapped around my right hip!  I yelped aloud, and the voyeurs laughed.  As the heat swelled across my ass cheeks, I wondered.  It had to be a narrow leather belt or strap of some kind! 

Ms Margie scolded, “See what happens to bad boys?  Somebody’s gotta love them enough to whoop their asses when they misbehave!”  

A second swat ripped across my ass with the same ferocity as the first. SWAT! 

Ms Sally stared deep into my eyes, “What are you?”, she asked.  

“I’m a bad boy, Ma’am!”

A third SWAT ripped into tender flesh, just below the others. 

“No, you’re not.  You’ve behaved badly, that’s true. And what do boys who behave badly deserve?” corrected Ms Sally. 

“We deserve to be spanked, Ma’am!”  

SWAT!  (4) 

“Yes, you do!  And who cares about you enough to make you be a good boy?” 

SWAT (5)

“You do, Ma’am!” As I looked at Ms Sally’s face, I saw compassion.  Tears welled up behind my eyes.  

SWAT! (6) 

“WE do!  All three of us!  You’re a good kid, trying to hard to be a bad kid!”

SWAT! (7) 

“Trust us.  You gotta let that anger out!”

SWAT! (8) SWAT! (9) SWAT! (10) came three in rapid succession.  

My ass was on fire, my brain was on fire, my eyes were leaking around the edges.  Ms Margie smiled ever so slightly as she glanced at Ms Sally before nodding again to Ms K♦️.  

SWAT! (11) SWAT! (12) SWAT! (13) 

“Come on baby, let it go.  Cry it out. You can do it.  You’ll feel so much better when you do!” Ms Sally encouraged before signaling Ms K♦️.  

Ms K♦️ lifted my tail.  I could feel the buttplug every time my ass clenched, but I’d forgotten all about the tail attached.  She flipped it onto my back.  Suddenly …

SWAT!!! As that 14th swat landed squarely on my perineum and ball sac, I yelped and squealed to the delight of the crowd!  I began to cry in earnest now.  Guttural bawling, ugly crying!  

That ball spanking was a four-pointer, bringing K♦️ count to 18. Ms Sally hugged me and cuddled my tear-smeared face to her breasts, as she nodded to my spanker, who brought down her 19th & final stroke down across my ass with a resounding SWAT!  

“19 + 19 + 18 = 56”  called out Ms Margie,”Who had 56 swats to real tears?” 

A guest looked at the chart and yelled out the name of the winner, “2♣️”

“Well, I didn’t get to whip his ass, but I did come away with beer money!” 2♣️ quipped.

The mistresses continued to hold me and reassure me for quite awhile. The lights came up and everyone took another break.  The birthday party was over, but we were nowhere near done for the night!