TITLE    : Quality Control Ch. 05
STORYID  : quality-control-ch-05
SUMMARY  : Scientists aren't always as dispassionate as they may seem.
AUTHOR   : Cal Y. Pygia@lit
DATE     : 2009-07-14
CATEGORY : bdsm-stories
FLAGS    : 
TAGS     : |lesbian|spanking|machine|breasts|tits|naked|paddle|


It had been easy to sell the engineers on her idea for a spanking machine that would incorporate all the best features of the many prototypes that had been created from their designs while, at the same time, eliminating the flaws that had become evident during the quality control tests that Dr. Fanny Fanner had conducted upon the contraptions. It hadn't been as much of a cinch to convince the comptroller, Kenneth Stanford, though. He was loathe to part with the additional funds the engineers would need to design the machine, that the machinists would need to construct the machine, and that Dr. Fanner herself would need to test the machine. He'd refused to release the money unless the research team could persuade him that the cost would earn a profit--and a sizable one at that. In other words, Vice-president Stanford had to be convinced that there was a marketing plan for the product and, further, that it was an effective one.



Dr. Fanner had smiled upon hearing the vice-president's response to her idea, which she had proposed to Spank-o-Matic's president, Bob Mattick. The president outranked the vice-president, of course, but there was no way, as much as Mr. Mattick himself liked the physicist's idea of combining the machines' best features into one design in which the flaws of the others' were eliminated, that he was going to defy his comptroller. He had too much respect for Mr. Stanford's knowledge and abilities as the company's money man to countermand or second-guess him. Instead, the chief executive officer had told the scientist, "Sell Kenneth, and you've sold me."



Oh, she'd sell him, all right, Dr. Fanner thought, using the sex appeal of herself, her girlfriend Debbie, and three other women who'd served as the subjects of the previous spanking machine tests, a blonde, a redhead named Vivian, and a Halle Berry look-alike named Sandy. At the time of the first experiment, Dr. Fanner had been too by-the-book to ask for her subject's name, but she'd since learned, from checking the file of paperwork in her office that the blonde bimbo's name was Becky. The five of them, Fanny, Debbie, Sandy, Vivian, and Becky would join forces, as it were, to sell the spanking machine to end all spanking machines.



In fact, that was what they intended to do this very morning. That's why they'd gathered in the anteroom outside the chamber in which the engineers and mechanics had worked together, all weekend, without pay, on their own time, using scrap metal and spare parts from their own houses and garages to assemble a makeshift version of the wonderful machine they had in mind. That's why the women were naked, too, all of them, Dr. Fanner included.



Any minute, Kenneth would arrive, in his immaculate three-piece suit, two or three underlings in tow, to offer Dr. Fanner and her team a one-time chance to convince him that there was gold, as it were, in erotic spankings delivered by mechanical means. When he did arrive, he and his entourage were in for quite a shock--and quite a lovely one, at that, Dr. Fanner thought, amorously eyeing the bodies of the young beauties she'd spanked on previous occasions until their red bottoms were decorated with welts and bruises and the women themselves had been reduced to tears. If they could sell Kenneth, they'd have sold Bob, and the president had promised to share the profits with everyone--engineers, mechanics, quality control expert, and even the test subjects--if the project went forward. A lot was riding on this test of the rude prototype, and Dr. Fanner, like the rest, was hopeful of its success.



The previous machines had been assembled in the anteroom. The crude prototype of the new one occupied the inner chamber, where tests normally were conducted. Dr. Fanner wanted to start by showing Kenneth how the previous prototypes operated. Then, in theory, at least, he'd be even more impressed by the operation of the deluxe machine, even in its rough, unfinished form. For this reason, the previous test subjects each occupied one of the four earlier machines.



Becky, the blonde, was strapped to the back of the white horse whose back and sides were painted with pink polka dots. Next to this whimsical mount, nine thick, wooden paddles were situated, at equal distances from one another, around the outside rim of a pole-mounted wheel. As the wheel revolved at a right angle to her buttocks, it would apply the paddles' strokes at whatever rate of speed was selected, continuing for one minute for every quarter that Dr. Fanner deposited into the machine's coin slot.



Vivian, the redhead, lay prone upon a stainless-steel tabletop. Her shapely legs, bent at the knees and extended upright, were strapped to poles formed by the upward extensions of the rear table legs. Her arms, extended along the front legs of the table, were secured by straps around her wrists. Her buttocks rested beneath the machine's four rubber paddles. Attached in staggered pairs, one of the two on either side of the roller would strike Vivian's left buttock, while one of the other pair, mounted on the right side of the roller, would strike her right buttock.



Debbie, Dr. Fanner's brunette girlfriend, stood upon the low, flat platform of her machine, her ankles strapped against the bottom of the steel beam that connected the base of the machine to the upholstered bench over which the dark-haired woman was bent. A small steel shelf projected from the far side of the bench, and Debbie's hands rested upon this surface, strapped in place by the leather restraints around her wrists that were attached to the shelf's upper surface. Between her feet, a small box was situated, to which two long levers were attached. The top of each lever broadened into a paddle. The lengths of the two paddle-mounted levers was such that the paddles were level with the cheeks of Debbie's buttocks.



Sandy, the black young woman, was also in place, with her biceps bound to her thighs so that she'd assumed a near-fetal position, and her hands were bound behind her back. She was suspended, by cords that passed under her armpits, over an electric fan. Spatula-like paddles were attached to the ends of the fan's blades so that, turning with the fan's blades, they'd strike her buttocks, which hung directly above them.



Seeing the four women strapped to their machines or, in Sandy's case, hanging from the ceiling on a yoke or harness of cords, naked and helpless, made Dr. Fanner's cunt gush and her clit throb, almost painfully. These women were lovely, and memories of their spanked asses, glowing red under the merciless paddling they'd received at her hands, as the mistress who'd set the diabolical machines in motion, subjecting each of the women to three minutes of hellish punishment, brought the scientist to the brink of orgasm. Dr. Fanner wiped herself with a white terrycloth towel.



Seeing her do so, Debbie called to her, "Keep that thing handy, honey; something tells me we're all going to need it before our little demonstration's over!"



The other women laughed, but there was an undercurrent of nervousness in their mirth, Dr. Fanner thought, and well might they be a bit on edge. They had plenty about which to be anxious, after all.



"I'll keep it right here, next to my heart," Dr. Fanner replied, draping the towel around her neck so that its ends hung between her breasts.



The door to the anteroom opened, and Mr. Stanford, accompanied by a couple of prudish-looking junior executives and two secretaries, both women dressed in a matronly fashion, entered the room. Immediately, the secretaries gasped, and the executives' eyebrows rose.



"What's the meaning of this?" Kenneth demanded, staring wide-eyed at the women's nudity.



"This is an outrage!" one of the toadying junior executives cried.



"I never!" the secretaries shouted in unison.



"Well, maybe you should," a familiar voice suggested.



Everyone turned at the sound of the speaker's cultured tones.



"Mr. Mattick!" Dr. Fanner squealed, delighted at the president's presence. "I'm so glad you could join is."



"Call me Bob, Fanny," he corrected her. "We all go by our first names around here; you know that."



"We weren't expecting you, Bob," the outraged junior executive stammered.



"Mr. Merrick to you, Johnson."



"Yes, sir, Mr. Merrick."



"What are you doing here, Bob, if you don't my asking?" Kenneth said.



He smiled at Dr. Fanner and the other women, acting as if seeing women naked at his company's headquarters was an everyday affair and not in the least unusual. "I want to make sure that Fanny and her team get a fair hearing, Kenneth."



"Thanks for coming," Dr. Fanner told him.



"I wouldn't miss it," he assured the physicist. Then, directing his attention to the members of his comptroller's entourage, the president said, "You can get back to work, since the loveliness of these young women offends you."



The secretaries scampered toward the door.



"You, too!" Bob barked at the junior executives.



Hastily, they also made their exits, leaving Kenneth and Bob alone with Dr. Fanner and her naked subjects.



Bob smiled at the young beauties. "Now, what have we here?" he asked Dr. Fanner.



"To give you a better idea of each of the preliminary designs' best and worst features, I thought I'd repeat one minute of the operation of each machine. Then, we will demonstrate the machine that the engineers and mechanics hope Spank-o-Matic will finance."



"You built a prototype, despite my--" Kenneth began, looking incensed, but the physicist cut him off. Looking to the company's president, she explained how the men had given up their weekend off, to work, on their own time, building the prototype out of their own materials, using their own tools.



"Very resourceful!" Bob said. He looked at his flummoxed comptroller. "Wouldn't you agree, Kenneth?"



"Very," the vice-president mumbled, glaring at the scientist.



"Let's get started, shall we?" Bob suggested.



"Delighted," Dr. Fanner agreed. Without ceremony, she activated the first machine, to which Becky was strapped, and, ensuring that the switch was set to "Slow," the researcher deposited a quarter into the machine's coin slot. The wheel began to turn, and, the paddles seemed to lengthen as, following the wheel's slow progress, they came more and more into view, casting their shadows upon their lovely targets: the subject's beautiful buttocks.



"On 'Slow,'" Dr. Fanner explained to the observers, "the wheels rotate at the rate of one turn every twenty seconds, delivering twenty seven successive swats of the paddles to the subject's bottom during a minute's operation."



The blades were thick and wide, except for the much narrower necks by which they were embedded into the rim of the wheel. As the first paddle delivered its blow to the subject's left buttock, there was a loud CRACK! and the young woman strapped to the back of the horse grimaced, closing her eyes tightly and clenching her teeth. Where the blade had struck, Becky's ass cheeks were noticeably pinker than the surrounding flesh.



The blonde gasped, moaned, and writhed in her restraints.



The wheel continued to turn, slowly but inexorably, the next paddle finally landing another resounding impact upon the same site that its predecessor had smacked, and the pink color deepened across the subject's buttocks. Becky grimaced again, turning her head upon the fanciful horse's thick neck.



Becky's gasps and moans turned to yelps as the paddles struck and struck again. She grunted and cried out as the spanks continued, on and on.



Continuing to turn, the paddles' reports all but echoed in the chamber as each, in its turn, swatted the young blonde's naked, defenseless ass, the color deepening from pink to red. Dr. Fanner noticed that both Bob and Kenneth flinched as the thick, strong planks struck the helpless subject's flexing, squirming buttocks and Becky's screams intensified. After the last impact, her lovely backside was quite red, indeed.



"Wow!" Bob ejaculated. "That was quite a show."



"You ain't seen nothing yet," the scientist assured the company's president. "The nine paddles, mounted to a single wheel that is able to turn at three different rates of speed is this machine's strength," she said. "It's weakness is that one has to insert quarters to get the thing started or to keep it going, and one can hardly count on having as steady a supply of coins on hand for such a purpose, even if one consciously makes a habit of doing so."



Bob nodded. "I see your point."



"This next machine, where Vivian awaits, is also a joy to behold," Dr. Fanner announced. She approached the mechanism under which, prone upon the ice-cold stainless-steel tabletop, her friend, the redhead, lay, and, ensuring that this machine was also set to its "Slow" speed, set the contraption in motion. Its overhead roller began, slowly, to turn. Within a few seconds, its speed had increased dramatically, and the sturdy rubber paddles attached to the rollers began, one after another, to slam into Vivian's defenseless buttocks. The young redhead cried out, her exquisite bottom writhing and wriggling upon the stainless-steel tabletop.



Not more than ten seconds had passed, and Vivian's glorious derriere was already pink, verging upon red, the machine having delivered four powerful swats to her left buttock and an equal number to her right ass cheek.



Slap! Whap! Smack! Whack! Four more swats occurred, two to Vivian's left buttock and two to her right, and the young woman grunted and struggled against her restraints. Her ass was already all-over red, although not brightly so. She had not begun, yet, to glow.



She would, though, soon enough, Dr. Fanner had no doubt of that!



Another half dozen swats to either ass cheek set Vivian to wailing, and a long, undulating, keening sound filled the chamber, making Dr. Fanner's thighs tremble as her pussy released a flood of lubricating juices. The sight of her thighs running with the clear, thick fluids of her sopping pussy brought a gasp from Kenneth, and Bob's eyes widened. The president smiled, and the comptroller tried, in vain, to pretend that he'd seen nothing and that the quality control expert hadn't wet herself with her own cunt juices in front of his eyes. Dr. Fanner repressed a moan, as her clit began to throb and her nipples stiffened quite noticeably. She looked at the cleft of the redhead's hairless sex. Like Dr. Fanner, Vivian was wet, too, between her smooth, well-turned thighs. Upon the tabletop, a small puddle of clear fluid had formed, courtesy of the redhead's overflowing cunt.



The mechanism stopped. "Thank God!" the comptroller cried. He looked pale, and he was trembling. However, there seemed a bulge in the crotch of his expensive pin-striped trousers.



Bob, who was quite obviously erect, grinned. "I can't wait to see the company's next machine in action."



"Let me just dry off a little first, please," the physicist said, "if you don't mind." She took the terrycloth towel from around her neck and dried between her legs. Then, looking at Kenneth, she wiped up the mess that Vivian had made, carefully swabbing between her thighs. Vivian writhed on the table, moaning, as if the scientist's touch aroused her further. Maybe Vivian's behavior was for Kenneth's benefit, or maybe she really was excited.



"That was very impressive," Bob told the scientist. "The machine, I mean."



"It's drawback," Dr. Fanner explained, is that its roller moves in only one direction."



Bob nodded. "I can see how that might be a bit of a handicap."



The comptroller swallowed hard. "Let's see the rest of the demonstration, Dr. Fanner," he said curtly.



Bob chuckled at his vice-president's obvious discomfort. "Yes, Dr. Fanner, by all means, let us see the next show--I mean, demonstration."



"Yes, sir," the physicist replied. However, instead of starting the machine, as she'd been instructed to do, she walked to its front, where she and the brunette exchanged greetings and a passionate kiss. Debbie wasn't just another spanking machine test subject , after all. She and Dr. Fanner were girlfriends, with Dr. Fanner having assumed the butch, and Debbie the femme, role. After the nude women had exchanged a couple more deep, wet kisses, Dr. Fanner asked her lover, "You ready, sweetie?"



Debbie nodded.



"Okay, then." Pressing buttons on the machine's remote control, Dr. Fanner selected one minute for the operation of the machine and set its operating speed at "Slow."



The left paddle, alternating with the right, tread the brunette's backside as if they were the feet of an invisible man with extremely long, thin, flat feet. Whap! Whap! Debbie's buttocks bore the imprint of the boards for a moment after they'd collided with her bottom, and, for a fraction of a second, their shape was imprinted in pink upon her backside. However, the color soon faded again, only to be replaced, a moment later, with the same hue, in the same shape, for the same amount of time. This phenomenon happened repeatedly. Each time the paddles struck, they left their impression in Debbie's sleek flesh. After half a dozen swats, the pink faded less quickly, and, after half a dozen more spanks, it remained, showing the long, narrow outlines of the paddles.



Debbie swayed her ass, as much as possible, trying to expose a different expanse of her bottom to the insistent tread of the paddles, but, in no time, she'd succeeded only in covering this additional surface of her posterior with further marks, and the paddles, no matter how she continued to shift her weight or wriggle her hips, landed again and again upon space that they'd already slapped. Her ass, as a result, was becoming pink over an even larger area than it would have, had she simply remained still, and the blades fell in the same place each time they stamped her behind anew.



Fortunately, for her, the minute passed, and the machine stopped.



"Another impressive contraption, I must say," Bob observed.



The comptroller said nothing.



"Unfortunately, it spanks well enough vertically, but it's incapable of delivering horizontal swats."



'I see. That is rather a drawback, I suppose," the president said.



"Can we move on?" Kenneth demanded.



Dr. Fanner gave her lovely girlfriend a last passionate kiss before leading Bob and Kenneth to the last machine standing in the anteroom, the one occupied by the beautiful young caramel-colored black woman, Sandy., who'd been secured in place, with her biceps bound to her thighs so that she'd assumed a near-fetal position, and her hands were bound behind her back. Sandy was suspended, by cords that passed under her armpits, over an electric fan. Spatula-like paddles were attached to the ends of the fan's blades so that, turning with the fan's blades, they'd strike Sandy's buttocks, which hung directly above them.



Dr. Fanner set the machine's speed to "Slow," pressed the button on the base of the fan that activated the device, and set the machine's blades into motion.



The silliest-looking machine of those which Dr. Fanner had tested so far, the contraption's operation certainly didn't look very promising. The blades slapped the black woman's bottom, bap! bap! bap!, but the sight and sound of the instrument was more comical, the scientist thought, than anything else.



Round and round, the slow-motion blades rotated, as if they were attached to a tiny windmill that was being turned by a faint breeze. Nevertheless, Sandy's buttocks tightened and she flinched, gasping at the stoke of each paddle. Like the redhead to whose fanny Dr. Fanner had subjected an earlier machine's sturdy paddles, the mulatto seemed a virgin to discipline of this sort, and, as the spatula-like paddles continued to slap her ass cheeks, she struggled harder, swinging and jouncing in the cords by which she was suspended over the machine. Her gasps included an occasional moan as well, suggesting that her discomfort had increased, although no telltale signs of discoloration or marks of any kind had as yet appeared upon her bottom.

<hr pg="2" />After each swat, Sandy screamed, her cries a counterpoint to the rhythm of the spanking's regular beat. Her shrieks were music to Dr. Fanner's ears, and the physicist felt a seepage of warm moisture between her own legs, just as she had on every previous occasion that she'd had the pleasure of observing a beautiful young woman getting her ass beaten.



The machine stopped, and, this time, Dr. Fanner did not towel her pussy and thighs dry, nor did she mop up the puddle of cunt juices that had formed beneath Sandy's dripping ass.



Kenneth averted his eyes from Dr. Fanner's dampened crotch and from the puddle beneath the black woman. However, Bob smiled at the evidence of the women's arousal. "Fine demonstrations, every one of them," he complimented his quality control expert, winking at Dr. Fanner.



"In the initial test, two of the paddles broke off, and the machine's motor stalled," Dr. Fanner announced, "but I've saved the best machine for last. If you'll just step this way, gentlemen, we'll enjoy the remainder of the show."



Enthusiastically Bob followed the physicist from the anteroom into the larger inner chamber in which the makeshift prototype of the deluxe spanking machine had been erected. He couldn't help but watch the scientist's ass as he followed her. Dr. Fanner was a decade older than her girlfriend, but the researcher was just as beautiful. She had a superb figure, as tight and firm as it was curved, with medium-size breasts, neither too large nor too small, narrow hips, and a firm, round ass.



Her face was just as lovely as her body. Long, wavy strawberry blonde hair framed a perfectly oval face. She had large, bright, sparkling hazel eyes that seemed to change color depending on the light, so that they could appear blue or green or gray or even gold. Her nose was small and delicate, her mouth full, soft, and sensuous, her lips a perfect bow. Her chin was small and slightly pointed, her cheekbones high, her jaw line clearly delineated.



Reluctantly, Kenneth brought up the rear of the threesome.



The machine was curious looking to say the least. It was, at the same time, of a rather diabolical appearance, looking as if it were designed and assembled by an insane Rube Goldberg, the cartoonist who'd filled his newspaper strip with ludicrous machines which had inspired not only the bizarre inventions that Wile E. Coyote bought from the Acme company to use against the roadrunner but also the Mouse Trap board game beloved by children everywhere.



It was mostly a combination of the four machines they'd seen in the anteroom, configured differently.



A stainless-steel table lay beneath an overhead roller equipped with four staggered rubber paddles, one pair on either end, and a wheel, bearing nine wooden paddles was erected upon a pole that stood at right angles to the table, at a level that would allow its spinning paddles to make contact with its victim's upturned ass. At the foot of the table, a pair of paddles attached to long, horizontal levers, would alternately strike the corresponding buttock of the victim. One was positioned horizontally, the other vertically.



Dr. Fanner explained the machine's features. The roller would deliver two swats, alternately, to each buttock from above the victim's ass while, in between these swats, the paddles on the rotating wheel would administer a series of synchronized swats in a vertical plane across both buttocks. At the same time, between the strokes of the roller's rubber paddles and those of the wheel's wooden paddles, the lever-mounted wooden paddles would strike the victim's buttocks both horizontally and vertically from the rear. "She'll get it from every direction at once," Dr. Fanner pointed out. "As with the other machines, there are three speeds, Slow, Medium, and Fast, and it can be activated by pressing this button on the machine itself or by remote control."



"Could anyone stand to receive so many swats?" Bob wondered.



Dr. Fanner smiled. "We're going to find out."



"Something's missing," Kenneth declared, his tone sounding smug.



"What's that?" Bob asked.



"The fan-thing, over which Sandy was suspended."



"It's not missing," Dr. Fanner disagreed. "We've simply modified and relocated it."



"Oh? I don't seem to see it," Kenneth declared.



"Crouch down, sir," the physicist instructed the comptroller. She followed her own directions, peering up at the underside of the table. Mounted to a crossbeam beneath the table, the fan, its small, spatula-like paddles attached to the fan's blades, waited. The paddles were lighter, though, and rather flimsy looking.



"Those paddles don't look very sturdy," Kenneth pointed out. "In fact, they look quite delicate."



Dr. Fanner nodded toward the square hole that had been cut through the tabletop, at just the site over which the spanking victim's pubes would be located once she'd lain down. "The paddles have to be 'flimsy,' as you say, because, in the new design, they'll be spanking not the victim's fanny, but her twat." She looked from the comptroller to the president. "Spank-o-Matic doesn't want to risk a lawsuit by doing actual injury to a woman's most sensitive parts, I wouldn't suppose."



Bob shook his head. "Certainly not."



"This machine will most decidedly be a real pain in the ass, gentlemen, as you will soon see, but it's not going to cripple or kill anyone."



Kenneth looked about the chamber. He sniffed. "I don't see a subject. The other women are still strapped to the other machines."



"Who's going to test this one?" Bob asked.



"I've reserved that honor for myself," Dr. Fanner announced.



"You?" Bob asked. "You must be joking!"



"Not at all, sir, and, if I may be so bold as to presume upon you to ensure that the speed is set at 'Slow' and the operation time is set at one minute, I'd be delighted to have you assume the role of my quality control expert."



"Well, I don't know," the president stammered. "I mean, I--"



Dr. Fanner smiled at him. "Everything will be fine, Bob."



He shrugged. "It's your ass, Fanny."



She climbed onto the table and lay down, certain that her pubic mound dropped below the rectangular opening in the tabletop. "Strap me down, Bob," she called, and the president secured her waist, wrists, and ankles.



He made sure that the proper settings were set. "Ready?" he asked her.



"Ready," she assured him.



"Here goes," he said, pointing and clicking the remote control button that activated the machine.



The wheel began to turn, its sturdy wooden paddles falling; the overhead roller commenced to revolve, its paddles descending; the lever-mounted paddles moved, one forward, the other backward, preparing to strike; and, beneath the tabletop, the fan began to spin, the flimsy paddles revolving to slap Dr. Fanner's exposed pussy.



Bob licked his lips, eyeing the paddles' target, the firm, tight, smooth mounds of the scientist's perfect ass.



Although the comptroller tried not to stare at the nude woman lying defenseless before the fifteen paddles that attacked her ass from above, from behind, and from the side, and he couldn't see the four that slapped her pussy from below--a total of nineteen paddles, conspiring, as it were, to conduct a massive, simultaneous assault upon the beautiful, naked physicist--Kenneth found that he couldn't force himself not to look, and, soon, he, like Bob, was staring openly at Dr. Fanner's beautiful buttocks as the paddles slapped, swatted, whapped, whacked, and smacked her reddening cheeks, making her buttocks bounce and dance before their battering blades.



Dr. Fanner gasped, moaned, and whimpered, but she was determined, if at all possible, not to cry out, not to scream.



In no time at all, scores of blows had struck the scientist's ass, stinging and stinging again the jostling, writhing buttocks, and her flesh had gone from mere pink to bright red, welts and bruises visible across both cheeks of her bottom. On the floor, a puddle of her pussy juices had formed, and its size increased with each passing moment as her spanked cunt poured a steady stream of its lubricating fluid upon the wet tiles. Were it nor for the resounding smacks that filled the air, coming one after the other, in a seemingly endless series of explosive reports, Bob had no doubt but that the splashing of the physicist's pussy juices could be heard as if it were a waterfall dashing over rocks and down the craggy face of a high, sheer cliff.



Despite her vow to herself not to cry, Dr. Fanner did just that, screaming and shrieking as the nonstop assault upon her ass and cunt set fire to both her bottom and her pussy, and pain rushed through her like a wildfire. Her ass was in anguish such as she would not have believed possible, and the pain wrung sobs from her. She sniveled, wept, and cried, sounding more pitiful than any of the other women had sounded, and, she felt certain, that her ass certainly hurt far more than Becky's, Vivian's, Debbie's, or Sandy's ever had, even after a full three minutes on their respective spanking machines, for none of them had endured a paddling by all the paddles of each machine combined, nor had any of them had her pussy repeatedly slapped. She felt a thick fluid upon her upper lip and realized that her face was smeared with mucus as well as tears. She must look a frightful sight, she thought, though her appearance, given her circumstances, was certainly the least of her concerns.



The wheel turned, and another paddle, coming round, smashed into Dr. Fanner's fanny. As this paddle passed, the next descending, the overhead roller, rotating, slapped one of its rubber paddles into the right or left buttock of the prone woman. In between these blows, the horizontal, lever-mounted paddles did their work, alternately slapping one or the other of their victim's ass cheeks. All the while, below, the fan whirled, propelling the paddles attached to its blades into the scientist's drenched and dripping pussy.



Around and around, the wheel, the roller, and the fan blades whirled, slapping and slamming and spanking the physicist's ass and cunt, leaving deep, if momentary, furrows in her red ass; as soon as one groove rebounded, the next paddle left its imprint upon her flesh, and new welts and bruises were added to her buttocks. Her pussy continued to flow, as if there were a river inside the quality control expert, and Kenneth wondered how a woman could hold as much fluid as Dr. Fanner, aroused by the pain that filled her burning buttocks, discharged onto the floor.



"How many swats has she received?" Bob asked his vice-president.



Kenneth, looking sick, shrugged. "I've lost count."



"How long has it been?"



"Close to a minute now, I think."



Dr. Fanner's keening cry was a constant sound, loud enough to be heard even above the cacophony of the reverberating paddles. Her face was awash in mucus, tears, and saliva, and, despite the building's central air conditioning, sweat. Her ass was a beautiful thing for a spanker to behold. Purple where it wasn't red, it displayed a constellation of dark bruises, large and small, and welts marched, in ridges, across her derriere. There were no lacerations, despite the dozens and scores and hundreds of swats her bottom had suffered. However, there was no doubt that her buttocks must feel as if they were afire, and it had become all but intolerable for the two executives to continue to watch the quality control expert being beaten by the merciless machine.



Just as Bob was about to shut the contraption off with a press of a button on the remote control, the thing halted itself. The minute had finally expired!



The president hurried to the tabletop and began unfastening the leather straps that held the scientist in place. Kenneth even assisted, without being told to do so, and, in a few moments, they pulled Dr. Fanner from the tabletop, supporting her weight between them.



She was weak in the knees, and, aided by the two men, able only to shuffle her feet forward, each step reigniting the fiery anguish in her plum-purple bottom. They helped her from the chamber, returning to the anteroom in which the other women, their bottoms only red and relatively unmarked by welts and bruises, remained fettered to the machines that had spanked their asses.



The men set her, as gently as possible, onto the couch, and the physicist grimaced, crying out in pain, as her buttocks settled onto the deep, plush cushions. 



At first, the researcher was unable to talk. All she could do was moan, groan, and sob. For all the pain she'd suffered, it was apparent that she'd also experienced one, and most likely, a whole series, of powerful orgasms, for, if her face was wet with saliva, tears, and mucus, her pubes, her cunt, and her thighs were drenched with the juices of her sopping-wet pussy, and her nipples were stiff and swollen with excitement that remained unabated even by such ecstasy as that which she had experienced. There was most definitely pleasure in pain, the executives had to conclude, as unlikely to be true as such a proposition might seem.



The president and the vice-president freed Becky, Vivian, Debbie, and Sandy from their machines, and the women went at once to Dr. Fanner's side, comforting her as best they could.



When the scientist had finally been able to bring herself under control, she asked the gentlemen who'd observed the deluxe version of the spanking machine in action whether they saw any flaws in its design.



"Only one," Bob ventured. "It doesn't need a 'Medium' or a 'Fast' setting, and maybe a minute's operation is too long, even with the contraption's speed set to 'Slow.'"



Kenneth nodded his agreement. "The idea's to spank the customer, not to beat her to death."



"I'll see to it that the changes are made," Dr. Fanner promised, "if I receive the funds, that is."



Bob turned to Kenneth. "What do you say, Mr. Comptroller?"



Kenneth hesitated. "The machine is a marvelous invention, to be sure," he said, "but I'd estimate its cost at least five thousand dollars, which means it would have to sell for about twice that. I'm not sure, given the current economy, that we'd have enough buyers to make the venture sufficiently lucrative, not without a special marketing effort, which, as you know, can, in itself, be quite expensive."



"That's where we come in," Debbie explained, speaking for her incapacitated girlfriend. "Taking turns, we demonstrate the machine, just as Fanny did for you."



"Each of us takes a spanking for a minute," Becky said.



"Most customers, we predict, will be men," Vivian declared, "and most men like to look at naked women."



"Especially naked women who are getting spanked by a merciless, inhuman machine," Sandy added.



"But that's not all," Dr. Fanner ventured, between gasps and moans.



"We also ease each other's pain afterward," Debbie explained.



"Speaking more plainly, we're lesbians," Sandy revealed.



"Every one of us," Becky clarified, "eats pussy."



"That's how we make the pain more bearable afterward," Vivian said, grinning as she ogled Dr. Fanner's liquid cunt. "In fact, I'm hungry for a piece of that right now."



The other women laughed. Kenneth remained stone-faced, but Bob joined in, chuckling.



"No way," Debbie warned good naturedly. "She's mine. If there's any pussy licking to do with regard to her, I'm the one who does it."



Again, the other women, and Bob, this time joined by Kenneth, laughed.



"When prospective buyers see how the Spank-o-Matic Deluxe Spanking Machine, or whatever the sales department ends up calling the invention, lights our lesbian fires, a sale is going to be a foregone decision," Sandy predicted.



"What do you say, Kenneth?" Bob asked his vice-president. "Do we put these salesgirls under contract and release the funding for the construction of a first-rate prototype?"



"I'd like to reserve my decision until I've seen a demonstration," the comptroller replied.



Bob frowned. "What do you call the five demonstrations we just saw?"



"I don't mean of the machine," Kenneth said. "I'm talking about the final outcome."



"The final outcome?" Bob repeated. "What do you mean?"



Dr. Fanner smiled. Winking at the man in the expensive, conservative, three-piece, pin-striped suit, she said, with a wink at the comptroller, "I know what he means. He wants to see Debbie ease my pain, right, Kenneth?"



The comptroller's face reddened, and he nodded.



Dr. Fanner considered asking him what Mrs. Stanford would think of her husband watching a muff-diving session between two hotties, but she decided to forego that saucy question. Instead, looking at her girlfriend, she asked, "Will you do me the honor of eating my pussy, Debbie, dear?"



The Amazonian brunette grinned. "I'd be glad to, sweetie." She knelt between Dr. Fanner's widespread thighs, in the puddle of her lover's pussy juice. Bowing at the waist, and laying her forearms along the scientist's sleek, firm thighs, Debbie bent forward, her fabulous breasts spilling beneath her, nipples erect, and lowered her lips to the lips of her girlfriend's wet, shining pussy. The brunette kissed the slick labia, licked the tight coils of her girlfriend's strawberry blonde pubic hair, and lapped at the drenched furrow of the scientist's cunt, her moist, pink tongue vanishing between the other woman's petal-soft lips as the Amazon slurped and sucked at the fruit of the physicist's overflowing sex.



Debbie's own clitoris throbbed, and, as she continued to lick and suck and tease her girlfriend's sex, she manipulated the hard, smooth bud inside its fleshly hood, until she herself also began to gasp and moan. She never stopped ministering to Dr. Fanner's pussy, even as orgasm seized the dark-haired woman, shaking her in its invisible, but powerful, grip, and her own cunt ran with lubricating fluids.



The other women assisted as they saw Dr. Fanner writhe before her girlfriend's kisses and lashing, probing, licking tongue.



Wetting her thumb with Debbie's cunt juices, Sandy penetrated the brunette's anus, inserting her thumb into the other woman's rectum. She jabbed her thumb vigorously back and forth within the tight ring of Debbie's asshole, the top of her fist slapping the Amazon's reddened bottom.



At the same time, Vivian sucked the scientist's left boob while Becky paid the same attention to Dr. Fanner's right tit. Each woman flicked her tongue and circled the nipple of the breast that she teased, pausing occasionally to take the nipple of the breast to which she ministered between her rounded lips, suckling it as if she were a nursing infant.



Debbie, meanwhile, continued to eat her girlfriend's pussy. Whereas, during the operation of the spanking machines, the slapping sounds of the paddles and the spanked woman's cries had filled the air, now all that Bob and Kenneth heard were the slurping sounds of the women, sucking at Dr. Fanner's breasts and pussy, and Dr. Fanner's moans, groans, gasps, and cries of pleasure and delight.



Not one, but all four, of the women had a series of orgasms, each more intense than the other, until, exhausted and covered in saliva, sweat, and pussy juice, they collapsed, side by side, along the couch, arms around one another's shoulders.



Bob had an erection that was obvious to all, tenting the front of his trousers as it did. "Damn!" he cried, "I don't know about you, Kenneth, but I'm sure as hell sold! I mean literally: I'm buying one of the machines, if we do manufacture them, I mean. You're still the money man, and your decision's the final one. What do you say, Mr. Comptroller? Does Spank-o-Matic release the funds to design, build, test, and market the deluxe model or not?"



The room was quiet for the first time that the research team and its observers had entered the chamber. All eyes rested upon the vice-president, whose trousers' crotch bulged with undeniable evidence of his pleasure in having observed the women indulging their affection for one another in as intimate a manner as was possible under the circumstances. "Provided that we make the changes we cited, slowing the machine's rate and limiting its operation to a minute," the comptroller said, "I'd say that we have a real winner on our hands, one that Spank-o-Matic can be proud to offer to the public."

<hr pg="3" />The women cheered. Becky, Vivian, Debbie, and Sandy launched themselves from the couch, huddling around the vice-president, and hugged him, as they showered him with kisses. The press of their breasts against his chest and arms as they rewarded him only made his cock harder, and the women laughed at his distress. "Mrs. Stanford really has her work cut out for her tonight," Sandy teased him, and Kenneth, who was not known for a jovial attitude, laughed at her joke.



"I'd help you out with that myself," Becky asserted, "but I'm gay."



They laughed again, Kenneth right along with everyone else.



Vivian nodded her head at the bulge in Bob's trousers. "Sorry, boss, but the same is true of me, too, I'm afraid."



The crowd tittered, Bob included.



When the merriment subsided, the company's president announced, "I have the perfect name for the machine: Dr. Fanny's Fanny Fanner!"



"Wow! That's perfect!" Debbie agreed.



"Excellent!" Becky shouted.



"Superb!" Vivian exclaimed.



"The best!" Sandy asserted.



"What do you think, Kenneth?" Bob asked.



Putting his arms around two of the women beside him, he looked at the scientist whose dedication and hard work as the project's quality control expert had made the whole venture possible. "I couldn't conceive of a more appropriate or, for that matter, a catchier appellation."



The women laughed.



"Maybe we can target the machine's release for Christmas," Kenneth suggested.



"Well, ladies," Bob said, "if our machine is going to be available by the holidays, I think you'd better take a shower, put some clothes on, and get your asses back to work on Dr. Fanny's Fanny Fanner, don't you?"



He and Kenneth watched the excited, chattering women file from the room, their beautiful buttocks the best testimonial evidence possible for the efficacy of their product. "It's not word of mouth, but the testimonials of their tails that's going to sell this product," Bob quipped.



"Maybe we can use that as our motto: 'Don't take our word for it; trust the testimony of her tail."



Bob chuckled. "For a stuffed shirt, you can be quite a guy, sometimes. Kenneth. Maybe you should get a Dr. Fanny's Fanny Fanner for the missus, take a little starch out of Evelyn's sails."



Remembering the physicist's red ass, Kenneth nodded, smiling. He also remembered the lesbian sex he'd just witnessed. It would be nice to see that sort of lovemaking again, perhaps with Evelyn beside him--or even participating with Dr. Fanner and the other women. "Maybe I will at that," he said, "maybe I will." 

