Paris: Let the Games Begin!

Paris: Let Fames Begin!

By Sweet Caroline

A special thank you to my wonderful editor, kenji.

Part One:

The sunken great room of Michael B, "Brownie," had a large picture window, which looked out parallel up the cobble-stone street. Just outside the glass, the patrons and performers assembled that night, got a magnificent view of the Eiffel Tower. In the distance, was the Seine River where her color guard would perform later that night.

From where I sat, I could view the pretty, long brown-haired young woman swish and sway her round, shapely bottom packed into her tight, wide, billowing red pants that clung to the top of her knees. Before their upcoming Paris Olympics Opening Ceremony performance that night, I saw the same attractive young lady perched on her hands and knees on the plush carpet. I recognized the beautiful creature was Amber, crouching almost in a squat, on the sunken dens floor.

Her white blouse had ridden up, baring a nice expanse of her upper butt cheeks, delightfully delineated in the middle of her fantastic derriere. She was displayed for her fellow band member to feast on the sight. I dearly wanted to reach out to give her beautiful bottom some vigorous spanks. Juli's position opened up the top of her bare cheeks and the light brown hair that lined her crack. The way she was presented to me made me want to reach out to spank it! However, that would be capricious and not a prudent course of action.

Suddenly, the lights flickered and went out, darkening the sunken den. All I could see was Amber's silhouette, still seductively set on her hands and knees in front of me. While her color guard members were busy trying to get the lights back on, I was the only one who noticed another silhouette enter the den.

The new shadowy figure stealthily slipped in beside Amber; its arm already raised in the air.

Taking advantage of the pretty flag girls' position, the shadow hand delivered the leather thongs to the top half of the bare bottom between its crack, marking the chipmunk-faced cutie with red stripes, resembling the red-and-white-striped shirt Amber had worn with her cut-off blue jeans, sitting down at Disney Worlds Tomorrowland Cafe. It was a martinet that was marking her tender white skin. The noise created by the strokes, landed like a red-hot brand before she could react.

The whips strokes had been memorable. The strokes of the martinet sizzled against her bare bum skin not covered by the white blouse or the designer denim blue pantaloon-style pants with a visible panty line. When her color guard member friends got the lights back on, I found myself looking down at

Amber's red-striped, bare upper butt cheeks with a sense of satisfaction.

Her half-exposed butt cheeks were striped like a barber's pole. It was fitting, the boy from the Paris area Lycée high school had used the martinet, the one I had bought to play out my fantasy.

I enjoyed this brief but intense show immensely and sat back to the results of Amber getting her rear end whacked in the dark.

Becca and Theresa found the martinet with its several leather tongues. Amber's cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

However, her friends were clueless as their fellow flag girl excused herself to run to the loo. Only Amber was aware of what had happened to the bare half of her baby-fat bottom. If anyone had looked closely, they would have noticed the gait of a well-spanked young lady. Only I knew the red state of the lovely lass's derriere.

The impromptu whipping had been too brutal against Amber's skin. However, the bright red stripes and light purple bruises, where the tip had made contact near her crack, had left a great deal of heat behind for Amber to deal with for a few hours.

Her two classmates were also dressed in the same red pants and white blouse. They were sitting on the brown leather couch. Becca in her flower print dress and Theresa in her white cloth dress were daintily doing their best to balance fine-china salad-sized plates on their laps. They were lined with cucumber finger sandwiches and a cup of piping-hot coffee set in the middle.

The high school juniors were doing their best to, in a ladylike fashion, keep the steaming liquid from spilling and scorching themselves across their laps, in their seats, watching Juli as she took their pictures.

While Amber's backside was facing my errand boy. I saw nearly half of Amber's naked rear end.

I took pride in the knowledge that the lovely farm lass was carrying the red stripes that cost me the Olympic silver medal in swimming for the backstroke engraved with the name Arnold Weeks. That was the price for the fifteen-year-old from the Paris area Lycée. The martinet certainly had left its painful marks in the shape of red stripes turning a purple color, as she looked in the mirror. The whipping had shaken up the poor young woman to her core. There was no time for tears or self-pity. The flag girl pulled up her thong panty and hitched up her thin pantaloon pants, with an audible wince over her red-striped butt.

However, as they say, the show must go on!

So, the pretty high school junior sucked it up, like she did on the reed of her clarinet in band. It was apparent that the color guard member would be whipping her red and white flag in the air with a snap in the wind, while her amber and purple stripes across both butt cheeks reminded her during her performance at the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in front of a lit Eiffel Tower. A pained smile defined her currently peeved attitude. She pitied the fool who ruffled her red-hot tail feathers!