A DOWNMARKET AREA OF TOKYO Background girl gang has been terrorising district on
a small scale for couple of weeks small scale petty thefts spitting at
respectable matrons in the street, schoolgirl pigtails pulled and teased into tears , flashing their tits at venerable old
Comes one Tuesday. Old Man apparently frail is sweeping leafs. Girl gang
someof them in leather jackets with the typical (for Japanese youth) red and
orange streak marks in their hair. Move in on him mockng jeer couple shoves. Man
rears back starts wielding broom like kendo staff whacks girls on head and
shoulders but mainly their corduroy covered fannies. Corrals them into a tight
bunch while shouting at them in excited Japanese. Crowd mainly store holders
from the area gather crowd the girl clump. Verbal abuse on both sides. Lakini
Malich in the crowd whispers to a couple of kimono clad woman. Grinning they
wrestle one of the girls prone over a nearby seat and start unbuckling her jeans
over her gasps and struggles. Idea spreads and over tables sitting on stone
steps even the sweepers upended bucket a dozen or so olive coloured buns taste
the Polluted sub-tropical Tokyo sunlight but a bad sun-tan is not what these
girls have to fear. Big Peasant Bolster Bums small petite geisha flower blossom
derriere's of femme wanna-be's lithe muscular asses of of those who knew the
wearysome tedium of training all treated with equal-handed no-nonsense shall we
say palmed off in the same way ;a regular spankfest.
Sound of hands hitting cheeks fill the square. A tussle of hands &
buttocks. Of punitive blows and clenched muscles. Callused hands, hands soft and
manicured old hands middle aged hands. Glancing stinging blows Slaps. Centred
thunking home blows resolve-crumbling plied with authoritative resolution.
Shrill yelps of feminine pain & outrage. Curses threats and resolves of payback.
On one side joyful, methodical , wrathful on the other anguished, stoical,
affronted. Spank Spank.
Lakini prowls the Meadow of agonised curvaceous convexities; of hand
tenderised fanny-flesh seeking reaction shots with his new top-of-the-market
brand spanking-new Digital Camera. Asking obliging ass-whallopers . 'Could you
shift your knee a bit to the right lift her rear six inches her legs are
spoiling the composition. That's fine' with his halting phrase book Japanese.
Whacking recalcitrant bare bottoms with a 2 foot long plank narrow but springy
torn off from a broken fence. Bruising Oriental bum-flesh once tawny sand
coloured now smudged with salmon pinkish streaks and blotches among the pale
ivory or slightly faded khaki in those who had used their shop-lifting gain for
sun-bed elegance. Malich spatting tender tails with abandon. Squats down to
show an arthritic gaffer how we baste bums in the West. Spank Spank.
Old man systematically works his way through the field of bared punitively
distressed flesh his brush handle whistling down cleaving buttocks painting
chubbs with a red welt, an acid burn of agony, to jerk yells from the strongest.
How long did this go on? For the recipients (the spankees)a timeless
interval. After the 1st 1/2 dozen slaps stinging annoying humiliating but
dealable with. An initiation into an island of pain niggling spreading through
the nether cheeks ; a bass note of burning rancid woe only to be dismissed
compared with the cattle prod deep burrowing cattle prod sting of hand hitting
rear. Spank. Spank. Spank. Sense of time went with the everything but pain. Once
these girls had been into Heavy Metal had been bitchily knowledgeable about
fashion. For this while nothing mattered but the 2 pounds or so of sensitised
ovaloids of fat & muscle hindmost of their hip-bones. Spank. Spank. Spank.
Thoughts of revenge. Thoughts of maintaining ones dignity. Nothing mattered but
the sealedoff universe of itching ache and stabbing stinging. Timeless
repitition of intently particular affliction. The impossible happened not no
pain the burning background throb of abused bottom-tissue remained but no new
pain. A good 20 minutes by the Square clock.
Hands had slowly becomes tired and sore as rears were pinked heated
colonized by deep throbbing ache. Quesi-parental anger fades to stolid
satisfaction of cathartic revenge.
As youthful arrogance is tested by pain & even Malich’s State-of the Art
camera has no room for more shots The echoing fusillade of spanks becomes a
occasional crack. The crowd disperses rubbing tingling hands. Girls lieing on
the floor where they've been dropped like rag-dolls bare-assed sniff smooth back
tangled hair affect desperate faux-cool pull up corduroy or leather jeans inch
by inch over wound-tender flesh. Their time of involuntary mooning over. Moons
no rather a throbbing sun trailing behind them a private clawing beast at their
nates. Slink off with a desperate attempt at pose waggling their hips across the
plaza. Fragments of teeth clenched bravado under-cut with involuntary agonised
flinches at a touch. With pain stopped breath, as puffy rump-flesh abrades
against cloth. Cupping their derrieres covertly, being awfully stiff upper lip
(and stiff legged) about it. As humiliation is accepted or by vows of revenge
Malich watches the sorry crew depart smoking a cigarette. Old Man finishes
his sweeping chortling with secret glee. Malich offers to buy him a saki and
they leave together.