Rita & Rhiannon's Bet Ch. 03

Here is the other version of Rita's Bet that I had mentioned I was working on. When I had first though about the premise for Rita's Bet I was undecided about where to take the story. There were two possibilities that appealed to me. While writing the first idea (published as Rita's Bet) I decided to write the second premise too when I finished, and this is that story.

This story follows the same two main characters as Rita's Bet, Rita and Rhiannon, and essentially the same broad plot outline. You will notice the first chapter in this story as mostly identical to the first chapter of Rita's Bet. However, near the end of this first chapter this version of the story diverges from the first version. The plot of this version rejoins the plot of the first version near the end of the last chapter.

This story is considerably longer than the first version of Rita, and many of the character motivations are different from the first version. Also, this version fills in some of Rita's and Rhiannon's immediately relevant backgrounds. There is also a third major character, Lena, who makes her appearance in chapter five, and she drives the story the rest of the way.

As I mentioned at the foreword to Rita's Bet, I love comments and observations about my stories.

However, once again: I don't really have an interest in hearing about how a chapter is submitted in what you feel is the wrong category. And I don't really care to bother with comments from burgeoning junior lawyers who just have to tell me all about the dire potential legal consequences of the action in the story -- just enjoy the story (or don't) for what it is. I also don't have an interest in hearing from unfortunate boys whose woman done him wrong at some point in his life and now he just has to lash out and vent his anger at women in general and find an excuse to call them skanks or whores. And for those who like to post with the hope of influencing the story line -- my stories, including this one, are finished before I start submitting them.

But your comments and observations on the literary aspects of the story (and especially in this case the differences between the two versions of the story), plot, character, mood, foreshadowing, etc, are all welcome and eagerly addressed and responded to, whether posted in the comment section or sent privately

Please enjoy the story. It is presented in eight chapters.

Rita and Rhiannon's Bet -- Another Telling of Rita's Bet

Chapter Three

"I guess so," I answered. I had no way of knowing if I was or wasn't since I had no idea what was still in store for me.

DeeDee walked up to me and my eyes grew wide as I saw the paddle that she held in her hands. It was the same one that Rhiannon, sitting on my bed, now held in hers. After initiations at the beginning of senior year I had been the co-captain entrusted with its keeping until it was time to hand it on at the end of the year. And that, of course, is how it came to be leaning against the back wall of my closet for Rhiannon to discover.

The paddle was perhaps a foot and a half long and four inches wide, excluding the handle. It had EAST painted on it in alternating navy blue and scarlet letters - epsilon, alpha, sigma, tau: stylized as uppercase Greek characters.

"Sorry, Honey," DeeDee said, "it hurts like hell, but we all had to go through it. This has been part of the initiation for decades" She tapped the paddle against the palm of her hand, as Rhiannon had just done and as I had done when facing the new initiates this year. DeeDee said by way of explanation, "Don't know where it came from. It's been handed down for forever I guess."

DeeDee pointed out years scratched or carved into the handle. The earliest was 1961.

"You willing?" Charlotte asked. I wasn't sure. My stomach was in knots as I tried to imaging the pain a piece of wood like that could inflict on a bare ass. I had never been spanked or paddled as a child and had not the remotest idea what a piece of wood applied with force to the buttocks might feel like.

"OK," I said, but heard my voice barely squeaking out. That wasn't alright. "I'm fine with it. Whatever it takes," I said in a much firmer voice.

"OK, Patty, you're first." DeeDee said. She held out her hand to me and I saw there was a die in it. "Roll the die on the coffee table. It will show how many swats Patty gives you. You know, you're getting off easy. Most years when there are only seven or eight girls staying each girl gets the roll of a pair of dice. But we thought this year since there are eleven of us swinging the lumber we would limit each girl to one."

I can't say as I felt terribly relieved over that news. I took the die over to the coffee table and let it fall from my cupped hand. It clattered on the table top for a moment before coming to rest and showing a four.

I followed each of Charlotte's instructions as she gave them. "OK, stand in front of the fireplace with your toes up against the stone apron. Now reach forward and grab the mantle with both hands." The stone apron was about two and a half feet deep and I had to lean forward to grab the mantle. My boobs swung beneath my chest. The position naturally made my butt stick out in back: an inviting target.

"OK," DeeDee said. "Patty's going to give you four. Every time you lose contact with the mantle or the floor you get an extra." I nodded my head at her to indicate my understanding. She withdrew and I waited for Patty's first swat to fall, my buttocks clenching and unclenching.

I registered the sound first, an intense slapping noise. Then the pain finished its journey from my butt cheeks to my brain and I sucked in breath. The second came and the sound was the same but the pain doubled. I could feel heat invading my ass cheeks. With the third crack my boobs began to sway under me and I let out a little "mmmm" sound as the accumulating pain was beginning to catch up to me. Patty's fourth swat was her last and she took advantage. The paddle landed with such force that I let out a little screech of pain. But I managed through it all to keep my hands and feet where they were supposed to be.

Patty came up behind me and gave my shoulder a squeeze and said, "You did good, Rita."

It wasn't until sometime later that I learned that the girls evaluated each other afterward, and those who the others felt did not swing hard enough had to strip and take their own paddling.

Audra was next. I took my time making the trip to the coffee table and back. I knew I would be glad of the break between each girl as my paddling progressed. The die showed a two and I sent up a little thank you to the god of the dice.

I took up my position again and Audra stepped up behind me. When the paddle landed it was as if I had never felt one before, as if Patty had not even taken a turn. The pain washed over me and I bowed my back in, twisting my torso. When the second came I felt nothing at all until a tsunami of agony filled my mind. Again I twisted my body and bounced up and down on my toes, my boobs wobbling. I settled myself and then pushed back from the mantle. I paused to make sure they understood I was not moving out of position because of the pain but because Audra's turn was over. She also gave me words of encouragement and an arm around my shoulder.

I stalled as long as I could, rubbing my backside and flexing my legs. Then I was reminded by DeeDee that it was time to roll the die and that Rachel was next. Again I dropped the die and observed as it came to rest showing a five.

Was there no one on this die?! I ambled back over to the hearth and again assumed the prescribed position and waited. After the first swat I bowed my head down as deeply as it would go. The second made me bend my knees and lower myself to the point that I could barely keep contact with the mantle. I came up again and thought to prepare myself but Rachel swung for the fences before I expected. The crack was as loud as all the rest, but unprepared as I was my right knee bent taking my right foot back and off the floor and I knew I had earned myself an extra swat. Rachel took her last two prescribed swats and then the extra one very deliberately, pausing long between each and letting my anticipation come to a boil before she swung. The pain accumulated in my bottom, and by the time she had completed her whacks tears were thick in the corners of my eyes.

How many different ways can I describe having my ass smacked by a paddle? Eight more girls took their turns. I never again let my hands or feet wander in spite of the overwhelming aching agony.

Laura and her six strokes came next, and by the time she was done those tears that had been accumulating sprang free and ran down next to my nose and down my cheeks.

Next I rolled the die for Yolanda and found myself staring at another six. Like most of the others Yolanda would tap the paddle against my backside before hauling back and swinging the paddle forward and into contact with my ass. I could feel how my buttocks were being flattened each time, to spring back and begin to radiate new pain. When Yolanda had finished my tears were flowing freely and I was sobbing.

Each of the girls, after she had finished her turn, gave my shoulder a squeeze, put an arm around my shoulder, or hugged me. They each had encouraging words. "Good job." "You're so brave." "I was crying a lot harder when I got my swats." "You're getting closer to the end."

While Andrea took her three swings and then Dallas her five I thought my fingers would leave depressions in the wood of the mantle, I was gripping that tightly so as not to let go. I had come close on many of the swats to lifting my feet and earning an extra wallop, but during these two turns I learned to dig my toes into the carpet as a substitute. I hoped I would never again have occasion to apply my newly discovered knowledge.

Finally after Dallas was done I got a bit of a break. Between each girl I had always hesitated, rubbing my flaming ass and stretching, anything to give myself a respite. But DeeDee or Charlotte, always the co-captains and traffic cops, would soon tell me it was time to roll the die and get back to business. But this time I was allowed about five minutes. I just assumed they did this at some point on all the girls' initiation paddlings. During these minutes for the first time I noticed a wall mirror hanging in one corner of the room. I turned my back to it and looked over my shoulder.

My eyes bugged out when I saw the deep red beacon my ass had become. From the tops of my thighs, just below where they met my buttocks, to just above the top of my ass crack the skin was a severe looking fire engine red. Some stripes, likely from the edges of the paddle when not applied perfectly squarely, added some visual interest. I know I had found the swats that hit near the top of my ass to be a lot more painful than the ones that hit lower, perhaps because the skin was tighter up above while below the fatter nature of the cheek could better absorb the shock.

DeeDee noticed what I was doing and said, "Sorry you saw that already. I meant to take the mirror down before we started. It's better if you don't see the damage until it's over." I didn't say anything, but I suspected she was right.

Finally I said, "Let's get this over with," and, quieting my sniffles as best as I could, picked up the die and dropped it. Finally a one showed its shy face and I silently exulted. Veronica was next and I was able to easily withstand her one swat, although she tried to make it hard enough to do for several.

At last a light seemed to be gleaming at the end of the tunnel. Just three more girls were left. Teresa would go next, and then the co-captains would put the finishing touches on my bottom.

I rolled again and Teresa had four swings at my ass. I got into position and couldn't help thinking about the glowing state of my bottom. By the time I had endured her smacks to my ass my tears were flowing again and I had resumed my miserable sobbing, but now my breath was coming shallow and fast. As I pushed myself away from the mantle I hoped I had only two more agonizing swats to endure, but I knew it could be as many as twelve.

The die said DeeDee had three swings at me. I took my position again. I couldn't reach the mantle with my head so I put my hands right next to each other, my arms touching, and I was able to bury my face between my upper arms. DeeDee made solid contact with my ass three times, all of them in that lower fleshy part that, in spite of the tormenting and excruciating pain, took the impact better than higher up.

By the time she was done my vision was entirely blurry: my eyes so filled with tears, my nose clogged with snot. I smiled anyway as I wiped my tears to show my courage and at the knowledge that I would have to endure no more than six more.

I bent double, my hands on my knees, as I slowed my breathing. When I was finally somewhat back in order I advanced to the coffee table and picked up the die. Thinking 'one, one, one' I dropped it from my hand and when it came to rest I saw an X in my blurry vision and knew I had five more to endure.

Without any encouragement I paced over to the mantle and got into position. When Charlotte's first whack hit my ass I finally lifted my face, which had again been buried in my upper arms, and put it to the ceiling and screamed. After each of the first four swats Charlotte came up to me, put her arm around my shoulder and her head close to mine. She would tell me how many were left and then ask me if I was ready for the next.

The same sequence was repeated four more times. Charlotte swung the paddle in a tight, fast arc, and the wood flattened my butt. My grip on the mantle would become as strong as a vice, my toes would dig into the carpet, my face would look to the ceiling and I would scream out. When my scream ended I would breathe hard and deep for a while. Then Charlotte would be next to me and the whole process would start again.

Finally her last stroke fell, and after I managed to silence myself I went to my knees on the stone fireplace apron, the flagstones cool to my knees' touch. The girls were around me in an instant shaking my shoulders and ruffling my hair. After a minute I was able to get to my feet aided by many hands. Then the girls were embracing me, laughing and cheering for me. Many a 'congratulations' and 'you made it' were flung my way.

Soon the celebration settled down and the comments became those that were in the nature of memories. Only DeeDee and Charlotte had been varsity since sophomore year. All the other nine girls here tonight had gone through this a year ago. They told many stories and revived many memories: how many one or another girl had been obliged to endure, how many extra swats some of the girls had gotten for letting go of the mantle or lifting a foot. I gathered that under the pair of dice system a girl could typically expect to get anywhere from forty to sixty. When I worked it out later I discovered I had endured forty-five, including the one extra swat from Rachel.

Apparently I was somewhat remarkable. No one, to anyone's knowledge (and certainly not last year), had gone through the whole paddling while getting only one additional smack. It was laughingly recalled that Veronica had earned seventeen additional whacks the previous year, so many more than anyone else that everyone began to suspect she was enjoying the paddling. At this observation Veronica smiled and blushed but didn't say anything.

A dull and constant ache was settling into my backside. I was assured that my bottom didn't look any worse than any other girl's ever had, and was less colorful than many. Still, I knew it would not be back to normal for many days. I was right. By the next morning my ass was entirely scarlet with streaks of purple where the lines from the paddle edge occasionally crossed my bottom, and there was some bruising, mostly around the edges of the area that had been under attack. Two weeks passed before my bottom was back entirely to its original pink color.

I was aware suddenly that we as a group were all moving toward the hallway and the front door. The thought had not entered my mind yet that I still had to make my way nude (and now with a flaming red butt) back to my car. Just getting through the mortifying inspection of the shave job on my privates and the paddling had been my only immediate goals. Anything beyond those events had fled from my mind.

Dallas was now opening the door and that wide expanse of lit lawn was before me, seen through the frame of the door. They all stood around me, telling me how they would see me at practice the next afternoon, and waiting for me to make my move.

This time there were no false starts. I just decided to take my chances without looking. I really couldn't see far, or with any certainty, down the dark street anyway. Again I doubled over slightly as a leaped off the porch, my boobs held tight to my chest by my arms.

It had to be somewhere near two o'clock and the street was utterly deserted. A short time later I arrived at my car. I opened the driver's side door, ready to get my clothes on and get home. When I looked at the front seat, though, they were not to be found. I couldn't see them on the floor on either side. Had I left them on back seat? I didn't think so, and a quick look confirmed that they were not anywhere in the car.

Then a truly alarming thought caused adrenaline to pour into my veins and my heart to race. My keys! I quickly bent down and in a panic felt under the seat. I was instantly relieved and comforted when my hand settled on them and recognized their shape. I pulled them out from under the seat and held them up before my eyes, just to confirm to myself that they were really in my hand. A giggle of relief escaped my lips.

Now that I had the keys I checked the trunk for my clothes. I was disappointed, but not surprised, to find them absent. However, sitting squarely in the middle of the trunk, dimly lit by the single bulb of the trunk light, sat a large navy blue E, trimmed with a scarlet border. My varsity letter! I gathered it up and walked to the front of the car. As I did so I suddenly remembered Audra: how she had joined the celebration after the others and how she felt cool as if she had just come in from outside. Obviously she had taken my clothes and I supposed they would be returned to me tomorrow.

With nothing else to do I took another look around for spying eyes and without thinking settled into the driver's seat. I grayed out for a moment and immense pain flared up from my poor abused, but now fully initiated, varsity butt. I was several seconds in mastering the pain, but once the worst of it had passed the coolness of the seat actually felt fine.

My drive home was uneventful. I saw only a dozen or so cars, but I drove with my window down. The cool air had my nipples pointing the way the whole time, but the air felt good and I propped my elbow on the sill of my lowered window affecting nonchalance. Not a stark raving nude girl driving home, just a girl wearing perhaps a strapless dress or a tube top, leaving her shoulders bare.

When I arrived home I parked my car at the side of the garage, and glancing around for spectators. Finding none I dashed to the side door, keyed it open casually and walked in. It was a Saturday and my parents were almost never home this early on a Saturday night.

Unconcerned, I padded around the kitchen nude and poured and drank two tall glasses of water. Then I sauntered down the hall, occasionally rubbing my battered bottom, and stopping to look at the mail on the hallway table. Finally I hopped up the stairs and made my way to my room and closed the door soundly. I tossed my prized letter on my dresser with a smile.