There was about half a minute during which I felt more humiliated than I have ever felt before or since. I couldn't even look at my friend, Charlie, I was that embarrassed. I was right over this old guy's lap with my face just a few inches above the floor and my bottom up in the air. “Keep your knees straight at all times” he said, another command that I needed to obey, even though it was so demeaning to position myself to his whim. He told Charlie to press the mouse button on his laptop to start the countdown on its screen.

It was set at 3 minutes 20 seconds – the 20 seconds were to 'prepare', he had said. Then, he had said, he would spank me 'moderately' for 2½ minutes, with a half minute 'sound spanking' at the end. We'd asked what a 'sound' spanking meant and were distressed to find that it basically meant 'harder'.

During this 20 seconds, with my bum so conveniently curved over his lap, he took the opportunity to give it a good feel. A stranger touching one of us up at any other time would earn a loud and (hopefully) crushing put down. And anyone giving us a smack there would get a smack around the face in return. But right now I had to take it. Now I had to let this old bloke feel me however he wanted, taking his time, enjoying it, and in a few seconds not only was he was going to smack me, he was going to do so repeatedly. For three minutes. And I had to lie here in this horrible posture and just let him do it. And then the same was going to happen to Charlie, and I was going to have to watch, just as she was watching me now.

How did we get into this? When we woke up this morning we had no idea that today we were going to undergo a spanking. Neither of us would have guessed that we would be offered one, that we would accept and even go back to our hostel to get dressed for it. How did it all happen?

We were two 'gringo' girls in our early twenties, doing the South America thing, travelling from hostel to hostel, country to country, having decided to take a few months off. After graduating Charlie had worked in a hospital as a Registered Nurse. She was very proud of her job at first but had found the paperwork and its duplications to be overwhelming and needed a break. I had been working hard for a small but very successful financial company but was beginning to think that finance, or perhaps office work in general, was not for me and wanted a few months to think things over.

We'd started in Buenos Aires and had travelled through Argentina, Chile and were now in Peru. We'd spent a few days in Lima before heading to the small surfing town of Huanchaco, an overnight bus ride north. I had been making the bookings a day or two in advance, making sure that we had adjacent seats on the bus and beds for a couple of nights on arrival. Then after a night we could decide whether to stay for a few more days, move to another hostel or just to move on to our next destination. It had worked well but just lately it had been irritating Charlie.

There had been a couple of towns where were had walked past really nice looking hostels but had to keep walking, with our backpacks and frontpacks, because I had booked somewhere else, which turned out to be not-so-nice. “If we hadn't booked this dump we could have just walked into that other place” she had said. And, true enough, there had always been a lot of availability of beds in Peru. Booking hadn't once been necessary. So this time she insisted that we just take the bus and find the best place on arrival. The overnight bus arrived early so we had plenty of time to find somewhere nice. I wasn't too happy about this – there had always been spare beds so far but it's the way things can be that the one time we didn't book would be the one time everywhere would be full. But I went along with the idea, not wanting to cause ill-feeling between us over something fairly trivial.

And as it turned out we were both right. Everywhere had beds for that night, Friday, but nobody had beds for the next. Hostels were always busier on a Saturday but this was exceptional. We found out why when we were handed a flyer in the street – there was going to be a big festival on Saturday night in the neighbouring city of Trujillo, and at this festival, along with all the Peruvian music acts, Paolo Hurtado was going to be singing. He was from Peru but had achieved worldwide fame through his voice, dancing and all-round phroar-factor that had sold a million posters and even more downloads. We'd seen him on the internet but we both knew that we had to see him live, which meant that we had to get a bed somewhere for that second night.

We took two beds in a dorm in a nice hostel near the beach; they were very nice but made it clear that we would have to leave by 10am the next day. We each showered, cleaned our teeth, changed into fresh clothes and found a café for breakfast. Suitably refreshed we headed off for another look for some rooms, feeling sure that, further away from the centre, there would be somewhere with space. We drew blank after blank. We even tried in hotels – one had a twin room but wanted a fortune for it. One hotel chain had a branch in Trujillo and we asked if they would have a vacancy, but they said no without even phoning them. They seemed almost amused we would ask as, they said, everywhere in Trujillo had been booked solid since days ago. “People will be sleeping on the streets” they said.

We kept looking until, right on the edge of town, a hostel owner said we should come back later to talk to one of his guests named Bob. There was a single room free and Bob was staying in a double room. He was out at the moment but later we could ask him if he would take the single room for the night, allowing us to take the double. He said that Bob was a good man, an ex-nurse, and was sure to want to help us out. We were elated with relief and joy at the prospect of seeing Paolo Hurtado in the flesh, and as it was mid-afternoon already we took ourselves off for a leisurely lunch and a beer.

“We're looking for a guy called Bob.” We'd arrived back at the hostel and there was a middle-aged man sitting outside. He looked kind – little did we know!

“That's me. You must be the two girls wanting to swap rooms.”

“Oh yes, we can't find beds anywhere and we really want to go to the festival and see Paolo Hurtado.” Charlie was the extrovert of the two of us and it was always she who spoke first. “If we can't stay in your room we won't be able to go so we'll be ever so grateful if you'd let us take the double for the night.” We both smiled our very best smiles. “You can have it back the next night” she added.

“Look I'm sorry” he started – my heart sunk into my stomach, “I took the double because the single beds in Peru are just too short for me.” Although he was sitting we could see that he was rather tall. He explained that all the single beds had boards at each end which meant that he couldn't lie flat.

“Oh, there isn't another bed anywhere” Charlie pleaded “and if we can't stay here we won't be able to go to the festival. Pleeese!” Charlie was tall, slim, young and lovely and I was no ugly duckling – put it this way, we usually got what we wanted, especially when we turned on the poor little lost girls in a foreign country routine. But this time was going to be different.

“No, I'm not going to swap beds. You should have booked in advance, it's only since yesterday that this place has been so full. If you'd have phoned ahead you'd have beds to sleep in.”

We sat down and talked with him for a while. Charlie and he spoke about nursing and what awful employers the hospitals were. Then we chatted about where we had all been and our plans for the coming months. Of course we feigned interest in his travels and laughed at his jokes before trying one more time. Surely nobody could resist our best charm offensive?

“I know you want the room so that you can see this singer, but why should I have a rough night's sleep just because you couldn't be bothered to book ahead? What would I get in return?”

We suggested a few things – we'd carry his stuff to the other room for him, cook him a meal, take him to the concert with us, but he wasn't interested. We were just giving up when he said something that would normally get him a sharp comment in return. “There is one possibility. I enjoy spanking good looking girls and you two are very attractive. If you let me spank you both you can have my room for tomorrow night. This way we both get something out of the deal.”

We were used to getting scouted but not like this! My first thought was no way, and by Charlie's reaction she seemed to agree. “I don't think so!” she said.

“Well that's a pity, but many girls felt that way at first, after all it is a bit different!”

He was so matter of fact about it that I asked what he meant by “many girls”. Had he spanked women like this before? He said that he had, but that they had fully agreed to it and had got what they needed in return for a “few minutes of discomfort”. He said that he didn't like to hurt women and that a spanking was different to a beating.

“I don't understand why but I get pleasure from feeling a woman squirm as I spank her. I like to think of them getting their just reward for a misdeed – in this case your failure to organise yourselves. But I'd be mortified if I caused anyone too much pain. The other girls told me they felt a bit sore afterwards but none had any bruising.”

I looked at Charlie. She looked unconvinced and I sensed that she wanted to get away from this guy. So I told him we would talk it over. He said we could take our time, “I'll be around here for the rest of the day” he said, smiling.

Feeling a bit stunned we walked across to the beach. I could tell Charlie was annoyed and I'd seen here like this whenever men wanted her to pose naked or do some porn, which she said was incredibly insulting. So this time it was me who spoke first. Being the practical one I told her that our only options were to take the expensive twin room in the hotel, take the double bed at the cost of this man's spanking or leave tomorrow, spending the rest of our time in Huanchaco planning where to go next and buying the bus ticket, missing our chance to see Paolo Hurtado.

We walked back to the hotel to see if they would give us a discount on the twin room if we pleaded our situation, but by that time the room had been booked, so that option was gone.

I had the idea of leaving our bags at the hostel, going to the festival, getting a taxi back to the hostel to pick up our bags, taking the taxi back to Trujillo and then taking a small-hours night bus to anywhere. I was very pleased to think of such a complicated plan, but the agency told us that all the night buses were full that night – too many people had already decided to travel away after the festival.

So that was it. Our options were to leave town the next day or go back to the old pervert and see the festival. By now it was late and we were very tired from our bus ride the previous night and our beers at lunchtime and we had no energy for sorting our logistics for the next day. Plus we wanted to stay in Huanchaco because it was beautiful and we really really wanted to see Paolo Hurtado!

We decided to go back to him to find out more before taking a decision. Bob was still sitting outside watching the world go by and he motioned us to join him. We said we were still undecided and asked him what would happen. I had assumed that the whole thing would last about ten or twenty seconds, like in the old movies. But despite telling us that he wanted to spank us for three whole minutes – thirty seconds of which would be “sound” – he was quite reassuring. He said that we could tell him to stop at any time and that he wouldn't want us to undress – just to wear something thin and not like the denim shorts that we were wearing at that time. He said that we should get it over with tonight as the hostel owner was only holding the single room until the morning.

So after going back to the beach and talking it over between ourselves, and having no real alternative, we went back and, something I never thought I would do, agreed to be spanked. I mean if a boyfriend had asked then I might, but not a complete stranger. He said he would wait for us while we went back to our hostel to get changed.

It was a long way on our weary legs, having been walking around in the heat for most of the day, and tired from the lack of sleep the previous night. Being so physically and mentally drained meant that it hadn't sunk in what was going to happen to us. It was just a dream from which an alternative solution would present itself.

Back at the hostel there were a couple of other girls in our dorm so I went to the bathroom to change into a pair of leggings that were at the top of my backpack – I hadn't had time to unpack. I took my time and looked in the mirror for a while to take my mind off things. My skin was looking great which I put down to all the fresh fruit Peru had. Back in the room I found that Charlie had put on some jeans. I reminded her that he'd said to wear something thin but she disagreed – “He said not to wear the shorts.” I felt annoyed that it was her fault that we hadn't booked anything but that she would feel less of the consequential spanking.

We walked back to the other hostel again, at the further edge of town. We walked along the beach road past people in bars and restaurants having a good time – ordinarily that would be us, meeting people and letting the boys buy us drinks. “Cheer up darling” said one lad, seeing our downcast faces and not knowing what we were in for.

We found Bob sitting outside the hostel, waiting. He asked if we wanted a glass of wine first or to just get it over with – we chose the latter, wanting to get back to bed and to sleep, so he led us to his double room. It was so basic, just one bed between us, a wooden chair and a small bedside table, yet here we were doing this thing to spend just one night in it.

There was a laptop on the edge of the bed and he had moved the chair so that it faced the screen.  Displayed on it was a clock showing “00:03:20”. He explained that this was what he would use to time himself: 20 seconds to prepare, two and a half minutes of moderate spanking and a final thirty second sound spanking. He said that our bottoms would be getting number by then so we wouldn't feel it so much. I didn't like the sound of that but there was no backing out now.

He told me that I would be first and instructed Charlie to stand next to the laptop so that she could start the clock, then he sat down and told me to go over his lap. I was suddenly awoken from my protective trance and my plight sunk in. I was going to be spanked! I was about to bend myself over this man's lap and get a spanking.

The realisation froze me to the spot and Bob once again told me to come over. Feeling very self-conscious at what was going to happen, I eventually walked to his side. “Now lean over my lap” Bob said. Another slight pause, not believing that I was voluntarily doing this. I leant forward and put my hands on the far side of the seat, but found I couldn't lower myself down. I could have put my hands or forearms on his leg for better support but didn't want to touch him, a bit of a strange thought seeing as I was going to spend the next few minutes lying on his thighs while he repeatedly slapped me! So I knelt down, which was humbling enough, and then leant over his lap, resting my hands on the far side if the seat.

“You'll have to get further over than that” he told me, so I moved myself forward which had the effect of lowering my torso so I was holding onto the chair legs on the other side. “No, right over” and as I lifted up to move he gripped me under my shoulders and pushed me forward, and when I leant back down onto his legs I tipped forward and had to put my hands on the floor to stop myself toppling over the other side. In a few crushing moments I had gone from standing, to kneeling, to prostrate.

He held me with his left arm and pushed me down further, bending my arms. “Keep your knees straight at all times” he instructed. Broken, I did so immediately. My toes were just touching the floor on one side of him, my hands were flat on the floor on his other side. With my hips a metre above ground in the middle I was like a triangle with my bottom at the apex. It was truly demeaning to be upside-down over some man's lap and shameful to be in front of my friend with my head below her knees. Perhaps if she had gone first it wouldn't have been so bad, but of course this was the first time that either of us had been in this undignified posture.

He told her to click the laptop's mouse to start the timer. I couldn't look at her from the embarrassment of being so low, so I looked at the floor, but from my peripheral vision I could see her stepping toward the laptop, stopping to lean down to click the mouse button and then step away. Somewhere high above me he started to caress my as yet unspanked buttocks and I was hopeless to stop him, he had free reign to fondle me and then to smack me for three minutes.

With my eyes fixed to the floor I couldn't look at the timer reaching the 3 minute mark, but he gave me warning by saying “Here we go” and lifted his right hand from me. I braced myself, knowing that the next time his hand made contact would be with the first whack of my first (and hopefully last) ever spanking. And even though I was expecting it, and it wasn't too hard, it still came as a shock. Then he raised his hand again and another blow came, and then another and another. At first they were soft and slow and I thought it wouldn't be at all bad. But he gradually got faster and harder until he reached a rhythm and kept going at that same pace. It wasn't painful but it certainly wasn't comfortable and I definitely wanted it to stop. He continued methodically, striking blows all over my bottom to which, in my bum-up position, he had excellent access. He was mostly silent with just the occasional “keep your knees straight” which I quickly obeyed for fear of him hitting me harder or faster.

The discomfort had taken my mind off my embarrassment and after what seemed an age I looked around at the screen to see how long was left. It read 00:01:10, nearly two minutes gone, but still over a minute left. I was not enjoying it one little bit, and far from getting numb and feeling it less it seemed to be getting more painful as the seconds ticked on. Once again I couldn't believe I was doing it, getting spanked over this old bloke's lap, and humiliation washed over me again along with the increasing burning.

I looked again: 00:00:48. Into the last minute but only a few seconds until the 'sound spanking' begun, and this was hard enough. I wanted the clock to count down faster but I didn't want it to reach 30 seconds. And all the time the smack smack smack of his hand striking my poor upturned bottom. It was like nothing I'd ever experienced before, a constant stream of little jabs here then there then there, one after the other. These thin leggings we super-sexy but didn't give me any protection.

I'd always loved my bottom, it was small, juicy, gravity-defiantly curvy and round. I loved how it looked in the clothes I wore, especially the little denim shorts I had been wearing that afternoon, and I loved the reaction it got from the boys (and girls!). And this was how I repaid it! But then again I have to wonder if it was all my bum's fault, after all if we had fat saggy arses then maybe this man would have just given us the room without thinking of extracting a spanking out of the situation.

Just before there were 30 seconds left he paused (taking the opportunity to have a quick fondle) and stated that my sound spanking was to start. I felt his left hand and arm hold me in place, pushing my torso down a bit more so I could barely move, and then his right hand was raised and SMACK “Ow that bloody hurts” I said, but I had not quite finished the sentence before the next hard smack, followed by another and another, quicker and quicker. This was far more than uncomfortable, these blows really stung and were now coming faster than ever. I thought of telling him to stop but then I would have taken a humiliating 2 ½ minute spanking for nothing. No I would just have to take it.

“Twenty seconds” he said, gleefully. He was obviously enjoying himself, which I suppose was fair enough – if you're into spanking and making attractive girls squirm then those leggings were very shapely and I was really squirming.

A few seconds more and I was really having trouble and he gripped me still harder. Just after he announced the 10 second mark I tried to push myself up but his elbow on my back forced me down again until I was even lower then before, right down to ankle-level. This was the worst part of the whole evening with the stinging blows on my already burning bottom, being properly face-to-face with the floor and my with feet having been pivoted up into the air.

Then the laptop made a beep and it was over. My bum was burning and the man gave it one last feel before letting me up. I was on the edge of tears, clutching my behind, trying to rub the pain away. He'd done a good job I must say as the whole of my bum was throbbing and on top of that there were sharper pains from the final half -minute.

Charlie looked at me with a mixture of sympathy for what I had just gone through and fear of knowing that she was next and would be feeling the same in a few minutes. As for me I didn't want her to be put through the same thing. It may have been more her fault but she was my best friend and I didn't want her to have to experience that traumatic three minutes and twenty seconds of pain and embarrassment.

Meanwhile, once he had finished watching me for a while, Bob reset the timer on his laptop and sat back down. “Your turn” he said to Charlie. “What are you going to wear?”

She looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I told you both to wear something thin, not jeans.”

She looked at me and then back to him. “Oh you did? I thought you wanted us not to wear shorts. I'm so sorry. But I'm sure you will enjoy spanking me over these” and she turned around and leant over a bit. It was quick thinking from her and normally a man would do anything after a sight like that, she did look great in denim, but he just frowned. Once again our charms had failed us.

“Your friend has taken her turn in those thin trousers so it wouldn't be fair for you to wear thick cotton. I thought you had brought something else with you to change into. I didn't realise that you were trying to ignore my clear instructions. You'll have to go back to your hostel and change into something else.”

She looked back at me. Neither of us wanted to walk all the way back to the other end of town and then all the way back here. We just wanted to get this over with, get back to our beds and sleep. “We're too tired to go back again. Can't you just do it over these?”

“No I cannot, and unless you want to cancel our little arrangement you'll have to remove them and take what's coming over whatever you're wearing underneath.”

“You said that we wouldn't have to undress” Charlie protested.

“And if you'd have worn something thin as you were told you wouldn't have to. I was quite clear about it. If you want the room you must take this spanking over thin clothing – whether that's thin trousers or just your underwear makes no odds to me, but I'm not spanking you over those, and if I don't spank you then the deal is broken.”

“No way!” said Charlie. “First you want to wallop the both of us and now you change your demands just so you can see my knickers!”

“I don't care about your knickers. The deal is for me to spank you over thin clothes. I don't care if that's thin trousers, a thin skirt, a thin dress, a sari, anything. But not denim jeans. You can either change into something else or take them off. If you don't then you are breaking the deal, and if you break the deal then the bargain is off, I will stay in this room and you two will miss the festival.”

By this time I had had enough. Much though I didn't want Charlie to go through what I had gone through, I didn't want to have gone through what I had gone through for nothing. As far as I was concerned she was going to take the spanking come what may! I took her out of the room to talk to her.

“These leggings didn't make any difference, it won't feel any worse with just panties. Let's just get it over with and go back to our beds.”

She revealed that she had been wearing a thong under her shorts that day and couldn't change them in the dorm – there wasn't time for her to go to the bathroom to change after I'd taken so much time and so she had just quickly changed from shorts to trousers. “I don't want him to see me in these, and he'll be spanking me on my bare cheeks.”

“Well you should have worn something thin then. It's your own fault. I'm not going all the way back to our hostel again. I'm too tired and I want to go to bed. I've just been spanked so we can see Paolo tomorrow, now it's your turn. Just get in there, take your jeans off and get yourself over him.”

She knew better than to argue with me once I had spoken like that so we went back into the room, she took off the jeans and got into position. She did it easier than me, choosing to lean her forearms on his left thigh on the way down.

Bob didn't say anything but it was obvious from his face that he was very pleased at what Charlie was wearing, indeed his eyes almost popped out. However he quickly regained his composure and got her into her triangular position.

She looked strange. Here was this confident, responsible, popular and beautiful girl who people looked up to, boys desired and who enjoyed the power that she had over them. Now it was surreal seeing her with such low status, on display in a thong, subserviently lying over a man's lap so he could fondle and spank her.

When instructed I started the countdown and he begun to run his hand over Charlie's exposed tail. She used this 'preparation' time to beg for leniency, saying that he should be more gentle with her as she had less on – it was only fair. He basically ignored her, but just before the three minutes started said “It's your own fault for wearing the wrong clothes” and then started spanking her.

She took it well at first but after about half a minute began to squirm and groan, occasionally telling him that it was too hard. He continued to ignore her except occasionally to tell her to keep her knees straight. As the time went on she looked more and more distressed as her cheeks got pinker and pinker and started to go red. I felt so sorry for her, but at the same time was relieved that she was going through with it. And also, at the same time, I was thinking how cute she looked with her 'best side' looking up at me, bouncing away!

Again the time ticked down until at 30 seconds Bob begun the sound part of her spanking. I could see how hard he was striking her and felt justified that I had been struggling to stay down, indeed I thought that I had done pretty well. Certainly better than Charlie who was now twisting and kicking; he had to grip her tight and pushed her right down nose to floor while he belted away. I was worried that she would tell him to stop and we would have endured over five minutes of misery for nothing, so I talked her through the final twenty seconds, telling her that she could do it and to think of Paolo dancing on stage in front of us.

At last it was over and Charlie was upright again, quietly sobbing and rubbing her red raw behind. Bob watched for a while, a satisfied smile on his face, then stood up and told us we'd both done very well and that he had enjoyed himself. He said we could come back any time the next day and that he would make sure the room was cleaned before we arrived. When Charlie felt a bit better she put on her jeans and we walked back across town, our tight clothing rubbing uncomfortably. Back in our dorm, which was empty this time, we compared our bottoms. Charlie's was much redder than mine, although that night we both slept on our stomachs.

The following day was a bit embarrassing, having to see Bob again, but he was very pleasant and made us dinner. The festival was great and yes we saw Paolo Hurtado dancing up close. It helped take my mind off the thing we had done the previous evening and the soreness from the spanking. Having said that the festival was crowded and every time someone bumped into me from behind the stinging sensation came back for a minute or two. One man gave Charlie a slap as she was leaning forward for something and being so tender she shot up and yelped. It hurt her so much she couldn't even rebuke him.

After that we stayed in Huanchaco for a few days, but back in the first hostel. I told Charlie that I wanted to move again because I thought the other one was better, but really it was because I didn't want to be in that place or see Bob because it reminded me of being over his lap while he fondled and spanked me, and of being helpless to prevent it because we just had to take that one opportunity to see Paolo.

Charlie and I never talked about that evening again. I don't know about her but I am still ashamed that I have been spanked and have never told anyone else. I hope that this account is useful to you, so you know what to expect. He kept his promise and, despite being saddle-sore for a few days, I guess it was worth it. You say that Bob got my email address from the hostel's guest book, and you're writing because he has offered you a spanking to get something that you desperately need? My advice? Wear something thin!