It was a hot day in the middle of summer in a small village in the south of France.
There was something special about this village, three months ago, it had not yet existed and this area was just rolling hills of fields and pastures.
The village was built around an old castle on top of the largest hill. All houses and huts were built with wood and clay and roofs of thatch, to resemble the building styles of the fifteenth en sixteenth centuries.
All homes were inhabited, not permanently, but by actors, who dressed and acted like people who lived in that time period.
The straw-covered pathways and cobbled streets were packed with tourists, watching and interacting with the actors. There were many children as well, learning of their country’s history.
There were activities, like learning how to weave a basket or working with leather. These had long rows of waiting participants.
Other activities were just to be watched, like the blacksmiths working by the heat of a furnace, and the washerwomen bending over their tubs, cleaning the linen that had to be carried back up to the castle before nightfall.
Michael was one of the men working at the smithy. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and strong hands from wielding a hammer all day.
He wore linen trousers, secured around his waist with a rope and a white linen shirt, plastered in sweat against his skin, outlining the muscles of his chest and abs.
You might expect most tourists in this area to be men, interested in this historically very manly profession. But in fact, it was mostly women outside the smithy, gathered behind the rope that kept the tourists a safe distance from swung hammers and hot furnaces.
Michael heard their whispers and giggles in between the ringing of metal when he brought his hammer down. Some of the bolder ones whistled or even suggested he took off his shirt if he was too hot.
At first the attention had flattered him, but it had quickly started to bore and even annoy him. He wasn’t just some piece of meat to be ogled. If the roles were reversed and a bunch of men were making such crude remarks at a female actress, it would not be tolerated, he was sure.
Sometime after noon, a small group of young women gathered at the smithy. From their conversation Michael gathered they’d left their kids with their husbands at some children’s activity.
From their giggling, he knew they were gathering their courage to call out to him, just like the others before them. He wondered what they’d come up with and doubted it would be original.
“Hey blacksmith. Don’t you want something softer to hit? It must be tiring to hit that hard, unyielding metal all day.” One of them finally called to him.
Michael grinned and turned around. He was allowed to interact with the tourists as long as he stayed in character. He just usually chose not to. “Like what?” He asked.
The women giggled and all but one turned away from him.
“This.” The young woman still facing him said, spanking the backside of her friend who was hiding her face. She squealed a laugh.
Michael rolled his eyes. “I don’t think any of you would be able to take it from me.” He said and turned back to his anvil.
The women laughed and called out more, trying to get his attention again. Michael ignored them and focused on his work. He did listen to their conversation however, their blushingly shared fantasies of a strong man bending them over his anvil, turning their bottoms red like the hot metal he worked with.
The women seemed to think they had embarrassed him as he ignored him, all Michael thought about however was his own girl, Sophie, who had spent many times bent across his knee. Those thoughts helped him through the rest of the day as more woman came by, asking him to take off his shirt or flexing his muscles.
Sophie also worked at the village as an actress. She played one of the washerwomen bent over a tub with hot water and soap all day, scrubbing linen.
Her role was that of a demure servant, always polite and ready to serve. It was quite contrary to her usual demeanor, she was quite outspoken and had a way with words. A way that often had her ending up across her boyfriend Michael’s knee as he did not appreciate her foul language.
Not that that ever stopped her from swearing. The spankings he gave her were always consensual and always enjoyed by the both of them, even when he turned her bottom a bright red.
Right now, she wished she could swear, though that didn’t fit her character. Groups of tourists passed the row of washerwomen and while their work was hardly interesting compared to the rest of the village, the men always stopped to have a look.
Sophie and the other women beside her wore plain linen servants dresses, underneath they wore a simple shift. Both of those had gotten soaked in water after a long day of washing and while the fabric was thick enough to still be decent, it did give those men the opportunity to admire their curves.
Sophie didn’t mind too much, it was a hot day after all and the wet fabric was nice and cool. If only the men didn’t constantly make the same remarks: “Your dress looks dirty, you should take it off and give it a good wash.” or “Hey my shirt is dirty too, mind washing it for me?”
As a demure servant girl, Sophie politely replied. “That wouldn’t be proper, sir.” Or “I can’t do that sir, I have to wash my lady’s clothes first.”
What she really wanted to do was give these perverts a firm talking to.
By the end of the day, when all the tourists were left, Sophie was hanging the last of her work on a washing line. They were clean, but tomorrow they’d be washed again by some other woman. She’d get another role luckily, she couldn’t take more than one day on her knees, bent over that tub with her arms in hot water scrubbing clothes. The others had already left, she was the last one there.
She was nearly done when Michael arrived at the washing house. “Hey hun, I see you’re not done yet. Mind washing my shirt while you’re at it?”
Sophie turned away from the washing line to face him. She heard from the tone of his voice that he was joking, but she’d heard that same joke all day, it was just too much to take.
“You listen here, you big oaf of a man.” She said. “I spent all day washing our lords and ladies linen. You can wash your own bloody damn shirt.”
Michael raised his eyebrows and then laughed. “Someone had a rough day.” He said.
Sophie crossed her arms in front of her. “You have no idea. You wouldn’t understand, bloody men, filthy perverts ogling at me all day, their stupid jokes and filthy suggestions.”
Michael placed his hands on his hips. “No, I guess I wouldn’t understand.” He said, while understanding completely, thinking of the women that had done the same to him. “What I do understand however is that you would be in deep trouble if your lady heard you talk like that.”
Sophie grinned and raised her arms. “I know, I’m sorry, luckily we don’t actually work for any lords or ladies. Imagine I’d have to carry the bloody laundry up to the castle after a hard days work.”
Michael smiled. He’d spent most afternoon thinking about putting his girlfriend across his knee, it had kept him from giving the tourists too much attention. “Well then, that leaves us some time to deal with it ourselves I think. I might not be a lord, but I don’t appreciate such language either.”
Sophie blushed. “Oh come on, right now?”
“Well everyone else seems to have returned to their homes. We could return to ours, but the wash-hut is furthest away, there’ll be less chance of anyone hearing us here.” Michael said matter-of-factly.
Sophie licked her lips. It didn’t seem fair, but she could use the distraction after the long and tiring day. She didn’t want to make it easy for him however, she’d been a demure servant girl for long enough today. “I work for a noble lady, you’re just a local blacksmith.” She said. “I don’t think I have to answer to you.”
Michael grinned. “All right, if that’s how you feel. I could accompany you to the castle and tell your lady myself, see what she has to say about this.”
Sophie was not biting her lips, she felt warm and her bottom was tingling, she was really getting into this. “You wouldn’t!” She exclaimed.
“Oh I certainly will.” Michael replied. “Unless you prefer I deal with this personally after all.”
“It seems I have no other choice.” Sophie replied, seemingly accepting her fate.
Michael, strong as he was, lifted the large wooden tub, still filled with water and tipped it over. The water ran over the wooden floor, sloshing around their feet, draining towards the cobbled street. He then sat down on top of it. “Get over here.” He said.
Sophie eagerly placed herself across her boyfriend’s lap inside the wash-hut, hands and feet on the wet, wooden floor. She faced the street, the wooden hut was completely open at the front letting anyone passing by see inside. This part of the village was abandoned at this hour however.
With a simple shift as her only form of underwear, it was as simple as pulling it up along with her dress to bare her backside.
Micheal placed his hand on Sophie’s bare bottom, gently squeezing and stroking. He had been looking forward to this all day. He smacked her softly. Yes, this was much better than hitting hard, unyielding metal.
He started of slowly, with gentle yet firm swats. Sophie moaned and raised her bottom, showing her appreciation for a good, sensual spanking.
As her bottom turned pink, Michael increased his pace. Spanking faster and harder. His arm was tired from working at the forge all day, but Sophie’s moans and whimpers reinvigorated him.
Sophie’s bottom turned slowly red as Michael spanked her without pause, smacks echoing through the village.
When he heard her first squeal, Michael finally paused to give her a break. “Warmed up?” He asked.
“Yes, sir.” Sophie replied, moaning horny now that he was stroking and fondling her bottom.
Michael gave her just a bit more time to let her rest and then raised his hand once more.
This time he put full force behind his swing. Sophie squealed each time his hand landed with a loud thwack across her backside, again and again.
“Wait, not so hard.” She begged as her bottom bounced from the onslaught.
But Michael did not relent. He’d spent all day listening to women joking about the strength of his arm, it was about time one of them got to feel it too. “You know I don’t accept such language from you, young lady.” He admonished her as he kept spanking her poor bottom.
Sophie squealed and cursed. “This isn’t fair.” She called out. “Those bloody men kept antagonizing me all day and I’m the one being punished.”
She was just being facetious of course. She didn’t want Michal to stop. She’d taken much harder spankings than this one before, and while she wouldn’t have minded a softer, more sensual spanking, this one did a good job of taking the past day off her mind.
Michael did not relent. “Just because those men were disrespectful, doesn’t mean you get to be as well.” He replied, landing a couple more hard swats across her backside. He knew well enough when Sophie really wanted him to stop and when she was just playing her role.
Sophie squealed and moaned, kicking her feet and struggling beneath the firm arm of her boyfriend keeping her down. Then finally, with her bottom bright red, Michael stopped. Stroking and squeezing her now sore, stinging backside.
Sophie was out of breath from moaning and squealing, she didn’t say a word as the blacksmith fondled her, his fingers dipping between her legs, finding her warm, wet pussy. It wouldn’t last long however.
“Get up.” Michael said. “On your knees, bend over the tub.”
Sophie blushed and got up, wondering what he was up to now. He might take her right then and there, fuck her as she lay down over the tub. Knowing her boyfriend however, it seemed more likely that he was not done with her bottom yet.
She turned out to be right when Michael picked up one of the carpet-beaters the other women had used to beat the dust out of rugs. She’d actually looked at those before during her day as a washerwoman, wondering what it would be like to be spanked by one of those.
Michael held the long handle at its end and placed the woven wicker against her bottom when she knelt in front of the tub. “Raise your dress.” He said.
Sophie bared her own red bottom before bending over the tub. She braced herself.
“I counted about a dozen swear words, before and during your punishment, young lady.” Michael said. “So you’re going to count these for me, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” Sophie replied.
The carpet-beater whisked through the air and landed on her backside with a loud swat.
Sophie squealed. “One.” She said.
Again and again Michael aimed the carpet-beater at her backside. It’s large surface covered her entire red bottom, spreading its sting everywhere at once.
The long handle offered a lot of force, made to beat dust out of carpets, amplifying the pain in her backside. It wasn’t too bad however, not much worse than Michael’s hand had been for that had gone much faster, the carpet-beater offered her more time to rest between each swat.
Sophie called out each swat, squealing in between. She hugged the tub beneath her, biting away the pain in her bottom. When they reached twelve she was at the same time relieved but also saddened that it was already over.
Michael helped her up and gave her the carpet-beater to return it to its place. He then turned the tub back over, hiding any evidence of what had happened here this evening.
“Lets get back to our little home.” He said, putting his arm around her.
Sophie licked her lips and hugged her boyfriend from the side. “Yes please, I’d like to do some different kind of moaning now.”
Later that evening, the two of them lay in their little hut on the old straw-filled mattress. Sophie was playing with Michael’s hair, his hand rested on her still red bottom. Both of them satisfied.
“So, you’re blacksmithing again tomorrow?” Sophie asked.
“Yes.” Michael replied. “Probably at the forge, I’ll let someone else handle the anvil. I’ve done enough swinging of my arm today for two days.”
“What’s your role tomorrow?” Michael asked.
Sophie smiled broadly. “I get to be one of the noble-women. In a really fancy dress.”
Michael grinned. “If only I’d known that sooner. I’d much rather put a noble-woman across my knee than a mere servant-girl.”
Sophie gasped and hit her boyfriend on the chest. “Mere servant-girl? How dare you…”
Michael laughed and grabbed her wrist. “Behave now.” He warned
Sophie licked her lips. “Besides, what makes you think a mere blacksmith would get the opportunity to spank a noble-woman?” She protested.
“I would’ve thought of something.” Michael replied.
They were both silent for a while after that, both coming up with scenario’s in their head for how a noble-woman might end up across the blacksmith’s knee.
“Does that mean you get to ride a horse through town?” Michael asked after a while.
“Yes.” Sophie replied. She was looking forward to it. Then, reaching down to touch her bottom, still red and sore, she realized. “Oh, no.” She said.
Michael laughed again. “Someone’s going to have a fun day tomorrow.” He said.
Sophie stuck out her tongue at him. Luckily he couldn’t see in the dark.