Feb 202008

Once upon a time there was a beautiful island. The temperature was always wonderful, the skies were always beautiful and the forecast was always predicting awesome days ahead. The job of meteorologist was mostly a ceremonial one and was currently held by a rather lazy cat. The people on the island never worried about the weather.

This wonderful paradise was home to the Island Princess. She was the most beautiful princess in the world. Her lips were as soft as a spring breeze. Her eyes flashed brighter than lightning. Cumulus clouds could not compare to her breasts for fullness and roundness. The people of the island loved their Princess and would indulge her all the time.

One day, the Island Princess decided to have a picnic on the beach. All of the people brought food, towels and surfboards. Barbecue pits were dug and dance competitions broke out spontaneously. It looked like it was going to be a perfect day except for the rain clouds gathering in the sky.

As soon as the first drop of rain fell, the Island Princess stomped her foot. She was having none of this.

“Rain!” she yelled in her very commanding voice. “Go away and never come back!”

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And wouldn’t you know it, the rain went away. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky for they all went away by the Princess’s command. The other people on the beach were very happy. They continued dancing, surfing and cooking. Several of the young men put together a band right there and made up songs detailing how wonderful and special the Island Princess was for doing something about the weather. It was one of the best days at the beach ever.

But the next day, the rain didn’t come.

Nor did it come the next day, or the day after that. Even though it was an island surrounded by a beautiful sea, it still needed rain to grow fruit and quench thirsts. No rain came and after a few weeks, the waterfalls themselves started to dry up.

The cat meteorologist was consulted but he only yawned and stretched himself in the hot sand.

People became upset. Some drank way too much rum as a water substitute. Some people attempted desalination of the sea but that was a lot of work. The band that started up just to sing the Island Princess’s praises now sang songs about what a spoiled girl the Island Princess was.

As for the Island Princess, she just sat in the palace and pretended it wasn’t happening.

One hot dry day, a shaman came out of the deepest darkest part of the island. No one knew who he was but that didn’t stop them from guessing and reporting it to their neighbors as fact. The shaman walked into the center of the village and just stood there as people gathered around him.

The first thing people noticed about him was his right arm. It was twice as large and muscular as his left arm. It reminded people just how lonely it must be out there in the jungle by your self.

The second thing everyone noticed was that he carried a nasty paddle with him. It was a large wicked instrument. The handle was wrapped in leather while the flat end was a black hard wood. The paddle end was two feet wide and was stained with tears. He carried the paddle on his back and his broad shoulders seemed to struggle with the weight of it all.

The shaman stood in the middle of the village and shouted to those assembled before him.

“I carry the Paddle of Thunder!” he yelled. “Pride and selfishness has driven the rain away but tears and an ass whooping can bring it back! My paddle can make an ass burn like lightning! My paddle can make the sky cry tears! Bottoms will be punished, screams will crack like thunder and the rain shall return to the island!”

The people cheered. The Island Princess stepped forward and raised her hand to be heard. “What do you need to work your magic?” she asked.

The shaman answered. “The Paddle of Thunder needs a perfect ass! I need a bottom rounder than a pearl! I need a bottom tighter than a drum! I need the most perfect ass in the entire island to smack with my magic paddle to bring the rain back!”

The people grew quiet and looked to the Island Princess. Now the Island princess knew all about responsibility. She had sent the rains away and it was up to her to fix it. She also knew she had the most perfect ass in the entire world much less the island. She wasn’t afraid of the Paddle of Thunder. The Island Princess looked the shaman in the eye and she said-

“Oh, you’ll want to spank my handmaiden. Her ass is very cute.”

So the Island princess’s handmaiden was brought to the shaman. She was very well behaved and ready to sacrifice herself. The shaman sat down on a chair, flipped the girl over his knee and gripped his paddle very tightly. The handmaiden said a prayer thanking the Island people for this chance to serve them.

WHAM! The paddle smacked right into the handmaiden’s very cute bottom. She screamed and her scream was so loud that all the people on the Island screamed too. That didn’t stop the shaman. He kept paddling. He swung that big nasty paddle and kept smacking her right on the ass. Her legs kicked and struggled but the shaman didn’t relent. No matter how loud she screamed, he didn’t stop until an hour of ass-whooping had passed.

“Her ass is not cute enough!” the shaman cried. The handmaiden crawled off with her very red ass. “The Paddle of Thunder needs an ass that is undeniably perfect!”

The people grew quiet and looked to the Island Princess. Now the Island Princess knew all about responsibility. She had sent the rains away and it was up to her to fix it. She also knew she had the most perfect ass in the entire world much less the island. Making her handmaiden suffer was a pretty rotten thing to do and the right thing to do would be to get across his lap and take her spanking. The Island Princess looked at the Paddle of Thunder, then she looked the shaman in the eye and she said-

“Oh, you’ll want my skirt maker. Her ass is wonderful.”

The skirt maker was brought to the shaman. Her dress was taken off and yes, the crowd thought her bottom was very wonderful indeed. The shaman put her over his knee and gripped his paddle very tightly. The skirt maker closed her eyes and thanked the world for a mostly enjoyable life.

WHAM! The paddle landed on the skirt maker’s wonderful bottom. She screamed so loud that this time even the monkeys on the island joined in on the scream. The shaman kept paddling though. He kept swinging and the skirt maker kept screaming. Over and over he paddled her for an hour but still no rain.

“Her ass is not good enough,” the shaman cried. He let the skirt maker go and she crawled down to the ocean to cool her bottom off. “The Paddle of Thunder needs an ass that is without a single fault!”

The people once again grew quiet and looked at the Island Princess.

“Fine!” she said with a petulant stomp. She yanked her skirt off and bared her ass to the entire island. An old fisherman died of a heart attack right there but he died smiling. The Island Princess stomped down over to the shaman and threw herself over his knees.

“This had better work,” she said with a pout.

The shaman didn’t answer her. He held the Paddle of Thunder up high and the crowd was as silent as that poor dead fisherman. After a suitable dramatic pause, the shaman swung.

WHAM! The paddle hit the Island Princess and her ass stung like a hundred bees had struck it.

She did not scream.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The shaman smacked her ass and the Island Princess still did not scream. Her bottom was burning, her legs were kicking and she clenched her hands into fists but the Island Princess refused to cry out.


The Thunder Paddle fell on her bottom with the fury of a hurricane.


The Island Princess squirmed and writhed but the shaman kept her pinned on his lap.


Something strange happened to the Island Princess. The overwhelming heat on her ass began to spread all over her body. She felt a tingling run down her thighs, a tingling spread up over her breasts, a tingling over her nipples and most of all, a tingling on her sex. The painful smacks of her ripe bottom were becoming a drumbeat that was sending sensation throughout her body.

The Island Princess got wet. She could feel her desire flowing between her legs. She could feel the moisture collecting on the shaman’s leg. At first she was embarrassed, but the paddling felt so good, that she didn’t care who knew as long as the good feelings continued.


A hard blow made the Island Princess shift. She nudged right up against the shaman’s loin cloth. She could feel the girth of his erection and she could feel the steady pulsing of his excitement. The thought of how hard he was only added to her own desire.

One really hard smack made her throw her head back. With her head tilted back, she felt the first drop of rain land on her head. Another drop fell on her back and another drop fell on her leg. Small drops fell all over her body while more of her desire dripped down the shaman’s leg.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! The shaman struck her faster and harder.

“Yes, yes, yes” the Island Princess started to chant as the Paddle of Thunder struck her bottom and sent her closer and closer to that orgasm just out of reach.

The shaman noticed the beautiful pink color that the Island Princess’s ass was becoming. He struck harder and faster. The smell of ozone filled the air.

“Come on thunder, come on thunder,” the shaman chanted.

CRACK! The thunder answered. A torrent of rain fell from the sky.

“YES!” the Island Princess cried. She climaxed and screamed her pleasure to the entire island.

“FUCK!” the shaman yelled. His cock erupted inside his loin cloth. The shower of his seed mixed with the rain on the wet sand.

The shaman stopped paddling the Island Princess and she leapt up from his lap. The cold rain fell on her body. The Island Princess danced to cool her bottom off. The people joined with her, cheering and yelling as they all danced.

The cat was upset with being rained on and ran back into a hut to sleep.

The young band of boys sang a new song right then about how brave and selfless the Island Princess was. It was a great song and was easily their best although critics would later say it lacked mass commercial appeal.

The Island Princess stopped dancing when her ass had stopped burning. She looked around for the shaman but he was gone. Some said he was struck by lightning while others said he melted with the ran into that gooey spot by the chair.

The Island Princess knew better. She knew that the shaman had returned to the woods with the Paddle of Thunder. She knew he would be back if she ever made silly demands of the weather again.

She smiled. The Island Princess figured she would wait till she could sit down again before she did anything like that. She guessed that should only take a month.

The end.

  15 Responses to “Fiction: The Island Princess and the Paddle of Thunder”

  1. Um, sir. Could you stop turning me on so much with these island stories? kthxbai.

  2. t’sade- That is a big fat ‘No.’ I didn’t want to do another Island story so soon but I swear, I slapped my girl’s ass once and this story popped into my head.

  3. wow, so many Island Princesses, so little time.

    Or is it just one very busy Island Princess?

  4. One very very very busy Island Princess. The world couldn’t take more than two at a time. Hmm, on the other hand . . .

  5. Oh well. :) Guess I’ll just have to suffer with being turned on.

  6. Y’know, write enough of these things and you could put together a little BDSM/sex-themed “morality tales” book a la “Politically-Correct Fairy Tales”.

    The title of this one alone was great. The story was pretty funny too, especially the skirt-maker’s thanks for a “mostly-enjoyable” life.

  7. listener 42- Although I adore the idea of a book of Island Princess stories, I always be to be careful and make sure I have a book’s worth of stories before I get grand designs.

    But wouldn’t it rock if it was illustrated?

  8. That was quite wonderful dear sir, I have become quite jealous of the spoiled little Island Princess.

  9. Was the “Fuck” of the Shaman a good “Fuck” or a bad “Fuck”?

    And, since I’m turning this into a question period, can you explain why you felt like adding in the picture, the “boy’s band”?

  10. Musns- Thanks :)

    Julie- I would say good fuck. I don’t know if you can have a bad fuck on the island.

    Originally the boy band was meant to be exiled at the end of the story for being fickle with their affection. I scrapped that idea because I couldn’t fit it in and retain the upbeat ending I had. I was tempted to go back and remove the band altogether but I was irrationally fond of them for some reason.

  11. I’m with the Princess – it’s worth banishing the rains if that’s what it takes to get another paddling :)

    Great story, Shon. I am quite damp myself…

    xx Dee

  12. If the Shaman did not want to, would have prefer to be stronger and resist, than the “Fuck” would have been a lost of his control over his body reaction to the pleasure then it would have been a bad “Fuck”. This based of course on the pledge that resisting can create excitement too.

    Do you agree from this point of view?

  13. Sorry for the confusion Shon, Missblue and Julie, we are the same.. oh.. or are we, really? ;)

  14. Dee- Thanks :)

    Julie/Miss blue- Doh. I didn’t understand at first that you were asking about the exclamation. I think he yelled because it was a declaration of orgasm. I think I would be cussing if I had an island Princess squirming on my lap.

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