This is a sequel to Lillian and the Ritual:

1

Lillian shivered as a cold breeze tickled her big, fat, bare buttocks. She was kneeling on her office chair, elbows resting on her desk, staring at a screen filled with colored text. She wore nothing but a plain black t-shirt and a white thong. Her outthrust bottom had a slight pink tint to it, the only outward sign of the soreness that still throbbed through it.

She rubbed her eyes and yawned. She slid off the chair and walked to the open window. The breeze had been nice during the day, but now that the sun was setting (so early! Stupid autumn!), it was getting chilly. She pulled it shut, then realized she was standing in front of an open window without any pants on, and hastily pulled her blinds shut. Oh man, had her window really been open the whole day?

She rubbed her sore bottom. To be fair she’d had other things on her mind. Would she ever be able to wear pants again?

A chime from her phone made her jump. She winced. It was a reminder for a session with her personal trainer down at the Gym. She’d signed up for one a few weeks ago, during a short-lived burst of initiative brought on by the last self-help book she’d tried. She attended the first session, but canceled the last two with some flimsy excuse or other.

She eyed the alarm. At least this week she had a good reason to cancel right? Not that she could tell her personal trainer the reason… She dialed up her trainer. It rang once before being picked up.

“No,” said her personal trainer, Renae. The woman’s voice was clearly feminine, but deeper than most any other woman Lillian had ever spoken with.

“W-what?” said Lillian.

“I know why you’re calling. You’re trying to cancel again with some half-mumbled bullshit because you can’t be bothered to come. Well, the answer is no. You are going to get your butt down here, and you’re going to do it now.”

“Y-you can’t say no,” said Lillian. “I’m paying you–”

“To improve your fitness,” said Renae. “Not to twiddle my thumbs because you canceled at the last minute, leaving me with no choice but to take your money for doing nothing, while also not being able to let someone else fill your slot, temporarily or otherwise. It’s time you respected me enough to get down here and let me do my job. Now move your ass girl!”

“But–”

“The only ‘but’ I care about is yours getting here, and getting here yesterday. Now move!” Renae’s voice snapped like a whip.

Lillian jumped and scrambled for her sweatpants. She pulled them up and over her swollen bottom, whimpering and dancing as the fabric, soft though it was, molded to her swollen ass. She snatched some socks out of her drawer (silently happy at how quickly she got them. That morning it would have taken her like five minutes to find a matching pair), and ran out of her room.

In a stroke of terrible luck, Gertrude emerged from the bathroom at the same time, and Lillian slammed into her. The towering woman barely swayed, like an oak tree in a summer breeze. Not that that kept her from making a grunt of annoyance, nor from tucking Lillian under her arm and giving the short girl’s big bottom some hard smacks.

Lillian kicked and babbled apologies as her thick bottom wobbled beneath Gertrude’s hand, the tight-fitting sweatpants exposing every ripple, jiggle and bounce.

“Now,” said Gertrude with one last squeal-inducing smack to Lillian’s broad bottom. “Why are you sprinting through my home like a runner at the race track?”

“I have to get to the Gym,” said Lillian quickly. “I’m late for my personal trainer.”

“Oh, so you’re going this week? Wonderful.” Gertrude released Lillian, who rubbed her bottom. “In all the hullaballoo this morning, I myself forgot to go. Let me grab my bag and I can drive you.”

Gertrude ducked into her room. Lillian rubbed her stinging bottom and scowled at the door. Hullaballoo! That’s what she called spanking Lillian so hard she couldn’t sit, or even wear pants! Hullaballoo! Here’s hoping someday Gertrude gets some ‘hullaballoo!’

Gertrude emerged a moment later with a gym bag slung over one shoulder. “Hurry up Lilly. We don’t want you any later than necessary.”

Lillian followed Gertrude into the garage. She slid into the passenger seat, whimpering and squirming as her smarting bottom touched the seat.

The garage door raised, while Gertrude’s (electric) car hummed to life. They drove in silence, save the occasional whimper whenever a bump caused Lillian to bounce in her seat.

2

They pulled into the parking lot of the Gym. Its full name was the Gym Sports Center, and it was the largest sports center in town, boasting pick up games of every sport imaginable, various intramural leagues for various ages, a 200m indoor track, and a large, fully stocked weight room. It also employed some of the most well respected personal trainers in the area, including Renae.

Lillian pushed her door open, and hopped out before the car had finished coming to a stop.

“Lillian Sleight!” barked Gertrude. Lillian froze, not even daring to breath. Gertrude turned off her car and got out. She swept around the car, grabbed Lillian by the shoulder, turned her around and gave her ample bottom a full-bodied smack that lifted the girl onto her toes, echoed across the parking lot, and elicited a shriek from the girl. “If you ever do that again, I will bend you over and give your bare bottom such a spanking it will swell to twice its normal size. Understand?”

Gertrude punctuated the question with another hard smack that made Lillian dance.

“Yes, yes I’m sorry,” said Lillian, frantically looking around for any sign of anyone else. But the parking lot was mercifully empty of people.

“Very good. Now, hurry along.” Gertrude sent Lillian towards the Gym with a firm smack. “But watch where you’re going!”

Lillian squeaked and walked as fast as she dared (which wasn’t very), and Gertrude ended up entering right behind her.

3

Renae was leaning against the counter, in a sports bra and tight runner’s shorts, a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. She was chatting with the receptionist. She had short, red-orange hair, and clear green eyes. Where Gertrude made Lillian think of a majestic Oak Tree bathed in sunlight, Renae was a severe, merciless mountain looming over the plains. She towered over everyone in the room except Gertrude, though she had an inch or two even on the large landlady. Where Gertrude had more than her fair of soft curves mixed into her linebacker build, Renae was all hard muscles and lines save for her truly massive chest, which put even Gertrude to shame. Lillian idly wondered if Renae’s fitness was a matter of survival: stay fit or see her back snap like a twig under the weight of those monsters. Well, she wondered that when Renae wasn’t in the room. She had other things to worry about whenever Renae was in the room.

Things like Renae. It only took two long strides for the giant, muscular woman to reach the much softer, much shorter girl. “There you are–oh. Gertrude. Hello.”

“Hello Renae,” said Gertrude with an icy flatness. “I take it you are Miss Sleight’s personal trainer?”

“And you are her landlady I presume?” said Renae in the same tone.

“Umm, do you two know each other?” asked Lillian.

“She tried to cut down my oak,” said Gertrude.

Renae rolled her eyes. “That was a very long time ago, and a lot has changed. It’s a very different world now.”

Gertrude adjusted her bag and gave Renae a tense smile. “Well, don’t mind me. I’m just here because a little hullabaloo this morning kept me from working out when I do normally. I’ll see you in an hour Lilly.”

Renae returned Gertrude’s smile with an identical one of her own. She turned her attention back to Lillian, and her smile (such as it was) vanished.

“You, uhhh tried to cut down her tree?” asked Lillian, shifting uneasily from foot to foot, and looking up at Renae’s looming figure.

“Small spat between neighbors,” said Renae. “Now hurry up. You’ve wasted enough of my time.”

Lillian hurried after Renae’s long strides, anxiously clutching her hands to her chest.

Renae led them into the weight room, assailing them both with the clang of metal, the grunts of exertion, and the thick scent of sweat. The track circled above them, basically an oval balcony.

Renae put her right leg up on a weight bench, picked Lillian up, and bent the girl facedown over her rock-hard thigh.

Lillian squealed, her arms and legs flailing in midair, her big, jiggly bottom thrust up high and straining against her sweatpants. “Wait, no please no!”

“You’re ten minutes late.” Renae pushed Lillian’s sweatpants down to her creamy thighs, bringing the girl’s giant bare buttocks wobbling into view, the fat cheeks swallowing the tiny white thong threading between them. “So you get a ten minute spanking.”

“No please you can’t–aaoooww!”

Renae brought her hand down hard on Lillian’s upthrust right cheek. Her broad palm and long fingers sank deeply into Lillian’s pliant flesh, ripples spreading across the squirming mounds. The sharp crack cut through the clangs and grunts like a knife through butter. Lillian’s legs kicked frantically. Her thick thighs, partially exposed by her half-mast sweats, jiggled with the motion.

A few people looked their way, but their eyes seemed to just slide off the pair, as if they saw just two people talking. Lillian’s world tilted again, and she felt a strong sense of surrealism. None of this made any sense! People wouldn’t just ignore a spanking in front of them! But they seemed to be acting like her boss, as if an adult woman stripped half-naked and given a spanking were normal as naps. That ritual, it had to be that blasted ritual! But how? Why? She hadn’t wished for a spanking!

Renae’s hand splatted Lillian’s left cheek, and the dangling girl forgot about everything except the sting in her bare ass. Renae battered Lillian’s wobbling buttocks with heavy, steady, full-armed strokes. Lillian squealed and flailed, blubbering and begging for mercy. At one point, Gertrude emerged from the changing room in a sleeveless shirt and tight, tiny shorts that showed off every one of her generous curves. She smirked a little when she saw Lillian and Renae, before heading upstairs to the track. She was the only person who seemed to acknowledge what was going on. Lillian’s cheeks burned red hot (both pairs).

But Gertrude was quickly forgotten, subsumed by the horrible impacts of Renae’s rock-hard hand on Lillian’s pillow-soft bottom. Lillian howled, her feet kicking and her arms windmilling in midair, her bottom bouncing and wobbling and rippling. Renae’s palm descended with strong, firm strikes, each stroke sinking deep into Lillian’s fat, bright red ass.

Eventually, long after Lillian had given up any hope if it ever ending, Renae slid Lillian back onto the floor. Lillian hastily pulled her pants back up, whining and dancing as the (supposedly) soft material rubbed against her throbbing bottom.

“Now, let’s go up to the track. Hurry girl, we’re already twenty minutes into your hour.” Renae gave Lillian’s bottom a hard smack to hurry her along, the soft flesh wobbling under the tight sweatpants.

Lillian squealed and nearly ran to the nearest stairs.

4

“Right, now start jogging,” said Renae, gesturing to the track curving past them.

Lillian groaned. Renae’s palm arced down and sank into Lillian’s pliant left cheek. Lillian squealed and hopped up onto her toes, the crack echoing across the track.

“Move it girl. Time’s a wasting,” said Renae. “And I don’t want to hear any of your whining.”

Lillian started jogging, wincing as her swollen cheeks rubbed against each other, and chafed against her sweatpants.

“We’ll jog a couple of laps, do some stretches and then run a mile.”

“But it hurrts so much!” whined Lillian, slowing to a stop. She vainly tried to pull the fabric of her pants away from her bottom. “God, these pants are chafing so bad!”

“Easily solved.” Renae tucked Lillian under her arm and picked her up, eliciting a terrified squeal from the girl. She pulled Lillian’s pants down and threaded them carefully over Lillian’s sneakers, removing them completely. She set the girl back down in nothing but her shirt, tiny white thong, and running shoes.

Lillian squealed, her face turning redder than her bottom. She danced from foot to foot, shielding her crotch with one hand and her enormous backside (vainly) with the other.

“Problem solved. Now run.” Renae turned Lillian and smacked her big bare cheek where it wasn’t covered by her small hand (there were lots of places to pick).

Oh God, she couldn’t believe this. Bad enough she was running, but now she was doing it without any pants! She was painfully aware of how her bare cheeks jiggled, wobbled and rolled with every step. Still, she didn’t dare stop. She had a terrible feeling she’d run her laps whether she wanted to or not, only question was how many times Renae spanked her first.

Eventually, Lillian realized it wasn’t as bad as she feared. People giggled, and men (and one or two women!) oggled her as she ran past, but they seemed to forget about her as soon as she passed them, just like how nobody seemed to acknowledge the spanking downstairs.

After a few easy laps, Renae gestured for Lillian to step to the side. “Time for dynamic stretches.”

High knees, butt kicks (those felt weird without any pants, and her heels clapping against her cheeks wasn’t exactly comfortable), then lunges. She balked when it was time to do caterpillars though. She was supposed to start in a push-up position, and then inch her feet up to her hands, keeping her legs as straight as possible. Just the thought of doing that, slowly thrusting her thong-clad ass up high into the air made her want to sink into the floor and die. She couldn’t do that! She just couldn’t!

One minute later, Lillian was in the push up position, slowly inching her feet up to her hands, her freshly reddened, very bare buttocks slowly pushing up into the air above her, the tiny white strip of cloth that was her panties covering the absolute bare minimum it could possibly cover, and even then just barely. Lillian’s face was so hot she could have cooked an egg on it. Slap a steak on her bum, and she’d have a proper meal!

Some skips in various colors of the rainbow followed, but those weren’t any worse than jogging, and certainly not as bad as caterpillars!

Next was a mile run, the main workout for that day. A few laps into the run, Lillian began to falter. Renae’s palm cracked against Lillian’s right cheek. Lillian squealed, and reached back to clutch her bottom.

“Keep running girl, or I’ll swat you some more,” said Renae. “And it’s hard to run while you’re grabbing yourself.”

“Hard..run..spanked,” gasped Lillian.

“Best maintain the pace then,” said Renae.

“Can’t…”

That earned her another hard, squeal-inducing smack, this time to her left cheek. “I know what you’re capable of far better than you do. Now stop back-talking and keep running, or I’ll spank you soundly.”

It occurred to Lillian that at least then she would get a break. She started to slow down some more, but all Renae did was give her six hard smacks in rapid succession, all without stopping the jog. Lillian yelped, and found herself picking up the pace again, despite herself.

Eventually, after a throat-burning, stitch inducing, bottom screaming eternity, they finished the mile. Lillian staggered and bent over, putting her hands on her knees. Renae stepped up behind her and gave her a hip-twisting, full-bodied crack on the ass, sending the soft flesh into a bobbling fit.

Lillian howled and straightened, clutching at her bottom.

“First, don’t bend over like that. Put your hands on your head, and stay straight. It’ll help you recover faster. Second, when we tested you at your first session, you ran the mile in about twelve minutes, fifteen seconds. You just took fourteen minutes, eight seconds. Likely in no small part because of your little attempt to goad me into putting you over my knee.”

“How did you–”

“I’m not stupid, girl. Now hands on your head and take some time to catch your breath. Once you’ve recovered we’ll do some static stretches, and then I’ll give you that spanking you were asking for.”

“But I don’t want it anymore!” whined Lillian, clutching her bottom.

“Tough toenails twinkle toes. And get your hands back on your head.”

Lillian whined, but did as she was told.

After a minute of breathing and pacing, Renae genstured for Lillian to come stand beside her. “Ok, time for some cooldown stretches. Touch your toes.”

Lillian pouted, but bent over obediently, vividly aware of how her lush, all-but-naked ass thrust out invitingly above her, the soft flesh quivering with the slightest motion. They did a few standing stretches, and then Renae made Lillian sit next to her. Lillian whimpered as her throbbing bottom touched the textured floor, but she didn’t dare defy the towering trainer.

They did some hurdle stretches, some butterflies, a glute stretch, and a calf stretch.

Finally, Renae stuck both legs out in front of her and patted her lap. “Over my lap young lady.”

“But why?” asked Lillian. She tried to roll away, but the physical trainer grabbed her arm. The next Lillian knew, she was facedown across Renae’s bare, powerful thighs, her arms and legs resting on the ground and her ass uplifted by Renae’s lap. “Eek! No!”

Lillian’s shirt had ridden up a bit, exposing the curve of her back just above her large, round ass. Renae pressed her left hand against that exposed skin, her palm heavy and rough against the soft curve.

“Let’s see, you tried to slack off. That’s worthy of a spanking in and of itself. You tried to manipulate me. I don’t like people messing with me. And you have been doing a terrible job of doing what you’re told. Does that answer your question?” Renae raised her arm above her head, and brought it down hard and fast on Lillian’s thong-framed bottom. Her broad palm splatted deeply into Lillian’s giant, pillowy buttocks before bouncing back up above her head, and down again into the opposite cheek. Up and down went that paddle-like hand, the large, chiseled muscles of her arm working with each whooshing stroke.

Lillian howled. She pounded and kicked the ground like a toddler having a tantrum. Her wobbling ass bucked and wiggled beneath the onslaught. Tears blurred her vision to nothingness, and she forgot about anything and everything except the powerful thighs pressing against her hips, the prick of the textured ground on her bare arms and legs, and that giant hand whooping her giant bottom for all it was worth.

Eventually, long after Lillian had completely dissolved into sobs and tears, Renae picked the girl up and set her on her feet.

As soon as her feet touched the ground, Lillian wailed and danced around, frantically trying to rub the sting from her bare, bright red bottom, not caring anymore about how her bottom wobbled and jiggled with her bouncing.

“There. Now next time you’ll push yourself, and listen yes?” asked Renae.

“Yes ma’am,” sobbed Lillian, nodding her head frantically.

“Very good,” said Renae. She stood and pulled a piece of paper out of her duffel bag. “Now, I think it best that we bump up to Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and here are some exercises I want to do on Tuesday and Thursday. Saturday and Sunday you have off to recover. Understand?”

Lillian’s eyes widened at the thought of going through this three times a week.

Renae cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, it’ll get easier. Not only will you start to get into shape, but you’ll presumably start behaving yourself, yes?”

Lillian nodded and took the paper. She looked at it and groaned. “Half a mile run?”

“Could make it a mile if you’d like,” said Renae.

Lillian shook her head.

“Thought so. And don’t forget to stretch before and after. Dynamic stretches before, static after. Now run along,” said Renae. She picked up Lillian’s discarded pants. “And don’t forget to put these on. Oh, and make sure to get a drink on your way out. I let it slide this time, but if you forget your water bottle again, you’re touching your toes. Get my drift?”

Lillian took the pants and nodded. A few seconds of hopping and whimpering later, and Lillian was limping down the stairs, rubbing her bottom as she went. She made sure to stop at a water fountain to take a drink, before resuming her limping towards the door. Her bottom was on fire, her legs were sore, her throat was raw, why oh why did she sign up for some stupid personal trainer?

She found Gertrude sitting in the lobby with a book, waiting for her. Gertrude glistened with sweat, and she had a calm, chill expression. She smiled and stood when she saw Lillian. “Hey, looks like you had a good workout. Sounded like it too.”

Lillian groaned.

Gertrude smiled. “Don’t worry, you’ll start feeling real good in a minute. What’s that in your hand?”

“Umm,” Lillian glanced down at the paper. She had a brief moment of panic. If Gertrude knew what was on it, she’d make Lillian do the exercises. Lillian hastily tucked it into her pants. “N-nothing.”

Gertrude held out her hand and gave Lillian a Look. Lillian squirmed, and whined, but handed the paper over.

“Oh so you’ll be coming in Monday, Wednesday, Friday? That’s good. Exercise is good for you. Great stress relief, and make you feel real good about yourself. Maybe we can start going together. I can shift to the evening easily enough. And it looks like some workouts for you to do on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Why didn’t you want me to see…” Gertrude’s brow furrowed. She gave Lillian a stern, matronly look that made the girl shrink and her bottom clench. “Afraid if Landlady Gertrude found out, she’d make you go running? Planning on skipping them were you? After all, not like Renae would know right?”

Lillian shifted from foot to foot. “Well, I mean, ummm…”

Gertrude made a rotating motion with her finger, then pointed at Lillian’s pants and down at the floor.

Lillian whimpered, but obediently turned around. She pushed her pants down to her knees, bringing her fat, swollen ass bouncing into view once more. She put her hands on her knees and stuck her bottom out, presenting it to Gertrude for punishment.

She couldn’t believe she was doing this, but she knew that if she didn’t, it would just end in her over Gertrude’s lap and getting it worse. She screwed her eyes shut. Her fingers dug into her knees, and her pillowy cheeks rippled as her bottom clenched anxiously.

“That’s a good girl,” cooed Gertrude. She gave Lillian six hard smacks, three to each cheek. Lillian rocked onto her toes with each bum-wobbling smack, cries of pain erupting from her exhausted throat with each smack.

When Gertrude finished, Lillian danced in place for a moment, rubbing her newly enflamed bottom. Oh God, this had to have been the worst day ever!

“Now, get your pants up and let’s go home,” said Gertrude. “Then you need a shower girl.”

Lillian did as she was told, though it took a fair bit of mewling and whimpering. She slowly followed Gertrude out, and paused to breath in the cool autumn air. She was feeling strangely relaxed, and chill, like maybe the exercise was in fact making her feel better (certainly it wasn’t her sore ass!).

And that deep, sinking dread that always seemed to hit her in the evenings was gone, that sense that somehow her life was slowly falling apart and she was running out of time to put it back together. Things where happening now (even if they were unpleasant), and a part of her started to suspect that just maybe her latest efforts to get out of her rut would work. They wouldn’t just fade into a sputtering, whimpering failure, easily forgotten but so hard to ignore.

Pleasant thoughts, but they certainly didn’t make the ride home any more bearable.