“You do not want to argue with me right now, buster!”

He was crossing from the bathroom into the spare bedroom where he had taken up residence after the fight yesterday. They tried to follow the “don’t go to bed angry” maxim that nobody he knew could follow either, but when it didn’t work sometime staying out of each other’s way was the best plan. At least until time calmed the waters.

Sharon’s voice barked hoarsely at him from the bedroom. “Don’t even think about going in there and getting dressed.” He stopped short, surprised. He didn’t even know she was up here. “Get in here-and take that stupid towel off!” He had put a towel around his waist leaving the bathroom but quickly peeled it off and hung it over the doorknob.

His wife was in their bedroom dressed in jeans and a black concert T-shirt looking positively girlish but he knew by the look on her face she wasn’t feeling girlish. Her eyes were still slightly puffy from crying and her forehead was crumped with angry furrows. He figured that she had been up most of the night going over every shitty thing he had said under the influence of a half of bottle of Rye and a miserable business trip that had gone wrong in every way.

He thought she had pulled him in here to continue the argument. To go through a series of “What did you mean by this? What did you mean when you said that?” kind of questions and it was going to feel weird doing that stark naked. He came up short though when he glanced at the cedar chest at the foot of the bed and saw some of his least favorite things…thick wooden bath brush that had never made it into the shower and two plastic rods that she had taken off of the blinds in the room. His heart flipped a little knowing she had two because she expected to break one. They didn’t break easily.

“Get your ass over the bed”, she ordered.

“Honey…Sharon-wait a minute…”

She covered the distance to him in three quick strides but was in his face fast enough for him to feel she leaped there-or materialized in front of him. Her dark hair was tied in a tight pony tail and, in her bare feet, she barely came up to his shoulder. “You do not want to argue with me right now, buster”, she seethed, her finger in his face. No he didn’t.

He crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees feeling exposed with Sharon behind him. He was trying to remember the last time she had flat-out paddled him that wasn’t foreplay or birthday related. There had been a few…but not recently.

“Lay flat-this way”, she indicated north-south; he buried his head in the pillows. “Move over here-so I can stand.” He slid over feeling a slight tingle where the bed spread rubbed his dick.

“Sharon”, he looked over his shoulder toward her-but couldn’t see her. She was at the cedar chest, arming herself.

“I’m giving you one hundred.”

He rolled his ass away from her onto his side feeling very naked as his limpness just hung there.  “A hundred? Jesus Sherri…that’s a lot. Look-I’ll take a punishment. I will…but that’s…”

She reached out and grabbed his ear. “I’m not asking for permission to beat your ass. I’m telling you what you are getting.” She yanked his head toward her, forcing him back onto his belly.

“What if I don’t let you?” he said quietly, on shaky ground. “I can just say no and just get up now.” Staring at the swirls on the spread he listened to the silence in the room. He knew as soon as he said it, that it was the wrong thing at the wrong time. That was apparenly a pattern this weekend. He held his breath hoping that would stop him from saying anything else.”

“Then, my dear husband, you can go to The Keys next week by yourself.”

“Oh come on! It’s been booked for months! It’s too late to cancel.”

“You don’t have to cancel, go yourself. Take someone else…I don’t care.”

“You love The Keys”, he almost whined. “It’s as much your trip as mine.”

“Yes, I love The Keys, and would love the trip. Just not with you.”

“That’s great to hear!” he mumbled.

She reached high into the air and smacked him hard on the ass with her hand.

“Ouch!” he was surprised by the smack and it stung.

“Why would you want to go with me after all you said yesterday? Huh? You weren’t taking to me yesterday like to wanted to take any kind of trip.” He said nothing. “Quiet now, huh? Just as well, because I’m fucking done talking. You want to leave now, leave. And go to the Keys yourself next week. Or take what you deserve, then we’ll talk.”

“Jesus, alright!” he said miserably reflexively squeezing his cheeks together.

“Fine. One hundred. And I’m done talking like I said. Anything you say-any word that isn’t a cry of pain or the answer to a direct question will add five more. Got it?”

“Yes”, he mumbled tensely into the pillow. He’d never gotten this many swats before-certainly never as a punishment. Maybe in the course of a slap and tickle evening when you counted all the hand smacks and pats, but that was nothing like what was coming. He flashed back to 24 swats she had given him with a paddle that she broke last year. He would have done anything to stop that onslaught. He had to focus-to work through this.

He felt her firm hand on the small of his back-steadying the target. Felt her moving, knew she was reaching up with the paddle, then SWAT! It landed with full force on his right cheek.

“Uggg!” was all he could say as he bit down on the pillow. He thought there might be some warm-ups but apparently-SWAT!-another on the same spot-not! He grabbed a pillow with both hands and buried his face into it-alternately biting and yelping. He could have tried to tough it out through a couple of swats but false bravado was useless here. Maybe if he let her know how much it hurt-SWAT! “OWWW!”-she’d cut him a break.

She kept her left hand hard on his back feeling him rise and buck with each swat she gave him. She liked to feel she was pushing him back down when he wanted up. That she was directing him-controlling him and clearly, punishing him. “Quit tensing”, she ordered. “I want it soft.”

“I’m trying…I’ll try” he gasped through gritted teeth spreading his arms to grasp the corners of the mattress.  She watched his lats and shoulders tighten as the cheeks of his bottom relaxed.  A thin sheen of sweat glistened on his back.

She shortened her stroke slightly and went back to work delivering two quick smacks to the middle of his ass covering equal slices of both cheeks. He howled and she swung again and again. His butt had blown past pink to red and was starting to glow an angry brick color. He dug into the bed with his right foot pushing his knee out as if to climb away. She took advantage of the spot that he exposed at the bottom of his bottom; right at the bottom of his cheek where he was so far remarkably unmarked. She swatted it hard and he bucked throwing his leg back where it was.

She patted his ass with the paddle. “Take a break”, she said. “That’s fifty-you’re halfway home.”

“Can I rub?” he asked.

“Knock yourself out.”

He reached back and rubbed his cheeks gently. The skin felt paper thin and he felt ridiculous. Sharon liked to rub him with oil after a spanking-even relatively gentle maintenance spankings. It was part of the ritual that made spankings such a welcome diversion in the house. He could really use some of the aloe that she used right now, but she obviously wasn’t in the soothing mood.

“Alright”, she said from behind him. “Let’s get on with it.”

He brought his hands back and went back to hugging the pillow. She tapped his tortured flesh with a rod. “I want you to lift now-stick it back here.” He pushed his hips up, raising his bottom toward her. There were two taps with the rod then the hot pain exploded on his right cheek like splashing lava. He bucked forward almost bashing into the headboard as she struck with another. And again. He yelled and tried to roll but she pushed him roughly back into position.

The next burning stroke bit deeply into the soft flesh at the top of his thigh and he screamed again.

“Sharon!…Wait. Please honey-PLEASE….OWWW!” he cried out as the rod bit deeply again in the middle of his left cheek. She paused to take in the effect of the lattice work of angry raising welts.

“That’s five words as I count them…Are you asking for 25 extra?”

“Oh God no! Please not. You don’t understand-I can’t take it. Jesus, honey-I’ll do anything”.

She almost smiled at the quaver that she heard in his voice. He wouldn’t look back and she was speaking to the back of his head with the tip of the rod tickling his burning ass ready to resume its torture. “Anything?”

He spoke quickly, seeing hope. “You name it. Wherever you want to go-whatever you want to do. Whatever you want to do to me. Anything-just name it.”

“You don’t get it.”

“What, tell me what I don’t get.”

She raised the rod grimly and brought it down with a slash.

“OWWW!, Please, Sharon. What don’t I get? What do you want?”

“How about an apology?”

“An apology?”

“Is that so foreign? Is that so ridiculous? The things you said yesterday were beyond hurtful to me. Beyond anything you’re feeling now.”

“I know…I was stupid. I was drunk..”

“And still no apology.” She raised the rod again.

“NO! DON’T. I’M SORRY. I’m sorry for what I said. I was sorry the moment I said it…I wish I never said it. I deserve this…I know…I know I do. I’m taking it…it’s just so bad….honey…it-hurts-so-bad…”

Her heart opened a little. She had worked out her anger about 30 swats ago-the rest of this had been sending the message. As he lay there, literally and physically beaten, she thought the message had been received. He had never begged for a punishment to end, but then, looking at his bottom she knew he had never been punished like this. Damn shame guys had such a tough time crying-that would complete the picture. She watched his back rising and falling as he controlled his breathing.

“Well, finally, that is good to hear. You made me work for it, but it’s good to hear. But like my mother said, an apology is good, but it’s an acknowledgment that you did something wrong. And we still have some unfinished business here.”

“Awww, Sharon….”

“Twenty five more.” He turned his head to face the other wall then back to the middle burying his face in the damp pillow. “And I expect you to take them-so stick up your bum now. I want your pert little bum reaching out to me…”

He did as he was told and opened his burning bottom to his wife for more punishment. He held his breath and clamped his eyelids together. Sharon patted his butt with the rod and lifted it about two inches and brought it down lightly, careful to avoid the purple tracks already there. Then another, lightly across the top of his thighs.

He breathed and relaxed but was careful to keep his ass offered back to his wife who was now criss-crossing his bottom with light caresses. He began to moan for affect and move his hips back and forth with the soft strokes. As he did, his shaft began to thicken.

“That’s 100, big boy. You’re done…”

He collapsed onto the bed as she disappeared from beside him for a moment, returning with a tube of aloe. He felt the cool drops on his backside and continued to moan lightly as she rubbed it in all over letting her fingers slide between his cheeks and low. He continued to moan lightly and even whimper as he undulated back and forth into her finally soothing touch.

She kissed his hot bottom. “You can be such a pain in the ass”, she said.

His hard on raged against the chenille.


“How’d you weather the storm?” he asked amiably as they pulled their canoe upstream through the fast water past the two floaters in rafts coming down.

“It was scary for a minute there”, the girl answered. She was a sweet blond in her late twenties. “We pulled off on the gravel bar up there-under the trees. They say you shouldn’t be under the trees in a lightning storm, but it seemed like the only place to be.”

“I suppose”, he answered, not stopping in the stream. “How’d the puppy make it?”

“Oh Thor was fine”, she smiled then, petting the old Lab resting in his own raft.

“Used to take him duck hunting”, said the guy paddling his raft around with his hands to keep facing him. “The thunder doesn’t bother him at all.”

The current had put about ten yards between them and the gap was widening.

“Well-have a good day. Hope the excitement is all behind you!” he smiled cheerily as they floated off.

“You too”, she said. He boyfriend didn’t say anything; just sort of waved with his offhand as he turned downstream. The man knew this stretch of river well. Had almost grown up on it. The couple will float through shallows for the next hundred yards or so before they get into a mile long deep lazy hole. If he was going to do something, he’d have to do it soon.

“Other people go on vacation”, his wife complained as he pulled the dry bag under the front seat of the boat. “They leave it all behind and don’t bring the office with them. Why can’t you do that?” It was a familiar harangue and he was used to it. Sometimes he would explain that his job wasn’t one you could just “leave behind”. When he felt like it, he would explain how so many contractors needed to hear from him daily. How his supervisors had to be kept in the loop. And didn’t the financial rewards make it worthwhile? That last part usually shut her up.

The truth though was that he loved his job and what it had brought him. Now, after all of the years in the labs, all of the grinding, mind-numbing data, formulations, all of the contract work, all of the testing and retesting it had finally paid off. The breakthrough had come a few months before and he was still getting used to it and its possibilities.

Inside the dry bag was a small sturdy case that his wife believed held a satellite phone. It had been easy to tell her that since regular cell phones get no reception here. He pulled the device out of the case and looked around. The couple was still in the shallows. “Wait, listen”, he said stopping his wife’s diatribe. “What?” she asked continuing to walk against the current pulling the boat. He opened the device in his right hand and began to touch numbers on the keypad. “I think I heard the eagle.”

“I didn’t. Are you sure?….” she looked away in the direction he gestured.

“Shhhhh…” he said. “Listen.”

He hit the ENTER button on the device and the silence fell like a thick blanket. The running, tumbling sound of the water over the rocks was stilled as the water itself had frozen-not solid-but had stopped moving. Off near mid-stream he saw a small bass suspended in the air where it had jumped after a mayfly. The mayfly itself was hanging above the fish like a museum display but with none of the nearly invisible wires that they used to make it life-like. The man took note of where he was in relation to his wife and the boat. It was 2:53.

He strung the dry bag over his shoulder and turned to walk downstream. The banks along this stretch were too overgrown with poison ivy to walk the shoreline so he walked slowly and carefully through the river picking his way along the slippery rocks. The water opened as he strode through it and filled in behind like hardening gelatin. Here and there he would see fish suspended under the surface and moved around the frozen S of a swimming water snake. He ducked around a couple of swallows that had been diving for bugs and were now mobiles hanging from nothing. Far above a jet liner had become a painted swath against the bright blue canvas of the afternoon sky.

He was sweating by the time he reached the rafts. The water was mid-summer warm and, of course, no breezes blew to soften the hot sun. He gently pushed past the dog in his floatable and pulled her raft around so she was facing him. Her unseeing green eyes gazed over his shoulder but he paid them no mind. His eyes swept clinically over her, memorizing her position in the raft-how she was sitting; where her arms were; her legs, crossed at the ankle. His gaze lingered on her legs as the blood began to rush to his crotch. They were tanned, like the rest of her, but not burnt. The sunscreen rolling around in a spray can beside her hip had done its job, he thought.

He was walking the blonde over to the sand bar where he could get her out of the raft but right here the water was up to his waist putting him at eye level with the milky-way cloud of freckles that splashed across her chest and faded down toward her breasts. He released the raft, knowing that it wouldn’t float anywhere, unsnapped her top and slid it down over her arms. They weren’t huge-which her preferred- but they were perfect round baseballs, firm, outthrust with beautiful tiny pink nipples about the size of cherry pits. He pulled her toward him and kissed one breast then another. He opened his mouth and cupped it over the nipple, tickling it with his tongue knowing that it wouldn’t harden or in any way react to his touches. Small tradeoff. Responding to a growing urgency in his swimming trunks he pushed her back upright and quickened his pace to the shore.

There were two folded beach towels in his dry bag which he laid out carefully on the sand. He then went down on one knee beside the raft, reaching under her legs and behind her back. He was sturdy enough to stand then, lifting her as he might have a sleeping child. Her head lolled onto his shoulder completing the image.

He lay her gently on the towels face up, turning her head so her eyes wouldn’t stare into the sun. He quickly stripped off his shirt, bathing suit and kicked his river shoes carelessly aside. In a small pocket inside the bag were a few condoms and a small bottle of lube. He put them beside the towels to be within easy reach then he fell onto the sand beside her.

His mouth began with a short, repeated exploration of her breasts then moved quickly down her flat stomach. He consciously tried to make himself go slowly; to breath, to savor, to let his tongue work deliberately around her navel before diving for her crotch but it wasn’t working out that way. It never worked out that way. His hands fairly trembled as he urgently rolled her suit down her thighs and off.

He pulled her legs apart and buried his face between her thighs tasting the sweet rot of the river as he lapped and licked, almost forgetting to breath. He worked his plunging tongue as deeply as he could knowing that he would taste none of the sweet secretions that might issue had this been waking time. Working quickly, feeling his engorged cock dip and drop, he lifted her legs-pushing them backwards and apart-to give his plunging tongue better access to the tight little button of her bottom.

Missionary was difficult in the silent time, as he called it. Legs didn’t stay up or bent in any position that made penetration easy or sustainable. He rolled her gently onto her belly and turned her head to face the still water. Her cheeks were firm and tight as he kneaded them gently kissing one, then the other, then in between again, licking at her anus.

Vaginal penetration in this position was also difficult unless she was laying over something. If he wasn’t in such a rush he could pull the raft closer and drape her over that, but it really didn’t matter. He hadn’t even experimented with anal penetration until a few months ago and now it had become his preferred road to orgasm which had surprised and confounded his wife for a while. She couldn’t imagine where he had come up with that strange technique.

His dick pulsed and strained as he carefully slipped on a condom careful to touch it as little as possible lest it explode. He squeezed some lube onto the tip then spread her cheeks and dropped a dollop onto her butthole taking a moment to push it inside with his finger. He groaned, feeling the tight little muscle close over his knuckle.

He knelt between her legs and with one hand on the sand and one on his cock, pushed himself to her, prodding, then slightly into her. He fairly swooned watching her open and accept his engorged head. Firmly entrenched, he placed his other hand on the sand and pushed forward slowly and inexorably until he felt her bum cheeks on his hips and he was fully sheathed.

The only sound in the river valley was his moaning as he pulled back slightly, then halfway, feeling the enveloping warmth and pressure of her  as he pushed forward again then, slightly, until with a shiver and a cry, he was done. He squeezed his butt tightly to drain the last of what he had to drain into the rubber and collapsed onto her. Unseen by the man, unseen by the boyfriend, unseen by anyone on God’s green earth, the girl-unseeing eyes facing riverward-blinked once.

No mother ever bathed a baby with more care and thoroughness than he did the girl. He had brought everything he needed with him in the dry bag and took it back with him, stashed in concealed pockets.

He looked at the blonde set back in her raft, legs crossed at the ankle and her left arm jauntily tossed across the top of the raft. He imagined that she had a dreamy satisfied look as she gazed-unseeing-down the river. That’s what he imagined anyway. Truth was, she had the same look on her face as when he had walked up on them.

He walked her raft back to where it had been and before walking back to the canoe, paused and turned his attention to the guy in the other raft. Was he facing the right way? Of course, he was still looking downstream but there was something about the way he was sitting that seemed a little off.  Had there been a change in aspect in relation to the truck-sized rock on the opposite shore? He puzzled over it for a while, rubbing his chin before finally shaking his head and writing it off to some kind of post-coital hallucination.

But he didn’t leave the guy’s raft. He spun it slowly around and studied the tattoos that covered his left shoulder and webbed around his back. The man rubbed the guy’s back from shoulder to shoulder then ran his hands down his strong arms. He was close enough to smell the river in his hair, then, seemingly without consciously willing himself to do it, dropped his lips onto the man’s neck and ran his hand down his chest toward the waistband of his shorts.

Was this something that he wanted? This would definitely be a new road for him. He slid his hand downward across the tightly muscled stomach and into his shorts. The guy wasn’t hard-like the man was-just relaxing as he had been when the world stopped. He closed his hand around the guy’s thick, soft member pulling softly and rubbed his thumb over the head and hole at the end. This was doing nothing for him. Switching gears the man slid his hands under the guy’s seat and explored his bottom with grasping, probing fingers. Most definitely, his hard-on tenting his swimming trunks, this was what he wanted. He started to pull the guy’s raft toward the gravel bar when he felt the weight of it.

While the girl weighed no more than 130 the guy was more man-sized; probably at least a hundred pounds more than her. The guy was his size-if not his shape. They guy’s weight was in his shoulders and arms; the man’s in his gut and hips; the cost of a life spent in front of a computer. He doubted his ability to wrestle the guy out of the raft onto the sand bar then back into it. The thought of it-of doing it to him on the sand- was raging through him but his brain started to override.  Dammit to hell! He slapped the raft in frustration feeling his hard-on sag.

He pulled a ledger book out of the bottom of the dry bag and made the notation:

142. Blonde. Hot. Great tits (sucked); C (his code for cunnilingus) FDA (again, his code for face-down-anal); duration (he lied about the time it took him to climax); then notes about location, time of day etc. Closing the ledger and putting it back in the bag, he knew that he’d forget #142 pretty quickly but not “almost” #143. He ignored the girl at this point and gazed into the warm green eyes of the guy. Ah, it’s a sickness is all it is, he thought.

Without another glance he left the couple to their rafts and plodded upstream through the frozen water. He looked for the water snake but didn’t see it. Must have misremembered where it was. Coming up on the canoe, he eyeballed his wife’s voluptuous and full backside caught in mid stride. For a moment he thought he would bend her over the gunwale and have her right there, mid-stream. Which was crazy as hell and his dick talking.  He’d have her at the cabin as soon as they got back. And she would love him for it.

It was impossible to know how much time had passed since he shut the world off. Instinctively he looked at his frozen watch and gasped a small yelp stopping in mid-stream. The watch said 2:54. Time had slipped by! How much? He looked to where the bass had been suspended jumping after the mayfly and they were both gone. There were fading, frozen ripples painted on the surface where the fish had fallen back but couldn’t tell when.

Shaking, his heart pounding, he pressed the button to see that it was 2:54:07. He didn’t know the second count for when he shut it down. He rubbed his cheek nervously. It could have been 2:53:59-in which case eight seconds could have slipped by but it could have been 2:53:00 in which case over a minute. He would have noticed a minute though, wouldn’t he? Even in the middle of what he was in the middle of-he would have noticed. What if it had gone in bits? In fits and starts; little slices of seconds here and there like a strobe light.

The jet liner and its stream was still above him but he couldn’t be sure of its progress across the sky. There was a Green Heron standing on a rock looking for minnows. It had been there before hadn’t it? Breathing deeply to staunch the panic he took his place opposite his wife holding the canoe. He began to look at it scientifically as he did every challenge. He’ll figure this out.

He judged his position and remembered where they had been a while ago. He popped open the case and keyed a number sequence into the device and hit ENTER. The cascading of the riffling water around them was deafening compared to the silence of stopped time. The Green Heron stabbed the water and brought up a tiny fish wriggling in its beak and his wife continued to complain about him always bringing work with him on vacation.

About 50 yards down-stream Sandi Metcalfe suddenly turned to her boyfriend Jim in the raft next to her. “Oh!” she said a little breathless. “Oh-Oh…”

“What’s up?” Jim asked.

“I feel….weird”, she said as she wiggled in her seat and tightened her legs together.

“You sick?”

She stretched to her left. “I don’t know…I think I have to go to the bathroom…”

“Just jump in the river….”

“No, not that one…the other….”

“OK, we’ll get you over to shore”, he said picking up a paddle to guide them over to the sand bar. “What’s the matter with you Thor? You feeling weird too?”

The dog didn’t look at him. He kept growling, his eyes focused on the middle age couple pulling their canoe upstream away from them.

© TDR-2014

A Recurring Conversation

….I bottom.

You what?

…from the top. I bottom from the top.

I’ve heard about that-you tell me what you want…

And you do it.

You like that?

I’d rather you think stuff up. Set the stage, as it were.

I won’t.

I know. Here take this (handing over the crop)

I should hit you with this?

Spank. It’s really spanking-not hitting.

So I should…spank you with this.

If you want.

(Sigh) I don’t. Look, I spent the day memorizing “Prufrock” for my thesis…

I’m more of a “Wasteland” guy

….I’m into a lot of other things. Can we go get a drink?




Now you’re mad.

Not mad really….just…

Is there anything else you’d want?

Could you stick something up my butt?


Anything in particular?

I have things.

This is all very….



…..OK-let’s go get that drink then.

Maybe a pizza?

I fucking hate pizza.

Who hates pizza?

Seneca Breeze B & B

Diana could see the lake from the living room through the large French doors and beyond the wrap-around porch. The view had always made this her favorite room and-aside from the magnificent porch itself-one of the best places just to sit and just….be.

But that sort of R & R, the kind that they strived to provide their guests here at the Seneca Breeze Bed & Breakfast was not on her schedule for today. There were those damned towels in the dryer downstairs and she could gaze at the lake all she wanted as long as she kept up her dusting pace around all of the bric-a-brac and geegaws that Lisa felt gave the place a whimsical character. Clutter and character was in the eye of the beholder and Lisa, being the owner, was the eye that mattered.

Diana had first come to this house almost forty years ago, when it was her aunt’s home, and spent long stretches of the timeless childhood summers ensconced here-surround by the clear water and warm breezes. After her aunt, it went to her cousin, then to someone outside the family for a little while, but then back to one of her uncles. It was he who had turned it into a B&B and hired Diana to run it.

Of course, it had always been a daydream fantasy of Diana’s to buy the old place and run it as her own, but that didn’t make her unique in the village. No one who spent any time at the Seneca Breeze or walked past it, or saw it from the Lake didn’t want to own it. But when her uncle finally sold the Breeze five years ago to finance his move to Florida, her divorce was just finished and finances were tight-actually non-existent-so she had to stand by and watch Lisa Brennan buy the house that she loved so much. Lisa was a girl that got divorce right; split up after a year and ended up with enough of a chunk of cash to make the buy and with a handyman boyfriend available for the construction work.

Lisa did not want to live in the house, she had her own place across the lake, so allowed Diana to keep her room on the second floor-overlooking the street, not the more valuable lakefront-as a part of her employment package. She knew it was a fine setup and had worked hard to keep herself indispensable to the new owner. And that had been easy for the first couple of years. Lisa was impossibly young and didn’t know the business. Everything she learned about running the B&B she learned from Diana and the two became quite close actually in a “mentor-mentee” kind of way.

Diana tried to think about when the relationship changed or really if it had changed or if they were just changing as people. Lisa was still young, but she was smart, had her own ideas and could be stubborn in the way of a young person with means. The days when Diana was the acknowledged expert in all things Seneca Breeze were behind them. Her de-evolution from expert to equal to employee had seemed swift. Things started to happen around the place without her input or were discussed with her after the fact. She wanted to have a say, to be a partner in the Seneca Breeze, but that wasn’t her place right now. And it left her a little frustrated-sometimes more than a little. When she became too put-out she would just clam up-keep her tongue and do the job-only occasionally thinking of Lisa as BRAT-ton instead of Brennan.

But Diana couldn’t deny that there were some things amiss at the Breeze that shouldn’t have been. Things that she should have been taking care of, were slipping a little. It was her responsibility to ensure that the food was on hand to prepare the dishes that were on the menu. Twice in the last week, things had been overlooked-substitutions had to be made to the menu which wasn’t a big deal except for that horrid couple who had “Come all the way here for the sweet potato pie.” Yes, how could she have forgotten sweet potatoes? That was Lisa’s question.  But she had. How had she let the account at the market slip for more than three weeks causing Mr. Fletcher to speak to Lisa about it when he saw her after church one Sunday.

That was what had occasioned the “Big Talking-To” right here in this room. Lisa had sat her down like a child and lectured her on what she needed to change. How she needed to improve. Diana almost panicked sitting in the chair being chided when she thought she might be fired. She had lived most of her adult life in or around The Breeze, and couldn’t bear the thought of being on the outside of the venerable old place looking in. This was a small town-if she was fired really from the only job she’d ever had everyone would know. She’d have to move!

Her fear of being fired was so real that when Lisa told her what she had in mind for her if she didn’t improve per performance she laughed. A little nervously, but laughed. Lisa had laughed too but with her mouth more than her eyes. Her eyes were serious enough that Diana had looked away. Not to worry, she had told her. You won’t need to do anything like that. I’ll keep things under control here.

That had been less than a week ago, now-this morning-the damned towels. How could she not have had the fresh towels in The Brown’s room when they got up? And worse, why did it happen on the one morning this week when Brat-on herself was over here. Now she was downstairs doing the towels and Diana was left to dust which she considered child’s work anyway.

Dust! Dust! DUST! She scowled as she swiped the rag over the mantle a little too hard and the edge caught the crystal bud vase at the end. She lunged to catch it, but fumbled and it shattered on the stone hearth. “Dammit!” she barked. She was still staring at the shards of glass when Lisa came up the stairs from the basement.

“What happened?”

“I knocked over the bud vase-couldn’t catch it.”

“Oh…” Lisa looked at the pieces. “You OK?”

“Yes, sure…” she was talking too fast. “Just butterfingered.”

“Well, be careful cleaning it up.”

“Of course, sure.”

They stood across the room from each other and their eyes locked for a moment. An understanding passed between the two of them in a flash. Diana looked away quickly toward the kitchen and went for the broom. Lisa turned and headed upstairs.

The dustpan was shaking in her hand as Diana knelt and swept the glass into it. She kept her ear tuned to the upstairs listening for Lisa. She was hoping to give her a wide berth for the rest of the day and keep everything ship shape and tightened for the next couple of days. They will be at maximum capacity this weekend and would have to be running on all cylinders. She dumped the remains of the bud vase into the waste can.

She heard her boss’ footsteps on the stairs behind her as she straightened up and resumed dusting. She was very careful now, moving methodically, not chancing another accident. The footsteps came into the living room and stopped.

“Diana,” Lisa said evenly.

“I got it all Lisa. It’s taken care of.”

“Diana”, she repeated.

Diana stopped dusting and let her eyes wander to the glistening lake that looked so close. She watched a boat cut a wake along the far shore and wished she was on it-with the wind blowing through her hair and all the air in the world instead of in this room which had started to feel so constricted that even drawing breath was a challenge.

“We have to do this Diana.”

When Diana turned, the first thing she saw was the hairbrush in Lisa’s hand. She somehow knew it would be that brush-it sat on the dresser in the Queens’ Suite as part of the décor. It looked painfully out of place here in the living room.

“We talked about this, Diana.”

“I thought we were joking!”

“No you didn’t.”

“What about the Browns?” Diana chirped. Where were the guests?

“Off to the wineries. They’ll be gone all day.”

“Come on Lisa-please. I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“But you’re not.”

Trying another tack, “Do you know how much a brush like that hurts?” Diana almost squeaked a tiny quaver in her voice.

“Happily I do not-but I guess I’ll be getting a demonstration in a moment here.”

“Here? Right here?” She looked around the living room.

Lisa crossed to the large overstuffed chair and pushed the ottoman against it. She sat.

“I’ll sit here and you’ll lay across my lap.”

“Not across your lap. Please, Lisa. Come on. It’s so embarrassing. Can’t I just stand and bend over?”

“Nope. We’re doing it the way we’re doing it.”

Diana had her arms folded across her chest and almost stomped her foot at that.

“This is a small town, Di, so I know this isn’t something completely foreign to you…”

“OK”, she sputtered, “but it’s different, like this. The age thing…”

“Just a number”, Lisa said. “Come over here now.”

Diana stood next to her boss and unsnapped her slacks. “I assume these are coming down, right?” she asked with a slight edge in her voice.

“Yep-we are going on the bare for this. And you better ease up on the attitude. You’re in no position.”

“You’re right”, Diana said exhaling slowly. “I’m sorry.” She pushed her pants and they slid off her slim hips into a bundle on the floor. She hooked her thumbs into the elastic of her black briefs. “Do you want me to….” Diana paused giving Lisa the chance to realize if she pushed down her own panties her boss would be staring straight into her crotch. That’s fine if she wanted that but giving her the chance to realize.

“No, no, that’s fine. I’ll handle those. Just get across here.”

The older woman lowered herself onto the ottoman then onto Lisa’s lap. With the hairbrush on the chair she had Diana lift so that she could pull the panties down. She moved her backwards a little so that her bottom was positioned right over the rise of her thigh. Diana’s heart was not the only one beating fast.

Without warning the girl raised her hand and smacked Diana’s right cheek as hard as she could. “Ouch!” the woman jumped, surprised. Then another hard smack in the same place raised Diana onto her toes. “Ow, that stings.”

“I bet it does. Wait until we get to the brush.”

But Lisa was testing. Since she first got it into her head that she would spank Diana, she had made an informal-and very limited-study of the bottoms she knew. Her own was hard, maybe a little chubby but solid. She grabbed her boyfriend’s in bed and it was hard. She was amazed at how soft Diana’s slim bottom was. She guessed that Diana was right, this brush was going to hurt.

“We might as well get on with it.”

Lisa raised the brush and brought it down strongly. Diana had braced herself on her toes with her hands flat on the floor. She was as ready as she could be and managed to hold off crying out until the fifth swat landed with a loudly in the middle of her left cheek. She bucked and choked back a sob. “Lisa-Christ, that hurts so much!” Another landed with a SWAT! “Ahhh…please Lisa….OW!!!”

Lisa’s only answer was a group of rapid smacks alternating cheeks and splitting them dead in the middle. Diana writhed on her lap and grabbed Lisa’s ankle just looking for something to hold onto. Her cries had become more general and subdued as she tried to muscle through. Lisa, for her part, could not get over how red Diana’s bottom was-almost feeling the heat rising from it. But, truth be told, she was amazed at how Diana had submitted to her. How she had agreed to this punishment-but now actually taking it. She would be lying if she said that the older woman’s submission didn’t…excite her a little.

“Diana?” Lisa had paused and was holding the brush in her left hand.

“Yes Lisa?”

“Who’s the boss here at the Seneca Breeze?” It was a ridiculous question given the posture and position of the two women. Diana looked straight down at the floor and watched the stitches of the carpeting swim through the tears in her eyes. “You are Lisa. You are.”

“Yes I’m the owner-You work for me…but more importantly you work for the Seneca Breeze. You are as much a part of this place as I am. Do you understand?”

“I like to think so….” Said Diana, sniffling.

“You are. But I need you on the top of your game, you understand? I need you doing your job flawlessly and not fighting me by going silent when you don’t like something that I do, or refusing to give me the input when I want it. I need you to act like more of a partner.”

Diana watch a tear drop and spread out on the carpet below her-more a tear of relief than pain right now. “I thought you were going to fire me…”

“Don’t be silly”, she said patting the woman’s rump. “I have to admit I was at a loss for a while about what to do with you….but I think we’ve figured this out. Agreed?”


“THAT is not necessary. Unless it works for you.” She switched the brush back into her right hand. “Alright now-prepare yourself-we have to finish this business here.”

She dug her fingernails into the carpet and gritted her teeth. Two more swats landed firmly on her tortured bottom and she yelped a little on the third-made enough of a sound that neither woman heard the front door open. The Browns, coming back for a forgotten cell phone, found themselves face to cheek with Diana’s glowing bottom.

“Oh, excuse us”, Mr. Brown coughed. “We didn’t mean to…..”

Lisa looked up to the couple and pressed her left arm more heavily across Diana’s back to prevent her from getting up. “No problem”, Lisa sputtered back. “Thought you were gone for the day. Just some….workplace discipline…”

“What did she do?” Mrs. Brown asked. “This isn’t about the towels is it? That wasn’t such a big…”

“No”, said Lisa, “Not just that…it was a number of things that built up…”

“Oh…I see…” Mrs. Brown said.

Diana held her breath and listened for movement, for the Browns to excuse themselves and head up the stairs. Lisa was waiting for pretty much the same thing.

“Don’t let us stop you…” Mrs. Brown said. “We just stopped back for my phone.”

Lisa was a little put-off by having and audience, but lifted the brush and smacked Diana again. The older woman gritted her teeth, determined not to cry out in front of the guests but it was exceedingly difficult and ultimately impossible.

Mrs. Brown turned to her husband and he bent so she could whisper in his ear. “Not much padding back there.” She jumped as another swat landed and Diana cried out. “Not much at all,” he whispered back as he let his hand wander over the rear expanse of his wife’s blue jeans.

“How many will you give her?” asked Mrs. Brown.

Saying the first thing that came to mind, Lisa said, “In truth, that’s up to her. She has to tell me when she feels she’s been adequately punished. Diana? What do you think?”

She turned her head a little to speak back over her shoulder and worked hard to come up with whatever she thought Lisa wanted to hear. “It’s really up to you, Lisa. I’ve learned my lesson here and my bottom really, really hurts. But it’s up to you.”

Before Lisa could respond, Mrs. Brown spoke up. “That didn’t sound so sincere-You should give her six more.”

“Karen!” said Mr. Brown.

You bitch, thought Diana.

“Not really hard ones, I guess…but six more.”

“You heard the lady Diana.”

She steadied herself determined to not give Karen Brown any satisfaction. After the sixth swat Lisa said, “I think that’s enough…”

“I agree”, said Karen Brown. “Well played.” She took her husband by arm and led him upstairs.

Lisa helped Diana up from her lap. Fifteen minutes of wriggling, writhing and kicking made the modesty of looking away pointless. She even bent and pulled up her friend’s underwear while Diana rubbed her bottom.

“You OK?” asked Lisa.

“Jesus, that hurt.”

“It looked like it…”

“But yes, I’m fine. Message delivered. Message received.” She buttoned her slacks and rubbed again. “I have to tell you though, that was the worst spanking I’ve had in a while.”

“My first,” chirped Lisa.

“Yeah-and I get the feeling it won’t be your last.”

The young woman smiled slyly and jumped up off the chair. “Time will tell. I have errands to run-and I don’t want to run into the Browns just now. I assume you have everything in hand here, right?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve sitting.”

With a glance up the stairs to make sure the coast was clear of Browns, Lisa was out the door.

Diana killed time in the kitchen-which was off limits to guests-until she heard the Browns on the steps and the front door open and close. She stepped into the kitchen face to face with Mr. Brown.

“I’m sorry…”, he said. Then, as Diana looked around him, “She’s out in the car-I told her I forgot something-I..we didn’t mean to step into the middle of anything before.”

“Not to worry”, said Diana carefully. “Seems like your wife had a good time….”

“Yeah, her…she can enjoy that kind of thing….”

“Not you?”

“Oh yeah-not as much as her though.”

“You’re here through the weekend. We have a small group that gets together monthly. We meet above the bookstore. Right on the corner. So happens we meet there tomorrow night. If you and your wife are interested, stop by. Around eight. Drop my name at the door.”

“Will there be more of what we walked in on today?”

“You can pretty much count on it.”

“Maybe we’ll stop by…”

“Just know this, first time attendees have to participate. On some level…”

Mr. Brown smiled and headed to the door. “Maybe we’ll stop by…”