The Landlady

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Careful not to move lest the creaking give him away, he sat stiffly in the old ladder back chair studying the cracks in the linoleum floor. She knocked again, rattling the door. “I know you’re in there. I heard you turn off the radio just as I was coming down the hall.” He glared at the offending contraption on the bare dresser top. Why’d he even deal with it? Nothing but holy rollers and static came across out in these parts.

“You know, I’m just extending a courtesy. I have my own keys here,” he heard them clattering and imagined her holding them up and jingling them in the air like little bells. “I’ll jist let myself in.” She didn’t. He could see her unmoving shadow below the door.  The thought of her standing in the hallway waiting for him was suddenly worse than the idea of letting her in. He half-stood and reached to pop the lock. The room was small enough that he was back in the chair in time to see the knob turn.

She was a tall woman. Slim but hardened. Her sleeveless house dress revealed little, but her calves looked strong and her arms were sinewy and sun marked. Since he had lost his job he’d had plenty of time to see all that she did around the place: the never ending washing and hanging, the constant tattoo of her flat shoes on both set of stairs, the cooking, hauling wood for the stove and managing that infernal wood pile which somehow seemed to grow the more wood she burned. He imagined she had wood delivered and didn’t split it herself, but he’d not put it past her.  But whoever delivered it, just dumped it in a jumble. It was her that stacked it in the wood crib out of the weather.

The one time he had watched her doing that, safely hidden by the curtains from his window, she was wearing jeans and an oversized man’s shirt. And work gloves. She knew her way around hard work was all he knew. That’s the exact thing he was thinking looking at her feet just across his threshold: “She knows her way around hard work.”

“You’re late more’n a week now.”

“I know. I’m….still waitin’.”

“What was it again? That you’re waitin’ on?”

“The last government check. The final settlement…on my…”

“Oh yeah, I ‘member now…yer ‘service settlement’ you called it?”

“Yeah. I expect…”

She cut him off. “I heard this before. You playin’ me a fool?” she asked sharply.

“No! It’s just that…”

“Shut up! Don’t say another word.” If it was possible to drop his eyes further without completely expelling them from his head, he would have.

“I talked to people…” she went on. “Some who put in service time…some who were even overseas and they never heard of a settlement like what you’re describing…some sort of magic money that shows up months after you mustered out.” Her feet hadn’t moved-he assumed her arms were folded across her chest but didn’t dare to look. “The way these fellas talked it got me to thinkin’ that maybe you was feedin’ me a load a manure. That maybe you thought I didn’t know any better than to jus’ swaller what you was shoveling. Is that what you thought?”

“No.”

“Okay. So here’s what I’m gonna do. Me, I’m thinkin’ you’re a liar two or three times over. But that’s just me sayin’ it. I wanna hear you say it.”

“I ain’t a liar.”

She let the silence settle for a moment before speaking. “Okay again. Now you’re a liar four times over.” Her arms were indeed folded over her chest and she squeezed hard with her right arm over her left to keep her voice smooth. “Here, let’s do it this aways, since you’re not going to call yourself a liar. Maybe you don’t know what a liar is, I don’t know. So here-this is your chance to tell me-one last time-about this money settlement you’re getting’ from the government. This is the time-tell me in all the detail you can. Or don’t. If you don’t-if you don’t say nothing about it-if you just don’t say nothin’, then I’ll know it was all horseshit and you was feeding me a line. Right? So, if you got nothin’, if you’re waitin’ on nothin’ say nothin’ and we’ll put that to bed. Right? Got it?”

He opened his mouth just a touch, then closed it. Opened again-then closed-like a fish tossed up on the bank. He gave up. Yes, it was a lie-the whole thing-he was trying to buy some time until…until what? He’d just pack his bag-wasn’t much to pack-and leave. Send her money from the road, when he got another job. Thing was, jobs was so scarce in this part of the country-he’d probly have to go north and most of his people-what were left of them anyway was down here-and this is where he was comfortable-Damn, why’d  he have to tell the foreman to fuck hisself-his temper belied the person he really was and wanted to be…

As his mind slashed from one ill-formed thought to another, the heavy silence filled the room like a blue gray stench. It covered them both and filled out to all four corners. It weighed on the bed, even pushed the curtains out against the window panes and, as it went on, seemed to dim the sunlight streaming into the room. She didn’t speak until the silence threatened to suffocate them as totally as if they were lying in the bottom of a lake.

“I oughta whip your ass”, she finally said.

“You ain’t gonna whip my ass.”

“Oh yeah? Why ain’t I?”

“I’m a grown man is why not.”

“You might be grown, but you’re sure not a man. A man finds a way to deal with his responsibilities. One of which is paying for the place that’s beddin’ and feedin’ him. Look at me”, she said sharply. “I’m tired of speaking to the top of your head.”

He looked up into her dark deep-set eyes, flashing at him from above high suntanned cheekbones. She had a lean wolfish look that would have made her stand out in a school picture as gawkish,  surrounded by a class of round headed cherubs but now gave her a honed, striking appearance. She took a step closer to loom over him slightly. He thought about standing up but he’d bump her she was so close. He craned his neck back. “How old are you?” she asked, hands on hips now.

“Twenty-six”, he said, not particularly proud or ashamed of the number. It was just that-a number.

“…So I’m not twenty years older’n you. Guess you could say I’m old enough to be your Ma. But I don’t know how old she was or is. And I don’t care. What I do know is that I’m old enough to do what I’m gonna do.”

“You ain’t gonna whip my ass.”

“You got my rent?”

“Not yet. But I will…”

“Where’s it comin’ from? You gonna git money by sittin’ in this room half the day staring at me out the window? Oh, I can see you fine up here. Those curtains don’t hide much. Or maybe you’ll git money wanderin’ through town like you do the other half the day? How’s that pay?”

He couldn’t take staring up at her anymore and dropped his eyes back to the floor-this time gazing at a space between her feet. He thought of the phrase “too close for comfort” and she was definitely that. She had a strong scent to her-not unpleasant-but strong of wood smoke, lye soap, earth and a little touch of sweat.

“You ain’t gonna whip my ass”, he said with much less conviction than he had before.

“That’s fine,” she said. “It’s your ass-you should have some say in what happens to it.” Would that she had lived for the last fifteen years in such a world. She hadn’t of course but that was over now. “Since you were so good with the liar-game we played, I have another for you. I’m going down the hall to my room to get a belt. When I come back you will be either”, She held up her thumb, “One-packed and headed down the hall and out of my house still owing me two weeks board or…” flipping out her index finger “Two, laid out on this bed with your pants down ready for your whippin.”

“You ain’t gonna whip me…” He said softly almost like a rote prayer murmured to hold off whatever misfortune he was running from.

“Like I said, that will be your choice.” With that, she turned and left the room leaving the door open behind her. He listened as her steps faded down the long hallway.

She shortened her stride, aiming to give him time. She turned the glass knob and entered her room which was no more than a double version of the one he was in. The bed was larger and there were two chairs, though only the one on her side got sat in anymore. The other had an old felt fedora hanging from it that was too moth eaten and weather beaten to be much of a hat. Which was fine since there was no longer a head to fill it.

She opened the closet door and took the thick brown leather belt from its hook. She folded it once and held the narrowed end and the buckle in her right hand. It was heavy but supple to the touch.

Being on the receiving end, as she had been so many times, was different than being on the giving end. She could figure that. She knew what the cracking slash felt like, the dry leather burn across her bare backside or legs that left welts and bruises and the feeling that the skin was so tight and burned that she couldn’t put her drawers on. She knew how that all felt-the memories were still clear on that. Would probably always be. What she didn’t really know was how to actually do it. Obviously she was always facing away when it happened and had her eyes closed anyway.

She looked at herself in the mirror hefting the belt slightly. She looked closer, at her face, and pushed a strand of loose gray hair behind her ear. The gray had really begun to shoot through in the last year. Had she really told him she was twenty years older than him? She shoulda said ten. If she’d planned this, she might have taken the time to comb out her hair a little so she didn’t look so damn….haggard. She stood more upright-tossed her shoulders back. The hell with it.

She turned away from the glass and, with a single strong motion, whipped the belt over her head and down onto her bed. It landed with a satisfying WHUMP! Her heart fluttered a bit and she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to a little heat down below actually thinking about what she might find when she got back to his room.

She expected him to be gone. She thought maybe that she hoped he’d be gone. But carrying the belt slowly down the hallway put the lie to what she expected….

(To be continued….maybe. Probably….Better than even chance to be continued….)

Saturday Night with Friends

“You say you would but, believe me, I don’t think you’d want the things I would do to you.”

She had no answer for that. Her husband was in the kitchen with Carol, two corners and an alcove away. Ice was tinkling and bottles were sliding about. They were jabbering over the music.

She opened her mouth again, her lidded eyes clouded. I dropped to a knee and grabbed her leg, biting hard into the leather of her ankle boot. Close enough to smell the lotion on her bare leg. She giggled nervously.

What the hell was I doing?

November Rain

 

From Tumblr-“Rain” blog

He had gone silent, the way he would, gazing over her shoulder as if absorbed in the shimmering neon reflected on the rain-spattered window. He got this way every time the subject came up. Or rather, every time she shot it down.

She regarded his jawline, his wavy brown hair combed over his ears and ached. She physically ached. Jesus, the guy had it all. Of course the looks had attracted her first-she could admit that. But then the job, the condo, the money…it had seemed perfect for a while. Then, this.

She didn’t know why she couldn’t get past it. Christ knows all her other lines had been drawn in shifting sands-why was this one so hard and set? Just the way it was, she guessed.

Would she have married him had she known about this two years ago? He would have been tough to resist; the security he provided, the doors that he opened for her. But this. Back then, she probably would have ignored it as best she could. Hoped that it was a passing phase. But now, it wasn’t passing. It was settling in and coloring everything. And now she had a say in what they would do and what they wouldn’t.

With an almost untouched beer in front of him he motioned the waitress over. Here we go, she thought.

“A shot of Grandad please.”

She reached out and covered his hand with hers. “Tony-come on…”

“Ah,” he said watching the traffic splash by outside. “November rains always put a chill into me.” Then, calling to the waitress’ retreating back, “Make that a double.”

“Tony”, she said, rubbing his hand. He shifted his gaze making eye-contact for the first time in what seemed like an hour. His eyes were bright and skittery. Frantic-water bugs skimming a pond.

“It’s alright”, he said, “I’m good.”

The waitress put the heavy shot in front of him. Before she even fully turned away, he threw the hot liquor down his throat. Ordinarily, he was a sipper. Liked to savor his whisky over ice. Over time. “Another,” he said holding up the empty glass.

She withdrew her hand from his and focused on the cracked wooden table top. Nothing to do now but hunker down and wait for this storm to pass.

 

Molly Goes Down

©Nicola DiLuigi from Tumblr

Continued from Molly for Breakfast

Molly allowed herself to be dried, luxuriating in the soft thickness of the towels as Corrine stroked and patted. Every touch of the thick cotton anywhere tingled her already-crawling skin and sent electric waves to her crotch. She could feel Corrine close-feel her heat-as she stroked her hair wringing the water from it. Her breasts were close-almost close enough to lick.

“Are you going to spank me now?” Molly asked huskily close to Corrine’s neck.

“Have you been bad?”

“I’ve been very…very bad…”

“Then come with me bad girl….” She whispered and directed her, with an arm on her shoulder, toward the door in the back wall.

Candles burned in the inner sanctum of John’s bedroom, the fragrant dim glow replacing the harsh light of day that was entirely blocked by dark blinds. The daytime sounds outside were muted by a low wash of what sounded like flowing water coming from the sound system. The bed was tightly made and tucked because that was John’s thing; regardless of when it would be used again.

Corrine gently pushed her toward the bed. “Turn it down”, she ordered. She watched from behind as the girl bent to reach the spread and pull it down. As she extended, her compact little vagina winked backward from under her bottom and Corrine felt the flutter in her grow into a whirl. Her nipples swelled and pulsed as Molly folded back the blanket and top sheet- down to the fitted silk.

Corrine flowed past Molly, pausing slide her hand along her bottom-gently cupping the firm cheeks and allowing her fingers to linger between-then her hip, then her belly as she slid onto the bed. She flipped the pillows aside to lean against the smooth barn-wood headboard cool against her skin.

Extending her legs she reached toward Molly. “Get over here”, she growled.

The girl crawled onto the bed and knelt beside Corrine reaching over to kiss her once softly on the mouth. Feeling the kiss returned, she ran her lips along her neck then settled on her firm breast. The taut nipple felt hard in her mouth as she flicked it with her tongue.

If Molly’s experience in this arena was limited to the point of being almost non-existent, her desire was not. When unsure, she would only do what she would like done to her. Corrine’s gaspy and gulping breathing let her know that she was on the right path. She slipped her tongue around the areola and gently bit her nipple as she pulled back. Her tongue was on march, advancing down the flat plain of stomach toward the tiny dark patch of destination at her crotch when Corrine grabbed her by the hair.

“You get over my lap right now, girl…”

And she did. Slowly. Languidly lowering herself across the long lean thighs. Once across her lap Molly didn’t lie still, though. She moved and squirmed, positioning herself to get the best rub of her swelling vulva across Corrine’s leg. Her rhythmic undulations were stirred by Corrine’s hand gently kneading and squeezing her pert cheeks and hamstrings. She worked her fingers between the easily cleaved cheeks and gently stroked up, down and under.

Corrine’s first dream, her first desire, is always spanking them. Girls or boys, men or women…gender or age…none of it mattered. Her Barbie Dolls spanked each other when she was eight. In Corrine’s world, if a spanking lead to sex later, all the better. If it was just sex with no spanking-she went away fucked-but unsated. The cracking tattoo of her hand on some unfortunate’s bare bum was the soundtrack of her dreams. And Molly was ready for it-already whimpering like a puppy pushing her bottom upward.

Best get on with it, she thought.

The first smack was a light slap using only her wrist fully on the right side. The second the same. Molly moaned, not from any pain she was feeling but from the vibration that traveled from her smacked bottom down through her pulsing crevasse and into her dampening sex. Again and again, Corrine raised her hand and brought it down watching Molly’s butt wriggle and gently pinken and wondered why she, of all people, could not wait for this to be over. She slapped harder, using more arm and the flat of her palm and the reports came louder as did Molly’s squeals.

Corrine grabbed her by the hair and pulled gently. “You wanted spanked-you bad girl…you deserve this, don’t you?”

“Yes, YES, I do…I deserve it…” She spanked her again, harder. Her hand yanking at Molly’s hair didn’t stop or even slow the fierce rubbing against her thigh. Jesus, thought Corrine, she was going to come!

“You stop that!” she ordered pressing her hand hard down on her warm bottom.

Molly was breathless-but stopped. “Why…what…?”

With a quick lift and roll, Corrine deposited her onto her back on the bed, springing to her knees beside her. She kissed her hard on the mouth. “You will come when I say you can come, you understand?” With that she slipped a finger deep into her wetness.

Molly moaned at the insertion and lifted her hips. Like a Praying Mantis over a grasshopper Corrine rose onto all fours and crawled backwards sliding her finger out and with a slow downward swoop of her head, replaced it with her tongue. The girl opened to her like a wet peach.

It didn’t take long. With her motor running high and hot, Molly stiffened, grabbing Corrine’s head in a tight leg lock. Corrine-her ears crushed by the warm steam of Molly’s thighs- kept her mouth clamped in place as the girl bucked and rolled onto her side. She absorbed Molly’s heels frantically kicking into her back and had to roll with her to retain her lip lock. Then with a screech, Molly shuddered and went limp.

Corrine lay her head on the inside of Molly’s thigh and allowed the other leg to close heavily over her head. Soaking up the scent, she teased “You’ve come before right?”

“Not like that…” she came back breathless. “Not like that…”

Corrine nestled closer and stuck her tongue again into the sweet liquor that puddled in the reaches of Molly’s vagina. “Ahh-Come on”. Molly breathed and opened her legs releasing Corrine’s head while reaching down to pull her up. “Your turn….”

“Ah yes! Mama’s turn…” She flopped onto her back. “You know what to do right…?”

“I think I can find everything…” she said kissing her and finally able to slide her hand all the way down the woman’s flat belly and over the tiny square of close cropped hair.

Corrine dug her head back into the pillows. “There’s a spot in there…” she continued to tease. “You’ll feel it….up near the top…”

“You mean…..this?” asked Molly touching Corrine’s on-switch standing erect in the soft pulsing pool.

Corrine smiled and gently ground her hips into the finger that rubbed her gently. This was good, she thought as Molly’s head-laying gently on her chest-rose and fell with her breathing. This was almost perfect. Almost.

“Would you do something for me?” Corrine asked gently and quietly; in a way that won her another soft kiss on the mouth.

“Absolutely…” said Molly. “What?”

Corrine disengaged and pulled herself up on an elbow enough to reach the bed stand. She opened the top drawer and came back with a small bottle of lube. She took Molly’s hand and squeezed a dollop on her fingers. Molly tasted it-“Strawberry….”

Corrine rolled onto her side facing away. “In my ass…” she said.

“Really?”

“Definitely” she said pushing her hips backward.

Molly ran her hand over Corrine’s glistening buttock leaving a trail that extended from the hip bone to that little dark spot between her cheeks. When Molly’s finger touched it, Corrine gasped lightly and pulled her knee toward her chest affording more open access. “Mmmm…” was the only sound she was making into the pillow. Molly ran her finger around the outside of her anus-every movement bringing a twitch or a groan. She slid along the surface of it and pressed-as if to plunge inside-then withdrew to circle again.

“Ohhh, you’re a bitch….” Corrine muttered into the pillow.

In answer Molly pushed the woman’s leg further and dipped her head between her cheeks. She bit her gently on the sit-spot where the cheek met her leg. Then, as Corrine continued to moan, she licked at the flavored lube around her butthole while reaching underneath to slip her fingers back into Corrine’s sopping cunt. She pushed backward, opening wider inviting-begging for-insertion. She wanted Molly inside her ass but didn’t want to interrupt what she was doing.

“Ass…Molly…Ass….”

“Okay…but you’re loving this…”

“Wait,” Corrine breathed. She rolled over onto her back lifting her leg over her lover. Molly made a move to lick the pulsing panther tattoo on her ribcage while still stroking, stroking…

“No Molly-no tits…ass, baby…” She pushed her head southward. “Put your tongue where your finger is and your finger in my ass…”

Sliding her tongue down her belly Molly teased, “You’re bossy….”

“So I’ve been told…” she smiled laying back.

For the first time in her life, Molly stuck her tongue into a woman’s vagina and thrilled at the reception. Corrine arched and hummed loudly as the target was engaged. Then, not waiting to be told again, Molly touched the woman’s asshole tentatively then, feeling the tight little muscle crack open for her, slid firmly inside.

“Oh…that’s what I wanted…just like that…” Except it wasn’t exactly. “In and out, now.” She said…”In and out…” Breathing through her nose-and stuck like a barnacle to Corrine’s clit-she withdrew her finger almost out, then slid it in again-stopping at the top knuckle.  In then out, then in again, finding her rhythm. “Beautiful…” groaned Corrine beginning to stroke the bed with her arms; flapping as if hoping to take off and lifting her hips higher. What Molly lacked in experience, she made up for in enthusiasm never, through all the gyrations and ministrations, breaking from Corrine’s clit.

“Try two fingers!” Corrine gasped. “Same in and out-two fingers!”

Jesus, thought Molly.

Two strokes after she had she slipped the second fingers inside Corrine began to come-a deep throated groan then high pitched yips and coughs which she celebrated in full throat volume. Molly caught the spurt of her orgasm and roughly drug her tongue over the spigot eliciting one more growl and a final collapse of the Corrine-arch bridge. Molly pulled out her fingers with a gentle pop and flopped into the crook of her gasping lover’s arm. They lay entwined until normal breathing returned.

“That was….” Corrine started.

“Yeah, it was…You’re a good director…” she kissed her neck.

“Yeah, sorry about that…”

“It’s fine… What now?”

“Strip the bed, wash the sheets, jump back in the tub, anything I say.”

“Really?”

“Yep-slave for a day.”

Molly snuggled closer in no hurry to do anything. “Hope it’s for more than a day.”

 

Odd Tuesday

 

Continued from Jenna…

At 10:00 sharp the lights in the already dim bar darken another shade focusing all attention to the large television screens hanging on the walls. The regular TV feed had been switched to what looked like a swirling collage of pictures and images moving too quickly to focus.

Mike the doe-eyed security man was below the largest TV with a hand mike. “Ladies and Gentleman! The time has come, to see who might have to spend the rest of the evening standing” a loud spatter of laughter and hoots interrupted him, “or at least sitting gingerly. Are we ready to see?” A loud “Yes!” and he pressed the remote in this hand. There was a fantastic whirl of swimming colors on all the screens which eventually slowed until the pictures and names stored in the chips of everyone’s ID’s began to focus. People strained to see themselves spinning by on-screen. “There I went”, thought Colleen Palmer relaxing as she saw the red top she had worn for her ID photo zip past. She ignored the knowledge that the displays were random and she could come right back.

Between her and Kendra, Pat Jensen watched intently, squeezing his drink, unable to disguise his nerves. This wasn’t really his scene-or being a part of it wasn’t. He was more of a lurker. He enjoyed watching Corrine or Mike paddle the errant waitress now and again but….Damn, he was so hot for Kendra who was rubbing his right thigh as she watched the screen he hadn’t left before this.

Then, the display slowed to make all the sliding pictures visible and everybody watched like the spinning dice on a chuck-a-luck wheel some shouting as their own image flew by. Mike had set the remote aside to allay any fears that we was manipulating the drawing. The screen froze with the visage of a twenty-something guy smiling widely into the camera, the name Jason Biggs superimposed over the picture. “Jason Biggs! Are you in the house?” The question was unnecessary as, at the end of the bar and girl was jumping up and pointing at the unfortunate Jason, no doubt her date. She punched him in the arm and laughed since this evening was his idea and his plan was to have her picture show up on the screen not his.

Mike pressed the button on the remote and the spinning began again. Given the crowd, there would be three more names chosen. The display slowed and slowed…”Megan Hess” he said as the picture of the raven-haired forty-something temptress appeared. No need to look for her as Megan jumped up at her stool raising both fists high in the air. Her breasts threatened to pop out of her blouse which had lost another button in the course of the evening. Beside her Bethany shook her head smiling. “You win…” she said. Megan pointed at Mike, who nodded-accepting the assignment- and pressed the button again.

“SHIT!” Colleen Palmer hissed as she saw her face smiling at her from the screen. “Shit-shit-shit!”

“Oops”, said Kendra. “Sorry about that honey.” She released Jensen’s thigh to reach across and pat her friend’s hand.

Colleen sighed…”It’s OK. Just my luck. Wow” Her heart was pounding…”Would you…?”

“Let Pat…” She said. “You guys are friends right?”

Jensen looked to his left and patted her knee in a way much different from how he had been patting and rubbing Kendra’s. “If you want, I will. I won’t go crazy, you know.”

“Ok, sure….”

“The last one”, Mike said as he pressed the button. Half of the room knowing they were one face away from being saved for the evening and the other half knowing they would have to wait for their secret fantasy to be fulfilled, leaned forward.

“And our final winner is…”

She didn’t look up-kept her eyes glued to the floor almost knowing what was coming- “Jenna Redmon!” She shook her head grinning ruefully. One chance in 10, she thought. Why was she so sure she’d be picked?

“Oooohh…Jenna”, Molly said beside her in something like sympathetic wonder.

“Yep.“ Jenna said without looking up-didn’t want to see her picture on the screen. “Got me.”

Mike flipped the TV back to its regular feed and moved down the bar to get the paddles. He paused beside Kim Chen who was putting her coat on to leave. “Stick around”, he told her. “No need to run off…” She smiled brightly and patted him on the cheek. “Early day tomorrow.”

“You know…” he started, ignoring the warning bells sounding between his ears. “You don’t have to wait a couple of weeks to see if-by chance-you can get what you…want. I can…”

“You’re sweet…”

“No so much. No really. Kim-anytime. Anything.” He slid easily from hesitancy into a firm assertion-finally getting the hand he had be waiting for, he pushed all his chips into the middle of the table. “Only what you want. Only when you want. Seriously. Completely at your service.”

She paused, coat over her shoulders, and looked into his eyes for a hint of anything that wasn’t true. “You want to run in the morning?”

“I don’t get out of here till two. When’s morning?”

“I can wait till ten. Meet you at the pump house at the reservoir?”

“I’ll be there.”

She smiled and kissed him a quick peck on the cheek. “Wear your fast shoes…” She turned and walked away leaving Mike feeling light and about sixteen years old.

At the end of the bar, Corrine was comically begging Jenna. “Can I do you? Can I, huh, can I….?”

“Probably not” said Jenna. “You want to too much…”

Corrine saw her looking toward Mike as he walked by. “Naw, not him. He’ll swat the MILF.”

“Jesus!” said Molly.

“Here”, said Jenna jabbing at Corrine. “How about Molly?”

“Molly’s not playing tonight”. Corrine said quickly. That was all she would need-Having Molly up front having not run her card. “Aw come on…somebody has to…”

“Oh, all right.”

“Yesss!” Corrine hissed pumping a fist.

They stood across the wall of the back room on a riser meant for a band; four pairs, each with a chair behind them.

Jason Biggs was first in line, his wife Sharon a slight honey-haired girl standing beside him paddle in hand. After he turned around, the crowd howled at his wife’s pantomime as she pretended to wind up like a baseball batter lifting her leg to feign a vicious follow-through. Whatever it was exactly, this was the kind of domestic drama that always played well at The Club.

Next was Colleen, looking uncomfortable but smiling gamely. She couldn’t wait to turn around so she wouldn’t have to look at anyone. She strangely remembered an ex-boyfriend who had told her, “that’s kind of odd, isn’t it?” when she had asked him for a birthday spanking a couple of years back. Wonder what he would think of this?

Beside her, Megan continued to play to the crowd with Mike, the dutiful straight-man, smiling beside her. Without prodding she raised her hands pulling all attention her way, then slowly brought them to her belt. With overwrought motions she slipped the leather overlap from its loop and unclasped it. The crowd whistled. In answer, she unsnapped her corduroys.

Jesus, thought Mike, the older ones are always the crazy ones. As if they don’t give a shit who thinks what, they are going to do what they want. Megan had tried to get Mike to come home with her a couple of times and he’d be lying if he said we wasn’t intrigued.  But he knew on some level that she might be more than even he could handle. If she got him into her lair she would spank him purple and probably snap his dick off like a rotted twig. Then where would he be? Better a gentle dalliance with Kim Chen that promised….he didn’t know what it promised but he was looking forward to it.

On a signal from the bar all four turned around. With her back to the bar, Megan unzipped her fly and pulled her pants open. Then with a slow undulation she pushed first one side then the other downward-working carefully so her panties didn’t slide down too. The crowd whistled their appreciation as her pants slid below her bottom revealing a pair of black panties with the words “SPANK HERE” emblazoned across them. She pointed them out as if anyone could miss them.

Jenna grinned over at Megan who caught her eye and winked.

“So, Jenna…” Corrine asked. “You want to drop them?”

“Naw, that’s OK. This will be fine.”

“You won’t let a girl have any fun.”

“I don’t think you do anything but have fun.”

Corrine grinned and touched her hand to Jenna’s shoulder, bending her over. She grabbed the seat of the chair and arched her back, filling the denim with her backside. There was a twitter in the crowd as Corrine lifted the shirt tail up and over her back. She waited and glanced to her left but Megan’s hair shielded her face.

The first swat landed and stung a bit-more of a thud-muted by her jeans and underwear. The last time this had happened to her, she was bare and she remembered the terrific burn she felt from the paddle. The second swat was a little harder and landed fully on the left cheek, Corrine spreading it out.

Megan absorbed the first swat with nary a twitch. She pushed her bottom backward spreading the SPANK and HERE a little wider. “Come on Mike….” She whispered over her shoulder. On the count from the bar, he patted her with the paddle then pulled back-further this time-and let fly. All four landed in a crackling fusillade. “Better”, she said.

Jason caught his breath after the second swat and squeezed the chair tighter. He couldn’t believe how hard she was paddling him and wracked his brain trying to remember what he might have done to deserve it. His thoughts were driven to the winds though when Sharon actually did wind up like a baseball player and delivered a harder swat than she even thought she could right across is backside. His mouth fell open in a gasp but he said nothing. Jesus! That HURTS! he thought.

After the third swat Megan raised her hand and, with approval from Mike, stood slowly. This was a break that would normally earn her another swat but an exception would be made in her case as the crowd again howled. She placed her thumbs in the waistband of her panties and slowly unveiled her ample bottom to the room. Mike took a step back and with both hands-the right still holding the paddle- pointed Vanna-style at the round pink backside. “Ta-DAAAA!” he seemed to be saying.

Before going back over she whispered, “Make this one count, Mikey…” When she bent, Mike was happy to see that her cheeks were full enough to shield and cover everything else down there. Again, on the signal he lay the wood against her skin that we saw was sprinkled with tiny goose bumps then pulled back. He put more of his arm and shoulder into this swing.

The sound of the paddle hitting bare skin was a loud “SPLATT”, distinctive from the other three cracks. Her cheeks spread and quivered with the impact. She jumped upright and clapped both hands to her bottom rubbing and dancing in place as the crowd roared their approval. To Mike’s relief she didn’t turn around to give the room the full frontal but stood proudly displaying a pulsing bruise on her right globe that closely matched the cranberry color in her blouse. She then bent-everything was done slowly and theatrically-and pulled up her panties, smoothing them over her reddened and finally, happily sore backside then followed with her cords.

Jenna took solace in the knowledge that, bent over in the shadow of Megan’s show, nobody would remember that she was up here tonight. She took the last swat stoically and stood up. “That was OK. Right?” said Corrine standing close, her eyes a bit glassy and her cheeks flushed. “Not too hard?”

“No, it’s good.” Jenna gave her the small smile that she thought she was fishing for. “We’re good.”

Colleen stood red-faced and rubbed her bottom quickly smiling at Jensen, knowing he had taken it easy on her. Yeah, he was a sweet guy. Why hadn’t they ever hooked up she wondered looking up at him. Then her eyes cut to Kendra across the bar who raised her glass in salute. Probably because I’m not tall and blonde she thought.

Jason Biggs kneaded his butt through his khakis knowing how hard she had hit him-how hard she had meant to hit him. He looked at his little Sharon who returned a tight smile that belied the fire burning in her eyes. He wasn’t sure he was in a hurry to go home.

“Those of you going home with someone who swung the paddle tonight, remember there is no retaliation allowed! That would go against the spirt of our game here. You will just have to wait for the next Odd Tuesday.”

 

Fall

How did you manage to escape

November’s winnowing?

Knowing that soon you will all swirl

To the winds.

Then-in browns and grays-curl

To the floor.

But for now, for the first time,

You stand alone.

The sole bright spot.

A beacon.

A remembrance of what was,

And a herald of what is to come.

Jenna

Continued from “A Haven for the Particular”

Corrine saw her, alone at the corner of the bar, when reaching for a bottle on the shelf beside the cooler. She must have snuck in. She lifted her chin in the universal “I’ll be there in a sec” bartender signal. The girl nodded back. She was about Corrine’s height with wider shoulders giving her a more tapered torso.

“I’m sorry”, Corrine said approaching. “You snuck in on me.”

“S’okay. I wasn’t here that long.”

“I’m Corrine.”

“Jenna.” She reached a fist over the bar and Corrine bumped it. Big hands extending out of the rolled sleeves of a western style shirt that she wore untucked. “Double Tito’s. Single tonic.”

Corrine poured smoothly and quickly-not hurrying but with no wasted motion aside from the necessary flourishes with the knife and the lime. Then, drink in her right hand, she flipped a coaster in front of Jenna and plopped the glass on it.

“Thanks.” The short thick waves of her auburn hair was dark enough to be mistaken for brown. Her smile showed a slight overbite with a little overlap in her front teeth. Interesting-not unattractive.

“You’re not…exactly new here are you?”

“I was here once before. A few Tuesdays ago…”

“Odd Tuesday?”

“Yep.”

“You alone?”

“Yep.”

“You’re signed in at the door?”

In answer, Jenna waved her Club ID that she pulled out of her back pocket.

“Can’t believe I don’t remember you…Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it. I hid pretty much. In the back corner.”

“You’re new in town though…I can’t really place the accent.”

“Don’t try. Moved around a lot as a kid. My dad was in the Air Force. Moved here from Houston about a month ago where we were for awhile. My boyfriend got transferred.”

“You have a good month or two before winter settles in…”

“No problem. I was born in Colorado-wanted someplace green with seasons you could feel.”

“Oh yes….there are a lot of things you can feel around here”, Corrine said gauging how wicked of a smile to send. She paused as her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at it then replaced it.

“Right back…”

Jenna watched her give a quick if discreet look around the bar then slip through the opening and out of the room through a set of swinging doors behind her. She scanned the mixed crowd. A couple of guys in business casual, a lot of jeans, some hipster flannel and a smattering of leather. A forty-something woman-prettily made up with immaculate hair and nails sucked nervously at a cigarette. She shrugged an embarrassed, “yes, I’m here” smile when Jenna caught her eye then looked down at the ashtray. Jenna couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed to be here as a spectator or to want to be part of the show.

With a swoosh behind her, the swinging door opened again. Corrine slipped unobtrusively back behind the bar and a bright little red-headed firecracker popped into a space beside Jenna. She again noticed Corrine scanning the bar quickly, not quite nervously but, anxiously. Convinced then, of something, she turned her attention back to the two of them.

“Jenna-Molly”, said Corrine. “Molly-Jenna…”

“Hi”, said Molly extending a hand.

“The back door girl…” said Jenna, shaking it.

“Yeah, well…” said Corrine refilling Jenna’s drink “She’s just stopping by for a moment…” Then placing the drink in front of her, “This is on me…” Jenna thanked her with a quick nod. “Be right back…”

Molly watched Corrine serving the other side of the bar as Jenna focused on a small bruise on the side of the girl’s neck that she had tried to conceal with makeup. Do adults give each other sucker bites up here?

“You a regular here?”

“No, no…” Molly said. “I’m usually at the ‘Lucky’ uptown. You know it?” Jenna shook her head. “Good music-used to be full on jazz but it’s a mix now… came here with a friend a couple of months ago, I guess. This place…wakes up something in me…”

“I could see that…”

“How about you”, Molly asked. “You new here?”

She explained that she had been here before and Molly asked her if she had been picked.

“No”, she smiled. “Happily not.”

“Happily not, or sadly not…?” There was a twinkle to the girl, that’s for sure.

Jenna smiled and sipped at her drink. “You know, I’m not sure really.”

“Uh huh…” Molly sipped at a drink that Corrine had slipped in front of her.

“I have a history”, Jenna said.

“Oh? Really?”

“About five years ago. I was a sorority girl.”

“Do they still do that?”

“They did in my case…”

“Still do what?” Corrine asked returning to chat. She had been joined by another bartender as the evening marched on so there was some time.

“She was in a sorority…”

“Really? What was that like?”….

The beauty of a place like The Club, especially on Odd Tuesday, is that everyone there-regardless of background, job or back story had traces of the same color within. Things which wouldn’t be talked about in the outside could be happily ordinary here. Jenna had no problem telling her story.

“Jesus”, Corrine shook her head. “You’re tougher than I am-I couldn’t have stood for that…”

“She gives”, Molly smiled. “Can’t take…”

“Enough out of you…”

“…And that was the beginning of the end for me at School. Some of the girls started calling me “Wild and Wooley” which was funny-I never trimmed back then…but school wasn’t right for me.”

“Got your money back though right?”

“Paid in full…I earned it though. Couldn’t sit right for a couple days.”

“You ever talk to any of them after…?”

“Two girls apologized to me. Said Heather overstepped…blah, blah…”

“So you were all forgive and forget?”

“Sure, but I told them both I’d forgive them if they came to my room and I’d give them exactly what they gave me…”

“No way”, Corrine leaned in. “You paddled them?”

“Only one took me up on it. Diana-we’re still friends-she invited me to her wedding last year…”

“Did you go?”

Oh, sure…you get pretty close to people when you’ve seen them at their most…vulnerable.”

“That is a story I’m going to want to hear sometime…For sure.” She scanned the bar and had to go make a couple of drinks.

“Talk among yourselves…Duty calls…

To Be Continued

Six Months and Counting…and Counting…

© HotBottoms

“But I wasn’t being bad…” She said peering intently outside where absolutely nothing was happening on the decrepit tennis courts…

“I know that honey” I said gently.

“Then why….?”

“Just come over here please…” I said from my seat at the bottom of the bed. My voice wasn’t menacing-certainly not threatening-it was soft, as I recall. Cajoling…

After a moment she turned reluctantly from the window and walked toward me. Backlit as she was, I couldn’t see her face but could clearly-or all I remember now- as she approached were her legs-long, strong and smooth.

It was our six month wedding anniversary and would be her first spanking.

Not long ago we were driving the back way to one of our favorite hiking spots in the mountains when we passed the Mountain Top Inn. It was freshly painted and the roof was new, but it looked about the same as it did those many years ago. It wouldn’t be at the top of anyone’s “go-to” lists but for a young couple with not much, it was 5-Star.

We talked about the walks we had taken that weekend, the antiques and some of the fall flowers we had picked and preserved. We were into that then. And of course we talked about the…

She said what she often said when reminded of the first time: “I thought it was a phase you would grow out of…” It would have been easier to grow out of being right-handed. It would have been easier for me to grow out of my stocky, swarthy body type into a sleeker Nordic model better suited to my taste in clothes. It would have been easier to…..you get the idea.

For me, the question always was-why had it taken so long for me to invite my beloved vanilla over my lap? We had been together four months-then married six. Ten months? Hell, my prom date ended up over my lap in the backseat of my buddy’s Catalina while everyone-including my date-laughed like hell. (God, how I wanted to lift her dress and pull her panties down. Wanted it so badly I think my hands were shaking. It might have eased the memory of never really having gotten past first base with her. Damn cheerleaders! Dick-teases all of them!…But I digress).

I blame our whirlwind courtship fraught with nasty family drama coming at us from all sides. Our rush to be married just two short months after deciding that we would, consumed us. We had a short time to get to know each other-plan some kind of wedding-juggle what seemed to be a tribe of supportive friends and, times being what they were, there was a seemingly endless parade of parties, drinking and general revelry. And the sex was what you would hope it to be in your twenties: fresh, new, mysterious and continuous. Maybe her first spanking had to wait for a routine to develop; for the first hint of “sameness” to poke its gray head into what we were doing.

For that first one we hadn’t yet instituted the practice of kissing when heads passed on the way over the lap so she settled herself hesitantly and cautiously on her belly. She thought I was going to swat her a few times on her panties and waited nervously. Instead I slipped my fingers into the elastic of her waistband and slipped them slowly and oh so s-l-o-w-l-y down: the first bottom reveal of our marriage. She lifted up to allow them to come down but said…”Oh man…” sort of breathlessly.

Me, as I recall, made that hissing sound that Hannibal Lecter made when he first smelled Clarice Starling. Can’t swear to it, but with the first swat I laid on her bare bottom, I’m sure my eyes rolled back in my head like a great white chomping a seal.

The spanking didn’t last too long. Probably no more than fifteen or sixteen smacks-mostly soft with ample cupping and rubbing and a lot of-no that is not a banana in my pants I am indeed happy to see you. Her bum was a sweet cotton-candy pink when I helped her back onto her feet and I wondered about the look in her eyes. Until she pushed me back on the bed with her panties still binding her at mid-thigh.

The chest thumping, sweat flying sex we had after the spanking left us so spent we dispensed with the planned afternoon hike and lounged instead in the green pool. Seriously. It was green. Come on, I said, it will be like swimming in a pond.

It took us a while to work out the complete ground rules of what we were doing when we realized this wasn’t going to be a once in a while type thing. A few weeks later we were playing racket ball and she missed a shot. Fierce competitor that she is, she slammed the ball off four walls sending me ducking then, to further impress anyone watching with how pissed off she really was, threw her racket.

I waited for her to regain composure before picking up the ball to serve. She picked up her racket, took a couple of breaths then popped me lightly in the chest with it. “See”, she said. “This is when you should spank me. When I deserve it, not just because.” Duly noted. But let the record show, I didn’t discard the “just because” option entirely.

Now as we were driving off into the mountains reflecting on a marriage of decades and literally countless spankings: birthday-spankings, punishment spankings, maintenance spankings, foreplay spankings (line blurs on that one) she, the converted vanilla, allows that it was probably spanking that saved our marriage. Or at least kept it from getting to a place where it would have needed saving.

Through up times, down times, jobs, no jobs, big money, no money, strong sex drive; no sex drive we have this thing, this one through-line to our marriage that grounds us as it binds us. Like a weird religion that we practice in private. No matter how distant we become from one another, which happens now and again, how often one of us might slip into that window staring ennui, we have something that will pull us back together.

As she explained to one of her vanilla friends who just didn’t get it “No matter how much we don’t like each other at times-there’s always this thing that we know we are going to do with each other that will break the ice and bring us close again. Plus it ends up with him rubbing lotion on my bare butt.”

And what could be wrong with that?

Wild and Wooly

Jenna hustled down Greek Row dabbing at her still damp locks with the towel hanging around her neck. Practice went long, then there were the laps afterward and an abbreviated shower so that she still smelled faintly of chlorine. As she would until the season ended and swimming once again became a relaxing pastime instead of a blood sport.

She walked as quickly as she could in flip flops and baggy basketball shorts. Not really the preferred attire for she and her sisters at Beta but she was hoping to be able to sneak in to her room and change into something more “appropriate” before the meeting.

As she always did at times like these she recalled that had she not pledged a sorority she would be home by now-relaxing in the dorms around the quad. But no, here she was on the outskirts of campus late to a mandatory pledge meeting. Admittedly the house was impressive with the long walkway, thick lawns and wide Greek-columned portico but as she took the steps two at a time all she could think of was that it made her later.

As luck would have it, when she yanked open the front door the first person she saw, the only person standing in the entrance hallway was Heather Johnson. The sorority president was as tall as Jenna but that was it for the similarities. While Jenna’s hair was dark, kinky and short, Heather had long blonde hair tied into a tight pony tail and a classically beautiful face clouded right this moment by the dark look in her steely blue eyes. She was dressed in stone-washed skinny jeans, flats and a perfectly ironed ice-white collared shirt.

“You are late!” was her greeting.

“Yes, I’m sorry…but” why the hell was she stammering, thought Jenna. “Practice ran long…”

“We scheduled this a half hour later to accommodate you already.”

“I know, I know…”

“You are always late you know…and you look like hell.”

“I know. I’m sorry…”

“Come on…we’re all waiting in the den.”

“I was going to change…”

“Won’t matter. Come on.”

She walked faster than she typically would indoors to keep up with Heather’s arm-pumping pace. In the den were all the sorority officers and all seniors in the house; thirteen women including Heather. They were spread around the room seated on the couch, chairs and Mandy Hopes, the vice-president, was perched lightly on the desk in the corner. There were no pledges in the room.

Jenna was caught up short. “Hi…everyone. Where are…..”

“Shhh…” said Mandy-a striking if diminutive brunette-from the desk holding her finger over her lips. “Nothing from you right now….”

“There are no pledges”, said Heather taking the last remaining seat in the room. “This is not a pledge meeting. We’ve called this meeting to…address a situation that you’ve put us in.”

“Potentially…” drawled Mandy.

“Exactly”, said Heather. “Potentially.”

Jenna stood uncomfortably in front of the baker’s dozen of satisfied and entitled girls. She knew before Heather started that this was about James Coyle who she had been “seen with.” They weren’t dating, they weren’t exceptionally close, they had never…Not even close! But he was known by all in the Beta house to be off-limits to Beta sisters. Why wasn’t clear. What Heather had pieced together is that maybe he had dated some of the girls-had been, as they liked to say here, untoward. Christ. Jenna’s thoughts were that Jimmy had done something to one of them-that tiny Mandy was the rumor-that she wanted but regretted later….it went on like that. She was trying to get this all straight in her head as twenty six probing eyes bored into her.

Jenna fidgeted from foot to foot-uncomfortable to be standing for this inquisition in front of all of her “sisters” none of whom was looking very sisterly at this point. She held her tongue and waited for an opening-or for when she was allowed to speak-so she could apologize and move on with the evening.  Finally Heather ceased her blathering and leaned forward in her seat-slightly flushed and properly exercised by the process.

Jenna did indeed apologize. She hadn’t meant any harm she said. She thought James Coyle was a nice guy, she said-which elicited a loud “Hmph!” from around the room.

“I just didn’t think it was a big deal”, Jenna said finally.

“Not a big….” Heather fairly sputtered. “But it was a direct order. We told all pledges-and you specifically since you had so many classes together-to stay away from him. Didn’t we?”

“Well…yeah but…”

“No but! We told you directly.”

“But what did he ever do to you?” Jenna interrupted sounding a little harsher than she had meant to.

The room fell flatly silent for a moment before Heather picked up again-straining to keep her voice modulated. “It’s not so much about him, per se. In the grand scheme of things that little shit means nothing to us. This is directly about you following the rules of the house and following orders. Get it?  You are not in love with him are you?”

“No”, Jenna huffed.

“Then we can assume the only reason you saw him in public like you did was to throw it back in our faces-to defy us, correct?” Jenna held her tongue because Heather wasn’t altogether wrong. “I thought so.”

Heather stood and stepped over to the desk where Mandy produced a pledge paddle with the sorority’s initials burned on one side. There was a strict “No Hazing” policy at the school so this little implement no longer had a starring role in the house but pledges still whispered about being paddled if they broke rules. Jenna had heard those whispers but didn’t believe them. If pledges were being paddled wouldn’t she know about it? Maybe not, she thought just now with a flutter in her chest. Maybe not if it was done in secret.

“There is a no-hazing policy in place, you know”, she said weakly.

“This is not hazing. This is enforcing house discipline.”

“Doesn’t there….shouldn’t there be a vote or something?”

“What do you think we did while we were waiting for you?” said Heather smugly. “It was unanimous. “

“Wait-girls. Ladies…I don’t want to get paddled…I…”

“Nobody does-but neither do you want to follow the house rules, right? You want to do what you want to do without regard of the consequences.”

“I didn’t know that I would get…” her eyes were drawn to the wood.  Jenna felt doors closing and the walls closing around her.  “Look…so…how about I just quit. I can just leave the sorority. I’m not really cut out for this life-you know that….”

“Your option, of course. The door is always open and swings both ways. We can part as friends.” The girl was holding the paddle with her right hand and stoking is with her left-as it polishing a sword. “Of course”, she said. “You will forfeit your pledge fee.”

Ouch! That was tough. It was all she could do to talk herself into forking that over in the first place. Her swimming scholarship wasn’t a full ride and the fee covered a semester of board-too much to swallow. Or more to swallow than this would be. She had once finished a race with a torn rotator cuff. She could handle pain though she knew that this would be more than just pain. She sighed and her shoulders drooped. She wouldn’t beg.

Heather, looking for any sign, saw her sag. “Very good then. Diana?” she said directing, “Put your chair over there-behind her.” Diana carried her wooden chair over keeping her head turned slightly to not catch Jenna’s eye. They were in a class together and Jenna actually thought of her as a friend. “Turn it around….so it’s backwards…that’s right. Now Jenna, turn around-face the chair.”

Scanning the room once and seeing as many averted as hungry eyes, she turned her back on them and stepped to the chair knowing that the command to bend over would be next. She was unhappily surprised.

“You can take those shorts down.”

“Really?” Jenna said, half turning her head.

“Absolutely.”

“Come on, Heather…”

“You are in no position to argue, Jenna.”

That’s why Heather had said it didn’t matter what she was wearing. She wasn’t going to beg and had spent enough time in locker rooms to not care about being naked. Except here. Except now. Don’t beg-Fuck ‘em. She hurriedly untied the drawstring on the shorts and they fell in a heap to the floor. She heard a couple of gasps because in her hurry out of the shower she hadn’t bothered with panties.

“Very nice”, she heard Mandy say sarcastically.

“Doesn’t matter”, said Heather. “If you were wearing panties they would have come down too. We voted to paddle your bare ass, didn’t we ladies?” There were a few coughs and some mumbles of assent, but not what you would call a landslide of support.

“Now”, said Heather, “Bend over and put your hands on the seat of the chair.” Jenna did as she was told, trying to keep her cheeks together to cover as much as possible. As slim as she was though, in her racing trim, she didn’t have too much back there.   “You might want to grab the edges…give you something to hold onto. Now, we’re all going to take a few swings…What?…” From her position, Jenna couldn’t see anything going on behind her and the sounds were all whispers and mutters, but it didn’t sound like everybody was going to be taking their swings.

“OK, well…whatever”, she heard Heather say and felt her move closer to her bared bottom. Heather wickedly touched her with the paddle and Jenna flinched much to the giggling delight of some behind her. She knew not to tighten her cheeks more than absolutely necessary so she pushed her toes into the hardwood floor to tense something and squeezed her eyes shut as the paddle disappeared. But not for long.

The pain of the first swat exploded on her butt like a skyrocket. She settled herself, gripped harder and clenched her teeth. SWAT! The paddle landed again. The burn bloomed from the center and flowed hotly across her seat. She settled on not making a sound-that would be her pyrrhic victory.

But it seemed after the second swat that Heather was making it her job to get her to cry out. The third swat was the hardest yet and Jenna rose on her toes and gasped deep in her throat-she was sure nobody heard. Dammit! That bitch. That Hurt.

“OK”, she heard Diana’s voice pipe up quickly. “My turn…”

“But I wasn’t…” Heather began.

“You said we all get a turn”, said Diana.

She could feel that Heather was giving up the paddle reluctantly, but that was fine with her. Any respite from those brutal blows was welcome.

“Alrighty then”, said Heather in a false chirp. “Give it to her.”

Jenna held tight and bit her lip when she felt the paddle pat her bottom. She gritted her teeth when it pulled away and exhaled loudly when it landed with a light wrist slap; enough to sting but not much more. Heather complained but Diana held firm that it was her turn and she smacked Jenna again-hard enough to be felt but no more than a slap.

“Next up”, Heather called disgustedly.

“Me next!” called Mandy slipping off her perch on the desk.

“Let’s see if you can do a better job…” Heather said.

And she did. The little girl swung hard and caught Jenna’s bottom at the sit spot with her first and second swats. Then there was a pause as another girl took the paddle. And so it went. Jenna would get a break to breath as the paddle changed hands then hold her breath through two or three swats-then relax and breathe. After six girls had their turns-a few hit her hard, some didn’t- she still hadn’t made any sounds. Or at least any that the bitches could hear.

“Next?” Heather said.

There were a couple of “no-thanks” and at least one “I’m good…”

“That’s it…?” Heather was clearly disappointed. “That’s not enough…”

“I think she’s learned her lesson….” Came a voice that Jenna tried to recognize. Could have been Constance-hard to tell.

“Nope-I will finish her up then…”

Again Jenna flinched when the paddle touched her hot bottom. , DAMMIT!

“Jumpy are we?”

Jenna weathered two more blistering swats harder than any other and knew she couldn’t maintain her stoic silence any longer. After the third she stood bolt upright and grabbed her burning cheeks with both hands and rose on her toes left foot right foot-running in place. Still not a sound, though.

“Bend back over!”

“No”, she said through clenched teeth.

“Jenna! You bend over this instant!”

Jenna spun around and, without really planning to, threw a punch that caught Heather flush on the cheek. The paddle clattered to the floor an instant before Heather’s narrow ass did. Everyone in the room froze with the exception of Mandy who slipped off the desk and skittered behind it fearing she could be next.

Jenna’s eyes were shiny now with tears of rage more than pain or mortification. Mandy seemed to have reason to fear as Jenna made a half step toward her but stopped realizing that the room who had just gotten eyefuls of her bare bottom was now seeing her bush in all its frizzed-out glory. In fact, it was hovering just over Heather’s upturned face while she rubbed the spot on her cheek where Jenna had decked her.

“You HIT me!” she squealed from the floor. Jenna stepped a tiny bit closer so that the only way Heather could look up at her face was through the wild and wooly grassland of her down-under. Confused and beaten down by one little punch, with an assist by the vision of an angry vagina levitating just above eye-level, Heather looked away.

Jenna laid out her terms. She was going to a friend’s apartment for the night. She was going to take pictures of her bruised bottom and if, when she returned to the Beta house the next morning at 9 a.m. sharp, there wasn’t a check for the full refund of the pledge fee she was going to take the pictures to the Dean and the Head of Greek Life and show them how this house hazes pledges. And she assured all that by tomorrow her butt will have bruised a nice shade of purple and they should know she would have no qualms about dropping her jeans in front of the dean to show him first-hand what the girls at Beta did to her. They remembered didn’t they, that the Dean was a swimmer in college himself and attended meets from time to time?

With that, Jenna bent down to give the room one more look at her bare, red bum, swept up her shorts with one hand and, with as much dignity as possible, walked through them and out of the room.

“Well”, said Diana to no one in particular, “That went well….”

RealSpanking

You’re Welcome!

No, seriously-your thanks are enough. It was my pleasure. Glad you enjoyed it. No really, you don’t have to…honestly…no…that’s….it’s…OK, if you insist….