Goofing About

He let his mind wander as he pushed the small cart through the aisles.It was his first trip to the market in weeks. With Bethany in Europe for a time on business, he had eaten in restaurants and cafes. Sometimes in bars like the old days but only if he had cash to pay so she couldn’t follow the card bills and know where he’d been. There would have been hell to pay! Still though, it was good to have her back and the shopping list she had emailed him was, as always, meticulous. She had always been very particular in what she ate and had him prepare for her. 

She knew that he had hoped for a warmer reunion when she got in yesterday, but the plane had been late and when the car finally dropped her off she was on the phone with Martin about the new contracts and continued to be for twenty minutes as he took her bags and made her the dirty martini-with three olives- just as she liked it. Then with a quick peck on the cheek and an apology, she took her drink to her office to finish something that couldn’t wait. He was sitting in the dimly lit side room nursing a club soda when her door opened. He took the offered empty glass and went to the kitchen. He knew better than to simply refill it. He took one of the three identical glasses from the freezer and began to build her next drink. Same base gin and olives, but clean this time. A splash of Lillet in lieu of vermouth. And achingly cold. 

“Thanks Love”, she said crisply. “Run me a bath would you? It’s been a fuckall of a day.” He noted that she followed him up the stairs after closing the office door behind. He went through her bedroom suite into the bath which was almost as large with a round freestanding tub in the center of the room, above it a wagon wheel sized rainfall showerhead. 

He put in the salts that she liked and set the water to tumbling to dissolve them. He was stirring the water with his arm when she stepped naked into the room. His disappointment at not being allowed to undress her was ameliorated by the vision that she was. He hurried to take her hand to help her into the tub. She folded languidly into the water and slipped forward to lay her head on a towel he had folded. She lifted an empty hand and he filled it with her drink. He kept a hand near it as she quaffed a healthy portion and returned it to him. He was about to set it aside when she said, “Go ahead. Finish it.” He did in a gulp then set it on the floor outside of harm’s way. Then, in well practiced movements, Bethany stood in the tub and raised her hands onto her head like a child so that he could take the well-soaped cloth and clean her underarms, then her arms frm shoulder to wrist. After resoaping he washed her breasts slowly, careful to lift up under them then between them and down her flat stomach to the thick tuft of walnut brown hair below her belly button. He dropped the cloth in the water and used his hands in its place, wiping and squeezing, raising suds in her bush.

Retrieving the cloth he turned her with a light touch to the elbow. She spread her legs carefully and bent, arching her back, opening all to him like a split peach. He soaped her backside then again eschewed the cloth to run his slippery fingers up and down her crevasse then between her legs. He paid particular attention to her asshole but was careful not to go too far. Insertion now would be for his pleasure, not hers. He shifted to give his groaning cock a clear route down his pants leg. 

She again sat in the tub, letting the water cover up to her eyes to rinse. Then she stood and stepped toward him, hands on the small of her back and pushed her breasts to him, offering. He leaned in and suckled then nibbled and licked them all over enjoying the bitter taste of the bath salts. He offered his hand, she took it and stepped out of the tub, dripping onto a bathmat he’d placed. He wrapped her in a thick towel and patted her damp if not dry then, taking a liberty he felt comfortable with, cupped a hand on her right butt cheek and pushed gently toward the bedroom door. She glided lightly before him allowing the towel to fall to the floor. 

Her path, like his, moved directly to the bed. Once there she turned and kissed him deeply, wrapping her arms around his neck, then releasing and falling backward onto the cool duvet. Leaving no room for misinterpretation she pulled her knees to her chest and wantonly offered her double damp pussy to him knowing he would do his best to reach her tongue with his from there. He licked and thrusted with his head, tasting soap and Bethany together in a heady mix. She moaned when his mouth settled on her hard clit then made a whimpering sound when he flicked it with his tongue. 

“Fuck me”, she said, giving the permission he was waiting for. Not willing to peel his mouth from her pussy, he lifted his hips and pushed his pants down

“Now, don’t come until I do”, she said in a voice that told him that wouldn’t be a problem. He slid in all the way then back out until only his swollen head remained inside of her, then thrust again, firmly and to the hilt. Again and again, their bodies slapping with the collisions. When her breath came in tiny gulps he decreased the depth of his thrusts while increasing the speed. 

Bethany wrapped her legs around him and bounced off the bed until a few quick gasps, a thin moan and a shudder finished her. She deflated backward with a loud, “AAAHHHH…” and continued to voice her pleasure at his deliberate piston-like hammering. “Now fill me up”, she said, and he changed cadence slightly until his cocked numbed and his body went rigid. Bethany moaned again and squeezed his clenched ass as his hot seed washed through her. 

Once he settled atop her she stroked his long blond hair pushing it behind his ears. . “Poor baby”, she cooed, “it’s been so long”.

He smiled behind the cart in the produce aisle, careful to keep his hardon concealed as he recounted the previous night. His wife’s schedule was what it was, and getting her attention-in a good way wasn’t easy, but when he did it was worth the wait. Of course it was never hard to get her attention in a not so good way. All he had to do was “goof”.

That is what she called it “a goof”. Such a silly, childish word to describe a transgression that had such, what some would view, as dire consequences. He of course didn’t view them as dire at all-certainly uncomfortable-but ultimately satisfying in that they helped Bethany mold him into the man she felt he could be. That he wanted to be. It was confusing in the beginning. Like when he had been given the dusting chores. He thought he was doing well and she even praised him as she did her white glove inspections. Then came the day when she shouldered the folding A-ladder into the entry hall and climbed up to run her  fingers over the blades of the ceiling fan. He didn’t even have to look at the gloves as clots of dust tumbled slowly onto his pristine hardwood. He was allowed to clean the fan, and every other one in the house, before she had him take down his pants and lay over her lap for a session with a ping pong paddle that he didn’t even know she had. 

Before then, the idea of men being ”punished” by women was always imagined as something prurient and unreal, staged fantasies existing in the back pages of magazines or the dark recesses of the internet for sordid entertainment. But being spanked by Bethany Brenton-Smythe seemed entirely natural and a culmination of something he didn’t try hard to figure out.. 

Even the time he came home having had one or many too many at the club. He was driving her red Cayenne which made it worse so he was sneaking through the back around the pool hoping she was in her office. She wasn’t. She met him on the patio with a breathalyzer (where did she get that?), and already confident in the test result, her old sorority paddle which she kept deep in her closet. It wasn’t easy to find a positive out of that experience, bent bare over the picnic table gritting his teeth. . Bethany had even apologized when dabbing at the little blood spot she’d coaxed out of a blister on the bottom of his right cheek. The upside was that all weekend she insisted on looking at it and dressing it with salve and a little bandaid. Her tenderness in his aftercare-even at one point kissing it to “make it better” almost entirely eclipsed the severity of his punishment.

Still, though, it had worked. His drinking was well under control, or at least well-controlled, and for what it was worth, their house had the cleanest ceiling fans in the township. For him there was contentment and a measure of peace in living with her enforced structure. As long as he could keep the sorority paddle in the closet. 

When he pulled into the courtyard he saw Charla Emerson’s blue BMW coupe backed into the spot closest to the door. He slipped in beside her; he didn’t have enough grocery bags to be annoyed. Charla was his wife’s closest friend. They had met two jobs ago and when Bethany had moved on to bigger jobs, Charla soon followed.Now she was on Bethany’s team at Lassiter International. Early on he had wondered if they were lovers on some level which bothered him not at all. In fact, the opposite was true, it turned him on but it was something he didn’t want to get into with his wife. There was no jealousy between them, even when the women would disappear for long weekends and he liked Charla-really enjoyed her company. No, the only thing about their relationship that annoyed him a bit was the assumption that Bethany kept few secrets from her. 

Charla looked up from her tablet as he crossed the living room juggling the market bags. 

“And a good day to you Prince William”, she called out.

“And to you, m’lady.” he teased back. ”But I wonder, should a man not be King in his own castle?” He noticed the empty wine glass at her elbow. 

“That my dear Prince, is entirely dependent upon the Queen.” Charla’s eyes were dancing, enjoying the banter and the feeling of free-flowing sexual energy she always felt when William was around. He wasn’t  a big guy, but well muscled and perfectly proportioned with wavy blond hair and a laid back demeanor that suited his surfer looks. At work Bethany was known, behind her back of course, as the “Ice Queen”: six feet tall with arresting blue eyes offsetting dyed jet black hair that she wore in a middle part. She was, and could look, severe. Charla was much more effervescent, with dancing brown eyes and straight brown locks that approximated a page boy cut framing her round dimpled face. Today she was wearing  a green and yellow top and cream colored skorts that accented her striking mahogany skin tone.

“Point taken”, said William moving into the kitchen. 

“Is that my sweet husband?” Bethany called down lightly

“Tis I”, he called up the back steps leaving the three market bags on the counter to return to the  living room. He took the open wine bottle with him.

Thank you, good sir” Charla smiled as he refilled, then set the bottle on the table. “Nothing for you?”

“A little early in the day…”

“Ahh…”she said as she raised the glass and sipped, eyes sparkling. All she knew was that he didn’t drink much. 

They heard Bethany in the kitchen but were surprised when she strode into the room in her plush purple bathrobe, towel around her neck still working on her damp hair.  

“No rush to get ready on my account.” Charla quipped.

“We’re not due at the salon for two hours. You came early.” 

“Billy”, she said turning her attention to her husband. “You got the wrong protein bars.”

“Really? You said mint, mocha and peanut butter.” 

Yes, but these peanut butter bars are milk chocolate. I get the dark chocolate ones. 

Oh, I’m sorry, I was just going down the line and saw peanut butter.

“When have you ever known me to eat milk chocolate?”

“I’m sorry love. I can take them right back. Exchange them”. 

“Sure you could, but That’s not the point is it?”They both, Charla and William noticed her change in tone.  

“It’s the details, Billy…”His heart sank a bit at her use of “Billy” instead of William or Bill. “Campaigns, empires rise and fall on details. Right Char?”

“Most certainly”, said Charla who had sat back watching and listening, not willing to add anything to the conversation. 

“You rushing about undoing your little goofs does not erase the fact that you made them, does it? And our goal has always been to get you to avoid making them. Is that not true?” 

He paused for a moment to understand her wording-wanting to get the answer right.  “That is true”, he said, his eyes drifting down to her feet. Was she really going to…? He wondered nervously. With Charla here? He’d never bucked her regime or challenged her authority over him. In fact, he depended upon it. Her strong hand kept him centered in his universe. Which was ultimately, hers.

There were times when he submitted to her grudgingly which usually resulted in a stiffer punishment. But sometimes she would hear his objections, but only after he was bare over her lap. Some of their longest and most heartfelt dialogs took place with him over her lap, talking to the floor or back over his shoulder, her hand resting on his bare bottom or top of his leg.. Only once did he recall her agreeing with him and relenting, patting him gently on the cheek and telling him to get up. That had turned into an interesting evening. 

“I’m sorry too. I was hoping the three of us could have a chill afternoon but now you know what I’m going to have to do”.

“You don’t have to.” 

“Oh I’m afraid I do”

“We could wait”

“And have this hanging over our whole evening? That’s not our way. “

It’s true, he thought. This had to happen. And it was going to happen In front of Charla. Would that make it better or worse?

“Hey,” said Charla, clearing her throat. I can head out for an hour or so-come back….”

“You’ll stay right where you are.” Bethany smiled in a way that belied the authority of her command.  “Isn’t that right Billy?”

“Sure. She should stay.” He glanced her way and she was heartened to see that his face was calm. Expectant maybe with a charming blush.

“Wait here”, said Bethany before she turned and walked down the hall to her office.

“You sure you’re OK with this? With me being here?”

“It’s what she wants. If it’s OK with you, I’m fine.” 

Bethany came back into the room, her robe cinched tighter a ping-pong paddle in her hand. He was relieved to see that paddle. It stung but overall was the least painful tool in what had become a large arsenal. 

“Charla”, she asked and nodded toward a straight backed chair against the wall. “Bring that over here please. Put it right there”, she indicated a spot in the middle of the room. Charla did as she was told and retreated to her seat which was well positioned to view the scene. 

Bethany sat and made a half-hearted attempt to pull her robe back over her legs when it fell open. Charla couldn’t help but to sneak a look at her long thighs. “Billy?” 

He moved over to stand in front of her, his back to Charla. Her blood was rising at what she knew was coming. William had to know that Bethany had told her about how she “kept him in line”, but she never thought she would actually be a witness to it. She didn’t know how to feel besides lustful, so she just went with that.

“Billy, Billy, Billy…Bethany sighed. He shrugged. “Details, right? You need to pay better attention.” With that she reached for his belt. He stepped closer so she wouldn’t have to reach as far. She unbuckled then opened his belt. 

Charla’s heart raced. Did she know his pants would come down? She was going to see this beautiful surfer dude’s ass?

WIlliam focused on Bethany’s hands  and raised his own to cup the side of her head then gently rub her cheekbone with his thumb.. She leaned lightly into his touch while unsnapping then unzipping his jeans. They came easily off of his slim hips. Bethany reached her hands around and cupped his butt while looking softly into his eyes. He returned her gaze as she pulled his underwear down.

Charla reached for her wine glass but didn’t trust her grip and let it be. William shuffled to his wife’s right side then lowered himself over her lap. Once there he pushed himself slightly backward into the  position she liked. In a final but critical adjustment,  he lifted so she could reach under him and lay his cock up against his stomach. 

He knew by her movements that her arm was raised. Charla’s heart flipped at the first crack of the paddle. She had no context, no way of knowing that compared to the sorority paddle, any of the hair brushes or the long handled bath brush, that the ping pong paddle might as well have been a feather. Not quite, but sort of. It delivered a pleasant sting-so he knew he was being paddled-but not the deep bruising impact that he would feel for a day or two.

It wasn’t a play spanking. Bethany gave those with her hand in the bedroom and they were usually both be naked. Then it came to him in a moment of clarity as the paddle glanced off the top of his thigh, that this was a demonstration. This was for Charla more than for him or Bethany. Of course! That had to be it. What did Bethany care about chocolate? All he did was give her an excuse! He yelped lightly and threw in a few “ouches” for his audience’s sake. 

And then, with two harder than average swats delivered right to the soft bottom of his bottom, it was over. “Alright you bad boy”, she said, patting him with her hand, “You can get up now.” He did, slowly, then for effect rubbed his ass with both hands. Charla loved the show and wondered if his butt was hot to the touch. It certainly looked like it. Her attention switched on his thick cock that was bobbing in front of him like a ship’s spar. 

“And now, look at this”, Bethany said, poking his engorged member. I think you better go stand in the corner until this goes down. 

“Where?” He asked

She pointed to the space beside the bookcase and he shuffled over.  

“I’m going up to finish getting ready.” she told Charla. “Might even need another shower. You OK down here?”

“Totally fine”, she said, purposefully not looking at her husband’s glowing bottom. She’s leaving us alone here? Like this?

Once she was gone Charla approached Bill. “That hurt?”, she asked in a low voice. 

“What do you think?”

“I think it hurt.”

“Stung. I’ve had worse, trust me.” 

“Wow…You’re OK with that?”

“Sure, It’s what she wants. You’ll find out.”

“Me? Why me?”

I’m thinking this was your introduction. You been screwing up at work?

No! I…” she stopped remembering the issue with the contracts when Bethany was in Europe. “No. Nothing big…”

“Not as big as mixing up milk and dark chocolate huh?” he snarked.

“This is your little thing. Not mine.” 

“It’s hers’. And wait until she gives you the choice….”

“Which choice?” 

“When you goof. You’ll get something bad. Or a spanking. “

“Psh! That’s your thing. I’d just tell her no”. She said in a voice that didn’t carry the weight of the words.I’m a grown woman.  What could she do?

You enjoy your life with her? She’s fun, right? The casino, dancing…Wherever you’re going tonight.”

“Mani-Pedi at Stoneybrook.”

“Oh fun. Her treat I’m guessing. No matter, you girls have fun right? All the weekend hangs, The week in London this spring. I know Lassiter didn’t cover your expenses. What did that trip to the Outer Banks cost you? I don’t know-I don’t have access to her accounts but I’m betting nothing”. 

Unseen to him, Charla had moved closer because he was speaking in a lowered voice directly into the corner. Her face clouded. “How about the down payment on the Beemer? I don’t know that for sure, but I did overhear you guys talking out by the pool right after you bought it.”

“I was having a bad time back then.”

“I’m sure you were. it’s not my place to say anything”. Looking back over his shoulder, he said, “I’m literally  in no position, but you pay her back for that? I’m sure you did”, he said in a way that conveyed that he believed the opposite.

“We’re friends! That’s what friends do!” She had moved close enough to pinch his hot cheek. Firmly. He winced. 

“No doubt.” He answered.  “But just keep in mind that a lot of that stuff could go up in smoke with a simple two letter word. She how your life changes when you say no to her.”

Their whispering had gotten a little loud. 

“You okay down there”? Bethany’s voice called down. 

“Yeah, he’s a little feisty is all.”

They could almost hear Bethany shrug. “I’ve been away too long”. Then, “The paddle is still there if you need it. And there’s lotion on the side table, if you’re feeling charitable. Also, he likes a finger up his bum after he’s spanked.”

In the corner William’s hardon reignited even as his shoulders sagged.

Emboldened, Charla took him by the arm and walked him back to the couch having decided to lay him over her lap there. “Maybe you’re right Billy.” she said,’ Maybe this was a demonstration for my sake but not in the way you think”. She had taken a seat in the middle of the couch and was now face to face with his throbbing cock, which she addressed as Bethany had with a prodding finger. “Maybe this is a tryout for a babysitter for the next time she goes to Europe. She hates leaving you alone for so long.”

He moved to the side and put one knee on the couch readying to lower himself. 

“Wait, wait…” Charla said, patting the back of his thigh. 

He paused while she grabbed the towel that Bethany had discarded over the back of the couch. She spread it over her lap. 

“There”, she said. “These shorts are new. Come on over now.” she rubbed his warm backside until he settled, thoroughly enjoying the new touch.

Endeavoring

He found himself at sea;
alone, misfiled, misplaced:
a spoon among the forks trying
To understand where he fit. 

What did he know about menopause?
About what years did down there 
Turning wetlands into deserts;
Lush marshes into 
Craggy rocky places.
One adapts, he was told.
She had a plan.

Will you take off your pants
At least? he asked.
She played tennis and
knew her legs drove him wild. 
Of course, she said.
But strip now.

He did as he was told and she,
Like a mom with a recalcitrant toddler,
Took him by the ear and patted his bum
Toward the bedroom.

Am I going to regret this 
In the morning? he asked.
Of course darling, she purred.
That’s what mornings are for. 

Ridge Runner

Trees, stumps and boulders that he knew well enough to find in the dark appeared as apparitions then faded behind as he stormed up the slim hollow away from the cabin down on the flat river bend. Boiling clouds of wet morning fog clutched at his feet and pulled at his arms as he worked to climb above them.

Halfway to the ridge he slipped around an outcropping and paused to breathe near the copse of stunted torch pine that seemed to grow right out of the rocks. Later in the day, with the sun high overhead, this was a favorite sunning spot for copperheads but now only golden tendrils of sunlight had begun to tear at the gauzy curtain around him. Through an opening shard of green, the cabin looked like a small car from here. From up top it would be a matchbox.

Flight was more an instinct than a planned strategy. No doubt when she said “GO!” she meant out of the room but by the time he yanked his jeans up and cinched his belt, “OUT!” was all he was thinking.

He heard his name, clear as a crow’s call across the valley. Once. Then again. His heart, settling back into its rhythm, pumped the blood that coursed through the welts that he knew crossed his backside. He felt the burn that had been dulled by the run up the mountain. The searing pain that had forced him to bite the pillow.

But worse than that, he felt the wet spot in the front of his pants, that small drip that came when he was hard in spite of-or because of-his humiliation and pain. How could that be right? The first time she’d laid hands on him he felt it.  Did she know that? Could she tell? Is that why she stopped taking him over her lap and made him lie across the bed?

He wasn’t hard just then, thinking about it. But he wasn’t altogether soft either. With none but the trees to see, he rubbed his hand along the back of his jeans feeling a slight charge from massaging a spot at the top of his leg. Just as he was about to loosen his belt to slip his hand inside, he heard his name again. Sharper this time. Jabbing. Then, “It’ll be twice as bad if you don’t get back here right now!”

His heart beginning to race again, he turned his back downhill and continued to climb.

Everything Changes

There had been a light snow around midnight so now I could see the bunnies in the yard, little dark blobs against the light gray. Hadn’t seen them for a while-it never occurred to me that they were haunting the yard all night, nibbling the frozen clover invisible in the darkness. She had stayed over and even the cats were on edge. She slept soundly upstairs allowing me to slip away for a glass of ice water and a pill. Quick shower against the funk of the night sweats while waiting for the tranq to take over. Had to stay ready when she was here. Didn’t know when she would come to me strapped, needing me to roll over and bite down on the pillow. It wasn’t as painful as it had been, but not comfortable, that’s for sure. Actually, after a few times, it felt more sad than anything. She no doubt got more out of it. She forbade haircuts recently-wanted to yank at it. Probably got the idea from that bumper sticker; you know the one: ‘If you’re gonna ride my ass at least pull my hair’, or something like that. She’s gotten pretty handsy lately. We were having dinner a couple of weeks ago over on the South Side at a new place-no one knew us. Everything seemed fine and I said something, can’t even remember what, and when I looked up she slapped me-full across the face. The restaurant was a white tablecloth place, all muted and quiet like and the slap rang out like plates hitting the ceramic floor. Her eyes were not flashing, like they would when she was angry. More questioning-curious. I rubbed the sting out of my cheek and said nothing while the diners settled back into their grazing, masticating and murmuring. Later that night she caned me beforehand and the pain was a true distraction leaving no time to feel anything- which I guess was the point.  Over the last four months I’d pared my book collection from over twelve hundred to eight and sent two closets of suits I never wear to the Veterans. I sold the motorcycle, still in pieces, that had been a project for years so I’m making progress. Still, when I told her once-I think it was the weekend of the slap-that I was in the mood for sex she said ‘Sure. What kind?’ I was stuck for an answer which probably led to what happened. It was fine though-she made it worth my while in the long run. But I have to have a ready answer next time.

Dense Parent’s Night Out

“Why does that kid want a babysitter every time we go out? He’s almost seventeen fer Chrissakes!”

“Sam, he just doesn’t want to bang around in that house alone all evening.”

“And why does it have to be Alyssa all the time? You know how much she charges since she started saving for college? Shit, when I was a kid, I couldn’t wait for my parents to go out. I had the run of the house.”

“Yeah well, maybe your son doesn’t get as much of a charge of drinking his father’s liquor as you did.”

“There was alot of that.”

“He and Alyssa just get along is all. Maybe we could talk about the rates-I’m thinking she really enjoys the big screen…Maybe she’d cut you a break.”

“Ah screw it…he’s just going through a phase I guess…”

 

 

 

 

Moments

“There is surely nothing other than the single purpose of the moment. A man’s whole life is a succession of moment after moment. If one fully understands the present moment, there is nothing left to do, and nothing else to pursue.” – From Hagakure, by way of Ghost Dog. 

“I seriously can’t think of anyone who’s been together as long as we have taking such little care of their relationship. Seriously. It’s as if we assume that it will always be there-that we will always have it. That we made it and now it’s done, and nothing more is necessary.”

She, having nothing to add, was silent.

“Everything, your plants, the cats, the garden-they are begun then continue and thrive-if attention is paid to them. If they are fed. If not they wither and die. Relationships are the same.”

“Mmmfff…” she said.

“I’m not blaming you, you understand. This is on both of us. It’s as if we’ve made a conscious decision to allow our relationship to-if not die-then stagnate. There is work, there is the gym, there are the clients and the cooking, there is endless busyness…something has to suffer. We allowed it to be us.”

He stepped closer, his body next to hers, and rubbed her firm calves then kissed them gently. One. Then the other. He allowed his tongue to trace a path up her leg to her feet. Up close they looked small-petite even-and soft. He could see the attraction they held for some. He allowed his head to dip and kiss the instep. She made a small sound.

He ran his tongue toward the toes slowly then across the big one. A tiny buzz–not enough to make him hard-surprised him. He could definitely see this! He wished he could kiss her ankle but it was buried deep beneath the padded strap. He allowed his eyes to fall closed and was slipping her toes into his mouth when she jerked and said “Aaachlessshh!”

The spell broken, he pulled away from the shiny wetness he had left on her foot. She yelped again. Sighing, he dropped to a knee and released the gag from her mouth.

“Ticklish!” she spat. “Goddam it! You know I’m ticklish.”

“Sorry”, he said, not sorry. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Jesus-my feet now? Is that was this whole thing was about? Getting to my feet?”

“No, honey…no. It just happened-they’re right here and they look so…”

“Forget it. Not the feet. Too fucking ticklish…”

“Okay, okay”, he said softly trying to bring the mood back. He rubbed down her legs, past her knees and then between them. His finger stroked across the tight folds of her pussy which offered no easy ingress.

“You’re awfully dry…” he said rubbing back and forth.

“I’ve been hanging upside down for a fucking hour Michael! All my blood and no doubt jizz has run to my head! It’s like I’m hearing you from inside a fucking washing machine.”

“Okay. Okay…” he tried to be soothing and cupped her inverted bottom cheeks. The welts were all but gone to the touch.

“Really”, she said. “There is a shelf life to this position.” He didn’t respond. “I mean, are you done…?”

“Oh sure”, he said a trifle dejected. “I guess so”.

He released her hands from the cuffs attached to the belt around her waist. She could then support herself as he lowered her to the floor. She sat with her legs stretched in front of her and waved him off when he came in to unbuckle her ankle straps. She bent to do it herself.

“Gotta say though-felt good hanging there…hips, back…maybe not an hour next time…”

“It wasn’t an hour!” he protested.

She absently rubbed at the weals on the front of her thighs.

“I don’t get the front of the legs thing. Back of the legs-in a caning scenario-I can almost see. This though…” she traced the pink stripes crossing her lap.

“Some people like it there…Some people…”

“Mikey, some people like EVERYTHING. Do we have to try it all? We’re barely into one thing than we’re off to something else. Spanking, paddling, caning, school girl dressing…”

“You like that…”

“Yeah…I…. But then we moved onto something else! Corner time leaves me cold. Boring.”

“We don’t do that anymore.”

She was on the floor stretching languidly almost speaking to herself “…the thermometer can be OK-especially if you’re sitting on the bed beside me. I can get that. But diapering…”

“We never did that! I never….”

“You don’t erase your search history. I figured that was next…Now the ropes…the hanging…the feet…”

“No, the feet was an accident. It just happened…”

“Then the pegging…” She looked up at him. “We got away from that pretty quick didn’t we?”

“That was….”

“Uncomfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Like hanging upside down for an hour uncomfortable?”

“It wasn’t an hour”, he pouted.

She didn’t quite shake her head, settling for a crooked smile and sideways glance. Straight legs on the floor she pulled her chin to her knees. “Didn’t feel too bad though. Just went on too long.”

He looked down on her, so comfortable in her nakedness, pulling a leg into her chest and twisting. He felt himself shrinking somehow while looking down on her.

“And what was that shit you were saying about ‘taking care of the relationship’…”

“Just shit I was saying. You know I like to…vocalize.”

“Why don’t you get into the bedroom and get undressed. I’ll show you how to take care of the relationship.”

“This was my time! I called it!”

“You used it.”

“You have to go to the gym…”

“They can miss me tonight. Figured maybe I’d lose a little of the…busyness.” He was stuck for a moment, transfixed in her gaze. “Go on now. I’ll be a minute.”

“Oh geeze”, he said. There was naught to do but turn and slowly follow his thickening cock into the bedroom.

The New Girl

It wasn’t a race but Steve got there first by just long enough to order a martini. Not actually order it; the bartender saw him and started the process. Bombay Blue Sapphire-tiniest touch of white Lillet and olives. Cold, dry, clean and neat. He was halfway through when Dan slid onto the stool next to him. “Hey” Steve nodded, looking away from his gin for only the tiniest instant as if afraid it would run off.

Danny ordered double Dewar’s, rocks. Or rock is more like it. The only bitch he had with this bar was its hipster ice-a single huge block almost the size of the glass. He didn’t used to drink doubles but had to start here just to float the fucking ice.

As protocol dictated, Steve had nothing to say until his friend had caught up with him drink-wise. He sat in silence reading the condensation on his glass while Danny sucked Scotch around the frozen abomination. Finally he was close enough to half way through that Steve felt comfortable in opening today’s line of discussion.

“I really can’t stand that new girl in HR”, he said.

“Karen?” asked Danny swallowing off the rest of his drink. He knew his only hope of conquering the ice berg was to keep pouring whiskey on it. He raised the empty glass and Kyle-the ever attentive-grabbed it from him. “Same thing-same ice”, he told him.

“She’s not so bad…” he continued to Steve.

“Maybe not for you. But wait until you’re late with an expense report.”

“I was late last week.”

“You were….Wait! You cheap bastard, you’re never late with expenses.”

“I am now….every Friday.”

Steve drained his glass and set it on the bar. “You dog”…

“Ruff!” said Danny, surrounding the glass that Kyle slid in front of him. The ice cube was noticeably smaller.

Vodka and Melatonin-Part II

(Continued from Vodka and Melatonin-Part I)

He didn’t remember the hallway being this long. It usually worked in the reverse: the long hallways and overlarge rooms of a child’s memory shrunk for the man. But he moved along, following an aroma that got stronger the further he went. A soft light spilled from one of the rooms at the end. When he got to the door he didn’t notice the high old fashioned library lamp in the corner-only the light it threw. His attention focused on the three women in the center of the room sitting on cushions around a large hookah.

The flanking women were young. Not children or teenagers, he didn’t think, but certainly no more than twenty five. He didn’t know. It was an arbitrary number. What was certain was their indescribable beauty. The blonde, to his left, wore what looked to be simple jeans and a plaid shirt. The sleeves were rolled almost to her elbows exposing soft downy fur that glistened in the low light. The other, on his right, with piercing green eyes glowing below shining, raven bangs wore a double T-shirt, one over the other, and a small leather amulet of some sort around her neck. She was stockier than the blond-even sitting you could tell she was shorter-but just as breathtaking. Both wore radiant welcoming smiles that seemed to cast their own light.

She, the one who had given him the directions, was sitting between them facing the door. She was roughly his own age, better preserved perhaps, but seasoned. Also, she was completely naked.

“You found us…” she said happily exhaling a sweet cloying cloud that settled over the three of them.

“The directions were perfect”, he lied.

“I really didn’t expect to see you.”

“I didn’t expect to see you naked.”

“I didn’t expect to see you at all”, she said.

The blonde giggled a sound like diamonds tumbling down a silken waterfall.

The naked woman stood. She was a strong brunette with swept wiry hair and a slash of silver running straight back from above her right eye like a lightning bolt. He saw that she had a similar streak running top to bottom through the thick bush below her flat belly.

She placed her hand on the blonde’s head to steady herself as she stepped out of the cushion circle. “Come”, she said tapping him on the arm. He followed her back into the hall and into the next room. Her ass was flat and mannish-always had been-even as a girl. But again, well kept.

In the next room, illuminated only by the streetlight through the window she nodded to a heavy wooden chair. He went over and stood beside it as she wrestled a heavy industrial dolly out of a dark corner. By its creaking limp he could see that the contraption had a bad wheel. She stopped struggling with it when it was close enough.

She glowed the color of old ivory in the dim yellow light as she undid his belt and zipper. Up close she seemed to smell of sage and honey-probably the smoke clinging to her hair. He heard another giggle and answering laugh from the other room. It seemed far away. He kept his hands at his sides as she pushed his pants and underwear down.

“Sit” she said.

He settled himself on the hard wood and focused on the hallways sounds. The deep inhaling and exhaling from the next room and, further away, the grunting and sliding of the behemoth in the front room.

Her breasts hung softly as she untangled the cables that were rolled on top of the car battery on the dolly. She had his full attention as she knelt between his legs cables in hand. He let his eyes wander over her shoulders and down her body. Watching the muscles in her thighs ripple as she shifted her weight from the battery to him and back again gave him the most ill-timed hard on of his life.

“So, what brings you to see me tonight?” she asked lifting his cock, nice sized and well-formed but nothing special, out of the way.

He didn’t have a good answer so said, “Bless me father for I have sinned.”

She snickered lightly and he was happy to have made her laugh. “Try again”, she said.

At a loss, he said something he thought she would understand, “I’ve been smoking again”. He then gasped as she squeezed the clamps at the end of the first cable to his scrotum.

“Ahhh,” she said, seemingly talking into his dick, moving it again. “We’ll see if we can’t take care of that.”

He winced as she pinched the loose skin inside of his thigh and attached the other cable there. He watched the slope of her back as she attached one of the cables to the battery. His hard-on pulsed like a fish tossed on shore to suffocate.  He focused on the sounds from the hallway which had become louder.

“Are you ready”, she asked back over her shoulder holding the other cable over the battery ready to touch the positive terminal.

“I am”, he said reaching down to grab the edges of the wooden seat.

“Are you ready?” she asked again, this time louder-in case he hadn’t heard the first time.

“Yesss”, he hissed, grabbing his hard cock with the other hand.

Her hand hovered over the battery….

(Continuing…)

Work Process

(Continued from Meanwhile…back at the office)

Billy Lake stepped tentatively into the room. He was definitely Charla’s hire: mid-twenties, a good decade younger than Charla-a little more than Rebecca. Right in the boss’ wheelhouse.  Rebecca didn’t go for the young men necessarily and she had the idea that Bill was what you wanted in a little brother if, for some perverse reason, you wanted an impossibly hot little brother. Still, she wouldn’t deny that he did get her heart pumping a bit. Either him, or what was going on in here.

He nodded at Rebecca then met Charla’s gaze but became instantly distracted by the wicked plastic tube on the desk beside her. If there was any doubt on the way up to Charla’s office what was going to happen here, that doubt was now gone. The small flutter that he felt in his chest coming across the threshold increased to a gentle pounding.

Letting her eyes wander, Rebecca smiled inwardly. It was like all the young MBA’s in the office took a page from the Franklin Best book of fashion. Long hair combed straight back-snug-fitting distressed jeans, sneakers without laces and gray-on-black crew neck that clung to his shoulders and chest tightly enough to showcase his smooth skin. Sitting, her eyes naturally settled on his hip and the look of his thigh where it swelled against the denim as he moved. She vibrated a tiny shiver realizing that in a few minutes she wouldn’t have to guess what he looked like under his clothes.

“So, William. You know why you’re here don’t you?”

“I do now, for sure.”

“We do expect from you a level of competence from you that we think you are capable of? Right? That you’ve shown us before that has to be maintained…And we were-I was-very disappointed in…”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry.” He dropped his head fetchingly and Charla reached out to lift it with finger under his chin.

“Not to worry. As you know”, she pushed away from the desk and took up the plastic rod, “we have a way to clean the slate, as it were.”

“Mrs. Best….” He looked over as Rebecca winced inside at the “Mrs.” which made her feel like his Social Studies teacher.

“You’re on Rebecca’s team now-so I definitely want her to be a part of this. Right? You’ll be reporting to her and she’ll be…responsible for you.” He simply nodded.  “Now, William. Over here please.” Charla indicated a spot beside her, in front of the desk.

Bill must have been expecting something different. A different pace to his visit perhaps, a “get-acquainted” session maybe. Certainly a more intimate setting-and no guest observers. His movements were hesitant and it took three halting steps rather than two strides to step up beside Charla.

“Very good”, she said. “Now drop your pants please.” He hesitated for an instant and cut his eyes over to Rebecca as if hoping for an intervention of some kind. Rebecca wondered if she looked flushed as a wave of heat rose to her face.

“Do not make me ask you again.”

He blushed ferociously as he undid his belt. “This is embarrassing…” he mumbled under his breath.

“I don’t doubt it”, Charla said, clicking the rod in the palm of her hand.  “Of course humiliating would probably be the better word.”

“Go ahead Bill”, Rebecca said trying to sound reassuring. “Nothing I haven’t seen”. But it had been a long time since she’d seen any male’s bottom but Franklin’s and that was definitely not for a spanking! She was trying to remember the last time as she watched his hands shaking a little as unsnapped his jeans. Rebecca’s breath quickened and she unconsciously crossed her legs. How reassured would the guy feel if he knew his new boss’ crotch was buzzing.

The jeans were of course, slim fit and had to be pushed down over his thighs. Again, he paused. From her spot off to the side Rebecca could see the slight curve of his backside pushing at his black briefs as well as his rosy, blushing cheeks. She strangely settled on his eyelids which seemed longish.

“Am I going to have to give you step by step instructions, young man?”

He hooked his thumbs in his briefs and pushed them down to meet his jeans at his knees. Of course his young bottom was taut with no hint of drop or sag. Not the protruding cheeks that Bethany offered but very ready. He wasn’t hairless but lightly furred-soft looking down up to the top of his legs and revealed in the bottom of his crease as he slowly bent forward putting his hands on the desk before him. Rebecca heard voices and realized that they had been talking all the while she was mesmerized.

Charla stood casually next to him.

“This is a new weapon for me. You’re the first to try it.”

“It looks monstrous.”

“You’ll be the judge…”

“Are you ready?” she asked patting the rod to his backside.

“Yes Ma’am”, he said using the title naturally as a child might say please and thank you. Charla, always one to appreciate deference, took it in stride.

The first stroke landed with a wicked sounding slash which surprised everyone in the room. William answered with a grunt and Rebecca felt herself almost lift off the chair with the impact. A red welt appeared almost immediately across the cheek that she could see. Charla regarded it clinically and stepped back half a pace and let fly again. This one landed hard on the left side, out of Rebecca’s sight. He gasped at the contact and Rebecca put her hand to her mouth as if to stifle her own groan.

Sitting to his right and slightly behind, Rebecca could focus on Billy’s profile. How he would squeeze his eyes shut and grit his teeth firmly, tightly baring his fangs but leaving his bottom soft and pliant. Somewhere he had gotten the memo about not tensing. Then, with the whipping impact, his eyes and mouth would fly open soundlessly as if providing a track to expel the pain from his bottom out through his top.

From her seat Rebecca became conscious of his manhood hanging slightly away from his leg. Not hanging limply, nor pushing deskward like a pole but pleasantly full and throbbing slightly. Another stroke made it jump and startled her. Not comfortable fixating on his cock, she moved silently to the couch directly behind.

Charla ignored her movements, instead running her fingers across the welts and star-like blisters that punctuated the end of each. Every stroke had left a clearly defined path across his milky bottom and Charla’s deep brown finger touching and prodding made for a startling contrast. Rebecca squeezed her legs together feeling the growing dampness.

“Didn’t break the skin”, she said. “Close on this one….but not.”

He had no response for her, comfortable with just catching his breath. Rebecca counted seven stripes. Charla rubbed her left hand up his back tenderly.

“Are you doing alright William?”

“Yes Ma’am.”

Oh Christ Kid, thought Rebecca-stop that. It will only go to her head…

“Bill-I’m going to give you one more. But it’s going to be a good one, you understand?”

“Yes”, he said quietly and seemed to brace his legs. Charla lay the rod across him and tapped once, twice and Rebecca imagined his sweet face scrunched and waiting. But not for long as Charla shifted her weight and pulled back further than she had previously. As the stroke whistled home Rebecca closed her eyes and heard the loud THWACK! His grunt was louder and tinged with a whimper.

She opened her eyes and saw a perfect scarlet signature-darker than the others-right across the center of his bottom. Rebecca leaned backward and opened her legs slightly-then closed them. Then opened them again.

“There-That’s it….” said Charla stepping away. Her color was up and Rebecca knew her well enough to feel there was something more than a simple workplace chastisement going on here. “You can get up”, she said to the boy who hadn’t moved.

He stood and immediately reached back to massage his burning buttocks-kneading and stroking the pain away. Christ! thought Rebecca trying but failing to look away.

“How was it?”

“That hurt”, he said as if in wonder. “Really hurt.”

“No doubt, but how was it?”

He paused his rubbing for a moment. “Glorious”, he breathed.

The women laughed. “Get dressed”, Charla ordered.

Keeping his back to the room, Bill pulled his underwear then jeans up. By his wriggling and posturing, Rebecca knew that he wasn’t hanging limply anymore and was struggling to harness himself into his pants.

“You feel that last stroke, Bill?”

“Oh, I did”, he said over his shoulder.

“Like it?”

“Not the word I’d use.”

“Well the next time you intentionally fuck up a work product to get me to whip your ass I’m going to give you 50 just like that last one across your bare butt. In front of the whole team. Would you like that?”

“No I wouldn’t”, he answered.

“Either figure out a code or come and tell me-or better yet-Rebecca when you need your bottom attended to. And we’ll take care of it outside of work process. You got it? What do you think you’d like better-fifty with this across your ass or fifty smacks on your bare bum laying across Rebecca’s lap?”

He turned and caught Rebecca’s eye. “I’ll take the lap.” Rebecca kept her eyes on his face, not wanting to see the size of what was tied to his leg.

“Word to the wise. Go now…”

He wasted no time and with a nod, walked stiffly out the door all four eyes watching him go. Once he was gone, Charla turned back. “Now, since we are on the subject of intentional fuck-ups. What possessed you to come in late today?”

Rebecca noted nervously that Charla still held the rod. She spoke quickly, explaining that Franklin put her in the corner-even though he knew what might happen if she came in late. The butterflies in Rebecca’s stomach turned to ice as she realized she had said the exact wrong thing.

“You mean Franklin expects me to cane you?”

“Well…not expects. Not exactly…he figured…”

“You better get up here then…it’s not my place to disappoint Franklin. Life is too short.”

“Char, come on….”

“You come on.”

Charla’s smile was hard to read. Definitely superior and in control-but leavened with a heavy dose of mischief. And something else. If a smile could wink-maybe this one was. “Come on, I need another opinion on this anyway.” She tapped the desk. “We haven’t got all day.”

Rebecca stood beside her boss and absorbed the younger woman’s scent. Her feelings were complicated enough that her eyes stung a little. She was bending to place her hands on the desk when Charla stopped her.

“Uh-uh-uh…Those slacks do hug your bottom beautifully but I’m not really interested in stroking your pants.” She was close enough to feel Charla’s breath feathering the side of her neck.

“No…of course…” Rebecca said quietly as she, for the second time that morning, reluctantly pushed her pants down over her bottom. She was about to slip her thumbs into the waistband of her panties when Charla beat her to it. She stood upright and allowed her friend to roll her panties down almost gasping as her hands contacted her legs. She felt Charla’s lips brush her neck and turned-lips parted-to accept a soft but strong kiss.

“This isn’t personal Becks. Just business….”

Rebecca answered the twinkle in her eyes with a wry smile. “It’s always personal with you Charla. Especially business.”

Another quick peck on the mouth as she backed away.

“Bend over now. Give it up for us…”

Rebecca placed her hands on the desk surface and arched her back-offering her bottom openly. She didn’t tense-but held her breath.

 

Meanwhile…back at the office

(Continued from Roles Can Change…)

Rebecca slipped her red coupe into its’ spot in the front next to Charla’s Beemer and hustled through the glass doors. The downside of designated premium parking is that empty spots were impossible to miss. The desks on the executive level were empty as she knew they’d be with everyone in the daily 9 a.m. briefing that had been going on for twenty minutes. She rushed-but didn’t run-to the conference room door, grabbed the handle, took a deep breath, and pulled it open.

Twelve sets of eyes tuned to her and nodded, winked or otherwise acknowledged her presence. “Sorry, sorry…” she said moving to an empty seat in the back-which wouldn’t hide her as Charla was in front of the room at the white board.

“So nice of you to join us Rebecca!” she said heartily with a bright, wide smile as if she meant just that. All Rebecca could do was raise her hand in an apologetic wave and sit. Charla went back to the presentation and all eyes swiveled to the front. And Charla usually drew all the eyes with her wide smile, deep mahogany skin, straight hair pulled back in a pony-tail that cascaded down her sloping back. She wasn’t really that tall-about Rebecca’s height-but something in her presence made her feel towering.  Something besides the 3” heels she usually wore, that is.

Rebecca did not know any of the details of what transpired at that fetish ball north of London over a decade before. She was sure she could know if she wanted, but why? What she did know was that the bright, young Harvard MBA on holiday was thoroughly swept away by the rakish older guy with the quick mind, soft fingers and apparent bundles of ready cash.

They were stateside less than a month before they had gotten together to start planning and building the unassuming empire that had made them-and all close to them-if not rich, comfortable. OK, rich. Everyone who worked at Swansea & Middleton’s wide-ranging organizations shared not only talent and a hunger for success and money, but a….particularity (the preferred term around the offices). And this particular particularity varied widely by degree.

Just to be clear, there were people who’d been in the organization for years that had never tasted the cane, paddle or hard palm against bare cheek. They either worked hard to avoid it-the class Rebecca sat in-or had worked out “special arrangements” with the boss. What those arrangements might be and who might have them was never clear. But as the companies grew and more and more people were added, the spanking pool definitely increased and there was something for everyone.

Years before Rebecca had started at the bar but that was a little over the top for her. She liked to keep the number of people seeing her bare bottom to a manageable number. She had taken her licks on the real-estate side and the marketing agency, before being “graduated up” to the holding company.

But no matter where she had been, what she had worked through, here she was now. Sitting in the back of the room her belly roiling knowing that she had put herself right in the deep end of the pool. And everybody in the room knew it too which was doubly mortifying. A senior partner, probably older (skip the probably) than anyone in the table…her cheeks reddened. Damn Franklin! she thought.

Lost in her reverie, she didn’t even notice the meeting breaking up until partners were pushing away from the table and walking out the door. When she snapped to, Charla’s eyes were on her. “Can you join me in the office to go over some numbers you missed?” she asked in a way that really wasn’t a question.

“Sure”, Rebecca answered with a slight, rueful smile.

She followed Charla into her large widowed office right off the conference room. She moved to the supplicant’s position before the desk while her boss went to the closet.

“What is it with you this week?” Charla asked rummaging through things stacked out of sight.  “I covered for you and told everyone at the start that you had an early meeting at Real Estate but you simply cannot show up late for…without letting me know…a text an email…something.”

“I know, I’m sorry. This morning….”

She froze when she saw what Charla had picked out of the closet. It was a piece of nasty looking gray conduit-a hollow tube used to run wiring. I looked unspeakably licky in her boss’ hand.

“Jesus, Charla!” she gasped, almost backing away…

“Oh-this?” Charla whipped it through the air. “Something huh? Picked it up on the uptown job last week.” She whipped it again through the air smiling at the sound it made. Rebecca’s knees quivered slightly. “Don’t worry. Not for you…” said Charla and Rebecca breathed again.

“You know Bill Lake, right? The new kid in finance?”

Please, thought Rebecca. Everyone knew Billy, even those who didn’t work directly with him. Tall and blonde with a dancer’s build and eyes the color of a June sky. “Sure I know who he is…”

“I think I’m putting him on your team. I’ve given him too much responsibility right off the bat and he’s been sloppy. Or he’s incapable of what we need. I’ll leave you to sort that out.”

“But that…”Rebecca cut her eyes to the nasty piece of tubing.

“His work on the Nettles Proposal was bad. Incorrect-beyond sloppy. I caught it-and for the life of me, I don’t know why Catherine didn’t.” Charla was working herself up into a decent snit. “I’m putting her on your team too. Get her squared away.”

“Cathy? That will be….I’m not sure that will….” Rebecca stammered.

“What?”

“We don’t work together on too much. She…doesn’t really care for me, I’ve heard.”

“Of course she doesn’t! Not my problem. Imagine how much less she’ll like you laying over your lap with her pants down. And that’s your first order of business-I’m going to take care of young Bill here”, she flicked the rod for emphasis, “Catherine’s your issue. “

Rebecca froze in thought for a moment. She always thought that Catherine Musto was on the list of players immune to the corporal inducements of Swansea & Middleton. Or had she been and wasn’t anymore? Rebecca wanted to ask Charla a few questions but her assistant, Moliere, interrupted over the intercom.

“Char? Bill Lake’s here.”

“Very good…” Charla said under her breath.

“I should go…” Rebecca moved toward the door. It was good to be scarce when Charla’s blood rose.

“You will sit right there”, her boss sternly nodded to a chair off to the side. “He’s on your team now-you need to be in on this.”

She pressed the button on the phone. “Send him in,” she said and, staging, placed the wicked gray rod in clear view beside her and leaned against the desk facing the door. She allowed the edge of the surface to dig into her buttocks as she crossed her arms and greeted the opening door with a grim smile. Rebecca’s stomach fluttered-she had seen that smile a few times herself.

(Continued in Work Process)