The Norwegians-Part 4

(Continued from The Norwegians – Part 3)

Standing, with her left pressing down on the small of Jessica’s back, Angie delivered smack after smack of varying force-some cupping and loving, some flat handed and loud. It seemed that Jessica’s writhing had very little to do with the severity of the smacks and indeed, when one wasn’t delivered the girl wriggled backward and upward-seeking the hand. Which always came back with a deliciously resounding “SWAT”, and the answering mewl.

Rolling against the pinioning hand, Jessica slid onto her hip and began answering the smacks with subtle-then less so-leg movements. Angie delighted in the sounds and the show that the girl’s cycling movements were giving her.

“You are wriggling a lot for just a hand spanking….

“I can’t help it….”

“When was the last time you were spanked?” In the pause for the conversation, Jessica still undulated her hips and moved her legs alluringly as if treading water while holding onto a dock.

“I…don’t know…I had to be 11 or so….”

“Your dad?”

“No my mom…”

“What was that like?”

“Nothing like this…”she blurted with half a giggle happily admitting to enjoying something she wasn’t looking forward to.

“That’s good, I guess.”

“Very…” she breathed into the bed. Every smack vibrated downward between her legs and settled there. She understood now the feeling she had when seeing Carrie the receptionist spread out over Dr. Greene’s knees. It wasn’t embarrassment, it wasn’t fear…it was this particular lust that she didn’t really understand until just now.

Angie sat on the bed facing Jessica’s feet and wrapped her arm tightly around her waist. And continued.

“OW! OW! OW!”

“Do you want more?”

“Yes! I want more. Jesus, yes!”

“Hairbrush time?”

“Yes!”

Angie reached across the girl’s heaving back for the brush. At the very touch of the cool wood to her warm bottom Jessica bucked forward.

“Easy, girl”, Angie cooed and brought the paddle lightly down, the resounding “SWAT!” louder and firmer than anything previous. Answering, Jessica’s cries changed in timbre from light and girlish to something deeper and more guttural. What didn’t change was her bottom’s reaching-upward and upward seeking the blows, reveling in the heat and buzz they brought.

But as skillful and attentive as she was, Angie was not above getting lost in the moment. She wondered at the heaving buttocks blossoming from pale and smooth through pink and to a deeper red. She concentrated on the bottom of the cheeks and the confluence of bum and legs where she knew her charge was vibrating at every blow. She paused in her tattoo and lay her hand on the pulsing warmth that rivaled what she felt coming from between her own legs.

“Are you crying?”

“A little.”

“Are you OK?”

“Oh yes….I’m really, really ok.”

“More?”

“Some.”

Angie moved more quickly now-her movements, if not frenzied yet, certainly not calmly deliberate as they had been. Her spanks were lighter and lingered where they landed-riding the light waves the rising and falling of her cheeks.

Pulling her more closely to her, she slid  her hand up under Jess’ belly and through the dense patch that had seemed so parched and wiry just moments ago to find it wet and slippery. Boldly seeking the swelling flower between her legs Angie slipped a probing finger inside. Jessica yelped when touched there.

“Oh girl”, said Angie. “I’d say you are adequately punished….”

“Mmmmm…I’m not done, am I?”

“I think I have something to make your bottom feel better…would you like that?” Not waiting for an answer she uncoiled her arm and scampered into the en suite off the back of the room where she could watch in the mirror the as Jessica subtly ground her pelvis into the bed.

Angie undressed with the speed and carelessness of a child rushing to jump into a pool. She tossed her top over a chair and stepped on and out of her pants that were tied up with her blue silk underpants-carefully chosen and heedlessly discarded. Leaving her bra to fall with the rest of the pile she snatched a bottle of lotion from the makeup table and fairly skipped back to the bed. When she sat next to her this time Jessica could feel the cool bare skin against her own hot, heaving flesh. She imagined that blonde skin would always be cooling and dry.

“I almost came….” she whined into the duvet.

“Almost? I’m losing my touch…”

“I’m still buzzing…” She emphasized by pushing her hip hard into her-like a cat craving attention. “You have to do something….”

“More spanking?” Angie asked, lightly kneading lotion into her warm right buttock.

“That would be something….”

“Or…”she said allowing her fingers to wander off of her bum and rub her finger gently over her glistening labia, “I could put my head between your legs and put my tongue to you. Might that work?”

“Oh god…”

Angie gave her a quick slap on the bum. “Roll over!” When she did her tiny tormentor melted at the hungry, yearning glow of her eyes behind the tears and redness. She couldn’t resist falling onto her and opening her mouth for a kiss that was nowhere near the tentative reaching of a little while ago. Jessica opened her mouth and welcomed her tongue deeply, longingly as if to swallow it whole.

But Angie would not give it up-she had plans for it. She pulled back and opened Jessica’s knees. The girl’s most intimate spot opened like a peeled plumb glowing in the sunshine burning through the windows. Jess dropped her head and hissed between her teeth as Angie’s tongue slid slowly down the inside of her thigh then slowly inside of her.

(Continuing…)

Advertisements

Lucky James-Mrs. Fortescue

Continued from Sweet James – The Letter

Absorbed in his raking, James was facing the lake and didn’t hear her approach. Caitlin Milan was in no hurry to interrupt him, content to watch the muscles in his back twist and flow as he labored shirtless in the creamy afternoon sun.

“Well, I must say, someone’s been very busy”, she said.

He smiled widely, straightened, and turned to face his benefactor.

Caitlin positively glowed in the sunlight that gleamed over James’ shoulder. Her hair, styled short around her face but falling over her collar, was streaked in honey shades-darker buckwheat to glimmering wildflower-to offset her piercing hazel eyes. She was tall-almost as tall as James-with wide swimmer’s shoulders and perfectly round small breasts. No real secrets there as she wore a tight fitted shirt that clung to her frame before disappearing into the waist of tight black slacks.

“It’s coming along, I think”, James said looking admiringly over the grounds.

“’Coming along…’ I would say so. Your secret has been blown, Mr. Cooke. Jane has let me know the sad state of affairs here when you came aboard. Your sanguine reports to the contrary.”

“I saw no need to trouble you with something as insignificant as the truth when you were on holiday. Figured given enough time you’d be none the wiser when you returned.”

“Most people in your position would have made the situation seem worse than it was-so that the reward upon finishing it would be greater.”

“Truthfully, couldn’t have been much worse…and to the other…just happy to be here. Thanks for thinking of me. “

“Tut”, she waved her hand dismissively. “Should have thought of you sooner…but…your recent….what do we say-episodes? Escapades? Debauches? All round reputation…” she raised a finger as he tried to protest. “Recently as I said…put me off I suppose.”

“Yes, well. Not much in the last month or so…since I moved into the boathouse.”

“So I’ve heard as well…Let’s try to keep that up.”

“Yes Ma’am”, he said. “Working on it…”

“Very good”, then with a final sweeping look around the grounds. “Very nice…Well, I’ll leave you to it.” she turned to head back up the hill. “Please meet us in the library at 5:00, James”, she called over her shoulder. She strode in a way that made James believe that she knew-and didn’t mind-that he was watching her ass undulating up the walkway. He regretfully broke off the stare and bent back to the rake.

The old brick house, shaded by towering black walnut and oak, kept the cool of the forest glade that it had been built in two hundred years earlier. He didn’t usually have cause to enter through the large front door but it gave easier access to the library than the roundabout side entrance. He paused inside a moment to let his eyes adjust to the perpetual dusk. A quick shower, fresh chinos and a dark shirt prepared him for dinner, drinks or more likely, tales of Tuscany from the returned matron.

James followed the voices murmuring down the hall. Straining, he only heard two-Caitlin and Mrs. Fortescue. As he got closer he could pick up the tone if not the substance of the conversation-Caitlin calm and steady, Jane a little…not strident exactly, but forceful and loud by comparison. As someone who has no control over a situation might be. He entered the room during a lull in the debate, knocking on the door frame as he came in.

The women paused. “Oh, great…now he’s here too”, Mrs. Fortescue griped in frustration.

James froze halfway into the room, one foot suspended in the air like a heron eyeing a minnow. His heart raced a little as he beheld the tableau in front of him.

“Now Jane, come on…” said Caitlin.

Caitlin was at the window holding the drapes aside looking nonchalant-as if there wasn’t enough going on in the room to hold her attention. Jane was standing at the table-one hand on the surface but not leaning. Just two women talking-nothing untoward about that. Until, that is, one looked around the room and noticed the armless chair sitting in the middle of the room. And behind the chair, on a low table, a round wooden paddle.

This was it. This is that whispered-about thing that made Goosington a scandal or joke in some quarters. Why few locals wanted to work there. Anyone who joined the staff on any level was made to understand that mistakes made in the employ of Caitlin Milan had consequences. Maybe not one mistake-maybe not even the second-the lady could be flexible for sure. But always, the threat was there. And, as with any threat, sometimes it had to be carried out or it stopped being a threat.

Caitlin would narrow her eyes and point-“those are grounds” she’d say. “For a spanking” went unsaid. Many had felt ice in their belly at those words. Sometimes she’d say you “goofed”; a simple, sweet word that had such a painful connotation at the Manse.

Not that it happened all the time. James had only seen one spanking in his previous posting. That had been a young serving maid who was woefully unprepared for her job. He thought she had been taken on as a favor. As he recalled, Caitlin had stood for what seemed to be dozens of shattered glasses and cracked plates-enough that the rest of the staff was murmuring about it-before she had to act.

The staff had all gathered right here in the library-of course there were eight of them then-with the same chair in the center. The spectacle of the spanking lost some of its charm as the young girl-nineteen tops, slim of hips and flat of bum-blubbered from the time she entered the library and wailed through her punishment. Caitlin gave her reason to cry, no doubt-she never held back-but it got so that even the staff who had been whispering about ‘favoritism’ were wriggling in their seats before it was over.

Truth is though, he never heard of so much as a chipped saucer after that and two years later the girl left Goosington to join the staff of a posh country club with a strong recommendation from the Lady herself. Who knew what motivated people?

His reverie was interrupted by the ongoing negotiations in the room. He guessed that everyone in the library knew this was going to happen eventually. This was the ‘little conversation’ Caitlin had mentioned and she was wasting no time in having it.

”You were charged with the management of the property, Jane. You didn’t have to really do anything but pay attention to what others were doing.”

“Look, I….”

“How could you have let it get that bad?”

“It wasn’t that bad when I checked the first time…when they got here…”

“And when did you check the second time? Was it before or after you gave them the money to buy materials for the dock?”

Jane shrugged and threw up her hands. “Caitlin. I’m not saying I don’t deserve…what you’re going to give me. Not saying that. I do. I’m so sorry for this.” She paused and swallowed. “I know I let you down. I know it. And I’ll take my medicine. OK? All I’m saying is that I don’t want to lie across your lap. I mean really, that’s for children and young ladies. I’m old enough to be your….”

“You are not Jane Fortescue-don’t even go there!”

“I was going to say aunt!”

Caitlin smiled at that. “My aunt, huh? I have one of those and she’s a pistol-I’ll tell you. Could probably benefit from a good spanking herself.”

“Look-Caitlin”, Jane had both hands on the table. “I’ll bend over here-however you need me to-and you can have at it. Just me bending over.” She had her back to James as she demonstrated. Her slacks were not tight exactly, but well fitted. James made excuses to visit the main house on the days when Mrs. Fortescue wore slacks that looked to be painted on. The contours of her hips and backside pushed every seam just to its fullest capacity.

The Lady of the House gave one last gaze out the window as if the answer were out there somewhere written on the clouds. Then, letting the drapery drop, she turned into the room and Jane.

“I get what you’re saying. I do. But let’s just do this the way we’ve always done it. OK?”

Jane dropped her chin, her gaze and her shoulders all at once. She had seen enough of these punishments in her years at the house to know what was coming-no use in fighting anymore. She deserved it, she accepted it, but she was NOT looking forward to it. After eleven years this would be her first.

“Let’s get on with it, shall we? James you are not an umbrella stand. Come away from the door. Sit.”

James took a few steps toward the couch that would put him directly across from Caitlin on the chair then redirected. He sat instead in the overstuffed lounge to Caitlin’s right, giving himself a view that he might enjoy more. Because yes, he had to admit he would enjoy this.

He had no particular antipathy toward Jane. On the contrary, he rather liked her-in addition to the carnal interest that he had in apparently all women. He knew of people who had worked at the house who were made uncomfortable by this whole drama-and some left employ here not because they were spanked, but because they had to watch others being spanked. That wasn’t James.

Jane noticed exactly where he was sitting and James might have imagined her small head shake before she turned to face the seated Caitlin for the recitation. It was the same with every spanking-something that made it all seem somehow more official and right. Jane stood and waited.

“Do you deserve this punishment, Jane?” Caitlin asked looking up.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Do you accept this punishment that I am about to mete out?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“And any other I deem necessary in the course of your employment here?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Very good then. Step around.”

Jane stepped to the side, turning her back to face Caitlin’s lap. James was back to was admiring the shape and imagining the feel of her bum when the pants went loose at the top, Jane having opened her belt and unsnapped in front. As if watching a curtain rise in reverse, Lucky James saw the pink silk of her panties revealed-sharing a similar snug fit to the pants.

With only a slight pause she caught her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear and rolled them down to settle at her knees with the pants. She was no slim-hipped serving maid, that’s for sure. Jane Fortescue’s bottom was a woman’s bottom-wide and strong, heavy and creamy, gloriously if sparsely dimpled and bisected by a deep crevasse that James knew she holding together as best she could.

James crossed one leg over the other and settled sideways as Jane lowered herself slowly over Caitlin’s lap, the younger woman leaning back to make room. When she was down, Caitlin moved her backwards a little so that her bottom was positioned right over the rise of the Lady’s thigh almost exactly in James sight-line.

Without warning she raised her hand and smacked Jane’s right cheek as hard as she could. “Ouch!” the woman jumped, surprised. Then another hard smack in the same place raised the woman onto her toes. “Ow, that stings.” James, as unobtrusively as possible, shifted himself and crossed the other leg over.

“I bet it does. This”, she reached back and picked the paddle from the table “Will sting more, I’m afraid. Are you ready for this Jane?”

“Yes, Ma’am”, came the muffled reply.

Jane had braced herself on her toes with her hands flat on the floor. She was as ready as she could be. Caitlin raised the paddle and swatted her firmly on the right cheek. Jane jumped forward but said nothing. The next swat landed in the center of the left cheek and she again managed to hold off crying out. Not until the fifth swat landed loudly in the middle of her left cheek did she grunt.

On the sound, Caitlin paused to give her friend a moment to collect herself. Her bottom was splotching pink and the small of her back glistened slightly. For her part, Jane dug her fingernails into the carpet. She had promised herself to take this in silence but she didn’t know if she’d be able to. Her bottom was burning but her head hurt almost as much from clenching her teeth. Maybe it would be better to let it out.

“Go ahead, Caitlin” she said in a hoarse whisper that he couldn’t quite make out. The next three smacks landed hard in the center of her right cheek. Her butt was just as solid as it looked and absorbed the swats but it wasn’t much longer before she reacted with a sharp gasp. Caitlin’s only answer was a group of rapid smacks alternating cheeks and splitting them dead in the middle. Jane writhed on her lap and finally choked back a sob. “Caitlin! Christ, that hurts so much!” Another landed with a SWAT! “Ahhh…please….OW!!!” From his seat James couldn’t see Jane reaching back to grasp Caitlin’s ankle.

Over the next few moments-or minutes as the perception of time passing was very different for the three people in the room-Jane’s crying became more subdued as she tried to muscle through. She was doing her best to stay in place but the tiny kicks with her knees-almost running in place-had loosed her pants from around her knees down to her ankles. Without the tourniquet keeping her legs together, Jane’s writhing was exposing more than she would have wanted to show.

Caitlin, for her part, began backing off on the paddle judging the completion of the punishment by the dark red shades of the older woman’s bottom and the heat rising from it. To test, she slipped the paddle into her left hand and lay her right gently onto the glowing cheeks-cupping one, then the other. Time stood still. There was no sound-nary a sniffle-and the only movement was Caitlin’s hand gently patting her friend’s bottom.

“I think we’re done here”, Caitlin said huskily.

James, realizing he’d been holding his breath, exhaled and leaned back recrossing his legs yet again. Jane watched a tear drop and spread out on the carpet below her before pushing herself up-accepting a hand from her employer to help her stand. He beheld the glowing sunset colors of her backside for as long as he could.

Caitlin, wishing to spare her friend the final indignity of squatting or bending to pull up her pants, leaned forward herself and-with her cheek close enough to Jane Fortescue’s thighs that the older woman could feel her warm feathering of her breath-unrolled and lifted first the panties then the slacks up to where Jane could take them.

“Thank you”, said Jane softly.

Nothing more to be said or done, Jane turned and walked briskly, if a little stiffly to the door. She wished at this moment that her slacks had a looser fit. James opted to look away not wanting to catch her eye just now and not wanting her to catch a glimpse of his crotch.

When he looked back, Caitlin was back at the window. She knew her cheeks were flushed and she breathed deeply to still her shaking hands.

To be continued…….

“It was probably the wave…”

Strokes

Found on Tumblr…

Continued from “Ten it is then…

Gwen Smythe stepped to the left and, measuring, placed the stick gently across the middle of Bethany’s rounded bum. The girl twitched at the touch. “Shhh…settle…” Ms. Smythe cooed as she might to a skittish pony. “And don’t clench-that’s actually worse.” Bethany felt the smooth cool of the wood touch the middle of her bottom and linger. She felt is slide back and forth lightly as if marking a spot-then it was gone. She gritted her teeth and didn’t have to wait long. She heard it whipping through the air before it struck with a loud CRACK.

Bethany let a sibilant hiss escape her tight lips when what she really wanted to do was yell: “OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW-OW” and dance across the room because the first blow bloomed into a burn like a wasp’s sting. Two wasps! One on each cheek. She gasped as another followed quickly and tried to move without moving-bringing her knees together then apart-lifting on one toe, then the next.

Another burned into her bottom up high and she wriggled side-to-side; anything to help dissipate the burn. She pushed backwards and met the stick half-way then leaned further over her hands. Nothing was really helping-the target was too clearly in range and Assistant Dean Smythe was apparently expert in the task.

Halfway through her sentence a swat bounced hard off of her sit spot and she bolted upright-or as upright as she could while still keeping her hands-even if only the fingertips-on the desk as instructed. When she stood her butt cheeks tensed like two hard dimpled apples. Ms. Smythe stepped back to allow space between her and her bucking charge and let fly with two cuts across the bum, one dipping to the top of her leg to a loud “ooooo!” that Bethany couldn’t hold in. A hop, then another, higher hop.

“Ok, Ok…” Ms. Smythe said gently placing her hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Settle down, settle down…lean back over…” Bethany choked on a sob that she wouldn’t give full voice to and bent back over the desk. Two tears splashed onto the polished wood surface.

She froze when she felt the other woman’s hand on her backside gently outlining the marks where the last two swats had landed. Gwen Smythe’s fingers felt ice cold against the burn, lifting her right cheek, surveying the damage on her sit spot.  Bethany held her breath trying to come to a reconciliation between the burning sting of the paddle and Ms. Smythe’s cooling touch. “This isn’t too bad…” she said. Then touching another spot allowed that, “This will leave a bit of a mark, I’m afraid. That’s your fault, all that jumping around.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I didn’t…”

“Shhh…quite alright. Those were hard.” Then after a pause as Bethany steeled for another swat, she heard, “You play sports, don’t you?”

What?  Was she actually asking that? Was it small talk now?

“Yes, Ma’am” she said slowly, holding her voice as steady as she could. “Lacrosse.”

“Great game! All that running-you’re in shape.” She felt a light pat on the left cheek. “Firm bottom.”

“?!”

“Well, back to it. You have three more and I expect you to stay in position. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am.”

She dug her fingers into the desktop and gritted her teeth. The next stroke landed softly-not even a sting. She had to be measuring-setting her up for the big finish. “Soften your cheeks,” she ordered. “You’re tensing.” Bethany did as she was told and held her breath. The two more that followed were the same patty-cake. Pat-Pat.

“That’s it”, Ms. Smythe announced and backed away. “You’re done. Feel free to pull your pants up.”

Bethany bent awkwardly and slipped her heart undies then her trousers up. With a quick snap and buckle she was done. The Assistant Dean was holding a tissue when she turned to face her. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked as she dabbed at Bethany’s damp cheeks and eyes.

Bethany almost grinned sheepishly. “It was sorta bad. First time, I guess. Last time, I hope.”

“Well maybe, after this afternoon.”

“This afternoon?”

“I’ll see you back here at three.”

“At three?”

“Really, you know nothing do you? It’s the last day of the month-everybody who’s earned themselves a paddling that month comes back at three on the last day-for a reminder.” She was still holding the paddle and gripped it in a way that left no doubt about her meaning.

“But, that’s not fair”, Bethany gasped, feeling she might cry again.

“Maybe, maybe not. But effective. We have very few repeat offenses here since I took this desk. You might want to find time to change panties though…before coming back. There will, of course, be others here.”

“How many?” Bethany whispered between gasps.

“Eleven or so, I think. Amy knows for sure….six boys, five girls….Maybe the reverse…”

“Boys!?”

“Not to worry, silly. We split into two groups. No one sees anything that they wouldn’t see in a locker room, right? Better hurry off now-get to class. I’ll see you later.”

Bethany hurried out the door and was halfway across the outer office when Amy spoke up. “See you back here at three then? Wouldn’t serve to be late.” There was a tone to the voice that Bethany didn’t like. She turned to say something and the girl gave a foppish, four finger “Toodle-Loo” wave and smirked a smile. “See you later…” she sing-songed.

Stepping into the morning sun, the heat rising in Bethany’s cheeks had nothing to do with pain, embarrassment or helplessness. It was, she felt, a righteous anger that pushed those bothersome concerns to the back of the room. That little bitch! Later she would think it funny that she had no real ill feelings for AD Smythe at that moment but that all of her ire settled on the smarmy little secretary. She stopped her furious striding at a bench near the top of the quad. She flopped down and immediately lifted, reminded sharply by the sting in her sit spot to go gently.

She sat mostly on her left cheek and scrolled through her text messages. There it was. The last text Dean Jackson had sent her when he left. She hadn’t been in contact with him-figured she would let him enjoy his sabbatical knowing he had to be back for commencement. But this…this was special circumstances. And he had, after all, invited her to reach out if she ever needed anything.

She began furiously thumb typing.

To be continued….

“Ten it is then…”

 

Acrossmylap

Lifted from “Across My Lap” on Tumblr

Continued from “Ms. Smythe will see you now“…

The AD was standing at the window behind her desk reading from a folder, her back to the room. “Sit”, she said without turning around. Bethany did as she was told, slowly lowering herself into the soft leather chair in front of the desk still limply holding the two almost forgotten envelopes in her hand. Her stomach churned when she saw the paddle lying on the side table. She turned her head quickly away as if-like a bad thought-ignoring it would make it disappear. That seldom worked.

Ms. Smythe turned with a small smile and, closing the folder, plopped it onto the desk. “Impressive Miss Flowers”, she said. “Your work here has been exemplary. You will leave here with the highest honors and recommendations.”

“Yes…” Bethany said nervously. “Thank you…”

“But”, she continued walking around the desk to lean her slim backside against the table, “I have to say, you have a surprising number of write-ups and comments about your particular lack of….attention to detail, shall we say? Particularly as it applies to schedules and work being done on time.”

“Yes Ma’am. I know….I…”

“Almost as if you are willfully disregarding the most basic rules we put in place here.”

“Oh, no Ma’am…”

“Are you staging your own little protest against what you feel might be…arbitrary guideline?”

“Oh, no, Ms. Smythe…it’s not that. It’s just that…”

The AD cocked her head slightly to one side in anticipation of an explanation she was pretty sure wasn’t coming.  After a moment of uncomfortable silence she went on. “I do see that AD Jackson never punished you at all for any of your infractions.”

“No Ma’am”, Bethany said meekly. “He said he would…”

“He did threaten you with a spanking?”

At the very word an icy chill spread through Bethany’s belly.

“Yes ma’am”, she said head down.

“But he never did.”

“No ma’am”.

“Well, I must say that there is a part of your education that has been lacking.”

“I have to be honest, when I first saw your file, I took you for one of those girls. You know?” Ms. Smythe looked hard at her. She didn’t know. ”But you’re not. You’re not one of those who like it…who are looking for it. I can tell. There are enough of those let me tell you. And the boys-I swear-worse than the girls. They would plot and devise different things they could do-manufactured misbehaviors as it were-to find themselves bent over my desk. Or in some cases over my lap….They would ask for that…”

She pushed away from the table and picked up the instrument and Bethany’s heart sank. Was this really going to happen?

At first glance it looked like a yardstick but even Bethany, who knew little about wood, could tell that it was made of sturdier stuff. Oak most probably. There was a leather wrapped handle on one end and a loop where it could be hung from a hook. And there were no lines or calibrations on it. No, this tool was designed to leave marks, not measure them.

Ms. Smythe had a bit of a faraway look in her eye and a smile tickled at her lips. Holding the stick at rest at her side she went on. “And the most unlikely too. The captain of the soccer team-almost asking for a spanking when I was about to let him off…” Gwen smiled to herself at the almost slip of the tongue which would have changed the whole story. But Bethany was only half listening-trying to imagine Jim Thomas, the captain of their soccer team, with his carefully feathered blond locks lying bare-bummed across Ms. Smythe’s tight lap. It wasn’t a picture she could quite make right now. But even in her near frantic state, she filed it away to ponder later.

“You like?” she asked. “The dean at my last posting gifted me…” She brandished the stick in front of her like a swordsman hoping to catch a glow of sunshine off the blade. “It’s very effective” she mused almost to herself as she patted the wood sternly into the palm of her left hand.

Bethany’s heart raced and seemed to jump into her throat at the soft smacking sound coming from the assistant dean’s hand. How was she going to stand this? Her eyes burned and without willing it, a tear tumbled from her left eye and traced a streak down her cheek.

“A tear?” Gwen looked at her with a little concern. “Bethany, buck up. I mean my punishments often bring tears but usually after-or during-not before.”

She rubbed her eyes quickly with the back of her hands. “I’m sorry Ms. Smythe. Didn’t mean it….I’m just…”

“Shhhh…” Gwen’s cool citrusy smell, filled the space between them as she gently cupped the side of Bethany’s head…”Don’t worry about it, it’ll be okay. A trainer at the gym I used to go-who would devise the most torturous routines and workouts- said you can stand anything for three minutes. Right? This won’t take much longer than that.”

She stepped back. “Let’s get on with it then. Do you want Amy to come in?”

“Amy?” asked Bethany, confused.

Ms. Smyth nodded toward the door. The little blonde at the desk. “A witness…?”

“Oh, God no!” Bethany blurted understanding. “I mean…no. Not necessary…”

“If you were younger it would be required…but we’re both adults here.” She shrugged. “Very good, then. Stand here…”

She pointed to a spot about a foot in front of her desk. Beth pushed herself out of her chair and shuffled forward on leaden legs. Thank heavens she didn’t have to walk far-her knees were actually shaking! At this moment she actually wished she might have been paddled before so she wouldn’t look like such a piker now.

Of course, she knew of other girls who were paddled and otherwise punished in her years here. She had even seen evidence in the fading welts on Karen Britton’s backside in the locker room after lacrosse practice one day. The sight-even the quick glance that it was-had set fluttering crows lose in her chest. The vision of Dean Jackson, her mentor through the four years here, putting her over his lap or over the desk never had even struck her as a possibility. Maybe that was the problem. Had he taken a firmer hand with her would she have so easily blown off the deadlines that had brought her to this? Betcha Karen Britton never missed an assignment deadline after that one time! If that was even what had caused her to be striped like that. Her mind was racing with too many imponderables and unanswerables. She was brought back to the present by Ms. Smyth’s voice.

“Ok-and your hands will go right here”, she said tap-tap-tapping a spot on the desk with the stick.

She didn’t have a terrible voice-not a harpy-but definitely not to be trifled with. There was a firmness in her tone-and her bearing. Bethany leaned over and placed her left hand on the desk and was putting the right down when Ms. Smyth stopped her.

“Oh, I’m sorry Bethany. You’re new at this. Trousers please.”

“….What?”

“This stick is rather a licky piece but even with me swinging it, it doesn’t make as much of an impression through khakis. Trousers down please.”

Bethany looked back to find a hint on the woman’s face that she might be joking. That she really didn’t mean it. There was no such message writ there. Maybe her eyes showed a tiny glint of bemusement but her jaw was set. Bethany had to drop her pants.

She turned back to the desk and with shaking hands unsnapped and unzipped. They were tight enough that they wouldn’t fall so she slid them down slowly and carefully not to pull her panties with them. Oh GOD! Her panties!! All she had left in the drawer this morning were the…

“Cute”, said the AD with a smile, beholding the white panties splashed with bright red hearts of every size the largest emblazoned on the twin round cheeks. “And not even Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m sorry Ms. Smythe. I’m between washes and these were all that I had…”

“Not to worry. This isn’t one of those schools that you read about with “regulation knickers”. I’m happy you’re wearing them. You don’t know how many girls go without panties…not my cup of tea, I’ll tell you.”

Bethany was settling back over the desk trying to get used to the idea of standing here in her undies when the assistant dean’s voice chilled.

“Look Bethany. I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt here because this is your first. But really. You are going to get ten swats on your bare rear. You should know how to take it. When called to position you should lower your trousers AND your panties and bend over for chastisement. Without my having to coach you every step of the way.”

Bethany stood back up nearing a panic. “…But…” was all she could get out.

“I didn’t make the rules and you not knowing them is not my problem.” Ms. Smythe took a small step closer and Bethany, looking slightly downward, again noticed that she was taller than the assistant dean. Not really an advantage right now. “I’m going to give you ten swats across your bare bottom”, she said icily. “And if you don’t get those panties down now it will be twelve and believe me, you won’t enjoy the last two.”

“NO!…No…I’m sorry”, Bethany stumbled her eyes filling at being scolded like this. “Really Ms. Smythe”, she said turning her back again. “I meant nothing. Like you said I didn’t realize…..I’m sorry really.”

With that she hooked her thumbs in the elastic and slipped the panties down too hurriedly scraping a pink ribbon down her hip with a thumbnail. Once cleared of her fulsome bottom they fluttered to join her khakis in a pile at her ankles. Before they settled Bethany was bent over the desk-back rod straight-staring at the books on the shelves.

“Alright then…” she heard Ms. Smythe say a little gently and relaxed as much as she could hearing the change in tone. “Ten it is then.”

To be continued…

 

“Ms. Smythe will see you now…”

Sepia Strokes Across my

From “Across My Lap” on Tumblr

(Sorry, this is a re-post. There was a glitch that had to be cleaned up in the first go-round).

Bethany glided along the walk toward the administration building. That’s how she felt-glideful-if there was such a word. If not, light and breezy would suffice. “Ooops, Sorry!” she said tripping out of the way of two freshman hustling to class. Glideful-not graceful. She smiled and regarded the youngsters in their rush-heads down, books clutched to their chests. She remembered that feeling-that fear of being late-of missing the last assignment. Happily that was behind her by a few years.

It was less than a month until final commencement and most of her tough work was finished properly and behind her. Most; not all. She was holding the final two assignments now-past deadline enough that she had to turn them into the Assistant Dean as these professors had left for the semester. Her bad luck. Had they still been on campus she could have pushed the papers over the transom, as they say, and not have to meet the new AD. She had an 8:30 meeting for which she was, of course, late.

Really, why had Dean Jackson, her mentor, professor and confidant through her four years chosen this month to start his sabbatical? He’d be back for commencement surely, but she wished she was facing him this morning rather than this new AD. And a woman at that. She hadn’t seen her around campus yet but had seen her posted greeting on the campus Intraweb.

She slipped through the administration building’s open door as someone else exited and took the wide marble steps to the second floor two at a time. She was pressing for time not wanting to be too late for Professor Major’s History of Agriculture class. God! What a bore-but electives count on the transcript too. She opened the frosted glass door that still read “Assistant Dean Phillip Jackson” and stepped inside the AD’s outer office.

Amy Prynne, the new AD’s new assistant, looked up from the computer screen as she entered. Amy was an Academy Alumnus who had worked at a few postings across campus-primarily over in finance. A small woman with a silver pixie cut, she seemed pleasant enough but Bethany had never had a conversation with her. “Good Morning”, Amy said cheerily. “Bethany? Right?”

“Oh-yes”, Bethany said, taken off guard a bit that Amy knew her name. She hesitantly reached her had across the desk which Amy rose to shake once. “Flowers”, she said. “Nice to meet you.”

“Of course”, Amy agreed. “And you…I’m Amy…”

“Yes…I’ve seen you around.”

“Of course. Yes.”

Amy sat again and continued to look up at her with a wide smile that came and went then came back again. “Oh”, she said. “We had you down for 8:30…”

“Yes…I’m sorry. I was running a little behind this morning. Is that OK?” A few uncomfortable seconds passed while Amy consulted the computer in front of her. “Shouldn’t be a big problem.” She nodded toward the inner door. “Someone jumped in before you…Shouldn’t be too long.”

Bethany became conscious of voices coming from the inner office. “Oh-alright. I kind of thought I might just be able to leave these with you.” She held out the two final papers each in its properly addressed envelope. “I’m running a little late, you see. For Professor…”

“Yes, History of Agriculture. Really-I had that one. How do you stay awake?” she asked conspiratorially with an almost-wink. “Just have a seat-AD Smythe will see you in a moment.” She turned her full attention back to the screen clearly dismissing her. Bethany withdrew the proffered papers and sat-dismissed-on the worn leather sofa where she had idled so much time waiting to see AD Jackson who had served as her advisor for the first two years on campus.

With a nervous look at the clock on the wall-no way she was going to make the bell for Ag Hist-she reached for the new copy of Academy Life on the coffee table to leaf through.

Suddenly the inner door opened at there stood Assistant Dean Gwen Smythe. She looked younger than she did in the posted Intraweb picture. There she was wearing a proper blazer and a prim turtle neck. Here she had on an oxford blue shirt open at the neck and what looked to be dark slacks. The door wasn’t open wide enough for her to be sure. Her shoulder length blonde hair cupped her face in the photo but here was pulled back in a loose pony tail. “Amy?” she said to her assistant before noticing Bethany on the sofa. “Oh hello-you are…?”

“This is Bethany Flowers.”, said Amy moving past her into the office.

“Oh, of course, Bethany.” Her face froze toward a greeting smile, “You’re a little late this morning.”

“Yes Ma’am…I’m sorry. I….”

“No matter”, the AD waved at her. She appeared ready to say something else but then settled for “I’ll be with you in a moment….” As the door closed Bethany saw another girl standing in the office. She was facing away so she couldn’t tell who it was-just a flash of tartan and a white shirt. The informal, formal uniform. Had to be a freshman.

She sunk back into the leather cushions. Something was off, she thought.  She was expecting a little “run-by-drop-off” informality but she was on everyone’s schedule it appeared. Had she been? Did she really set a time when she called? And not only on everyone’s schedule but late by everyone’s schedule. A few butterflies flittered about in her belly as a cool shadow inexplicitly fell over what had been an unseasonably and perhaps unreasonably pleasant morning.

She looked at the clock nervously then back to the magazine in her hand. She began to flip the pages when she heard it-quick and distinctive-from the inner office.

“Crack!” The sound startled her so that she dropped the magazine to the floor. “Crack!” came the second lick.

Oh dear God! She thought, jumping up. The butterflies doubled in number and size-flying through her chest now. Bethany had never been spanked at school. Not once in her four years at The Academy. She didn’t think that was so unusual. She was sure many girls got through without feeling the cane, or the paddle or even the firm hand on the backside but she didn’t know many that had her fear of it. When girls spoke of it, she left the room. The first and only time AD Jackson had mentioned corporal punishment in passing she had almost cried.

On the third swat from inside she heard a little cry and she grabbed at herself. She had to pee! She ran to the washroom behind the desk and realized that it was closer to the inner office and she could hear the sounds better from there. The fourth and fifth swats landed closer together and the answering cries got a bit louder. Then the sixth with a loud report and the poor girl on the receiving end broke into sobs. These were not the muffled swats made when a paddle hits skirts. No, this was the clear, sharp crack of wood meeting bare skin. She nervously turned on the water to muffle everything and sat on the toilet even knowing she really didn’t have to go.

Quite illogically she looked about for a window where she knew there wasn’t one. Then she thought about the door-out, make a left then out, then out back into the sunshine. More swats landed answered by cries and sobs all overlain by AD Smythe’s distinctive but indecipherable voice. Sitting there on the loo Bethany put her fingers in her ears, closed her eyes and hummed. She breathed to calm herself; tried to look at her situation rationally. Whatever was happening to that unfortunate freshman had nothing to do with her. She was weeks from graduating with honors. Just settle yourself, she thought.

After a few moments she looked up and popped her fingertips out of her ears. It had gone silent. She rose and turned off the water. The inner door-then the outer-opened then closed. She looked at her face completely flushed in the mirror and splashed a little water on her cheeks. She patted with a hand towel and stepped back into the waiting area.

Amy was back behind her desk with her wide smile. “Oh, there you are…We were afraid you’d run off!”

“No….no…I had to…”

“Of course, yes”, said Amy breezily. “Ms. Smythe will see you now.”

To be continued….

Molly for Breakfast

Continued from…Molly In The Morning…

Shower

Because the floor to ceiling windows were tinted, the bathroom felt dim and comfortably shaded even in the bright light of morning. It was no doubt a man’s room, done in dark shades of polished concrete and stone. The hot tub was elevated on a rocky pedestal near the windows and the back wall opposite the windows was alternating rows of black slate and gray tile. There was no enclosure-it was an open shower with a wide chrome rainfall showerhead coming out of the ceiling. Two chrome hand shower heads hung on the wall.

Corrine gently guided Molly to an armless redwood chair in the middle of the room.

“Something, huh?” asked Corrine sitting.

“Like a cave…but what about…?” she was looking at the windows.

“One way glass, we can see out, nobody can see in.”

“Very cool.”

As she was talking, Corrine pulled Molly to stand between her open legs. The younger woman’s eyes fell to the tiled floor then to Corrine’s tightly toned thighs extending out of her shorts.

“You slept with John, last night…” she asked without asking.

“His bed is amazing…” Corrine answered without answering. She unbuttoned the girl’s blouse and pushed it back off of her shoulders. Molly didn’t help, she was still, allowing herself to be undressed, allowing the blouse to be pushed down her shoulders and off. She reached back and unsnapped her bra and shrugged it loose. Corrine took it and slipped it down her arms.

“You did sleep with John last night.”

“I did. But it’s what you said. I slept with John. Nothing else.”

“But you were….”

“I’m always naked over here…John and I are friends. And we have some…particular tastes that are shared by a number of friends-including his lover which isn’t me…”

“But….”

Corrine put her finger over Molly’s lips. “That’s all you’re getting for now…”

She smiled. “Hopefully not all….”

Molly’s breasts were firm and round with small pink nipples. “I thought I might find some freckles on you…” said Corrine, tracing her hand across the milky mounds. Molly stepped closer to allow the woman to rub her cheek along her belly and gasped lightly when Corrine raised her mouth to lick, then kiss one of her hardening nipples. Then the other.

Back to the task at hand, Corrine unbuckled Molly’s belt and loosened her jeans. They were snug but once unzipped, slipped easily over the swell of her hips and down her legs into a bunch on the floor which Molly stepped out of. Corrine gently rubbed at the deep creases that a long night’s sleep in jeans had left at the beltline.

“This is why we don’t sleep in jeans…” she said.

“I know you don’t…” Molly answered touching Corrine’s hair.

The woman lifted her head into the caress without pausing in her own ministrations. “Here”, she said, “Let’s get rid of these…” and with that rolled the girl’s silken panties down her thighs where they joined the rest of her clothing. Corrine reached out and grasped the girl by her butt cheeks to pull her close. She dipped her head to rub her face gently into the wild bush of red hair at Molly’s crotch. “Ahhh…” she sighed-“this is what I was hoping for…”

“What?” asked Molly now stroking her soon-to-be-lover’s head with both hands.

“Wild! Hairy and wild and….wild…” She pulled her close-intoxicated.

Molly smiled and picked Corrine’s head up gently-“There is wild and there is wild…but I’d love to hit the tub now…before….”

Corrine squeezed the girl’s cheeks tighter, slipping her fingers into her crack as if hoping to split it open. “What if I don’t care…”

Molly stopped her with a kiss. “Come on” she said, “…you promised me a soak…” And if Corrine was going to say anything, another kiss stifled her words.

The eucalyptus steam filled the room and fogged the windows, further diffusing the morning light. Corrine lounged on the underwater bench with her back along the rim of the tub holding Molly snuggled in the crook of her arm. Molly, eyes closed, hungrily devoured the deep thrusting kisses that stole her breath. She opened herself as Corrine’s hands massaged her breasts then slid down her belly.

“Here”, Corrine whispered, gently removing her arm and sliding a folded towel in its place. “Lay back.”

As Molly did, Corrine slipped in front of her and knelt so that the water was up to her neck. She reached her hands under Molly’s bottom and lifted her until her muff broke the bubbling surface then closed her mouth over it with a growl.

“Hungry?” asked Molly smiling.

“Famished…” came the answer.

“Do what you want to do…”

“If I do that right now I might drown…”

Molly pulled her back up to sitting beside her but Corrine’s hand remained under the bubbles working her fingers gently around her vagina.

“Maybe we should move to drier ground, then”, said Molly.

“Do you think you’re clean enough yet”, Corrine asked gently pinching her bum.

“Squeaky.”

Corrine rose to her feet as Molly’s eyes ravished her body. Her hard nipples stood erect and pulsing shedding water which ran down her flat belly and dripped from the tiny black patch at her crotch. The girl badly wanted to lap at that stream and reached out to grab at Corrine’s hip only to be rebuffed by a gentle arm block. “Uh-uh-uhhh”

Molly played along giving her a little pouty face.

Corrine extended a hand. “Come on, stand up.”

Molly had to be satisfied for the moment with a tight hug that allowed her to kiss one of Corrine’s taut breasts before being helped out of the tub.

Molly In The Morning….

Continued from…Molly At The Club

Molly heard the door from where she lay fully clothed under an afghan on the couch. Corrine-cloaked only in the night’s darkness-was stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door carefully and silently as possible behind her. Certainly Corrine had to know that she was here, though Molly herself wasn’t sure where she was. The woman’s skin-where it wasn’t covered in ink-shone like polished ivory in the ambient glow of the city beyond the wall of windows. Molly was trying to decipher a tattoo that began at the woman’s hip and bloomed into her rib cage when Corrine stopped and looked over.

“You awake honey?” she asked.

“I heard the door.”

“I’m sorry”, Corrine said raising her hands to take in her body. “I thought you were asleep.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Making no effort of cover up, Corrine asked how she was feeling.

“Like I should still be asleep.”

Corrine put her hand up as if to say ‘Wait there’, a completely superfluous motion since Molly wasn’t moving. She watched the woman cross to the kitchen and open the fridge, her nakedness brightly outlined by the harsh light from within. The tattoo on her side was a brightly colored leopard, uncoiling from her hip and reaching high to seemingly devour her breast from below. She pulled out a plastic bottle filled with a beige liquid that swirled as she shook it. Then, with the fridge still open she rose on her tiptoes to reach into the cupboard. In silhouette, her lean and tight buttocks swelled with the movement as she picked a small pill bottle out of the cupboard.

She padded quietly over to where Molly lay on her side propped by an elbow. “Here, take this”, she said handing her the bottle.  Then Corrine squatted-‘SQUATTED!’ as Molly would recall it later in her head-in front of her keeping her legs together showing nothing but a perfectly manicured square of dark hair centered above a set of quads that looked hard enough to bounce a quarter off of. Above the flat stomach two perfectly uniform breasts hung just enough to prove they were the genuine articles.

She shook out two pills and handed them to Molly. “Take these.” Without a question Molly did-drinking from the shaker bottle. It was sweet, thick and cold. Tenderly, Corrine pushed some of the hair back from Molly’s forehead. Up close in the dim light Molly noticed that her nose had a slight bump in it, was maybe a little long and pointed, an imperfection that almost made her more alluring. Her scent was spicy-a slight tinge of sweat married to cinnamon and leather-and her hand, where it grazed her forehead was dry and warm just like at the bar.

“John wouldn’t let me undress you….” She said softly with a small smile.

“He’s no fun…”

Corrine’s smile widened. “You are bad…”

Molly reached out and lay her hand on the outside of the tightly stacked thigh in front of her. Like the woman’s hand, it was warm and firm. She rubbed it softly and slid her hand back toward the hip feeling a small burn begin in her crotch.

Corrine rose in front of her and Molly’s hand traced the leg’s unwinding. “There’s time for that sweetie.” said Corrine. “Right now you need sleep.” She bent and kissed her on the forehead-a quick soft peck that nevertheless stoked Molly’s fire. Then she turned and padded back to the bedroom treating Molly to the heavenly vision of her glowing undulating bottom moving away. Molly dropped her head back on the pillow and was instantly asleep and dreaming.

Sunlight bathed the house when she next opened her eyes. She saw John sitting at the kitchen counter with a steaming cup of coffee, fingering through his tablet. He was dressed casually befitting a Saturday morning but also somehow apparently ready to do something. She, on the other hand, felt like a sack of laundry ready to do nothing. She sat up.

“Oh, there she is…” he said pleasantly.

“Mmmorning…” she rubbed her eyes with her fists and sat up, dropping her feet to the floor.

“Coffee?”

“Please.”

She watched him pour a small cup out of a press pot at his elbow. He didn’t ask about cream or sugar just brought the steaming cup in to her, its aroma filling the large room.

“I just made it…”

She took it in both hands and sipped the bitter fruitiness which almost immediately delivered a small zing behind her eyes. He sat in a chair across the carpet from her. Obviously this was not the first coffee he had made that morning and had been up for a while.

“Sleep well?” he asked?

“This couch is more comfortable than my bed…”

He smiled. “Good.”

He let her know that he had to go look at some properties. “I can take you back to your car now….well, in fifteen minutes or as soon as you’re ready…or you can hang here until Corrine wakes up and she can take you.”

“Oh”, she said as innocently as possible, “Is she still here?”

He nodded toward the bedroom where she knew Corrine was. “She’ll rouse in a little bit.”

“I’m not ready just yet. I’ll wait….if that’s OK…”

He smiled again. “Completely fine. I’m sure she would want to see you this morning anyway.” He stood and went back to grab his tablet pointing out amenities that she might need. The house appeared to be a large single room but there were glass block barriers set up to conceal doors and hallways. “The computer is over there-password is on the card on the board; universal phone charger on the desk-bathroom there-TV remote” he set it on the couch beside her. “….. I won’t be back for a while-probably most of the day.”

She was too busy digesting his instructions to realize till later that he was deeding the house over for the day. He bent over and kissed her lightly on the cheek cupping the other with his hand. It was a sweet, almost brotherly gesture. “I’m sure I’ll see you soon. Relax a bit and have a good day…”

“Thanks for everything”, she said. “I had a great time…”

“Por Nada”, he said and disappeared behind a block wall and she heard him on the steps. She remembered the steps then-remembered walking up them last night. Remember leaning hard on the railing and laughing.

The house rumbled with the opening of the garage door and from her vantage point at the windows she could see John’s car turn the corner and disappear down Jane Street. She sipped on her coffee watching the city awaken slowly to its weekend routines. The house was built on a slope so she could look down from where she was, but no one except with a telescope from across the river could look in.

She heard the bedroom door creak open. Corrine stepped out wearing loose-fitting black gym shorts and a well-worn long sleeve polyester Pittsburgh Marathon jersey. Her hair was combed out and lustrous even though her eyes were still puffy with sleep. She was bed-warm and heat seemed to radiate off her as she stood close and took the cup from Molly’s hands.

“John left?”

“Yeah-just….”

“I think the garage door woke me….” She sipped and followed Molly’s gaze toward the river.

“Sorry about the peep show last night. I thought you were dead to the world.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Uh-huh?” said Corrine. “What’s with uh-huh?”

“Uh-huh in that I don’t think I entirely believe you.”

Molly glanced sideways and saw the small smile. Not sheepish, exactly, but definitely ‘busted’. A slim curtain of dark hair slid across her cheek as she drooped her head hiding the pink blush that had bloomed there. For the first time since Molly saw her behind the bar Corrine-for a quick moment- didn’t seem invulnerable. After a moment Corrine lifted her eyes and pushed the hair back behind her ear.

“Have you seen the master bath?” she asked.

“I don’t think so….I think I remember…” Molly looked toward a small door off the study area.

“No, that’s the powder room…the master has an amazing stone shower that takes up a whole corner and a hot tub, all with this view…”

“That I would remember.”

“Yeah-it’s something.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Well”, said Corrine setting the cup on a nearby stone table, “I was thinking we should go in there and have a soak. Maybe a good long shower…get all squeaky clean…” She draped her arms around the smaller woman’s shoulders. “Then I’ll dry you off…top to bottom…then head to toe…” Molly let her smile answer Corrine’s. She opened her mouth slightly to accept the gentle kiss. “Then maybe I’ll put you over my knee, spank your bare bum for a while…” Molly pursed her lips in a look of feigned concern…”then take you into the bedroom and fuck your brains out.”

She kissed her again. Molly opened her mouth wider and welcomed the touch of tongue against her teeth. “Then,” whispered Corrine breathily as she rubbed her cheek against Molly’s “We’ll lounge around and I’ll make you a big breakfast.”

Corrine leaned back to see Molly’s eyes.

“I’m not much of a breakfast girl”, she said.

Corrine turned her and, arm across her shoulders, led her off toward the master bath.