The Colonel Comes Home

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He sat cracking his neck on the veranda overlooking the river. His bed always took some getting used to after months peacefully rocking in a hammock. He might be done with it; the bed, the house, all of it. Pitch his hammock out here and sleep under nets like everyone else. They seemed happy with it.  Why should those with nothing be content with their lot and he feel so fucked all the time?

The river wasn’t a torrent by any means but neither the low green stream he was hoping for on his return. It ran full and brown-café con leche-filling the banks the way it never did in the summer and covering the marsh grass that deer would eat wading in the cool shade in the heat of the afternoons.

A swollen cow floated by, hooves reaching for the sky, then a couple of chickens. The lowland peasants always take the brunt of the weather. Floods this late in the season would mean hunger in the winter-not famine-there would still be food here in the most fecund valley he knew, but less of it. Without their chickens and corn they would be hunting his hills for game all winter. Which was fine, so long as they steered clear of the poppy fields, which they knew to do.

He had gambled before leaving and had the crop planted high on the mountain. Making the new clearings so far from where he usually farmed had been arduous but the rains which would have washed him out on the lowland fields, drained quickly up there. He had ridden through the fields on his way in and the crop was beautiful and lush. Thus did the rich get richer.

The sun peeking over the ridge downstream colored the trees and awoke the woodpeckers and the crows. Everyplace the filtered light touched him burned slightly, like a warm stick pressed against his skin. It would be hot today.

He heard the soft scraping tread behind him and steeled himself.

“More coffee Excellency?”

When he was sure Buenila couldn’t see, he had spilled what was left in his cup into the brown river. The pestilential rains had ruined the coffee crop and they were reduced to drinking chicory which was better than tea he supposed but worse than everything else.

“Yes, Buenila. Thank you.”

“It’s good then?”

“Wonderful”, he said turning his head slightly toward her but not looking back.

“Good…” she shuffled away.

Below him a pig floated by, tits up and mottled by the sun. His stomach gurgled an ominous reminder of his miseries.

“Wait”, he called back over his shoulder “A glass of Port instead. And a piece of the bread you made last evening.” She would know to bring the cheese without being told. Might as well start the day.

The sun was directly overhead when he pushed the last of the ledgers away and rubbed his eyes. He still had the eyes of an eagle, but they, like the rest of him, were only good for short spurts. Most of the morning had been spent with Diego, who was effectively the estate foreman, responsible for everything when the Colonel was gone on conquest or otherwise indisposed. Small and dark, Diego was young enough to be-and whispered that he was in fact-the Colonel’s own son. Neither man remembered Diego’s mother-she was gone when he was a swaddling babe, left to the capable hands of Buenila. To the Colonel-then a striving Captain-she had been one in a long continuing series of couplings.

While his wiry physic and green eyes could have been a give-away, neither of the men seemed to care about the certainty of his lineage. As a boy, and now a man, Diego wanted nothing more than to sit astride whichever mule or horse the day’s labor called for and do his work. “Nothing between my God and me but my hat!” he would smile doffing his well-worn woven skipper.

They had opened the canopy before noon and he now toyed with the idea of stringing his hammock and taking his siesta right here. Just toyed. While there was a breeze, the thick masonry walls that had survived two earthquakes to his knowledge kept his house cool even at midday. He would go inside.

Before he could push away from the table Buenila appeared at his shoulder.

“A girl from the village is calling, Excellency.”

“The village?”

The crone shrugged. To her, everyone not of the estate was from ‘the village’.

He settled back in his chair. “Send her out.”

Good Lord, he thought as he did when confronted by young girls. Is this my daughter? He didn’t think so-she was too young with striking raven eyes and thick straight hair the color of jungle dirt. Her cheekbones were high disguising the baby fat that still rounded her. She hesitated at the edge of the veranda.

“Come, come”, he said gently.

The girl shuffled closer. He could not ignore her full pouty lips. “What’s your name, daughter?”

“Laurencia”, she answered. “Laurencia Palacios.”

“Come, come…” he repeated reaching out a hand. The girl held back-walking in sand. Palacios, he thought. I know that name. “Do I know your father?” he asked.

“He’s gone.”

“I see, I see… What brings you here to see me today, Laurencia?”

“My mother, your majesty. She…”

He snorted loudly. “There is no crown on my head, sweetheart. I’m a simple Colonel.”

“Yes sir.” Her eyes wouldn’t meet his. “My mother says I should come by. I should make myself…an introduction. I mean…I should make myself available to you….”

An icy hand gripped the Colonel’s chest. There were women, God knows, who approached him-who always approached him-wanting to be close to him and share what he’d won. And God also knows he had a weakness for them which is why there were so many of a certain age across the territory and in his service that had his green eyes, his sharp nose, his wavy hair.

He was used to these clingers and grabbers and had done, in his mind, a reasonable job recently of keeping his distance from such hardscrabble paramours. These days, his victories and powers brought a different class of women to his bed; ones who had their own gold and houses-even husbands-and only wanted to share of his essence if for a night or a week or a month. That was one thing. There was a special place in hell for those who would whore their daughters out for the same reason.

“How old are you, Darling?” he asked covering his rage.

He watched the girl freeze-the truth of fourteen colliding with the lie of seventeen her mother had given her. He had sat on too many tribunals to be fooled by a naïve virgin and her conniving mother.

“If you are contemplating a lie to me, just say nothing. It will be better.”

The girl stayed quiet, then, peeking up at him, “Fourteen, your majes…colonel.”

“Ah, fourteen. Very good. Very good.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “You weren’t supposed to tell me that were you?”

The girl blushed and looked away.

“No matter, no matter. I’ll make sure I tell everyone you’re eighteen, is it? Seventeen?”

“Seventeen, Colonel.”

“Very good.”

Regardless of her looks and the beginnings of regal bearing, the girl’s accent was of the mud. It was tough to hear such guttural tones coming out of a mouth as wonderful as this.

“Do you read Laurencia?”

“No, Colonel”.

“Numbers?”

She shook her head.

What is this mother thinking? He didn’t know, but he would find out. The girl brightened when he offered her chocolate and a cup of watered wine. She had come up the mountain alone on a handsome burro that she loved and had all her life. The colonel smiled; there is hope for one who loves a burro as the girl loved hers. The words poured about her burro, then her cats, then the dog, then the chickens-the girl who had slinked up the mountain in fear babbled on happily about the animals in her life. Probably preferable to the people she knew. The Colonel had daughters, both known and unknown, native and mestizo, and knew how to speak to girls. What he thought would be a five-minute interview extended to a half an hour of laughter and simple stories.

“Well Laurencia, it was wonderful to meet you”, he said finally. “But I have work…” he gestured apologetically toward the table.

“Yessir. I’m sorry to have taken your time.”, she said primly and stood. “I will go now. Thank you.”

She bowed formally and turned away her pert bottom pressing against the woven dress. They always mature first back there, he thought before looking away.

“Laurencia!” She stopped and turned. “I want you to…” how to say this? He didn’t want to appear to be offering what her mother had sent her for but wanted to ensure that the girl knew she had a place to come to if she ever needed one. “Stop back and see me. I don’t have the time now, but would love to meet your burro. Would you bring him back to visit?”

“Oh yes sir. And I will bring you eggs-from my chickens.”

“You will never be able to bring eggs up the mountain on your burro”, he teased. “They will all be scrambled when you get here!”

“You’ll see. I know how to pack eggs”, she smiled widely and for a moment he saw the woman she would become.

Dios Mio, he thought. Then with a charming smile that betrayed nothing, “Have your mother stop by to see me, would you? Not you, just her. Same time as this tomorrow. High noon. You’ll remember that won’t you?”

“Oh yes Colonel. I will tell her. And remember, I am seventeen!” She laughed like pearls flowing over pebbles.

“Dios Mio”, he whispered as she strode across the patio and was gone. He didn’t feel guilty for his arousal but rather proud that he hadn’t acted upon it.

 

(To be continued…)

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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.

Chrissy

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thedutchmountains.tumblr.com

Shitty to say, but there was a special joy in hearing that they’d split. That’s small I know, I’ll own that, but they had a good run, time-wise anyway. How am I supposed to feel? She ditched me to marry that dick. Not right away, of course, but within the year. Her kisses were so soft you could be fooled into thinking she had no teeth-just a tongue or two and a couple pair of lips. The first time with her, sliding along the leather back seat of Bull’s Caddy while he got loaded in Frankie’s Blue Note, is still in my top five and probably always will be. I was love sick and gob-smacked when she told me she was going to give it another try with him. That was it; she had only dated he and I and I was an interlude.  I went back to fishing in the deep, wide sea and they bred two footballers; hideous little brutes that grew to look just like him. Now they’re split and there’s nothing to be done. I’m entangled like a feral shoat in a discarded bundle of bob wire: squealing and wishing for freedom but completely out of ideas for winning it. Besides, heard she preferred women now. I can see how being married to him would turn her off the sex. Probably surprised it didn’t turn her off the species. But really, she had a killer laugh, a great smile and beautiful teeth. I just never felt them. Not once.

 

Maddie – 2

 

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(Continued from Maddie Marx)

Happily for Maddie she didn’t have to hop after her ear for long. They were going no further than the room Chelsea and Gennie had just visited. The original group of a dozen or so still mingled but it looked as if the physicals were over. Tommy Bellow, his jeans up and a drink in his hand, was standing against the wall chatting with Nurse Kim. All conversation stopped as Chelsea dragged Maddie-still yelping “Ouch! Ouch!”-into the room.

Gennie followed trying to be inconspicuous. She was equal parts mortified, excited and aroused. Is Chelsea really going to spank that girl here in from of everyone?

“Please Ma’am…not in front of everyone…OWWW!” as her ear took a strong twist before being released. Maddie gave the room a quick glance. Holy shit! She thought, there’s a hundred people in here!

Chelsea surveyed the room. “Excuse me”, she said coolly. “Is there a paddle here I can use to thrash this girl?”

I guess she is, thought Gennie and a bird in her chest flapped a wing. She slipped over toward Tommy and Nurse Kim. “Hi”, whispered Gennie, not wanting to call attention to herself. Tommy winked at her and slid down the wall a tad, giving her space to fit in. Gennie had to look up.

“You’re taller than I thought…” she said.

“Well, standing up, sure”, he grinned. Gennie flushed.

“I have this”, Nurse Kim said moving to the corner and retrieving what looked to be a yardstick but upon further review, was a little thicker and wider and varnished to a bright gold. There were bright red numbers etched on it though no one thought it had ever been used to measure anything. Except perhaps one’s endurance.

“Ah, perfect”, said Chelsea taking the offered implement. “Remove your blazer, Miss Hawkins. It’s liable to get a little warm in here for you.”

Maddie fumbled at the thick tortoiseshell buttons and tried to still her shaking hands. This is what she wanted after all. Wasn’t it? Pretty much, yeah, but maybe she had ended up with more than she bargained for as her mother always used to warn her. Her hands grazed her chest as she doffed the blazer and she was conscious of her nipples-firmly ensconced in her bra and blouse-aching as they hardened. Sheryll would joke that Maddie could come at the sight of a hairbrush. That was an exaggeration, of course. Just. But an exaggeration.

Chelsea took the blazer and lay it gently over a chair. “Stand here”, she said indicating a spot in front of the desk. Maddie moved slowly, outwardly reluctantly, into position. “Bend over” was Chelsea’s next command, “Palms and elbows on the desk.” Maddie did as she was told feeling her skirt lift slightly in back.

She held her breath, knowing what came next. The room collectively inhaled as Chelsea pinched the hem of the thick tartan skirt and lifted it up over Maddie’s back.

“You’ve given me no choice, Miss Harris”, she intoned.

“There’s always a choice Ma’am” said Maddie glancing back over her shoulder.

“Eyes front Missy!”

“Yes, Ma’am.” Maddie settled. She was fine with the view she was offering. Field hockey was a memory but she spent enough time at the gym and playing in an intermediate coed soccer league to know she was in shape. Of course, Sherryl would pinch her bottom now and again and say something supremely witty like “I found that five pounds you were looking for” but she was a beanpole. Maddie was fine with her backside.

She felt the stick touch her and rub back and forth smoothly over the cotton. She gritted her teeth and waited.

“It’s a good thing she’s not in my class”, Nurse Kim piped up.

Chelsea stayed her stick for a moment and turned toward the throaty lilt of the beautiful mahogany woman.

“Why would that be Nurse Kimani?”

“In my class, three detentions would automatically assure a punishment on the bare bottom.”

“What?” thought Maddie. “WHAT?” She had been spanked in front of others certainly. Usually it was the four of them drinking spritzers and playing cards at Emily’s apartment. Or at the Lodge. That was fun. And hot. This? “Say yuck, she told herself. YUCK!” but no word came out.

Chelsea looked toward her charge and thought she saw her head dip slightly. A nod? An assent? She’d given her the safe word-she could opt out of anything at any time. They definitely had the attention of the room.

The bright white cotton strained across her strong bottom. Looking at her hamstrings and the cut of her thighs, Chelsea-and everyone else for that matter-knew she was an athlete. “What the hell…” thought Chel warming to the task. “No ‘Yuck’, I’m playing.”

“I’m new to this school”, Chelsea announced as if on stage. “I’ll go with Nurse Kim’s suggestion.” Then, without another word and minus any flourishes, Chelsea stuck her thumbs in the elastic and pulled the panties down quickly off Maddie’s bottom. They fluttered to the floor.

“Oh dear GOD!” screamed the voice in Maddie’s head. “I’m bare ass in front of a room full of strangers! Too late for ‘Yuck’ now.” What had she been thinking? Her mom tittered again: something about biting off more than you can chew. No, I’m fine…she said to herself. This is fine. I can handle this. Happily, her bottom was full enough to secrete her most intimate parts inside and under voluptuous folds and crevices. Still, she held her legs primly together already feeling a dampening there.

“That is a beautiful ass”, said Tommy quietly to Gennie.

“Yes”, she agreed. “Very.”

“You like that?”

“You don’t?”

“Yeah, but….”

“Don’t worry. I thought your bum looked very sweet too with the thermometer sticking out of it.”

His no-doubt witty rejoinder was interrupted by the sharp CRACK of Chelsea’s stick across the fulsome center of Maddie’s bottom. Her mouth fell open in a silent gasp. “Don’t let your mouth write a check that your ass can’t cash”, echoed in her head. It wasn’t her mother saying it, but she got it.

She braced for the second swat and even pushed her bottom back a little. Chelsea delivered a smack that echoed off the crown molding and hardwood floors. The bad girl flinched but uttered not a sound.

The third was harder still then the forth the hardest. She slapped the table hard. “Dammit!!” she hissed through gritted teeth. Chelsea listened, but heard nothing else.

“You have something to say Miss?”

“No”, she winced.

Chelsea reared back and struck again and Maddie took it silently.

“She’s good…” Tommy whispered.

“I’d be crying….”

“She might get there…Your friend is really working her.”

By the time she paused there were six bright red stripes across the girl’s ass and she had started to wriggle and undulate in a way that threatened to expose all that she had wanted to keep hidden.  Chelsea gave her a break to compose herself. Not being able to help herself, Chelsea patted, then rubbed both creased cheeks feeling the slightly raised welts.

“A few more Miss Hayes.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“I’m going to place them lower…here”, she illustrated, sliding her finger, then fingers, along the untouched softness of Maddie’s sit spots. The girl gasped at the touch and growled low in her throat as the torturing touch lingered then stroked back and forth, back and forth leaving their own little white paths. “These will be memorable”, Chelsea whispered close.

“Yes Ma’am” Maddie said.

The stick’s first assault on the soft bottom cheeks was firm and loudly cracking. “You BITCH!” thought Maddie gritting her teeth and tensing back there. Chelsea saw the tightness in the cheeks; the clenching dimpling the skin and tightening the doors to all the openings. This would never do. So instead of swinging away and swatting, Chelsea slapped lightly but firmly.

SLAP—SLAP—SLAP landed the stick. “You need to loosen up Miss Hayes…loosen up and open up.” The paddle was now an onslaught of light cracks in the same place, pinkening rather than reddening the skin. The room seemed to lean forward noticing the shift in tone and tempo.

“Holy shit!” whispered Gennie leaning into Tommy. “This is….”

“Yeah.  Very. Punishment’s over”, he said. “This is reward…”

“You better open girl,” said Chelsea with a menacing smile. “I could do this all night. SLAP—SLAP—SLAP!!

She was already wriggling again trying for relief, but was afraid to open. What if they saw how wet she was. She didn’t know, of course, but it felt like a river was running through her. SLAP—SLAP—SLAP! Oh dammit, she thought. SLAP—SLAP—SLAP! So what? Who cared who saw what? SLAP—SLAP!! ALRIGHT! she pushed backward, not revealing much, not opening completely but making the effort. Chelsea struck once more on the top of the left leg allowing the tip of the stick to impact lightly inside the firm thigh.

“Very good”, announced Chelsea. “Are you finished?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you ma’am.”

“Alright then. You may stand and pull up your panties.” As she did, the crowd dispersed with murmurs of approval all round. “That was hot”, was heard. “I bet her butt is hot.” “I’d like to feel it and see….”

“Shame to cover that up”, said Chelsea. “It’s very pretty-very well marked.”

“You did your job”, Maddie said softly. She seemed a little unsteady on her feet.

“Are you OK? I gave you the safe-word…I figured that…”

Maddie looked up, her face almost as red as her bottom but her eyes shining. “There are only two words I want to say to you”, she said huskily her throat conspiring to choke them off.

“What are those?”

“Fuck me.”

(Continuing…)

Maddie Marx

(Continued from Nurse Kimani)

They wandered down the hall and had almost passed the small empty-looking sitting room when Chelsea pulled up. “Hello…” she said almost to herself. She peeked in and saw a girl sitting alone at a side table. “On your own tonight?”

“Didn’t start that way. My…friends took off when the cops showed up.”

“They weren’t cops” Chelsea said.

How’s she know this shit? Gennie wondered.

“Whatever”, the girl said eyes down thinking that she should have left with Sheryll and Emily.

“But you wanted to stay?”

“We had just got here! They didn’t even have a chance to introduce me around. I figured what the hell-I’ll see where it goes. I put over two hundred into the costume.  Wanted to at least get some use out of it.”

There were two ways to go with school girl outfits: the costume kind cheaply put together with snaps and Velcro meant to be torn off by a stiff breeze. The other way was to shop for a legit school uniform as this girl obviously had.

She wasn’t a big girl but well put together and cute with gray eyes, round cheeks and tiny ski-jump nose. Her thick dark cut short and parted boyishly made her look smaller yet. Her wool tartan skirt broke just above her knees allowing small glimpses of gold toned skin to peek above the argyle knee socks that sheathed what looked to be athletically thick calves. Of course, she wore perfectly polished saddle shoes. Topped off by a white shirt and red blazer she had the complete look of an upper classman in some tony private academy. The vintage Jansport book bag at her feet put the whole presentation over the top.

Sally Harris, whose real name was Maddie Marx, a financial planner with Dewey-Cheetum (but who gave a shit about that here) had been about ready to invest in an Uber to get back to town when these two scruffy beasties walked into the room. Being no fan of The Walking Dead, she was about to ask them about their costumes when the taller girl who did all the talking moved toward her and leaned backward against the desk bracing herself with her arms.

Chelsea regarded the girl coolly weighing not so much her next move, as her next word. Maddie kept her eyes downcast listening for a hint of the direction they might be taking.

“And you are…?” Chelsea asked with a tone of cold authority. There it was, thought Maddie, a tingle touching her deep inside her perfectly chosen white cotton panties.

“Sally Ma’am. Sally Harris.”

“So Ms. Harris, what brings you to my office today?” Maddie looked up and caught the steely gaze of one who was used to getting answers. She noticed Chelsea’s popping triceps on her sleeveless arms.

“Mr. Roberts Ma’am. He sent me here for detention Ma’am.”

“Mr. Roberts, hmm?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“This isn’t your first detention this month, is it? Or even your second?”

Maddie looked down and shook her head softly, bangs brushing her forehead. “This is my third Ma’am.”

“That’s what I thought. Your third.” Chelsea pushed away from the desk and approached the girl.

“You realize that three detentions in one month calls for corporal punishment, don’t you?”

“Oh, no ma’am. I mean, yes, I know that, Ma’am…but please…I’ve never been…punished like that before.”

“Never?”

Maddie looked up, her eyes wide and cheeks flushed shaking her head quickly. She could well have been colored with fear and trepidation but Gennie, watching from the door frame, knew it was something else. She was feeling something as well, watching the drama play out. For her part, Chelsea grew into the role delighted to have a player who sold herself so entirely into the game. It had been awhile.

“You should have thought of that then.”

“Pleeese Ma’am”, there was a little desperation in her voice now. “I really, really…really don’t want to get paddled.”

Ah, paddling, thought Chelsea. She was obviously familiar with that. She might have chosen the cane given the schoolgirl motif, but it wasn’t her scene. There had to be a paddle handy.

“I don’t blame you. Paddlings hurt. Especially ones that you deserve.”

“But…”

“Ones that you brought on yourself.”

Gennie was trying to follow the dynamics but was too much of a literalist to be buying completely into it. She took every one of the girl’s protestations at face value, not able to easily slide under the surface of the outward reality. Maddie leaned forward in her chair, a perfect picture of pleading desperation.

“Please Ma’am. If you would call my mother I’m sure….”

“Your mother has already given permission to punish you firmly should the need arise.”

“But there were circumstances here-in this case that…”

Gennie didn’t exactly know why she couldn’t stay silent any longer. Did Sally need her to say something? Was she feeling left out again as she had been all evening between Chelsea and him? She was here, dammit!

“Chel”, she said her voice cracking. She cleared her throat and began again.  “Maybe you should listen to what…”

Chelsea whipped her head around and glared daggers at Gennie. “You, missy are on thin ice with me right now.”  She pointed a weapon-grade index finger and sighted down it. “Do you want to push it? I can paddle two as easily as one.”  Gennie glanced back at the girl who had dropped her eyes again then back at Chelsea. She pantomimed a key locking her mouth closed and stepped closer to the wall. “Very well”, said Chelsea. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Oh, great, thought Gennie.

Chelsea stepped closer to her charge who was apparently deeply engrossed in her own shoes. “Stand up, Miss Harris”, she said firmly. Maddie stood and for the first time lifted her own true eyes where Chelsea recognized the burning look of pure breathless desire.

Chelsea leaned in to whisper. “You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I’m going to play this straight but if you need me to stop or back off, say ‘yuck’ and I’ll ease up. Whatever you want. Anything other than ‘yuck’, we keep playing. And I play hard.”

Maddie lifted her head and Chelsea lowered hers, expecting a whispered response. What she got instead was a warm chill as Maddie nibbled her earlobe then gently licked, then kissed, the warm salty spot just behind her ear. Any glistening saliva that Maddie left there was more than met by the slickery wetness that leaked just then between Chelsea’s legs.

“Shall I bend over the desk, Ma’am?” Maddie asked mischievously.

Just before saying “Yes”, Chelsea reached out and took Maddie by the ear. “You come with me young miss. I have something special in mind for you.”

“Owww! Owww…Yes, Ma’am!” she said hopping to catch up as she was pulled out of the room.

(Continuing…)

Nurse Kimani

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(Continued from The Party )

Having made their entrance into the full glow of the fire and been viewed and admired, he released them from their collars and lay the staffs aside. Someone else would surely find a use for them before the evening was out.

“I’m going to find Duke”, he told them. “Go mingle.” Then, to Gennie, “Have fun”, with a light smack on her rump as he passed toward the house.

They wandered past the still smoking hulk of the motorcycle. “I can’t believe you did that…” she whispered into Chelsea’s ear. “Collateral damage”, the blond winked back. “A bonus. Very cool though.” The girls each grabbed a glass of wine from an angel with a black halo of wires circling her head. The woman’s hair was shaved tight on the sides with a floppy blue mohawk falling to the left. “You sure you’re an angel?” flirted Chelsea eyeing the woman’s ink-a blue web that crawled up her neck. “The devil began life as an angel, love”, she answered coolly. Chelsea, fully on the prowl, raised her glass in salute and allowed Gennie to pull her away.

They walked slowly past the toy table and Gennie slipped to the other side of Chelsea as if being too close to a paddle or crop might give someone ideas.  But it was hard to imagine people hear didn’t have the ideas already. Just over there-leaning against the mantle that she’d help deliver was the bare bottomed kitten that had met them when they arrived. The tail was gone but she was happily displaying two bright red welts running across her white cheeks. When had that happened? Where had that happened? Just seeing the marked bottom set Gennie’s stomach roiling.

Hors d’oeuvres that the villains had scattered to paddle Beth had been replaced. Chelsea went for the bacon-wrapped dates. “Famished! Waging war stokes a girl’s appetite.” Her eyes aflame, Chelsea scanned the scene looking for likely singles, doubles, whatever. As Gennie’s doors tightened at the prospect of public play, Chelsea’s opened like flood gates.  “Let’s go inside”, she said popping the last date whole into her mouth.

They moved through the foyer and into a high-ceilinged hub of a hall that spoked to a number of rooms, some dimly lighted by candles and a fire’s glow, a couple brighter with lamps and hanging bulbs. There seemed to be at least as many people inside as there were out.

“Where’d they all come from?” Gennie wondered.

“Party people gonna party”, Chelsea answered moving forward.

Gennie froze at the sound of a swat; the unmistakable song of wood on bare skin accompanied by an “owwww” and laughter. “Not that way!” she said pulling at Chelsea’s arm away from the sound. “Okay…” said Chelsea allowing herself to be led away. “But we’ve got some work to do with you girl.”

They slipped into a sitting room and were drawn to a small group standing around a couch. The circle opened for them as they pressed inward and Gennie caught the eye of a sandy haired boy-well, not really a boy, probably Gennie’s age-but impossibly cute in a slight blondish way. She couldn’t tell how tall he might be as he was currently lying across the lap of a statuesque beauty, the color of burnished mahogany in a blue nurse’s outfit. The boy’s pants were down to his thighs and a thermometer, a tad large for the task at hand, protruded from is tight upturned bottom. Why had she punked on being a nurse?

He smiled at her and the edge of his mouth twitched only the slightest when the nurse extracted the thermometer. Gennie noticed that his bottom was brushed the sweetest hue of pink. The nurse, with the name tag “Kimani” sewn onto her lush breast, went through the motions of reading the instrument. “You’re fine, Tommy”, she said patting his butt. “Just fine. See all that ruckus for nothing.” Her voice was strong and melodious with a hint of the islands tinkling just below the surface.

Kimani followed the tilt of his head and locked eyes with Gennie. “Well, hello there my green-eyed sister.” It was true, the nurse had green eyes, but not as bright as Gennie’s; more the muted, smoky color of martini olives. “I don’t know”, she said clinically, “You being a zombie and all, might be beyond my help. But maybe a little medical workup would serve you well.” She dropped the thermometer she had used into a bag at her feet and extracted a new one from her pocket.

Heat rose in Gennie’s cheeks and she gulped audibly, eliciting giggles from those close enough to hear.  “You’re scaring the girl Kimmie.” Gennie leaned away meaning to bolt, but Chelsea was at her back solid as a fence post blocking a simple escape. Gennie looked pleading into her eyes, “Please Chel…” she whispered. Chelsea held her there just long enough before smiling and stepping out of her way. “Maybe later, Nurse Kim”, she said. “We have to get some alcohol in her first.”

As Gennie slipped past, Chelsea grabbed her bottom gently and squeezed. “The longer you wait”, she whispered in her ear, “The worse it’s going to seem…” But as she walked away she felt something more than the nerves and gut-churning fear of being exposed to strangers. She would deny it out loud but there was something in the naughtiness of this whole evening that was beginning to buzz, so far quietly, inside her. She wished Chelsea would have kept her hand on her bottom.

(Continuing…)

The Party

(Continued from Chelsea – 9)

They sat in a charged silence with the turn signal blinking to allow a silver Volvo station wagon to enter then followed it down the drive. “We’re just arriving”, he said glancing into the rear view to catch Gennie’s eye. “We don’t know what happened…let anyone who wants to tell, tell.”

“Duke and Beth?” Gennie asked from the back.

“No. They know. Everyone else though…”

Gennie sighed loudly-a tad too loudly.

“Jesus Christ Geneva!”, Chelsea hissed turning in her seat. “Would you drop the fucking ‘tude!” The magic word to bust Gennie’s attitude always is her proper name spoken in anger. She puddled against the door.

“I’m sorry”, she said. “Sorry. I was just so…I’m just so…scared…”

“Scared”, sniffed Chelsea. “Scared…” She turned in the seat and without warning, slithered over the back rest. He had no desire to interfere but looking over in time to get a glimpse of Chelsea’s butt peeking out of the large tear in the seat of her jeans awakened desires he did have.

Gennie could barely get out a weak “Hey!” and throw up her arms before Chelsea was on her. “Do not be afraid and do not be a baby!” Chelsea said sternly grabbing her wrists and pushing them down to her sides. This lanky blonde was surprising strong. “Do you think we’re going to let anything happen to you?”

“But…”

“Shut up!” Chelsea whispered. In the rear view he could mostly on see the back of Chelsea’s head but saw Gennie’s eyes roll back and close as Chelsea closed her mouth over hers. Gennie had no choice then but to shut up, there being two tongues in her mouth and all. She did relax, at least for the moment, as Chelsea released her arms and wrapped her in a hug. He pulled his eyes back to the road. Whatever the women did together back at the house, they did it out of his sight. Being a witness to this small coupling further scattered his concentration.

One would have thought that gunplay, an explosion, a cavalry charge of ATV’s and SUV’s scattering and subsequently rounding up a band of armed brigands might have put a damper on the party. In truth, some of the more timid souls had left at the first chance, but not too many timid souls come to this party anyway. The stream of vehicles coming down the driveway far and away outnumbered those going up.

After all that had happened it might have seemed easy to forget the plans for their entrance, but Chelsea was still on point. Once parked, she went to the trunk and pulled out the two staffs she had fashioned with the nooses on the ends. “Are we still going to do this?” Gennie asked.

In answer Chelsea looped the noose over her head and pulled it tight.

“GAK!”

“Yes, we’re still going to do this.”

They entered the bonfire’s circle of light opposite the smoking hulk of the motorcycle which had become a prop. The girls lurched, twitched and growled at the menagerie of beasts and ghouls that turned at their entrance.

“Walkers in the house!” croaked a three-eyed raven; “Ah Zombies!” cried a vampire with improbably large breasts spilling over her red corset. Gennie was happy she hadn’t done the vampire thing. There were cops, soldiers, Captain America made it as did Bat Girl-who might have been Bat Man in drag. Some costumes were less elaborate than others, and others wore no costumes at all-it was a good mix.

While he was scanning the crowd, a five-foot kitten hopped their way and sniffed at his feet.  He paused to allow for the act and when she turned from his feet to Gennie he saw the fur chaps she wore were backless and her furry tail protruded directly out of her bottom, no doubt plugged firmly in place. She rose on her haunches to sniff Gennie’s butt.

“Scat!” he said pantomiming a kick that gently poked at the kitten’s dimpled white bum. She hissed and scampered off.

(Continuing…)