“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…

 

“I need you in here for a second…”

Milf

From Tumblr; Origin unknown

You were worried about it last week but knew his travel schedule would keep him otherwise engaged for a few days. Yesterday you thought he had forgotten about it. By today you were sure of it.

It was dinner and a show with friends and nothing was amiss. Then he called from the other room….”Honey, before you finish dressing….”

The Warm Afterwards

I need a good....

From Tumblr…origin unknown

Continued from “What’s the Matter with Me?”

She passed her Mom’s room at the top of the stairs, then Bobby’s; she was at the end of the L-shaped hall. Before turning the knob she dropped to her knees and looked through the keyhole. The end of the bed was perfectly framed. She smiled and shook her head. “And I was worried about him hearing”, she mumbled to herself.

Inside, she sat on the edge of the bed and let her eyes wander over the shelves of her stuff. That’s how she thought of it: “her stuff”. Sure, it was all middle school and high-school, but everything surrounding her commemorated a step of accomplishment in a young promising life. There were cheerleading trophies, softball trophies, student of the month certificates imperfectly framed and hanging on the wall. Her eyes burned as she thought of the bare walls and empty shelves back at her apartment. But it wasn’t like she accomplished much after leaving here.

This wasn’t helping, she thought. Her meditation sessions in this room typically rejuvenated her. She would usually leave here emboldened-with a little of the brash girl she once was awakened. Today she just felt…shitty. She lay back on the bed and allowed the tears to come-gently, sadly, without a whimper or a sob. Just quiet tears of sadness and…loneliness? Yes, that was it-loneliness. She had never felt lonely here-in this house-the reverse actually. Even though there were only three of them growing up Barbara had felt surrounded-which she of course pushed against at all turns. Today she realized she also felt protected back then.

And she knew that it was her mother than made her feel that way. All the lectures she used to hear-all the scolding-happened right here. And the spankings too. But there was a method to her Mom’s madness that maybe she didn’t realize. Slowly-in tiny flashes-a thought sparkled across her gray spirit. Not well-formed, just something to occupy her mind for a moment. She lay there and let her breathing take over as these random thoughts congealed into an idea she could grasp. Once she grasped it, she saw it-she remembered-and remembering made it real. The tears stopped, replaced by a strangely warm feeling. She rolled onto her belly.

She reached back and cupped her denim-encased backside. She heard her mother’s voice deep in her memory-“You push those pants down right now…” Her heart flipped a little as she reached under herself and pulled at her belt. “All the way down, young lady”, she heard in her mind’s ear. She relived a little of the fear she had felt-the embarrassment. She lifted a little, unsnapped her belt then stopped. Then what? she wondered. Then what?

What was she missing? Not the pain of the brush-that couldn’t be it. Could it? And not the aftercare-there was none of that-just a slamming of the door and the orders to “stay in here till you’re done crying.” No…it was later. Maybe that evening, if the spanking had happened early enough. Maybe the next day. Her mom would plop down next to her on the couch-or across from her at the table and chat. Ask her about her day-about school…And Barbara would talk-she had no problem opening up or…it was like they were almost sisters in the glow of afterwards. A screen had been torn down-a sheet dissolved.

She folded her hands under her cheek and breathed. That’s what she was missing. The afterglow…the warm afterwards….She had felt a little of that today downstairs laughing with Bobby about her spankings. And that was from talking about them! It was amazing the memories and feelings that lived in her old room.

She lay there and let her mind wander-let it race. Her vision skipped years, blew past her short-circuited marriage, her miserable relationships before and since, all the way back to when she was seventeen lying on the bed waiting for her mother to come through the door. Christ this was confusing! She groaned and rolled back over. She knew what she had to try. She got up with a purpose and strode down the hallway to her mother’s room. Would he do it?

Her mother’s door opened with a creak and she stepped inside. Barbara’s own room appeared untouched because no one lived there. Her mom’s room looked untouched because Eileen had a place for everything and everything was in its place. It looked the same as it always had and it smelled of the same Estee Lauder perfume no matter how long the room had been empty.

The hairbrush was where she knew it would be. On the dresser, centered, in front of the jewelry box. Barbara picked it up gently, as if retrieving a relic, and rubbed her hand over the smooth wood. She caught herself in the mirror and was suddenly, inexplicably to her, comfortable with what she saw.

She turned around and looked over her shoulder at her bottom. With the brush in her right hand she patted her cheek firmly, but not hard enough to be heard downstairs. Even so, there was a rush of excitement at the sting she felt. This was going to hurt! She caught her eye in the mirror again. There was a determined look reflecting back-she was going to do it. Without a further thought she was off-out of the room and down the steps.

“Hey Bobby”, she called. “You have a second?”

She had his full attention as soon as she stepped into the room carrying the hairbrush. For a split second he wasn’t sure who it was meant for, but one look at her face crystallized her intent for him. He sat and listened to her plan.

“So you’re thinking you miss the spankings?”

“I don’t think I miss them. Not the spankings as they happened. I’m not sure I miss anything real.  I mean it could be that what I miss is the fantasy that I indulged in. I like to remember this it gave me a feeling of boundaries. That I could only go so far then something would happen to pull me back. Those boundaries kept me from veering too far off course.”

“They didn’t though, did they?”

“No-they just gave me something else to rebel against. But now, I’m looking for boundaries I guess. I can’t go back to high school. I can’t get Mr. Sadler’s detention. I can’t get busted for smoking in the lav. There are no rules for adults!”

“This from a woman who got busted not three hours ago.”

“I know, right? Isn’t that crazy? That’s why I was crying when I got here. I did this stupid-shit thing and nobody would care about it. Nobody would know about it! Nobody would care and I could just continue to fuck my life up on my own-thank you very much. “

“Somebody’s always going to care, you know”, he said with real tenderness.

She stopped and swallowed hard. “Again, I know. I find that out. I come in the house, my little brother makes one call and I’m free and off the hook. And now I just think I have to get spanked for being bad. For going over the line.”

“You have to…”

“I have to….”

He regarded her silently and looked at the hairbrush.

“I need to….” She said quietly.

He was quiet and actually tugged at his bottom lip.

“So yes, then?” He avoided eye contact probably realizing that if he looked at her, he would give her whatever she wanted. And that was what he was going to do. “You’ll do it?” she asked again, a little pleading in her question.

“Ok, Babsy. Sure. Whatever.” She was too happy with his affirmative answer to really note his seeming lack of enthusiasm in the whole endeavor. She handed him the hairbrush and undid her belt.

“Wait. Hold it! Are you taking your pants down?”

“When’s the last time I got spanked in this house that it wasn’t on the bare?”

“Jesus! Barb….”

“What’s the matter? You can fantasize about it for years-play it out in your head-but not man enough to do it for real?”

“I don’t fantasize about doing it….I do it…I mean, not with you…” She flustered him. He was looking at two people at that moment. Here was his big sister, daring him to do something. Egging him on through his reluctance. But beyond that, he saw his big sister asking him, pleading with him, for something only he could give her.

“What do you mean, you do it?”

“I spank girls…women…women I date…” he stammered. “It’s something I do. Girls have broken up with me over it. And I’ve broken up with them because they wouldn’t. But with them there is a…”

He looked away and stammered to silence as she pushed her pants and underwear down revealing a thick thatch of jet black hair blooming above her open fly. She reached over him and lowered herself carefully across his lap. “I get that”, she said settling in. “If it makes you feel any better, you won’t be the first person to spank me since Mom, so don’t worry about it.”

“That might be too much information” he said, trusting himself to look down at her bottom revealed less than completely by her hurriedly lowered jeans. “Look when Mom was doing it, there was a reason I guess. To punish you…to keep you in line…I don’t know. And when we do it with other people there’s a …sexual thing about it. It’s about that…But why are we doing it?”

“Because I want it.”

She pulled a throw-pillow close and hugged it. “Because right now I might need it more than I need anything.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re sweet but getting hurt like this is exactly what I want.”

“Hey, is this cutting you?” He pulled at her belt and bunched jeans which were digging into a deep band across her hips.

“Kinda”, she wriggled.

“Here, lift”. She did and he gently tugged her pants and underwear further down her thighs.

“Better.” She relaxed back into position and hugged the pillow more closely closing her eyes. They sat together in a warm silence that was not uncomfortable. That was not tense. That was relaxed to the point that neither of them really realized they had gone quiet. Bobby, his left hand gently rubbing his sister’s shoulder and his right chastely resting on the back of her leg. She, eyes closed in the pillow.

Bobby relaxed for the first time since Barb came down the steps. He had spoken the truth-all of the spankings he did with woman were sexual. It was all part of foreplay and all of them-well, the ones that didn’t lead to a woman leaving huffily-led to sex. This was his sister and he happily didn’t feel the same crotch tightening thickness with her as he did with other women held in this position. Not even the same excitement that rose in him at the memory of the vision through the keyhole.

“Does it live up to your memory?” She asked back over her shoulder. “Is it all that you remembered?”

“What, the ass that ruined me for all other asses?”

She pinched his ankle.

Her bottom of course was magnificent. The vision and the memory had been sweet; a young girl’s pert, lean bum. This was different though-this was a woman-and that bum had fully bloomed into a voluptuous ass with a deep crease splitting two fulsome milky white cheeks.

“There it is” he said.

“What?” she tried to look back but her hair cascaded over her face. She felt him poking gently on her right cheek.

“That freckle. Still there. Funny what a boy’s mind will focus on but after I saw it that day through the keyhole, every time you walked past and I copped a look at your butt, I would think of this little freckle. Like it was a little secret we had just between us.”

“I wish…”

“No, I mean back then.”

“So do I”, she said.

He slapped her on the cheek and she yelped, surprised. “So bad”, he said.

He watched his handprint develop and darken, mottling her creamy skin. She felt the warmth spread across her cheek.

“I guess we should get on with it…” she said.

“Yeah”, he said but not moving to pick up the brush.

“This is going to hurt you know…”

“All I need right now is for you to hurt me like this…You’re good with that, right?”

“Are you going to cry?”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to help that” she said as his hand continued to rub her back.

“Go on Bobby. Do it. I trust you…”

She exhaled slowly to bring her heart rate down and stared through lidded eyes at the living room that she knew so well-seen now from a new perspective. His hand stopped rubbing and settled on the small of her back. The other hand disappeared and was presumably picking up the brush. She neither twitched nor clenched, but closed her eyes. Bobby lifted the brush and brought it down, snapping his wrist as if he was throwing a ball.

“OW!” she yelped feeling a burn unlike anything she’d felt in years.

“If you say STOP, I’ll stop.” He said. “Anything other than that, I’ll spank till you’re done.”

“K”, was all she could manage before the next swats landed full on her bottom-SPLAT on one cheek, then the other, then back again. She held her tongue through four then began to cry between yelps. She cried, she yelled, “OUCH! OW!” “It hurts Bobby…Ouch, ouch OW”. She said a lot, but managed to avoid the word “stop.” He felt her thrashing then settling. When she stopped moving but for the jumps and jolts with every swat, he put the hairbrush aside and slapped her fully with his hand. “Oww!” she said surprised. He like the feel of the hand against her bottom-the warm connection and the jarring contact that resonated all the way to his shoulder. After a few smacks at the top of her legs and a few more at the bottom of her bottom where the smacking sound echoed through her chasms he slowed.

One more whack and he was finished. He kept his right hand cupping her bright pink right cheek. It radiated heat. Her tears slowed and the loud sobs were over. But she was in no hurry to get up and he was not pushing her.

“I bet Mom never spanked you like that…” he said finally.

“No she didn’t. That was a grown-up spanking….hand me a Kleenex would you.”

He pulled a couple out of the box on the table and handed them to her. She dabbed at her tears and wiped her nose.

“What would you think if I moved back in here?” she asked.

“Mom and I were wondering why you were living alone in that crappy apartment.”

She wriggled a bit pulling the pillow tighter to her face.

“You know me, I want to be an independent woman” she said with all the sarcasm she could muster.

“It’s easier to be independent when someone has your back”, he told her, rubbing her back again.

“Or your back-side?”

“Yeah…that too.”

“I gotta get up” she said after a few more moments. He averted his eyes so he wouldn’t see anything she didn’t want him to see as she got up but she was less concerned about that than he was. She stood and kneaded at the small of her back, her glowing bottom on display, her pants and underwear still at her knees.

He poked at her butt one more time. “You can put that thing away now…”

She laughed and sniffled as she rolled up her underwear then pulled up her pants. “Don’t go shy on me now, kiddo. I might need your services again when I move back.”

“Not if you behave”, he said jokingly.

She turned and bent to kiss him on the cheek. “What are the chances of that, do you think?”

He caught the warmth in her eyes and complete comfort in her smile.

“Whatever you need Babsy. Whatever you need.”

(If you liked this, try Angie’s Workout…)

Odd Tuesday

 

Boulevard

Continued from Jenna…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ok, sure….”

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

“And our final winner is…”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re sweet…”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be there.”

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

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

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

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

“Jesus!” said Molly.

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

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

“Oh, all right.”

“Yesss!” Corrine hissed pumping a fist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Naw, that’s OK. This will be fine.”

“You won’t let a girl have any fun.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

Jenna

Boulevard

Continued from “A Haven for the Particular”

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

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

“S’okay. I wasn’t here that long.”

“I’m Corrine.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Odd Tuesday?”

“Yep.”

“You alone?”

“Yep.”

“You’re signed in at the door?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right back…”

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

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

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

“Hi”, said Molly extending a hand.

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

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

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

“You a regular here?”

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

“I could see that…”

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

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

“No”, she smiled. “Happily not.”

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

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

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

“I have a history”, Jenna said.

“Oh? Really?”

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

“Do they still do that?”

“They did in my case…”

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

“She was in a sorority…”

“Really? What was that like?”….

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

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

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

“Enough out of you…”

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

“Got your money back though right?”

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

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

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

“So you were all forgive and forget?”

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

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

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

“Did you go?”

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

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

“Talk among yourselves…Duty calls…

To Be Continued

Wild and Wooly

Autumn Leaves

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

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

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

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

“You are late!” was her greeting.

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

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

“I know, I know…”

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

“I know. I’m sorry…”

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

“I was going to change…”

“Won’t matter. Come on.”

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

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

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

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

“Potentially…” drawled Mandy.

“Exactly”, said Heather. “Potentially.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Well…yeah but…”

“No but! We told you directly.”

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

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

“No”, Jenna huffed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can take those shorts down.”

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

“Absolutely.”

“Come on, Heather…”

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

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

“Very nice”, she heard Mandy say sarcastically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I wasn’t…” Heather began.

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

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

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

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

“Next up”, Heather called disgustedly.

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

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

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

“Next?” Heather said.

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

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

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

“Nope-I will finish her up then…”

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

“Jumpy are we?”

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

“Bend back over!”

“No”, she said through clenched teeth.

“Jenna! You bend over this instant!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

RealSpanking

RealSpanking

Janie’s Loan

From Tumbler no attribution

Continued from Sarah’s Plan

When Blue pulled up in front of Janie’s trailer the truck cab was thick with the aroma of the “Jeffy’s Supreme” pizza sitting on Sarah’s lap. They had swung through town on the way to pick it up. She opened the door gingerly and stepped out, balancing the pizza in one hand as Blue grabbed the twelve pack off of the back seat. “Leave that here for now”, Sarah said nodding at the bath brush that was also back there.

They didn’t quite reach the door before Janie opened it wide with a welcoming smile that wavered only a little. “Come in, come in…” Sarah could see the effort she had put into what had to be a whirlwind clean-up in a relatively short time. There were no clothes scattered about-there were actually chairs to sit on-and the couch was a couch, not a day bed. Sarah didn’t want to guess which closet everything had been thrown into and what would happen once that door was opened but more power to her.

Janie skittered about finding clean glasses and paper plates going on excitedly about the pizza and how she hadn’t eaten all day. Actually she was just going on…fast talking and covering. Sarah could see her eyes were red and the smile was a sweet artifice. But it was a good smile; had always been one of the best. She had done a good job with herself too. Dressed in Khaki capris which hugged her where she knew they would hug her and a green print blouse she was miles away from the gym shorts and torn T-shirt she had on earlier. Her hair was still a little shower damp which made the curls shine and, without any makeup, the tiny smattering of freckles danced across her cheeks.

The conversation around the coffee table was town-talk, high school-talk, who’s having babies-the kind of thing they always defaulted to. Finally, half way through the pizza-which Blue ate most of, Janie picked….Sarah told Blue to go look in the bedroom.

“Excuse me?”

“Go ahead….”

“Oh Sarah….” Janie shook her head.

Blue hesitated a moment but went. He opened the door and stuck his head in just as his wife had earlier that day. “Jesus Christ”, he said. “What’s this…?”

Janie sighed and, dropping her eyes, explained the situation with Danny and the exploded Harley. She wasn’t even finished before Blue had his cell phone out and was calling a friend of a hunting buddy who lived on the next ridge. Even hearing just one side of the conversation it was clear the guy was a motorcycle nut and probably dealer. Two texted photos and a little negotiation that Jamie just watched and the price-which she agreed to with a thumbs up-was settled. The guy was even going to send someone over later in the week to pick it up.

“You know what?” Blue said into the phone “This is a situation. Can if happen tomorrow afternoon?” There was a short pause then, “Fine. Good. Thanks, Billy. She’ll be here all afternoon.”

He clicked off the phone.  “Done and done.”

“What if Danny….”

“Tell him to talk to me if he has an issue.”

That would end it. Janie breathed out long and slowly. “Thanks, Blue….I didn’t really know how I was gonna…”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She shrugged palms up with a goofy, embarrassed smile…”I have my bedroom back.”

“That was the easy part. This is a little tougher”

“What?”

“I need to see your checkbook.”

“My checkbook?…”

“And the last couple of bank statements…”

Standing there while the girls were sitting made him even more in command of the situation. Sarah, though sated and sexed raw from their session earlier, felt a buzzing in her stomach as he gently but firmly told Janie what he needed. She recognized the tone. Apparently Janie had too because she didn’t so much as ask why he wanted to see the things that most people would consider their private business. She just got them and handed them over.

The shadows were lengthening in the room and Blue flicked on a lamp to leaf through the statements and the checkbook.

“Dare I ask when you last balanced your checkbook?”

“I’m not so good at that…” she shook her head lightly and looked away. Sarah averted her eyes from her friend’s embarrassment. That was a major deal in their house.

“Ok, so no problem…” he flicked from page to page.

“Girl, you have more going out monthly than you have coming in…”

“That SOB Danny….”

“Are you going to tell us this started with Danny?” She shut up.  “Like we haven’t known you forever?” Spoken by someone else his words could have sounded harsh but his tone was almost bantering; serious, but understanding. “Sarah told me you might be a tight spot, but honestly, I didn’t know how tight”.

She sagged. “I know. I know…I swear, I don’t know what I’m going to do…” her voice trailed off.

“You’re going to shut up and let us help you.”

“How can you help? I can always use more hours….”

“Girl, there ain’t enough hours in the day for you to make this right. We’ll help you fix it…”

He told her that they had brought their checkbook and he, Sarah actually, was going to write her a check for $5000 so she could go to the bank and get her truck tomorrow. She sat stunned and as if not knowing how to deal with her friend’s largesse stumbled over the simplest thing.

“I have to work tomorrow…” she said in a small voice.

“Naw, I think you’re calling in sick tomorrow. Remember you have to be here in the afternoon so Billy’s peckerhead buddy can come get that mess out of your bedroom. Then”, he went on, “she going to write you another check for $2000 for credit cards…”

“What?” said Sarah and Janie almost simultaneously.

“Yeah, that was a surprise to me too. But if we don’t get rid of them, the truck payment won’t matter. So, Miss Janie, you’re into us for seven grand.”

Janie sat back as if dazed. “You can’t Blue….Sarah….you can’t do this…”

Blue squatted down on his haunches as if he was going to draw in the dirt. He explained that this wasn’t a gift. She already owed the money, so that would be nothing new. He would just owe it to them instead of the bank and credit card companies. He explained the payment terms and how she would be able to hit them and how much he expected from her every month. Sarah hadn’t thought it this far down the line and was surprised at how easily Blue could put these numbers together in his head.

“Why are you doing this?” She asked in a small voice.

“Because we can”, Sarah said. “Look honey-we love you. We been friends for so long and to see you in the state you were in earlier today….It tore me up. Remember you said you wanted someone to watch your back? To help keeping you from fucking up….”

“At least too bad…” Blue chimed in and they all laughed.

“That’s what we want to do. If you’ll let us.”

Tears welled in Janie’s eyes. “If I let you? I don’t know what to say…”

“You don’t have to say anything….this will be a process.”

Janie nodded quickly and dabbed at her eyes…”Thank you…”

“Blue” said Sarah as she went through her bag for the checkbook, “Go out to the truck.” As Janie looked at her questioningly, “He’s got something else for you.”

When he reentered the trailer he was holding the bath brush in his right hand. As soon as Janie saw it she collapsed back into the chair as if pushed. A cloud passed over her eyes and her cheeks flushed slightly. She reached out for the cigarettes then put them down again, her hand shaking slightly.

“I guess you know what will happen if you miss a payment, don’t you?” Sarah asked.

Janie crossed her legs, left over right and pushed herself up in the chair. “I guess I do”, she said not taking her eyes off the brush. She shifted, uncrossing then re-crossing her legs right over left. She looked at Sarah first, then up at Blue. “You….you won’t be sorry”, she stammered. “You can…you can… Jesus! I’m sorry…” she attempted a laugh, “You sort of threw me off there. You can count on me. I won’t let you down…”

“We know you won’t”, Sarah said.

Blue stood over her-not close enough to be looming, but certainly close enough to be imposing and laid out the ground rules. She would call him-not Sarah-for any large purchase. Anything over fifty bucks to start. She would take any overtime he could push her way….as he ticked the items off he emphasized the points with a tiny wave or stab in the air with the brush. It appeared off-hand but Sarah knew his lecturing style.

“You will hang this in the bathroom or in the kitchen, anywhere you can see it every day as a reminder of what will happen if you don’t get yourself under control. You understand?” She nodded and he set the brush on the table and headed toward the kitchen for another beer. Janie looked at him then back at the brush. Then back at him…

“Is that it…?” she asked her eyes back on the brush.

“That’s it.”

“I thought…” she paused and steadied herself with a hand to her bosom. “I thought you were going to…spank me….”

“I certainly am. I you miss…” said Blue.

“I mean…now. That’s what I thought.”

He paused and regarded her carefully. She tried to keep his gaze but had to look away. She caught Sarah’s eye and looked down.

“There’s no doubt you deserve it,” he said sternly. “You’ve deserved it for years. I don’t doubt if you would have had someone who would fan your ass when you needed it, you wouldn’t be in the situation you are in now.”

She didn’t trust her words-only nodded.

“You know, that might not be a bad idea. Sort of clear the air-put you in the right place.”

“Blue, you…” Sarah started to say but his look stopped her.

“No, it’s OK. I want him to”, she was almost pleading with Sarah. “I need this. I do…” She looked at Blue. “I’m sorry Blue, I’m sorry….I just think I need this.”

“Up to you…” he said.

“God”, she whispered almost to herself. “This is embarrassing.”

Blue had sat on the couch and motioned her over.

“Don’t worry about it-this is between us…if you don’t want to do it….”

“OK. No, I’ll do it. I want to do it.” She stood in front of him fiddling nervously with the button on her pants. “These come off right…?”

“Here, let me help with that.” He slipped the button and opened her zipper sliding the snug capris down her legs. She put a hand on his shoulder for balance as Blue leaned down to slip them over her feet. Sarah noticed how close he was to her sex, swaddled only in a tiny shard of white cotton.

“Panties too?” she asked in a small voice.

“I’ll take those off once you’re over my lap. No reason showing more than you have to.”

She knelt on the couch and stretched out over his lap holding her weight on her elbows. Her hands were folded, fingers tightly entwined at her chin. Her mouth was a slip and her eyes were clenched shut though a tiny tear had squeezed out and was hanging, like an ornament, on her lash.

“Lift up” he said slipping his fingers under the elastic waist band. She did as she was told and he peeled the panties slowly down revealing the creamy white globes of her bottom. He tugged gently to pull the cotton from between her legs and slid them down to her knees.

Sarah sat bolt upright in her chair as alert as a prairie dog. Except for in the movies she had never seen another woman-person for that matter-spanked. And now, seeing Janie bare-assed over her husband’s lap tickled her hard top and bottom. She knew what Sarah was feeling, the awkward anticipation; the fear of the first swat-not knowing how she would be able to take it.

And she would never admit it but, seeing Jamie like this brought back the memory of the ‘flat-ass’ comment from eleventh grade that she had never forgotten.  There was the teensiest bit of revenge satisfaction in seeing her in this position. But she had to admit, even the spread of the years and a few extra pounds did little to diminish the lush curves of her backside. She lay there stiff as a board, cheeks tense enough that you couldn’t slip a quarter between them…

Sarah’s reverie was interrupted by the first swat landing hard on Jamie’s right cheek. She took it in silence and her thick bottom didn’t seem to move. The second fell in the same spot and met the same stoic response but a rosy blush began to break up the creamy color palette. After the third swat she said “OW” calmly if breathlessly. She continued to narrate her spanking as if to control it. “Ow”, she said again. “That hurt.” Then, “Ouch…that one stung…” Every time she spoke, the words were shakier-more guttural-finally almost breathless.

She had nothing to say-only kicked her feet against the couch-when Blue smacked the crevasse at the bottom of her- catching both cheeks at once and echoing across the room. One swat later, which landed hard on her left cheek, opened the floodgates.

Janie’s shoulders began quaking before she sobbed out loud. The tension in her butt released and the brush landed solidly but with a different, softer SPLACK! bringing a loud coughing rasp of a cry. Sarah left her chair and knelt at her husband’s feet. Jamie’s sobbed pitifully, her face buried in her hands.

“That’s OK honey, let it out…”

“I’m such a fucking loser…”

“No you are not. Blue-“

He reached higher and hit her harder than he had yet. She jumped and Sarah wrapped an arm over her shoulders. “Do not say that! You are not a loser….”

Janie was not to be reasoned with. She sobbed pitifully and loudly as if, having started to cry, she was going to get it all out. Sarah kept whispering in her friend’s ear rubbing her shoulders and neck as Blue continued to spank a loud tattoo on her bottom which shaded from a blushing pink to an angry red. He regarded the reds the speckles of purples on the lower cheeks, the think dark line down the lip of her split and knew his work was done. He lay the brush aside and added his own voice to Sarah’s quiet compassion.

“That’s okay Janie…I’m done now….shhhh…you’re fine….” He said, underscoring his words by softly rubbing her dry, burning bottom. At home he would have lotion to soothe her backside but there wasn’t any here and he wasn’t about to send his wife off looking for any. He settled off of her tortured bum and softly massaged the top of her thighs. His rubbing and patting didn’t escape Sarah’s notice but-as conflicted as she suddenly became about it-she thought better than to say anything. She did wonder though if Blue was poking at her belly from below, the way he would be when she was in this position.

Happily though, Janie’s tears began to subside soon enough and Sarah slipped her a handkerchief to pat at her ruined face. Blue unwound her underwear from near her knees and slipped them back up her legs. Sarah, alert for it, saw Jamie rise fetchingly, spreading her cheeks just enough to allow him to pull her panties up into place while also giving a glance of all she had to show underneath. Sarah paid attention to Janie’s other end, not wanting to catch her husband looking.

Then, panties in place she rose awkwardly to a seat on the couch. She wriggled at the rough pile of the couch. “Oww..”, she couldn’t help smiling…”That hurts…”

“Here”, Blue said handing her one of the soft flat throw pillows. “This’ll help.”

Janie slipped it under her bottom and sat gingerly. “That’s better…” she said. “Wow, that was…something. It hurt…It was good-I feel better actually. I appreciate it, I mean, don’t get me wrong…but it HURT.”

“I imagine it did…” Blue said.

“I know it did”, said Sarah from her seat back on the chair.

“So I guess I can count on you having the money every month then, right?” Blue asked.

“Oh yes-oh yes…you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I’ll appreciate it. And Sarah will too. Because every paddling you get for late payment, she will get too.”

“What?! Me too? Why?”

“You are the co-signer on this loan honey. If Janie defaults….”

Sarah was about to protest but her eye caught the bath brush laying on the floor beside the couch igniting the tiny twinge in her belly. Best to let it ride for now.

“Don’t worry Sarah-I’ll be on time…we’ll be fine…” Sarah saw a glint of mischief in her friend’s eye and the twinge grew.

Down the Road

Molly At The Club

John squeezed Molly’s forearm with a “be right back” look and left her at the bar. She saw that he had made eye contact with the bartender so she knew she would not be alone long. She followed his glance and saw the woman behind the bar flowing toward her. Her eyes cut left and right on the way seeing which of her charges might be ready for another, who was low and who might want….anything.

Compared to herself-and that’s the way Molly measured all women-the bartender was long and lean as a leopard. Tight jeans hugged her hips below a flash of flat midriff which was covered above the navel by a white silky tank top layered under a weathered denim vest.

Tattoos sleeved her bare left arm, circling and curling from the wrist to the shoulder and across her shoulder blade. Looked like leaves from down the bar but as she got closer Molly could make out that they were vines and entwined with the vines a bright multi-colored snake circled her bicep climbing seemingly toward her head. Her right arm-closest to Molly-was clear below the elbow but above, there was another snake. This one glistening black and wrapped.

“I’m Corrine”, she smiled reaching a fist across the bar.

“Molly”, she answered with a quick fist bump.

Now in front of her, Molly noticed another tattoo. This was a necklace-looked like a thin leather strip-circling around her neck and crawling across her collarbones just low enough so any shirt would cover it. Centered on the brown strip, hanging in the center of her breast plate was a tiny paddle-tiny but obvious for what it was. Deep blue outlines-highlighted a burnished gold wooden color-with three holes dotted in the center.

Molly stared for a moment then realized it could look like she was ogling the woman’s breasts so she lifted her gaze northward to Corrine’s laughing green eyes.

“Welcome to The Club, Molly. What can I get you?”

To drink? Molly had given it no thought…To avoid looking like a stammering, staring dunce she turned the question back “What do you like?”

“Me?” she tilted her head slightly as if thinking, “I’m a whisky girl. Bourbon specifically.”

“OK-make me something. Surprise me.”

Corrine’s slight head tilt became a smiling wink. “I’m sure I can do that.”

Molly watched the woman work-watched her hands move quickly and surely. Ice in the martini glass to cool it, ice in the tall mixing glass, then a thick draught of bourbon followed by a liquor she didn’t recognized. She, of course, flipped a mixing spoon into her hand and stirred the drink quickly but carefully all the while maintaining a lively patter with the folks to Molly’s left and right.  Molly realized she was being introduced around…”John’s friend”….”our newest friend…” and she nodded smiled and shook the hands offered. She caught or remembered no names.

Corrine’s smile was quick, wide and open-then small and pursed-then wide again, expressing all she needed to express wordlessly. Her raven hair flowed around her shoulders as she whipped her head around following all the conversations in her circle.

She tossed the ice out of the cooled martini glass and strained the drink into it. She presented it in front of Molly and with a slight flourish swished a large dark cherry into the glass.

“Black Manhattan”, she said.

The drink was dark befitting its name and seemed to pulse behind the droplets that ran down the outside of the glass. Molly imagined the cherry as the heart beating life into this new being that had been created for her. And because its creator was standing before her in anticipation, Molly raised the glass to her lips and allowed the cool darkness to flow into her mouth. The heat filled her throat and rolled through her chest while the sweetness lingered on her tongue.

“Wow”, Molly said genuinely surprised. “That’s wonderful!”

“Thought you’d like it.”

Molly hadn’t been sure. She was a gin and tonic, white wine sort. To say this dark liquor was a departure was an understatement but well in keeping with the rest of her day.

Corrine was still standing in front of her with her hands corralling the drink. She seemed to be leaning in a little…searching.

“Oh, I’m sorry…” Molly allowed herself to be a tad flustered reaching for her purse.

“No-don’t worry about it.” He hand covered Molly’s with a warm pat. It was-contrary to what you’d expect given what she was doing behind the bar-warm and dry. And comfortably strong. “John’s orders. We are all at your service tonight.” She looked around the bar. “I’ll be back to check on you. Enjoy.”

Molly watched her walk away and without meaning to-at least at first-let her eyes be drawn to the contours of her perfectly sculpted ass rippling under jeans that could have been painted on. Then she caught herself and took a deep sip of her drink.

A small unassuming guy with a shaved head and earing slid into the spot to her left and began to speak to her. The music was starting to pump and hearing what he was saying was difficult. She leaned toward him smiling and realized that he was asking her to dance. Something about he knew the DJ and could get him to play whatever she wanted. She kept her smile and shrugged that she wasn’t much of a dancer. He persisted and leaned in noticing that her glass was empty. Before he could offer to buy her one, Connie swooped in with another perfectly made cocktail that she clapped on the bar before her.

“Come on Tommy, give her a break. She’s new here-let her get acclimated.”

He smiled and bowed with his palms up as if in supplication, “Acclimate away” he said and drifted off toward the dance floor.

“He’s harmless”, she said smiling. “Nice actually-works here…” she whirled and went back down the bar.

“Thanks!” yelled Molly to her retreating back trying not to let her eyes slide down to her retreating backside. She smiled and shook her head quickly as if to clear her vision and her thoughts. What was with her tonight? She did not usually feel comfortable among strangers, let alone a whole room of them but here she was. It was a real mix, this bunch-from fashionably torn $200 jeans to khakis and polos to a couple in understated but unmistakable leather.

She felt someone slide in beside her and turned to see John. She smiled widely and punched him in the arm. “Where have you been?” she asked.

“Mingling”, he answered returning the smile.

“Mingling.”

“Had to see a few folks…Corrie been taking care of you?”

“Yeah-she’s great!”

“She’s something alright. What do you have here?” He reached for her glass and sipped.

“Oh, that’s good.”

“What are you dinking?” Molly asked but before he could answer Corrine appeared in front of them with a cocktail that she sat in front of John.

“John’s an Old Fashion guy…at least in his drinks”, she told Molly as a loud aside and moved away again.

“Thank you…” he called after her as Molly stole a glance at her retreating backside. Her glance settled there a beat too long and John busted her with a smile. “Enjoying the view, are we?” Molly blushed hotly as John laughed. “I’ll never tell…”

By 11:00 the dance floor had filled up as had most of the room. Corrine was joined by two other bartenders to help with what had become a constant crush of people. One was the Tommy who had hit on her-he winked and gave her a wave-and a tall blonde woman with a pony tail and splash of freckles.

Waitresses carried trays of drinks to the tables against the wall and to the game room in back-with more tables and a couple of pool tables and dartboards. It was a dizzying crush of people and activity made more so by the fact that Molly was starting to feel the drinks and probably didn’t need the one Tommy had just set in front of her.

She and John talked past midnight with Corrine taking advantage of her help to linger with them a little. With subtle exchanged smiles over the rim of the glass she even sipped a little at Molly’s drink knowing that she was probably a tad over her limit. “I’ll try to catch up with you….”

Corrine’s shift ended at midnight and she was just getting ready to leave the bar to the other two when a crash back by the pool table rose above the general din. And as always happened since high school cafeteria, a round of mock applause from the surrounding patrons let everyone know that someone had dropped a tray of glassware or, heaven forbid, drinks. Molly saw one of the security guys moving back there with a broom and shovel.

Then, just as the cheer in back seemed to be fading, it morphed into a chant-low and scattered at first with one or two voices then rose to a cheer: “Corrie! Corrie! Corrie!” The Corrie in question, leaning against the bar with John and Molly, smiled slyly. “Duty calls!” she said and headed up the bar.

Molly thought she had to go back and help with the clean-up but Corrine stopped at the cash register and reached into the dark shelf below it. Her hand emerged clutching a paddle that looked like the model of the tattoo around her neck. It was around two feet long, burnished light brown-almost golden-with three holes running down the center.

The denizens at the bar cheered when they saw it and joined in the “Corrie” chant. For her part, Corrine held the paddle high like the sword Excalibur just pulled from the stone. The chant for her grew louder as she moved to the back pumping the paddle up in the air like a drum major’s baton. Wide-eyed, Molly grabbed John’s wrist.

He smiled, “Poor waitress…”

“She’s going to paddle her? Right back there? In front of everybody?”

“You want to watch?” John asked.

She was pinned in her seat; frozen there by the block of ice that had seemed to settle deep in her stomach. Did she really want to see what was going to happen back there? Yes, of course she wanted to go see. But she didn’t want John to know that she wanted to see. Was she that drunk? She looked at him in confusion but he read her eyes pretty easily.

“Come on”, he said grabbing her wrist.

The crowd made room for them as they slid there way along the back wall to the game room. The room wasn’t exactly spinning for Molly as she feared it would when she got off the stool, but it was a little off kilter. Whether that was because of the drinks or the crazy buzz she was feeling in her stomach and below, she couldn’t say.

The crowd had cleared a spot back in the corner of the game room beyond the pool tables where the unlucky waitress was standing, her eyes studying the floor. The security guy had already swept up the glass and Corrine was brandishing the paddle as if it was a gavel at an auction.

“How many?” she called out.

“Ten!” came an answer.

“Ten?!” the waitress looked up, stricken. “They were empties!”

Corrine pointed the paddle at the guy who had suggested ten. “I’ll give her ten if you come up here and take ten yourself. Whattaya say?”

He smiled and waved her off amid hoots from his table.

“Nine!” someone called out.  “Eight!” came another.

“Eight-nine…You don’t have many friends back here, do you Meagan?”

Meagan looked around with a slightly exaggerated pout. She was smaller than Corrine-about Molly’s size-but a little thicker. Wider in the hips and across the bottom which might be an advantage here. The crowd kept yelling out numbers-high numbers-and Molly, in her state was having trouble seeing who in the mob was yelling what. Meagan was looking around too, her tight blond curls bobbing left and right as if looking for the winning bidder. Finally, Corrine raised the paddle above her head and the mob quieted.

“I was going to give her four…” there was a grumbling and one “only four?” from the floor. “But you are particularly blood thirsty tonight. You want your pound of Meagan flesh tonight don’t you?”

“We do!”

“So I’ll give her five!”

“FIVE!” the crowd assented. “Five! Five! Five!”

Clearly relishing her role in the drama, Corrine pumped the paddle to the chant of the crowd. They settled quickly when she turned to the waitress. Molly was sucking air in little gasps. The crowd was obviously not new to this sort of show but she didn’t know what to expect from one minute to the next.

“Meagan?”

The girl turned away from the room to face a chair that had been placed against the wall. She bent over the back placing both hands on the seat. Her jeans stretched tightly across her ample bottom. She arched her back, presenting herself further, and waited.

If Molly was expecting some kind of stylized pantomime of a paddling that you might see on stage in a play she was disabused of that notion quickly. Corrine stepped back-measured once with a pat on the girl’s bottom-then swung hard. Molly jumped when the paddle landed with a loud “CRACK!” John, standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders, squeezed gently. The crowd cheered the swat.

At impact Meagan had raised on her toes but settled back just in time to absorb the second swat. “Two” a couple had called out. Again-up on the toes and back down. The third swat cracked right across the center of her backside and she bounced on her heels a bit and broke her knees just a tad. Corrine gave her a moment to gather herself then delivered the fourth to loud cheers.

“Now”, Corrine addressed the mob. “She would be done now. Poor Meagan and her bruised bottom would be free to go…But no. You wanted MORE!” her eyes flashed and her teeth gleamed as she spun slowly taking in the whole room, obviously enjoying herself. “So this…” she settled back into position “this last swat, is not on my conscience. This is for you…..ANIMALS!” She smiled wickedly and stepped into the swing.

The paddle landed with a loud “CRACK!” that was drowned out by the cheers of the crowd. Meagan jumped up reaching back with both hands to clasp her burning backside to general applause. She hopped in a circle with an exaggerated pout pushing her overly red lips. Her eyes glistened and her cheeks were flushed a bright pink. Which made Molly wonder for a quick unbidden second what her other cheeks looked like.

Corrine pointed around the room with the paddle. “Don’t forget to tip your waitresses. They work hard for you….or else.”

John turned Molly around to head back to their seats at the bar keeping her hands on her shoulders. She was grateful for his touch and steadying presence as the room spun slowly left to right. She dragged her hand on the paneled wall as they moved along to steady things a little. “What do you think?” he asked in her ear. How could she explain what she felt? The butterflies in her stomach had turned into eagles, she was sure she was wet between her legs and her knees trembled.

“Wow…” was all she could manage.

When they got back to their seats Corrine had collected her cash drawer and tips. Her night was over. “Give me a few minutes to get this straight and we’ll get out of here.”

We? Molly thought. Molly knew that she was too tipsy to drive and assumed that John or a cab would be taking her home but Corrine was coming with them? Her chest tightened in a good way.  She sat back at her seat and watched the room swell around her until Corrine joined them.

“Come”, she said and they slipped around the back of the bar and out a side door. Molly was happy to be lead through a dim storage room full of boxes and broken chairs and out a security door into a dark alley where John’s car was secreted behind a dumpster. They bundled Molly into the back seat and and jumped up front immediately talking about where to go eat.

“Paddling always gives me an appetite”, she joked.

“You really gave it to her”, Molly piped up from the back. “That had to hurt.”

“Oh, it hurt alright”, she answered, letting it go at that.

“Meagan’s the kind that if she doesn’t get spanked in public every so often she gets a little squirrelly…” John filled in.

“A bit of an exhibitionist”, said Corrine eyeing Molly intently in the rear view mirror. “As we all are, I suppose.”

“Plus”, said John, “That little performance probably netted her an extra hundred bucks in tips which is no small thing for a single mom trying to raise two kids.”

“A hundred bucks?”

“More”, said Corrine, “If I made her take her pants down.”

Molly caught Corrine’s eyes in the mirror and searched for a hint that she was kidding. Their eyes locked as Molly slid down into the plush leather seat. Corrine’s lidded eyes were the last things she remembered as she slipped off to sleep.

The Appointment

The room didn’t look “sterile” by any means. That was what she had called it in preparation for his first visit months ago. She had warned him that it was “a rather sterile looking office”. It was as large as the conference room at work, a desk, more of a work table really, near the rear center-with enough room for a credenza behind it under the window that overlooked the street from three floors up. There were a couple of armchairs and a short couch all situated on a soft mauve carpet that took up most of the room but was offset to the left allowing a gleaming swath of polished hardwood floor exposed against the wall.

If there was anything sterile looking about the place it was this hardwood peninsula. A stout looking armless wooden chair and matching small oak table were situated next to an upright digital scale. Beside the scale was a full length mirror affixed to the wall and an oaken clothes tree-complete with three wooden hangers.

He knew his way around well enough by now but still couldn’t avoid a little flutter in his chest when looking at the spare furnishings on that side of the room. Still, he moved in that direction and watched himself in the mirror as he doffed his sport coat draping it over the highest hanger. Standing sideways to the mirror he slid his hand along his stomach, sucking in a small gut that he noticed more than anyone else. Truth is, he hadn’t lost too much of the body he’d had when he played college baseball a decade earlier, but he’d lost enough. Enough to bother him.

He absently loosened his tie but didn’t feel a need to take it off. Shoes? He glanced toward the door. He’d wait for her before taking off his shoes. She was in the habit recently of making him wait and he didn’t feel like standing around in his socks. He’d definitely have to take them off though.

He looked at the scale the way he might eyeball any adversary. The read-out screen was dark and he knew that it was turned off. There were few real rules of protocol in the office but the single immutable one was that Doc Bethel was the only one who could turn the scale on or off.

He walked over and sat in one of the armchairs. The waiting was part of her program he knew, but oddly it was the one that bothered him the most. He sat back and crossed his legs-right ankle over knee. Then uncrossed. Leaned forward with his elbows on the soft chair arms, then leaned further back again.  Lifting two fingers of his right hand to his mouth, he perfectly pantomimed taking a deep drag on a cigarette. He filled his lungs with air and, eyes closed, exhaled deeply relaxing into the breath. He sat still, breath coming in shallow swallows until he lifted his hand once more for a light drag. Then, with sense memory born of a habit he’d had longer than he wanted to remember, he swung his arm slightly out to the right and with his thumb flicked the imaginary ash off of the tip of the imaginary cigarette. He relaxed deeper into the leather.

Without looking he knew that the chrome pedestal ashtray that had been beside the chair during his first couple meetings was gone. Had been for a while. That was something anyway. He heard the door open and stiffened slightly. He shook out his right hand to erase any evidence of the illusory cigarette.

He turned his head and half rose to acknowledge Sidney Bethel’s entrance. “Hi Doc”, he said.

“Good morning Ben. Stay where you are. Don’t bother to get up.” In passing she pressed her hand onto his shoulder to push him back into the leather. “How are you today?”

“Good, good…beautiful morning.”

She lay a warm hand against his cheek and caught his eyes the way she did. He knew better than to look away. Her green eyes probed deeply as if looking for the lie in his simplest answer. Looking for anything below the surface. His most begnine answers were always questioned. She believed if you learned to be honest and completely open in the small things the larger things would take care of themselves. Her gaze was warm and searching-helpful, not accusing, and he relaxed into her without moving.

Then, satisfied, she straightened and moved to her desk. She didn’t move behind it to her chair, instead chose to pop herself up and sit on it. This put her closer to Ben but still above him, something sitting on the chair beside him wouldn’t have given her. That thought hadn’t necessarily occurred to him, but she knew it. She was a master of non-threatening informal authority. The “Doctor” title was a bit of a stretch. There were no framed diplomas or certificates on the walls-just some tasteful abstracts and one painting of an amusement park carosel. At one time medical school was in her plans but she happily had found her calling before that investment. Some called her Sidney, some Ms. Bethel, not many “Doc” but whatever worked for him.

Her “uniform” in her office was always a variation on what she wore today. Black slacks that rode low on her hips and flats. Even then she was a strong 5’ 10” and taller than most of her patients. She wore a tailored white oxford shirt that cupped her breasts and bloomed upward opening at the neck revealing a small silver chain. The sleeves were rolled precisely twice, crisply revealing tanned forearms.

When Ben had first met her he thought she was a “knockout”. That was the word that actually bounced around in his head. If he had told anyone about her he would have said his therapist was a “knockout”. But that wasn’t the phrase he had rumbling in his mind these days. Her looks hadn’t changed-she was still striking with the dark hair flowing to her shoulders, her perfectly pearly orthodontia, high cheekbones and deep inviting eyes.

The word he might use to describe her now was “comfortable”. Which was odd when you considered the type of therapy she practiced. Her office small talk was never forced and always pulled him into a conversation. She talked about running with her dogs and training for one of those muddy-trail runs or whatever leaving enough holes to allow him to tell her that he had done some running too. “Oh? On the trail or road?” and she would listen and prod and want more detail.

When the conversation lulled finally she reached into a wooden in-box on her desk and pulled out a file. She opened it on her lap and snapped it closed again. “Today was supposed to be 183, right? That was the target.”

“Yep.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“I should be fine” he said with a tiny cloud passing over his eyes that he thought he hid but she saw it as easily as she would a mannequin in a window.

“Really?” she said simply with only the slightest lift at the corner of her mouth.

“No”, he looked away quickly then back, “yes-it was tough over the weekend-did some traveling. It’s hard to watch on the road. But since has been good….I should be fine.” This last he told to the floor before finally looking up to allow her eyes to lock his again.

“Let’s have a look then”-she lifted her hand over toward the scale.

“Let’s lose these first”, he said bending to untie his shoes.

“By all means”.

Her patients could weigh in however they wanted as long as they were consistent. Some stayed fully dressed, shoes and coats. Some decidedly did not. If they missed their goals, then there were prescribed measures and penalties that sometimes dictated how “dressed” they remained. The key was making the weight and doing whatever had to be done to do that.

Ben had always weighed in “airline style” No belt, shoes wallet. He did that, placing his items on the table. Then, before stepping on the scale he nervously took off his shirt. He smiled sheepishly and said “what the hell”, as if in explanation.  Sidney had moved over beside the scale and turned it on. The screen winked to life then settled into a soft blue glow.

He paused-actually froze. He didn’t feel good about this. He really didn’t. She took a half-step back as if he needed more room. He looked up and gave a nervous half smile before exhaling (as if the breath in his lungs weighed anything) and stepped gently onto the rubber pad. The number on the read-out flashed at 189.

“What?” he said as if the machine had spoken.

“Ben, that’s more than last week.” She had given him a modest goal of four pounds for the week.

“I know, I know”, he flustered. He was rubbing his hands on his thighs. “Wait a minute”, he took off his T-shirt and lay it over the chair. Then he sat on the chair and rolled off his socks. He stood and stepped back to the scale. Again, he exhaled and tip-toed up. 188.

“Dammit”, he whispered watching the number as if waiting for it to change.

“Step off Ben.”

“Wait, I get one more chance.” That was the weigh-in rule. Three tries to make the weight.

“Do you think your trousers weigh five pounds?”

“Look…I get…I get another chance, right?” he was stammering. She was silent and he was avoiding looking at her. “I mean, do you mind?” He waited for her answer. “Is that OK?”

“You get a third chance”, she said flatly.

He stepped back from the scale and unbuttoned then unzipped his pants. He slid them down and stepped out of them, one leg then the other. He lay them over the back of the chair then paused as he was stepping toward the scale. Still not looking at Sidney he hooked his thumbs in the elastic of his boxers and slipped them down. Bending, he flipped them onto his shoes.

Looking up finally he gave a little shrug. “That’s it…”

She regarded him carefully as he cut his eyes away again. He hadn’t been nude in here before-pants down yes-but that was it. He wasn’t in bad shape-strong across the chest and shoulders-a little settling through the waist and hips but not bad for a guy his age. She could see clearly where he could lose the twenty pounds he had talked about when he first visited but the solid thickening in his cock as he stood before her made it clear that losing the weight was no better than a secondary goal of coming to Dr. Bethel. Which sort of ticked her off-though it shouldn’t.

“Scale”, she said.

He flowed slowly past her and paused before stepping gently back on the pad. She stepped beside him closely enough to catch his scent and feel the warmth radiating from his body. He in turn kept his eyes shut feeling the butterflies careening around in his stomach and his dick getting harder. She noticed it-couldn’t NOT notice it-as she looked down at the read-out.

“185”, she said with an impatient sigh. “Get off the scale Benjamin.”

He stepped back and stood before her eyes downcast. They stood a moment before Sidney broke the silence.

“What are you doing here Benjamin? Why do you come to my office?” He had nothing to say. “More to the point, what am I doing here? I’ve put time into you haven’t I? Haven’t I done my best for you in trying to help you lose the weight that YOU wanted to lose-that you ASKED ME to help you lose? Haven’t I held up my end of the bargain?”

“I’m trying,” he said miserably.

“Yes, I realize that. But eventually trying has to become doing, right?”

He said nothing. “Again, I ask you-have I held up my end of the bargain?”

“Yes”.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, you’ve held up your end of the bargain.”

“And you Benjamin. Have you held up yours? Have you?”

“No.”

“No, indeed.” She stepped a little closer but not by much to avoid his engorged cock thrusting itself forward like a jousting lance. “Look at me”, she commanded. He lifted his eyes to hers slowly.

“I’m so disappointed in you Benjamin. So disappointed. You’ve let me down. Let me down. And more importantly, you’ve let yourself down. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I’m sorry”, he said quietly-almost breathlessly.

“You’re sorry.”

“I am. I’m sorry that I…let you down.”

She let that hang in the air for a moment.

“I’ll venture that you’re about to be a lot sorrier.”

“Yes, mam.”

She stepped to the side. “Go over to my desk, Benjamin. Stand in front of it.”

He did as he was told. Standing on the plush carpet and gazing at the scudding clouds out the window gave him a chance to take the first deep cleansing breaths he had attempted since she started scolding him. His chest felt light and the fluttering in his stomach had settled a little further down.

She stepped into his line of sight on the right and opened the door to a slim cabinet mounted on the wall. On the back of the door hung a wooden paddle he had never seen before. It was two feet long, about four inches wide and polished to a bright golden color. She regarded it carefully and gripped it tightly-slapping it gently into her open left palm. “I think this will do the trick.”

His heart began racing a bit again.

“What do you think, Benjamin? Do you think this will do the trick?”

“Yes, mam”.

“Indeed…”

She moved back out of sight behind him and he cut his eyes back to the clouds trying to recover that sense of calm he had just a moment ago. No dice. She was standing behind him now.

“Spread your legs a bit, Benjamin.”

He did as he was told.

“Now bend over. Put your hands on the edge of the desk.”

He did that, concentrating on the close tight grain of the wood below him.

She took advantage of the breathless anticipation to regard the smooth white bottom which he was offering up to her. She knew what he was expecting right now but her plan-as always-was to go beyond expectations. Regardless of what she told him in their session, Ben not reaching his goal twice in the last two months was almost as much on her as it was on him. She resolved this would be memorable for him but she was piecing together a plan….

She placed the paddle gently across his cheeks, patted once then reared back watching him tense. The first swat landed with a resounding SMACK fully across the center.

“Owwww”, Ben yelled and jumped up grabbing his bottom with both hands. “Ow-Jesus!” he said, rubbing and kneading. “That HURT!”

She crossed her arms sternly holding the paddle upright on display. “It absolutely hurt-it was supposed to. It’s a shame you couldn’t hold your position because it didn’t count and now you get sixteen more.”

“Sixteen? I never got more than six!”

He had turned slightly toward her still rubbing his backside. She could see that, while his cock wasn’t waving as proudly as it had been, it was still thick-still in the game.

“Do you really want to argue with me right now?” she asked grimly through tightened lips.

He deflated a bit and without another word turned back to the desk. He bent-putting both hands on the edge of the surface and arched his back slightly.

“No”, she said. “Elbows and palms on the desk.”

He did as she ordered without hesitation feeling the slight twinge at the top of his hamstrings as he bent a little further. She patted again the cheek that was a touch mottled from the first swat and swung again smacking the same spot. Ben was better prepared this time and not surprised by the intensity. He managed to keep his mouth closed and made no sound. After the third he rose on his toes and after the forth, slapped the desk with is hand. She was taking enough time with his punishment to allow the heat to rise from one swat before blistering him with the next.

He gritted his teeth and pressed his eyelids tightly enough that he saw flashed of red and gold. The shit I get myself into he thought.

Sidney Bethel paid close attention to what she was doing. Being right handed, most of the power of the paddle was landing on Ben’s tortured right cheek where a small plum colored bruise had just bloomed. She took a half step backward and delivered the next blow squarely on the barely pink left cheek. Then another quickly. Ben rose on his toes again and bounced on his heels trying to dissipate the burn which felt like a hot iron pressed against his backside. She swatted him twice more while he was hopping and he yipped behind his clenched teeth.

“Breathe, Ben”, she said pausing.  “Just breathe and relax…”

He did, dropping flat footed and allowing his knees to bend slightly relaxing his butt. Both cheeks were now balanced in color-deep reds and pinks with only the single bruise on the right. The skin looked dry and hot as he reached back gingerly to touch it. “You OK?” she asked?

“Yeah-fine” he said his voice hoarse and low. “Was he crying?” Sidney wondered suddenly nervous. She didn’t want that to happen. Maybe she had gone a little too far-God knows he wouldn’t ask her to stop. “How many was that?” she asked him.

“I’m not sure”, he said-his voice stronger. She relaxed a little. “I quit counting around eight or nine.”

“Thirteen. That was thirteen.”

“Jesus…” he stopped rubbing taking her count to be the order to resume. He bent slowly back over and arched his back offering his tight tortured bottom back to her. She stepped away and lay the paddle on the desk beside him.

“Stay where you are”, she ordered. Ben wasn’t sure what she had in store for the last three swats but was comfortable in thinking that anything would be preferable to the paddle.  Sidney picked a small bottle of lotion off the table and brought it over to where Ben’s ass was glowing like a hot brazier. He tensed feeling her behind him.

“Relax”, she said. “Just relax. We’re calling you done.”

“Really?” he said looking over his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“See? I’m not so bad…”

She squeezed a dollop of the special mix aloe and vitamin E into her right hand and touched it to his bruised right cheek. He jumped as it she had stuck him with a needle.

“Shhh…” she said. “Just settle.”

He did as he was told enjoying the soft cooling of the lotion and her massaging hand first on his right cheek, then on his left. Up till this instant a handshake had been their only physical contact. He spread his legs a little further to give her further access to anything that she wanted. She saw the move, of course and slapped him lightly on the cheek.

“Don’t get any ideas, big boy.”

“No!” he said quickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it…” She rubbed the lotion deeply into the skin from the top of his legs across both cooling hemispheres. “Here is what I’m thinking…You come back in two weeks, right?”

“Yes-two weeks.”

“OK. I expect you to weigh 178 then, understand? That’s seven pounds in two weeks.”

“I can do that.”

“I know you can-and I know you will. Because we’re going to change this up a little for your next visit.”

Ben was listening as best he could but the blood rushing to his cock as Sidney rubbed his sore bottom was almost drowning everything out. He was wishing she would reach between his legs but afraid knowing that if she touched his rod at all, he would spew all over her desk like a thirteen year old.

“For you next visit, you will weigh in naked, just like today. If you don’t make the weight-if you are not 178 or less-you will get dressed and leave. We’ll try again for the following week.”

“No penalty?”

“Not like that-more like an incentive. If you DO make weight, I will sit on the couch over there put you over my lap and spank you with a hairbrush. Would you like that?”

“I think I would like that…” he said breathlessly.

“And…I’ll wear a skirt that day. A short one. Would you like that?”

He moaned almost inaudibly and dropped his head. “Yes.”

“Very well…” she stepped away from his glowing butt and but the cap on the lotion. “I have another appointment upstairs that I’m late for.” She moved a box of tissue to the front of the table. “Take as much time to…compose yourself…as you need and I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Thanks, Doc”, he said but by the time he stood and turned, she was gone, pulling the door closed behind her. “Oh man…”, he sighed rubbing is bottom absently.

That afternoon, his assistant Moliere stuck her head in the door of his corner office where he sat gingerly on one cheek watching the three screens in front of him. “I’m running down for a Danish and coffee”, she announced-ready to take his order for his three o’clock sugar fix.

“Not for me, Molly.”

“Really?”

“Have to lose a few pounds.”

“Sure-I know, but one Danish. A donut?”

“No-this time I really have to lose it…”

“OK-how about just a coffee then?”

“Black”.

“K!” and she was gone as he tried with a wince to settle onto both cheeks.

Tiffany’s Play

continued from No Discretion-An Agency Story

Her eyes shut, she moved to his rhythm, rising onto her toes as his finger rubbed forward. She slid her arms wider to brace herself and bumped the paddle with her left hand. She closed her palm over the cool, hard wood grain and tried to spread her legs but was bound by the lasso of her jeans and underwear. Justin felt her kicking lightly at her bonds and paused in his caresses to drop to his knees behind her. She thrilled like a schoolgirl at the touch of his hands on her calf as he worked her pant leg off over her shoe. Unencumbered, she opened herself and slid further across the desk sliding the paddle forward with her.

She suddenly felt his breath on her bottom and warmly between her cheeks which now lay open exposing herself. This had not been her plan. That’s what she told herself as she felt his lips kiss her low on the left cheek, then the right. This was going further than she thought it would. She told herself that in short fragments of thought. She wanted the paddling, she thought. That was all. Of course she knew it meant that she would be dropping her pants for him, but they were adults weren’t they? They would be able to control themselves. She would anyway.

Justin’s kisses, then licks, centered wetly on her anus for a few excruciating moments pulling a soft moan through her closed lips. He slid lower-to her sex-where his tongue replaced the perfect touch of his finger.  Gripping the paddle firmly as if to convince herself that was why she was here, Tiffany arched deeply to give him better access to the hard bud of her clitoris.

His tongue found it easily enough. She had almost forgotten how good Justin was at this. The pressure built deeply in her as he used a finger to spread her from behind. “Oh God”, she moaned dropping her cheek to the desk top. A tiny nibble generated such a shock from her clit to the rest of her body that the paddle slipped from her hand and the clatter of the wood on wood broke the spell. He withdrew his tongue and she felt his face pull away.

“Oh noooo….” She whimpered like a child.

“God, Tiffany”, he said patting her bottom, “You taste like nothing else.”

She felt him rise to his feet as her once imminent orgasm slid back below the surface leaving off a small but insistent hum so she knew where it was hiding. She dropped down onto her heels and felt the paddle sliding away from her hand. She grabbed it mischievously and pulled it back.

“Now, now”, he said, and she released her grip. “Let’s remember why we’re here.”

“Oh, man…” she whined, and pulled her legs together properly. Justin, standing behind, watched the double doors close on the delights that he had missed so much. And that he wanted to get back to. Tiffany had laid out this script and he was following it as best he could but she was never one to give overt directions. He followed the flow as best as he could knowing that she would pull him back on track if he strayed too far. She settled with her palms and elbows on the desktop and ached her back slightly to present the best target.

Yes, she had wanted this. Fifteen minutes ago this was all she wanted. Now, with the feel of Justin’s mouth-his lips and tongue-lingering on her clitoris and his saliva drying on her bottom she wasn’t sure. He had left her so tingly and sensitive back there that she knew the paddle would doubly sting. She gasped slightly as he lay the cool wood across her cheeks and patted once then twice. Her heart pounded at the hard feel of it and in anticipation of what was to come.

She gritted her teeth and scrunched her eyes and waited…waited…felt the movement as he leaned away then, SMACK! It hit her. The pain washed across both cheeks like a hot iron. Before she could take a proper breath or ready herself the second SWAT! Landed on the right cheek.

“OWWW!” she yelped louder than she wanted to. Then quieter…”Sorry….but that hurt…”

“It’s okay”, he said patting the two distinct pink spots on her bum again with the wood. “There’s no one on the floor-you can be as loud as you want. I’m going to give you twelve.”

“Twelve more? Or ten more?”

“What do you think you deserve?”

For the first time she thought of Connie and her eyes stung a little. “Probably fifty”, she muttered.

“Well, that might be a little much, but we’ll see. We’ll leave it kind of open ended”, he said with a final soft pat. She tightened her shoulders and back to brace herself leaving her bottom soft and accepting. The third swat landed hard across the middle of her butt and the next came up from below stinging the soft underside of her cheeks rising her onto her toes. “Ahhh…” she gasped.

The next three came solidly in the same place across the middle in quick succession. She raised onto her toes again and was still up there when the next hit her SPLAT! lower on the cheeks. The echo of that swat filled that room accenting her high-pitched cry.

He brought the swats quickly but aimed carefully bringing most of them to bear on the heavier and softer mid target. It was tough to find an untouched spot as the creamy white turned pink and what was pink, a deeper red. Tiffany was moving a bit-up on one foot then another-further forward on the desk then backward, blooming open so that he could see again the tiny brown button of her anus and the swollen purse of her sex. His balls ached as his ignored hard-on stayed pinned to his inner thigh.

Then, as he took a break to allow her to compose herself after the twentieth or so swat, she surprised both of them by starting to cry. It was a quiet snuffle at first but from behind he could see her shoulders begin to quiver. Regardless, she settled into position with palms and elbows properly placed on the desk and aimed her bruised bottom his way.

She wanted more than he wanted to give her. But he patted the spot, leaned back and smacked her again in the center of a dusty grey spot on her right cheek. She bawled loudly at the impact and her body wracked with sobs after the next. He stopped and flipped the paddle onto the chair behind him. With one hand on the small of her back he cupped her burning bottom with the other.

“We’re done here,” he said.

“I deserve more”, she said looking back teary over her shoulder.

“Maybe you do…but not today. Stand up.”

She stood slowly and he moved her around to face him kissing her softly on her parted lips. She returned his kiss and he kissed harder and deeper wiping the tears from her face with his own. He pushed her softly backward and sat her on the hard edge of the desk.

“Ow-ow-ow…” she whispered. “My bum hurts.”

“That’s because you’re a bad girl”, he said. “Bad girls always end up with sore bums…”

Justin stepped between her legs and finally released his hard-on which jumped toward her pussy like a long ridden horse to a barn door. She accepted him completely in a single thrust. The tiny hum behind her clitoris rose quickly to a roar. The sting of her bruised backside bouncing off the desk only added to the whirl of feeling happening below her waist. She squeezed Justin’s head tightly.

“Don’t cum in me, please…” she whispered in his ear.

“Shhhhh….” He said bucking hard and fast.

Her moan built quickly from a soft whimper to a rumble and finally a wail louder than any brought out of her by the paddle. “Jesus!!!!” she screamed. He put his hands below her and lifted her into him and absorbed every quivering crush of the legs and arms entwining him. When he felt her grip soften he sat her back on the desk and covered her mouth with his. She accepted it gently and softly as he pulled is cock out of her just in time to shoot hot and thickly over her thigh and hip.

“Ohhh…” he gasped, as she reached down to pump whatever was left. “You didn’t say don’t cum on you….”

“That’s fine…” she said.

He reached down and pulled his handkerchief from his pants that were stuck at his knees. She took it but left her hand dead beside her, choosing instead to kiss him softly once more.

“Thank you”, she said.

“Always here for you, babe. Whatever you need.”