Tales of Pleasure and Pain (6 page)

I watched as she pulled the shorts down over her abdomen, and further til they dropped to the floor. From that moment on, she was mine, all mine.

She edged her way towards me reluctantly.

"Over my knee," I said. Her bottom was covered only in the thinnest filmy thong panty. Her ass cheeks were full and round and quivering. As she laid down across my lap, her pussy against my thighs was so hot, the heat burned through them. Apparently I'd stirred something in her. . . .

I began to slap her soft mounds with my hand. I slapped hard and joyfully listening to her cries of protest.

"Oh God, this hurts!"

"Of course it does," I exclaimed.

She didn't squirm as much as she seemed to bore into my body with hers. The slaps were repeated, one after another, over and over, my hand didn't seem to want to quit at all, they relished every blow to her bouncing ass, and relished the way the soft olive cream skin began to turn to bright pink and then to a vibrant red. I wanted the sensations to last a long time, I wanted her to remember this moment, and the very valuable lesson she was
learning.

"God stop," she panted.

"Hush," I insisted, her ass was flaming, the brightening red of her skin compelled me to continue

"Oww, ow please!" she pleaded. But her protests didn't sway
me;
I was obsessed with making her hurt; with making the pain intensify until her haughtiness was extinguished. . .

"Oh Roxanne, please stop! Ow, ow ow" Each smack brought another anguished cry.

I paused several times, just long enough to allow the pain to subside and let her think that I was finished. But then I started again, with renewed fervor.

"Can I expect my rent on time Miss Cavanaugh?" I said, as I laid a resounding thwack on her bright rear.

"Yes Roxanne," she cried.

"And no more problems with your surly attitude?"

"No Roxanne, Ouch!"

At last I gave her bottom several finishing slaps, and she collapsed against my lap, exhausted.

"Get up Morgan," I said, gently. I helped to push her to her feet. She was quivering. She tried to pull her shorts back up. "No, leave them down, haughty little girls need all the humiliation they can get. I want to see how bright those ass cheeks are, turn around."

She turned to let me see how lovely her rear glowed.

"Go look in the mirror my dear. I think it would do you good to see what you look like with a well punished bottom."

She walked to her full length mirror, and appraised the damage I'd done.

"You know Morgan, you're much softer, much more pleasing right now than I've ever seen you." I was telling the truth, with her arrogance at least temporarily gone, she was really beautiful. A soft glow seemed to permeate her entire body.

She reached around to her ass, still very bright red, and rubbed it gingerly as she looked at her naked bottom.

"It will hurt for sometime," I offered. "How does it feel?"

"It's hurt terribly, it's hot," she said. I could see it wasn't easy for her to speak, as humiliated as she must have felt.

She turned and walked back to me.

"You understand and if I need to, I'll do this again."

She had no strength, perhaps no desire, to object.

"Come here," I said gently, we stared at each other for very long time. I held her hand as if she was a submissive child that needed comforting. I felt very maternal, realizing that I was indeed teaching her a very valuable lesson is personal relations, which she needed in the worst way.

I knew the haughtiness remained. It wasn't all gone, certainly it would return when the hurt had died away. But I hoped that my method of discipline had made an impression on her.

"Next time Morgan, if there is a next time . . . and I certainly hope there won't be, don't doubt I'll an even nastier punishment."

I slapped her raw rear end.

"Ow!" she said and pulled away.

"Oh no Morgan, I don't want anything but sweetness from your pretty lips, you understand?"

"Yes Roxanne," she said so submissively I thought perhaps she was really understanding. "You'll have your money on time," she confirmed.

"You say that as if you don't want to repeat today's lesson?"

"I don't like being spanked, who would?"

"I'm not so sure you don't like it," I commented, "I do know you need it, and I'll promise you one thing . . ."

She looked at me with that wide-eyed curiosity. She was so off-guard, so vulnerable.

"Next time I'll find an instrument more punishing than my hand, and . . . you'll have an audience. I can't possibly let your correction be mine alone to witness. It's far too delightful to go unshared."

"You wouldn't dare!" she blurted out, that hard edge threatening to burst out of her again.

I just smiled, picked myself up off her sweet little wicker chair, with the lovely floral cushion and the cozy pillows, and walked out her door, not bothering to look back. I conjured in my imagination that wonderful aghast look that was certain to be all about her face. That was enough
.

"You should have seen her," I told Lacy, "all that smugness wiped away, she was lovely."

"Lovely?" Lacy flashed back sarcastically, "I don't believe you."

"You just have to know how to get the better of her," I said.

Lacy looked at me suspiciously.

"She gonna have her money next time, or are you going to have to spank her again?"

"I told her if she didn't have the cash, I'd punish her in front of an audience, how's that?"

"God, I want to watch!"

"Good, I thought you might like it."

"Can I beat that little rear of hers til it's rosy?" she asked.

"That's my job," I reminded her. I didn't intend to share that part with anyone.

"She hates me, you know. I'd love to get her, I mean really get her. You know she always saying these little things to me in the bathroom. Comments about my weight and my hair, everything."

I looked at Lacy thinking how silly it was for her to be jealous of Morgan Cavanaugh.

"You need a little more confidence in yourself Lacy, you're as attractive as Morgan, just in a different way."

"Yeah, a short fat pudgy way!" she pouted.

"You be careful young lady," I warned. "Or I'll have to spank you too."

She didn't take me seriously, even though I was completely serious. Once having broken the ice as it were, I didn't have any reservations about taking another of my boarders over my knee if their behavior warranted it. It seemed like a perfectly logical solution to some of problems I was having with them.

For a couple of weeks life was rather pleasant around the boarding house. But that was the calm before the storm. Little by little, nasty quips, snide remarks and clever put-
downs, began to dominant any conversation between Morgan and Lacy. It was usually around dinner time, turning our peaceful mealtime into prickly confrontations.

Most of my boarders had busy schedules and finding at time when eight women could sit down together for a meal was next to impossible, so I made things simple with "eat on the run" meals. Even so about six o'clock every evening, I seemed to have at least five or six women in the kitchen eating. Even Morgan appreciated this little aspect of home, though she was the least likely to be found with a plate of food at the dining room table. Usually she'd steal away with her repast and eat in her room; yet never before she had shot a few snotty remarks to Lacy or whoever bothered to listen.

After several weeks the "cat fight" became so spiteful, I was tired of it, so were the other women in the house. It was time to do something about it.

Calling both Lacy and Morgan into my office I thought we'd have a little "chat." I wanted to be objective, and the truth was, despite the fact that I liked Lacy a lot more than Morgan, I was as sick of her antics, as I was of Morgan's arrogance; and I wanted to be certain that both women knew exactly where they stood.

"Do either of you have any idea why I called you in here?" I asked. They were both standing in front of my desk, Lacy with her arms crossed in front of her, refusing to look in Morgan's direction. Morgan was staring out the window, looking very disinterested. I would have laughed at how ridiculous they looked, except that I wanted to be sure and get my point across. "Do you?" I repeated.

"I have no idea," Morgan said with her typical conceit.

"How about you Lacy," I asked.

"Roxanne, I can't believe you'd call me in here like this." She was drumming her foot like a petulant child.

"Well, let me spell things out. You're both acting like babies. And I'm not putting up with it anymore. Your sharp remarks at dinner, and in the bathroom and anywhere else you two happen to find yourself, are immature and annoying!" They both looked bored with my lecture. "So," I continued, "Let me tell you what is going to happen."

Both women turned to me, as if there were at least a little more interested.

"If I hear either one of you snap at the other again, or at anyone for that matter?" I looked at them both very intently. "I'll bring you in here with the other one present and I'll spank your bottom until it's sore as hell. Do you understand?"

Both women looked at me with a little more respect.

"And if there is a second infraction . . . I'll gather everyone in the house to watch."

"You have no right to do that Roxanne," Morgan protested.

"Really? Don't you remember the little discussion we had a few months ago, Morgan? You comply with my rules and my punishment or you're out. And we both know that there are very few places that will take you with your record, except for maybe one of the low cost projects downtown."

"You wouldn't," she seethed.

I knew that was a particular fear of Morgan's, being reduced to living in a tenement, with "that other class of people" as she called them.

She had nothing to say to that.

"Now, you both walk out this door, put smiles on your faces and not one nasty remark, not one!"

Morgan turned on her heel and was gone in an instant.

Lacy lingered.

"You had to do that in front of her for the show, huh?" she asked.

"No Lacy, I meant it just as much for you as I did for Morgan."

Lacy stared back at me, and tried to say something several times, but obviously the right words just didn't come to mind. She could see I was serious. I had no intention of backing down just because we had such a close relationship.

Lacy and Morgan quelled their little drama, apparently both realizing I was dead serious. I thought that Lacy was a little more reserved with me for a while, though things seemed to return to normal before too long.

However a few weeks later, something odd occurred that really stunned me. I couldn't believe it was possible. . . .

The situation unfolded when Morgan bumped into me in the hallway. She was making her way back to her room from the bathroom, not looking where she was going.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said.

"You'd better watch what you're doing."

"Yeah, you know," she looked at me through a vague kind of fog that was typical of Morgan when she was off in her own world. "You know, I've lost several things, I can't figure where they are."

"Morgan if you'd pay attention to where you put things, you wouldn't loose your stuff." This wasn't an unusual complaint from Morgan; and her missing treasures usually appeared in some corner of her room. For that reason I wasn't particularly disturbed by her problem.

"What's lost now?" I did think to ask.

"Well there's a pink scarf and my bottle of Poison, . .

"Your bottle of what!"

"Poison, it's perfume!"

"Oh I see. Anything else."