Tales of Pleasure and Pain (8 page)

"Do you know where they came from?"

"I have no idea, I told you they were missing, I haven't seen them in days."

I turned to Lacy. She was already beginning to blush. "I can't believe you'd do this," I charged.

She was angry, breathing heavily, the little brat didn't like being caught.

"Why'd you do it Lacy, I think you owe me and Morgan an explanation."

"I . . . . I I," she stammered. "She left them in the bathroom, I guess I was just getting back at her."

"It's no way to right a wrong, vengeance is not going to work, at least not under my roof."

"Oh yes!" I replied.

"Please?" she pleaded, "I'll never do it again." She was trembling terribly.

I'd expected to see some triumph on Morgan's face, but surprisingly there was almost sympathy in her expression, knowing exactly what Lacy faced.

"Why don't you do the honors with the scarves," I said to Morgan. "But first, off with your dress Lacy." She was wearing a flowered print dress that buttoned up the front. I figured if Morgan had her punishment in the buff, Lacy could have hers the same way.

Morgan and I watched as Lacy slowly unbuttoned each button from the midriff to the skirt, and wiggled from the sleeves. The dress dropped to the floor. Lacy, little tart that she was, was naked underneath. Her cheeks glowed red with embarrassment being so vulnerable in front of us.

"Over the bench."

Lacy complied, still trembling. It had been a long time since she'd had a spanking; and there was definitely more terror in her eyes, than I'd seen in Morgan's. Despite that fact she deserved it for stealing, and I was not about to let her get away with it.

"Please not hard," she begged.

I didn't' bother answering her.

Morgan tied her ankles and wrists to the fours legs of the bench. I noted how carefully she did this so as not to put too much pressure on her. The little sign of affection from Morgan was remarkable.

I noted as she finished her task, that Lacy's rounded bottom was much more target than Morgan's svelte one. She had mountains of pink white flesh, it would be a challenge to turn all that lovely posterior a flaming red!

For Lacy, I knelt beside the bench and started with my hand. I intended to use the strap, but I thought she might need a little working up to the feverish spanking I intended for her.

Smack!

I loved the feel on my hand against her. She jolted as I expected, and once recovered, I smacked the other cheek with equal force. Those were just starting shots, I had many more in mind. I must have reigned two dozen across those mellow orbs before I paused again.

"Yeoww, Plessses Rox. . . . plessses stop!"

Lacy pleaded incessantly, but she had a lot more to go.

I continued with another furious round of smacks, her rear now bouncing jauntily on the cushions.

"Oh gawd it hurts!" she bellowed.

Lacy alternately cried and pleaded and wailed her protest. That only spurred me further. I probably should have put a scarf over her mouth too, but I wasn't about to stop and do it in the middle of the session.

Once her bottom was red from top to bottom and side to side, I stopped, stood up and grabbed the strap that was laying on the table. My eye caught Morgan's glance. She was standing submissively looking at Lacy's vulnerable pose, no doubt remembering her own turmoil.

"See what naughty girls get," I said. "If this is the only way you two are going to learn your lesson, then I can keep this up as long as you live under my roof."

I decided to make the finish short, though not very sweet on Lacy's bottom. It was already pretty hot and raw from my hand, though I was not about to let her get off without some real pain.

Whack! The strap sizzled in the air, and came down across both bright red mounds with a definite whack. These cuts too would get more intense as they went on. There would only be ten, but by the end, Lacy would have a very righteous correction.

Whack! Whack! Whack!

I laid each on with as much precision as I could wielding this strap. "YEOW! PLEASE!" Her cries were no doubt heard by the entire house. That was my plan, should any other of my borders think of breaking my rules. They'd know!

Whack! Whack! Whack!

"Do you plan to steal anything again Lacy?"

"No ma'am," she shouted.

Whack!

"Are you certain?" I asked again.

"Yes ma'am," she confirmed through her tears.

"And no more vengeful plots against Morgan or anyone else?"

"No ma'am," she cried. It was more of a wail.

Whack! The last blow stuck heartily. I was glad to be done. As much as I knew it was important for Lacy to be punished, I was feeling sorry for her, the way she cried and wailed, and tried to wriggle away from the blows.

"Help her up Morgan," I said.

And as gently as Morgan had bound Lacy over the bench, she untied the scarves and helped her stand. She even handed Lacy her dress so she could cover herself.

I looked at them both, thinking how delightful it was to see them in the same room, and not glaring at each other. They didn't even glare at me, which was a surprise, considering how they must have been feeling.

"Now, you two spend some time with each other." I handed a bottle of lotion to Morgan. "Perhaps you'd like to use this on each other; and while you're in the process, get to know each other a little better, so we don't have these ridiculous theatrics anymore. And no more of your haughty attitude Morgan," I warned for good measure."

I looked at them both self satisfied. It had taken a lot out of them - a lot out of me for that matter, I was exhausted; though I had the satisfaction of knowing that things should be a little sweeter around my boarding house for a while.

I walked out into the hallway, I could almost hear my other boarders scampering away like mice. I'd intentionally made certain that they would hear Lacy's torment. I didn't want them to miss the stark reality of what could happen to them too, if they didn't behave. I smiled at one young woman as she tried to walk past me. She looked very meek indeed, no doubt a little embarrassed. I imagined that there were a few more naughty bottoms to tan before long.

I was delighted to find in the weeks following this punishment session, that the kitchen gleamed and the house was as neat as a pin, and there were less petty arguments to plague our dinner meal. It turned out to be a very satisfactory arrangement, laying down the law so to speak.

And I was rather proud of myself for discovering this unrivaled manner of keeping my boarding house in order.

I took her by the arm. "Over the bench my dear ."

"Oh no!" she gasped.

The Razor Strap & the Red Rose

I knew the bookstore well. I'd probably passed it a dozen times; on the corner of a busy street, it was a quaint relic of time passed. Looking at it now however, I couldn't imagine what secrets it would hold for me inside.

He'd answered my ad, a spur of the moment idea to advertise my plight in a spanking publication. Just reading the ads excited me. And when I submitted my own, I never expected the number of replies that appeared in my post office box. There were dozens, some sweet, others I threw away immediately, and then there was Geoffrey's. Short and to the point.

"I'd be delighted to discuss your needs. Please call." He included a card with his name, phone number and the address of the bookstore. I appreciated his openness.

"Mr. Geoffrey Riordan?" I inquired when I phoned.

"This is," the voice replied.

"My name is Julia, you replied to my ad."

"Yes Julia, how can I help you?" He seemed so kind.

"The spankings, the discipline?" I found myself at a loss for words.

"Yes?"

"You said you'd discuss my needs."

"Over lunch perhaps," he suggested, as if he knew how much I was trembling at the thought of putting my bare bottom in a stranger's hands.

We met at a diner just down the street from the book shop. He was indeed kind, though far younger that I expected, perhaps thirty-five. I'd expected an older man, someone more like my father. Geoffrey was a pleasant surprise seeing his mellow handsome face. Though I could see behind his kind eyes a sterner man with a hidden resolve that could quickly turn him from his gentler self to a man uncompromising and severe.

"So why do you need this Julia?" he asked, after we'd exchanged some insignificant talk about the weather and the food.

"I'm not certain why I need this, I just know I do, I suppose you could say I crave it," I replied honestly. "At night? Sometimes it's all I think about."

"Getting your bottom spanked?"

"Yes."

"This began in childhood?" he guessed.

I nodded.

"And have you had someone help you with your need before?"

"Not since I left home, there was a time when my dad just didn't do it anymore. How could I tell him that I missed it? I mean after eighteen, I just wasn't doing those things that warranted punishment. But that didn't mean that the need was gone. I get agitated sometimes, and the thought of a firm hand or a paddle, or a strap across my ass . . . calming maybe, I mean after it's over?" I was only speculating since it had been so long.

"It sounds as if you're in a constant state of agitation?" Geoffrey offered.

"Sometimes it feels that way, I try to ignore the fantasies of my rear draped over some man's lap, but they just don't go away. I don't understand it, I wasn't particularly thrilled with the way my father would spank me when I was young, kicking and screaming. . . ."

"Needs change Julia," he said certain of his message to me, "needs change and reasons change, though the act may stay the same.

"I don't understand."

"What your father no doubt gave you in strokes on your bottom, was punishment. What you require now may be something else as well as punishment; spankings create their own brand of "heat", both in the man and the woman."

"You mean sexual?" I asked, not believing how boldly I spoke to a man I hardly knew; yet it seemed so comforting to speak with some openly about my long held secret fantasies.

"Sometimes," he answered, "sometimes it's other things. I'd suggest you wait and see what happens when you have my hand soundly paddling your rear. . . and afterwards . . . you may be surprised."

I nodded as if I understood, though I still didn't. I had accepted that he was likely right; that things had changed in ten years, and that at twenty-eight, my desires for spanking and the strange notions in my fantasies might have a far different quality than what I'd know from the straightforward discipline in my childhood.

"My assistant, Miss Wills, has a session with me tomorrow, perhaps you'd like to witness that. Of course hers is strictly punishment, she has some rather disturbing errors to make amends for. But still, you can see just how serious I pursue this. And it would be good for Miss Wills, after her behavior, I think an unfamiliar audience would be a perfect addition
to her punishment."

"Tomorrow?" I was astonished at how fast this was happening, suddenly my head was spinning, realizing that my fondest wish might soon be real! Just talking of this was raising heat in my rear; it tingled as if it were preparing for firm strokes against the quivering flesh. Fear and anticipation combined to make a potent brew in both my mind and body.

"Yes tomorrow," he confirmed, "at five-thirty, the shop will be closed then, but I'll leave the door unlocked for you."

He was so accommodating, though not altogether encouraging. I had the distinct impression that it was important that I be willing, not coerced or forced. This was clearly my decision.

"I do warn you Julia," he added, "I'm not as mild mannered when I discipline, as I am now."

I looked at him trying to picture what he'd be like with his eyes flashing, his arm raised to smack some waiting bottom.