Saturday, 21 March 2015

Welcome To The Hotel Gomorrah (pt3)

“Stay exactly where you are miss Nichols,” Heather ordered, “hands upon your head until you're told otherwise. I'm sorry I neglected to inform you that Mr Morson would be joining us this morning.”

Yes, for all that Ralph Morson's arrival was a shock for Michaela, it had been throughly expected by Heather. In fact, she had been watching his approach as he entered her small garden from the hotel's main grounds.
She noticed today he had returned to his earlier smart but casual look; brown corduroy trousers, and a thick green woolen cardigan over a collarless white shirt. She also noticed a distinct spring in his step.

The previous evening, after Michaela had been sent home, Heather had made her move upon him. First though, she needed to find out more about her intended target. As time was of the essence, she did not have the wiggle room for some elaborate plan, she simply Googled his name and address.
Within a matter of about five clicks, Heather had ascertained that Mr. Morson was a lawyer, and of late, also, a lay preacher. That latter bit of information lead the cynical side of Heather's nature to suspect that he was planning to run for public office.

Clearly a preacher with political ambitions would be the last person you would expect to be involved in any sexual “jiggery-pokery”. Equally, a preacher with political ambitions would be likely to be the first person to leap at the chance of sexual “jiggery-pokery”. Moreso, in a foreign country, with the lesser chance of any scandal becoming public knowledge.
All Heather had to do was wait until Mr Morson came back to the bar, till he entered her web. She did not have long to wait.

“Mr Morson,” Heather almost whispered as Julie was pouring out his round of drinks. “it would appear we seem to have very similar tastes?”

“Really Ma'am, in what way would that be?”

“Let's just say, that if either of us were ordering ice cream, neither would order vanilla.”Heather whispered, her eyes glistening with the mixture of wine and lust. “Would I be right in that thinking?”

“Yes, you would indeed be right in that thinking.” Ralph replied, “I kinda gathered that from our little time back there in the office...I could see you were rather entranced.”

Without saying anything further, Heather handed Ralph Morson the note she had written out while she was waiting at the bar. He quickly read it, and like Heather, no further words were passed, he merely nodded.
With that little nod, to Heather's mind, Michaela's fate had been sealed.

“Good morning Mr Morson, you are quite early?” Heather said as she opened the door.

“I am a great believer in the saying, to be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late and to be late is just unacceptable. So, you will rarely find me late for an appointment. Especially an appointment as mysterious as this one.” Ralph replied, then added. “I must say that you are looking quite splendid today!”

Today, Heather Moore was indeed looking splendid, if not just a tad overdressed for a Thursday morning sitting around her house.
Her short blond hair was today worn in a manner that looked unkept, though, of course, not a hair was out of place. Her makeup looked natural, the hardest of looks to attain, like last night her brown eyes were glistening, today though no wine was needed to give her eyes that seductive glint.
Her short linen white dress had three triangular cutouts; the centre one showing off more than a hint of her cleavage. Her push up quarter cup bra showed off her hard nipples against the thin material of her dress. The two outer cuts were giving a hint of her muscular though still feminine, shoulders.
Her crimson red stiletto heels gave Heather the height advantage over her American guest.

“Yes Ma'am, you are looking quite stunning, I feel rather underdressed,” Ralph said as he entered the living room, then his eyes fell upon the half naked Michaela.

“I'm sorry...what exactly is going on here?” Ralph said in clear surprise at the view that greeted him.

Heather was more than a little taken aback by Ralph's reaction. “When we spoke last night...of shared interests....”

“I'm sorry, but you seem to have misunderstood or at least misread me,” Ralph said as he walked over to the now visibly shaking Michaela.

He lightly touched her shoulder, for her to turn around. Michaela did so, her hands still upon her head. Instead of drinking in the view of the half-naked bar manager, Ralph engaged steady eye contact with her.

“Would I be correct young lady in assuming that you have been somewhat coerced into this situation?” He asked, his voice little more than a gentle whisper.

As Michaela nodded, a lone tear ran down her cheek, Ralph reached out and lightly dabbed it away with his finger.

“Please, take your hands down from your head,” Ralph said.

Michaela did as requested; her hands automatically going to cover up her frontal nakedness.

“Oh please, don't hide yourself in such away. The Lord did not bless you with such charms, for you to hide them away in shame. You should be like Eve before The Fall, proud of you natural beauty, not running to hide your bareness!” Saying that, Ralph took Michaela's hands and placed them on the sides of her hips. As he did so, for the first time since arriving at Heather's house, Michaela smiled.

“You see miss Moore, you have served me a great injustice, clearly we both do have not dissimilar tastes. However, I do not believe in coercion as a rule, I prefer willing participants. Also, I consider myself to be somewhat of an artist, and as such I like to paint upon a blank canvas, I take it you understand what I mean?”

Heather did understand. Also, she was aware of his courtroom nuances and wordplay. She understood enough to know where Ralph Morson was planning to take this.

Ralph then noticed the paddle and the crop on the table.

“I take it these are the instruments that miss Moore used upon you?” He asked Michaela, gesturing to the table.
“No, she used the paddle thingy, not the whip. She spanked me first; then she hit me with a shoe..” Michaela said then theatrically burst into a new bout of sobbing.

“A shoe?” Ralph asked Heather, trying hard not to laugh.

“It was one of her trainers!” Heather sighed out in exasperation.

“Ah, yes I see. The English love of the gym slipper is still alive and well, I thought that was just a flight of fancy in porn films and books?”

“Clearly not!” Again Heather sighed, seeing that she or at least Ralph Morson was painting her into a corner.

“So, this young lady has been; spanked, slippered and paddled this morning?”

“Yes, that is right, she chose to take my punishment rather than lose her job,” Heather replied, resigned to what she was certain, was now going to be her own fate.

“All of which was non-consensual?”

“No, it was her choice!”

“Her choice? You mean to say she requested upon her own volition or were they the only options put to her?”

Heather did not answer, instead, like Michaela less than an hour earlier, she merely stared at the floor in front of her.

“I take it by your silence, that those were the options given to her. Very much a 'Sophie's Choice', would you not say? In fact, it almost smells of blackmail!”

“Whatever!” Heather grunted, becoming annoyed at Ralph's continuing use of legalese.

“Perhaps you should feel some discipline on the same level, after all, I'm sure this young lady would have some available legal recourse should she choose to take it?”

“No, no, no way! That is not my thing at all!” Heather said as she heard the very thing that she had been expecting to hear.

“Well, it would appear that it wasn't this young lady's thing either,” Ralph replied calmly, then turned to Michaela, and said. “Spankings I take it are not 'your thing'?”

Michaela shook her head in the negative.

“So, miss Moore, where do we go from here?” Ralph asked Heather.

Heather was in an emotional turmoil; it was right spankings were a large part of her life. However, she was always the top; she was always the spanker, never the spankee. She knew of many people who were “switches”, happy to be in either role, but that was not her.
Being on the receiving end of a spanking was something not ever in her mindset. She knew though that that was becoming now almost inevitable; this was a situation that had gone spectacularly wrong.

“Michaela will have to leave before you spank me!” Heather said, finally breaking her stony silence.

“Motion denied!” Ralph said, in an overly joyful manner, and added. “Do you know ladies, as a lawyer how I have longed to have a chance to say that phrase?”

“It would not be right for her to be here, she is my employee...it's just not right...” Heather said, the desperation clearly audible in her voice.

“Well, perhaps you could look upon it as a team bonding exercise? The young lady stays!” Ralph said emphatically.

Slowly Heather nodded, if nothing else, she was pragmatic and knew when she was fighting a lost cause. For her now, it was just a case of taking whatever Ralph Morson was going to throw at her. Taking it, with all the dignity that she could muster.

“I take it young lady,” Ralph said looking at Michaela, “that you were spanked over your jeans first?”

“No, she took down my jeans and knickers, she said a spanking was only a spanking when its on the bare bottom,” Michaela replied sullenly.

“Tut-tut, such impatience miss Moore!” Ralph said grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Perhaps Michaela, you would like to help miss Moore out of her dress.”

She did not have to be asked twice, she marched straight over to Heather, seemingly now unaware of her own semi-nakedness.

“I am quite capable of removing my own dress!” Heather said her temper now showing.

“Of course you are miss Moore,” Ralph said, his face now holding a beaming smile, “but we both know, that is not the point. Don't we?”

Heather did not answer the question, she knew it rhetorical. She also knew that Ralph Morson would heap upon her any indignation he could think of. She had done the same when she had been in his position, and she had also seen it done by others, now though, she was the subject.
Though she was an unwilling subject, she did, however, know the role that she must play out.

So, when Michaela's fingers went to the hook and eye clasp at the back of her dress, Heather remained entirely passive.
She did not complain as she felt her zip being lowered.
She made no attempt to demure, as her dress fell towards the floor, rather, she stood straight, erect and proud.

“Such an enchanting vista,” Ralph said as he approached her, “such a voluptuous shape.” He added, as his hands ran down the sides of Heather's ribcage, then lower over her pinched abdomen, finally coming to rest upon her womanly hips. “You are truly quite the hour glass, aren't you?”

He then stepped back again, to give her one more magnifying glance.

“Well Michaela, my initial plan was to have you strip miss Moore completely naked. However, she looks so bewitching in her underwear it seems such a shame to spoil the appearance. Her delightful little blue bra can remain, as it holds her breasts and shows off her nipples so well.” Despite her best intentions, Heather could feel her face burning red at Ralph Morson's words. “Her hold up stockings can also remain, they make such a contrasting frame to the paleness of her flesh. I'm sorry to say miss Moore, your shoes have to go and to be equitable with your punishment of Michaela, those little blue panties will have to go also.” Ralph nodded to Michaela, who immediately set to work in removing Heather's aforementioned shoes and knickers.

On this occasion, of her further denuding, Heather's hands without thought went to cover her crotch.

“Oh my, such shy ladies we have today,” Ralph chuckled, “hands by your side miss Moore...in fact no, hands on your head, let's keep this traditional!”

With her face now aflame with rage as well as shame, Heather obeyed Ralph Morson's instructions.

“I see you prefer the shaven look over that of Michaela's enchanted forest miss Moore?”

Heather closed her eyes, rather than having to look at, or talk to Ralph Morson.

“Michaela, could you remind of the manner that your punishments took, please?” Ralph asked.

“First she spanked my bare bottom for ages; then she hit me with a shoe and then that paddle thing!” Michaela replied, pointing at the drilled ash paddle on the table.

“OK, how many times did she pop you with the paddle?”

“Six sir.”

“And, how many with your training shoe?”

“Two sir.”

“Well, I think the slipper is very ineffectual, so it will be eight with the paddle, rather than even bothering with the slipper,” Ralph said, pulling the chair back into the centre of the room.

“Time to begin miss Moore!” Ralph announced.

Heather now re-opened her eyes, waiting for further instructions; none was forthcoming.

“Where do you want me?” Heather finally asked breaking the deadlocked silence.

“Where ever is most comfortable for you,” Ralph cheerfully replied, “I am virtually ambidextrous, so it matters not which way you lay over my lap.”

Heather draped herself over his lap, making her bottom the target for his left hand. She did not have long to wait to feel that hand.
For no sooner than she was in place than she felt the first slaps across her bottom. The slaps came at an even cadence, they were not particularly harsh, but they were firm. In the matter of a minute or so, she could feel the heat building in her bottom, and then she heard Ralph's voice.

“So, Michaela is this the way she spanked you?”

“Yes sir...more or less, but I think she spanked me a little harder.”

“Lying fucking bitch, I was being gentle with her!” Heather thought to herself but did not utter those thoughts.

“Do you mean like this?” Ralph asked as he increased both his tempo and his velocity.

Heather then felt a staccato barrage of pain from Ralph's left hand.

“Yes sir, just like that!” Michaela said gleefully.

Heather, now felt the previous warmness turn to a stinging pain. A pain she was trying her hardest not to allow to register, or at least to seem as if the pain was not registering.
Of course this stubborn pride and stoicism; was only leading her into a longer and harder spanking.

However, rather than trying to “break” Heather, Ralph's intentions were only to get a uniform colouring, he wished for a beautiful rosy red bottom to paddle. After about five minutes of spanking, Ralph had his wish, and Heather's bottom was glowing red. Her nates were glowing red, and hot to the touch.
Ralph, surprisingly gently, helped Heather back to her feet, noticing that her hazel eyes now had a distinctly watery look to them.

Then Ralph also rose to his feet. “Michaela, I am about to give miss Moore eight pops of the paddle, and then as she did with you, she will then be given corner time to reflect upon today's decisions. I see no value to you staying just to observe miss Moore standing doing nothing. So, with that in mind, I think it would be best for you to leave after miss Moore's paddling. If you wish to get dressed now, then we can bring miss Moore's correction to a close.”

Ralph could not help but laugh, as he saw the look upon Michaela's face as she was reminded of her half-naked condition.

“Also, Michaela, I'm pretty confident that miss Moore will allow you tomorrow evening off work, so I can take you to dinner by way of an apology for today's misunderstandings!”

Once Michaela was fully dressed, Ralph pulled out another two dining chairs, putting two chairs next to each other about a foot apart, then the third to the rear of the other two. Michaela looked puzzled as to what was now taking place, Heather on the other hand understood thoroughly.

“A knee here and a knee here,” Ralph said, pointing at the chairs with the paddle, “your hands there please miss Moore!”

Heather got into the required position; she had no doubt as to the view that this ignominious pose would be offering to both Michaela and Ralph.
Any worries of modesty were soon taken from her mind as the paddle crashed upon her left buttock. She expected pain but not to this level, no sooner had the first pop landed than she felt the second hit her right buttock.
By the fifth pop, she was in tears, by the eighth she was regretting ever purchasing the damned paddle.

Again, as before, Ralph gently helped her back to her feet, and guided her to the place where he had earlier found the half-naked Michaela.

“Thirty minutes, and no touching your bottom, or we will start all over again, understand?” Ralph asked the tearful Heather, who nodded between her sobs.

Ralph then saw Michaela out, giving her a little goodbye peck upon her cheek.

Once Michaela had safely left the grounds of the cottage, Ralph headed towards Heathers kitchen, it only took him a couple of minutes to find what he was searching for.

“Miss Moore, I have changed my mind about you spending corner time. Instead, I would like you to go up to your room, place your pillows in the centre of the bed, and then lay across them, bottom-up nice and high.”

With a heavy heart, Heather made her way to her bedroom, taking this chance to give her bottom a sly soothing rub as she climbed the stairs.
Two minutes later Ralph followed her upstairs, entering the room he was rather taken aback by the decor, it was as if he was stepping back into Victorian times. Heather lay as instructed over the pillows on her huge four poster bed. Ralph quickly scanned the room's antique furniture, till his eyes rested upon a chest of drawers.

“I take it that on of those drawers is your underwear drawer?” Ralph asked then added. “Don't worry ma'am I am not on some weird middle-aged pantie raid, I ask for your comfort.”

“Second one down!” Heather replied through gritted teeth, no at all sure why she was continuing with this not so comical Comedy Of Errors.

It did not take long for Ralph to find what he was looking for, a thin pair of cotton boyshorts. He then sat on the bed, close to Heather's feet.

Then Heather felt a soothing coolness to her bottom.

“Is that good?” Ralph asked, as he gently moved the pack of frozen vegetables wrapped in her boyshorts across her still hot red flesh.

“Yes!” She gasped in the relief that the improvised cold compress was giving her.

Ralph continued moving the vegetables with his right hand while the fingers of he left hand sought out the lips of Heather's pussy.

“Is that also good?”

“Yes...oh God yes!”

Ralph then moved further onto the bed, undoing his trousers as he did so. His hands moved to Heather's hips, pulling her higher, the head of his cock nudging at the doorway to her sex. He pushed his hips forward; his shaft smoothly entering her wetness.

“Is this good?”

“Yes!” Heather answered, wondering how her plans had unraveled so badly, only to reach the very conclusion that she was hoping for.

THE END


Wednesday, 25 February 2015

Welcome To The Hotel Gomorrah (part2)

Heather stood in the living room of her cottage though cottage was actually a misnomer. The building was the old gatehouse, going back to the time when the hotel was a manor house. When the manor was then converted to a hospital, the gatehouse and the drive from the gatehouse both became redundant. The small track was nowhere near capable of handling the extra traffic, so a larger driveway was made linking the hospital to the main road to its north.
The gatehouse then became an ad-hoc storage area for gardening equipment and decorating paraphernalia, it was basically a glorified workman's shed.

Once Heather saw the rundown building she fell in love with it. She viewed it as an Easter Egg, a surprise acquisition, as it came with the purchase of the hospital even though it was not listed in the original documentation.
She could not believe the estate agent who told her. “Yes Miss Moore, the gatehouse is covered in the price of the main premises, as are the extensive gardens.”

The gatehouse had not been a deal-maker, but it had certainly sweetened the pot. She decided then and there that the gatehouse was to be her home and to be partitioned off from the hotel. When the day came to sell the hotel, she would reopen the original drive, and retain the gatehouse as her residence.
For now though, the only access to her oddly shaped home was via the grounds of the hotel, which gave her the seclusion that she so enjoyed.

So, now, standing in her semi-circular living room, she looked out of the hotel facing window, waiting for Michaela's arrival.
Her plan was to give Michaela a choice, she would take Heather's discipline, and the previous night's shenanigans would be forgotten, the slate would be wiped clean.
Or, Michaela's other option was to be dismissed, as of today, for gross misconduct.

Should Michaela choose to take the latter option, it would throw Heather's timetable for today into disarray. That, however, seemed to be the least likely outcome, Heather was pretty confident that Michaela would take the discipline. With that in mind, she looked down on her small dining table and smiled to herself.
Lying there on the table was a vicious looking, but, in fact, innocuous riding crop. Next to that lay the innocuous looking, but very hard wooden paddle.

“More choices for miss Nichols to make,” She said aloud to herself, then added, “and here she is now!”

Heather could see her forlorn looking victim walking towards her house. Today she was not dressed in a business suit, today she was wearing jeans, and a sweatshirt. A bit of a disappointment for Heather, as she had hoped to lift Michaela's skirt in the manner that Ralph had last night.

Heather now studied Michaela in a way she never had before. She was slim, not very tall, only coming up to Heather's shoulders though, at five foot ten inches tall, Heather did tend to loom over most females. Michaela's chestnut brown hair was today pulled back in a ponytail, accenting her sharp facial features.

Heather did not wait for the knock on her door; she opened the door just before Michaela reached it and ushered her into her living room. Before Michaela had a chance to take in the oddness of the room's architecture, Heather started talking to, or rather admonishing, her twenty-five-year-old manager.

“Well, Miss Nicols, we seem to be in a bit of a pickle here aren't we? I'm not at all sure as how to fairly address this situation. We could just ignore it altogether, or perhaps even make a commercial play upon it. Our receptionists could wear badges, saying 'Welcome To The Hotel Gomorrah', we could get online reviews recommending our 'hot running barmaids'. Do you think any of these ideas or viable miss Nicols?”

Michaela stood in the centre of the room; her eyes cast down at the floor.

“I asked you are any of these ideas viable miss Nicols.”

“No Heather, they are not.” She finally replied, her voice little more than a whisper.

“So in my position what would you do?...Oh, and, by the way, don't call me Heather, call me Miss!”

“I don't know...probably fire me Miss.”

“Well, I can't lie; that was my original intention.” Heather lied. “Then I decided I was being a little foolish in getting rid of someone who until now had proven to be a valuable employee. So, I decided to give you an option, or rather a couple of choices.”

For the first time since Michaela entered the house, her eyes now met with Heather's. Heather could see the hope in Michaela's pale blue eyes.

“Yes, if you take my discipline now, that will be the end of the matter!”

“Your discipline Heather...I mean Miss...I don't understand what you mean?” Michaela said in apparent confusion.

“Last night you seemed to very keen for Mr Morson to spank you?” Heather said, her voice giving no hint of any emotion.

“Well...we were only larking about...” Michaela mumbled her eyes again focussed upon the floor.

“I know, my plan is to show you what a real spanking feels like, not a larking about one. Then you will have another option, after your spanking you will have either a paddling or a whipping.”

“What! You can't possibly be serious?”

“Oh, I'm serious miss Nicols, the choices are yours. Go now, and find another job. Stay and get spanked, followed by a paddling or a whipping.”

“I don't even know what a paddling is....” Michaela said her voice now starting to break.

Heather picked up the paddle from the dining table and handed it to Michaela, then Heather picked up the crop, flexing it in an almost cliched manner.

“Well, those are your choices...”

“But, I don't want to be spanked...paddled or whipped,” Michaela whined.

“Yes, well I don't want to have to spank you. Just as I don't want to fire you, but you have painted me into a corner. As I said, the choice is yours.”

“Will it hurt Miss?”

“Of course, it will hurt silly girl, but then the slate will be clear,” Heather said, now not even trying to hide her amusement at her employee's predicament.

“OK...I'll take the spanking...and this,” Michaela said holding up the paddle.

“Wise decision,” Heather said, placing the crop back onto the table. She then started to pull one of the dining chairs into the centre of the room, she then sat down upon it, “shall we begin then?”

“What...what happens now Miss?” Michaela asked in abject confusion.

“Put the paddle on the table, and then stand here,” Heather said pointing at the floor to her right-hand side.

In silence, the now defeated Michaela complied with her boss's instructions.

“Mr Morson seemed to take delight in spanking you over your knickers, I, on the other hand, believe that a spanking is only a spanking when it is delivered to a bare bottom!” Heather said as her hands went to the waistband of Michaela's jeans.

“Please Miss...” Michaela whined half-heartedly.

Heather could feel Michaela's whole body stiffen up as she unbuttoned her jeans. Slowly, as slowly as she could, Heather pulled the jeans clear of Michaela's hips, revealing a pair of plain full cut black knickers.

“Now, as I said earlier, these have to come down as well.”

As if Michaela needed any reminder, that her punishments were going to be on her bare bottom. As the knickers slowly started their descent to join the previously lowered jeans, Heather gasped in surprise.

“Oh my, miss Nicols, are you an old fashioned girl or just plain lazy? I have never seen a fanny this hairy, except in films from the nineteen seventies!”

“I just like to be natural...” Michaela replied, choking back a sob.

“Ah well, each to their own I suppose, I believe that some men prefer the hirsute look. Over you pop now, and we can begin.” Heather said, her overly cheerful tone masking the gravity of the situation for Michaela.

Once Michaela was in position across her lap, Heather quickly checked her watch; it was nine-fifteen. Her timetable for the morning was running to schedule.
Though Heather would never consider herself to be bi-sexual, she did appreciate the female form, and moreover she gained a certain sexual frisson from being in a position of dominance. She slowly ran her hand across Michaela's waiting bottom, feeling the firm, but also giving flesh of her well-rounded orbs. Michaela had a small behind though both cheeks were well rounded and in no way could her rear be called boyish. No, she was one hundred percent feminine, only smaller compared to Heather's frame.

“Yes, I think I am going to enjoy this next half hour.” Heather thought to herself as she brought down the first stinging slaps onto that yielding flesh.

Michaela surprised herself at how well she was taking the spanking. Sure it felt uncomfortable, but nowhere near as bad as she had expected. In fact, in a weird way, it was a kind of a pleasant sensation, as the heat slowly built up. The lead up to the spanking had been much worse the actaulité of the punishment. The way Heather had browbeaten her, and then the way she had been stripped, were both far worse than what she was feeling now. Of course, now she realised that the humiliation was all part of the punishment. It was as if Heather was dishing out a meal, one course at a time.

“Now miss Nicols, I know you may not believe this, but I'm actually doing you a favour by spanking you,” Heather said still keeping her voice ever so bright. “By warming you up like this, the paddle will not feel anywhere near as bad as it would upon cold flesh. Should we ever find ourselves in a similar situation again, I will not be so kind, and it will be on cold flesh.”

As she spoke those words, Heather slowed down the spanking; her hand was now coming down much harder as if to emphasise certain words. Each slap was causing Michaela to grunt out in pain, the enjoyable warmth was now being replaced by something altogether less comfortable.

“I think that will do for now,” Heather said, helping Michaela back to her feet.“ after all this is only the beginning.”

Once upon her feet, Michaela started to rub furiously at her stinging nates, this rubbing causing her hips to involuntary push forward towards Heather's face.

“Really miss Nicols, I don't need to have a closer inspection of your ample bush!”

Those words causing Michaela's face to flush nearly as red as her bottom.

“I'm sorry Miss I didn't mean to...” Michaela said her voice trailing off as she could not think of how to end the sentence.

“Shush, never mind all that,” Heather interjected. “I want you to now take off your jeans and knickers.”

“Er...they are off Miss?”

“No, they are down, not off. I want them off entirely.”

“Why Miss?”

This question had an adverse effect upon Heather's until now jovial mood. Before Michaela could register what was happening, Heather had grabbed her left arm, pulled her closer towards herself, and was now slapping the fronts of Michaela's thighs.

“When..I...say...I...want...something...done...I ...want...it...done...OK," Heather said through gritted teeth emphasising each word with a harsh slap.

“Yes Miss, I'm sorry Miss,” Michaela replied, quickly squatting down to untie the laces of her training shoes.

Heather stood over her, smiling at just how well things were going, then an idea crossed her mind as she watched Michaela struggle with her laces. She checked her watch, yes, she still had plenty of time.

“You know miss Nicols,” Heather started lying, “when I was at university, I played for the netball team. Our coach was a strange old bird; she was an ex-forces physical instructor. She had a quite a lot of out-dated ideas when it came to her training methods. Outdated, but still quite effective, if she felt that any of us were not listening, or following her instructions. She would just ask the girl in question to take off one of her plimsolls, and then give her a couple of whacks on her arse with it, just to reinforce her message of obedience.
This was long after corporal punishments in schools had been banned, and, of course, corporal punishment was never a university thing anyway. You know, I don't even think she looked upon it as being a punishment, I believe she just saw it as a good way to remind people of who was in charge.”

Michaela looked up and already knew what was coming next.

“Pass me one of your shoes please miss Nicols.”

Knowing there was no point in arguing, Michaela complied with her boss's command.

“If you would like to stand up, then bend over, grabbing the backs of your knees with your hands.”

Now, totally naked from the waist down, Michaela followed her instruction.

“No, not quite like that,” Heather said, “legs shoulders width apart....yes that's better...head lower please, and push your bottom up...yes that's perfect. Have you any idea of the view I have now? I'm sure you have...the charms that Mr Morson seemed so keen to handle are now quite openly on view. It's a shame that he isn't here eh?”

Michaela looked down to the floor, watching as her first tear splashed upon the carpet.

“These modern trainers are so light, you will probably hardly even feel the two whacks, plimsolls were surprisingly stingy.” As she said that, Heather brought the shoe down quickly, one whack on each cheek. Both impacts, causing, a pleasing to Heather's ears, grunt from Michaela.

“As I suspected,” Heather said, throwing the shoe to one side, “very ineffective. No, don't get up yet miss Nicols! I have to satisfy my curiosity about something.”

Michaela then felt Heather's hand upon her bottom again, only this time the hand was lower between her parted bottom cheeks. Next, to Michaela's shock and disgust, she felt one of Heather's fingers probing the lips of her sex, causing her to jump upright, and shout.

“You fucking pervert...I'm not a lezzer!”

“Shush!” Heather said calmly, but in a manner that would brook no argument “You silly girl, I was just checking if the spanking had got you wet, and look it has!”

Michaela sighed in despair as she saw Heather's glistening middle finger. The despair turned to disgust, as Heather smiled sweetly and sucked her finger clean.

“Don't worry miss Nicols, it's not unusual for a lady to get a little wet when being spanked, I think it has something to do with blood flow. Also, don't worry, I have no designs to seduce you, my tastes lay very much in other directions.”

Heather then picked up the small wooden paddle from the table.

“In the USA, these are often known as The Board Of Education, I think that is such a good name don't you?”

Michaela stood in silence, wide-eyed like a rabbit caught in car headlamps staring at the paddle in Heather's hand.

“Now it may surprise you just how hard this little toy can hit, in fact of the two, the crop would have been a better choice,” Heather said, now back to her previous sing-song tone of cheeriness. “So, with that in mind, you are going to get off with a mere six of the best, in the hope of educating you against flirting with my customers. However, they will be six of the best, three on each of your cute little rosy cheeks. Then after a little corner time for you to reflect upon this morning, you can be on your way, and the slate will be wiped clean OK?”

Michaela had come this far, to back out now at the final hurdle would be sheer stupidity.

“Yes Miss.” Came Michaela's reluctant reply.

“Now there's a good girl, you know it makes sense. Back over as before please, you know the drill. I have to warn you though, these will hurt, hurt quite a lot. However, keep in position, if you jump up, the pop won't count, that's what the call them in the States. Pops!” Heather said in a light, conversational tone.

The first pop hit Michaela's right cheek, the initial impact hurt, but not to the extent that Heather said it would. “This isn't going to be too bad”, Michaela thought to herself, then though she felt that pain turn to heat, and then the heat emanated outwards from the initial contact area.

“It's a shame you can't see this miss Nicols, the little holes in the board are supposed to make it aerodynamic, which I really doubt very much. It does though make such a lovely pattern, even upon your already, very rosy tail!”

The next pop was on her left cheek; again the sensation was the same, pain followed by the unbearable heat. Unbearable heat that she knew she would have to bear.

And, bear it she did.

By the time she received the sixth and final pop, Michaela was openly sobbing; all attempts at composure had fled, as she concentrated on holding her position.

“Very good miss Nicols, you took that really well,” Heather said, congratulating her employee. “Now if you would like to go to the back of the room. Nose to the wall and hands upon the top of your head, you can reflect upon the events of the last two days for half an hour. Oh, and, by the way, no rubbing that pretty little arse!”

Still tearful, but now totally submitted, Michaela obeyed without question. She stood for what to her seemed to her like a burning age. But, was in fact only fifteen minutes; when she then heard, to her terror, a knock at the front door of the cottage.
She twisted around at her hips, though still not moving from her allocated spot, her hands still on top of her head, her eyes full of fear as she stared at Heather.

Heather looked at her watch and said “That will be Mr Morson.”


Saturday, 21 February 2015

Welcome To The Hotel Gomorrah (part 1)

Heather Moore was very much a perfectionist; she also liked to leave very little to chance, both in her private and business life. So, when she decided on a career change, it was well thought through. Thought through with almost military precision.
She had decided at the age of thirty-nine, that she wanted to leave the corporate rat race, to pursue a fresh challenge. It had taken her a full year to decide finally that she would like to be an hotelier. However, she did not look upon being an hotelier as a longterm situation, merely as a step to early retirement.
Her plan was to purchase a run-down establishment, refurbish it to a high standard, build up a good reputation, and then wait for one of the large chains to buy her out.

Of course having such a plan is one thing, putting it into action is a quite another thing entirely. But, Heather was a serious person, not just a daydreamer, and moreover she was patient. In no way was she going to rush into buying the first place that she could find, she was way too astute for that.

Eventually, after nine months of searching and researching she found her premises. It was a now disused Victorian cottage hospital, which had been converted from an old Georgian manor house on the edge of Bronte country. The council were eager to get this perceived white elephant off their hands; so planning permission for a hotel breezed through, red tape just seemed to melt before Heather's eyes.
The conversion only took another two months, to get the manor back to its former glory, as the building itself had been soundly built. Also, the fact that Heather made a point of being “on site”, had the desired effect of spurring on her workers. Heather was no stranger to cracking the whip, both metaphorically and literally.  

She had decided to go for luxury, rather than the amount of rooms, aiming herself very much at the American and Asian tourist market. No expense had been spared in the renovations, and the decour of the accommodation, as she was going all out for the higher end market. As a mark of her sole ownership, and with a slight nod to her ego and the Bronte's, she named the hotel The Moor Heather.

Recruiting the right staff though was problematic. Her choosiness, and her habit of trying to micro-manage all aspects of the hotel, made for a higher than she would have liked initial staff turnover in the first few months of the hotel being open.

This aspect of Heather's nature had always been a moot point even in her social life. She saw herself very much as an organiser, even to the point of trying to control her friends lives, to suit her aims. At times, it seemed that she viewed other people as mere stepping stones to be used by her in the navigation of the river of life. The allotted time for a friendship to last, was governed by her perceived view of the usefulness that each individual could be to her.
In her work in the financial world, this attitude and her charming veneer had paid her dividends. But in her private life it proved to be more than a little detrimental, leaving her now more or less socially marooned on the edge of the Yorkshire Pennines.

By six, months, however, Heather was indeed happy with both the team that she had managed to assemble, and her life, in general. Also, with heavy internet advertising and group discounts, the hotel was for the most part fully booked. Her restaurant and bar had garnered an excellent reputation with the locals, which led to a bonus extra revenue.
In fact, all in all, the whole venture was exceeding her wildest expectations.

The success though was a double sided sword. Having a well-trusted staff now in place, meant that Heather looked upon herself as a bit of a fifth wheel in the general running of her hotel. She was, in fact, bored, so she started out on looking for problems that were not there. The adage of “if it is not broke, don't fix it”, did not apply to her current mindset.
Most nights, she could be found in the public bar area of the hotel nursing a large glass of red wine, and searching for anything to nit-pick over.

This particular evening though, she found much more than she ever dared have hoped to find, even in her wildest dreams.

One of her group bookings, were from Atlanta Georgia; five people in total, two couples and one single male. The single man had caught Heather's attention; he had more than a passing resemblance to Billy Bob Thornton's Lorne Malvo from the tv series Fargo. Of course his accent was not that of the mid-west, it was pure Southern straight from Primary Colors. It was that combination of looks; accent, and a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that drew Heather towards him. Her plan was straightforward enough; go down to the bar, strike up a casual conversation, and then enchant him.

This rather simple plan, at least by Heather's standards, became askew as soon as she walked into the bar area.
Sure enough, Ralph Morson, her intended target was there, he was standing at the bar, the ideal place for her to make a quick introduction.
The fly in the ointment though, was Michaela Nicols, her bar and restaurant manager. As she approached the bar, she overheard a little of the conversation that Michaela and Ralph were engaged in.

“So, you are considering a vacation in the States? I hope you are not going to be a typical Brit, and just go to Orlando.” Heather heard Ralph saying to Michaela. “You know the States is an enormous country, not just the Floridian coast. You could do a whole lot worse than visiting Atlanta; I'm sure you would really enjoy our warm Southern Hospitality...”

“Well, it's all very up in the air,” Michaela replied, and then added to Heather's growing annoyance. “ I must say though, I love the way that you roll your 'r's, you make the idea of visiting very enticing.”

“Thank you, ma'am, but I must say you have a fine roll to your arse yourself, and I don't mean your accent!”

Michaela blushed visibly at this overt flirting, her eyes though were clearly encouraging further salacious chat. That coquettish look that she was giving Ralph was the last straw for Heather; “this is going to be nipped in the bud”, she thought to herself as the junior barmaid handed her drink across the bar to her.

“Has it been very busy tonight Julie?” Heather asked the barmaid.

“Er...well you know, not too busy miss...the weather, and it being a Wednesday, it's mainly just the hotel guests tonight.” Julie replied, clearly not happy at being engaged in a conversation with her boss, knowing full well that Heather could turn any words around to suit her specific purposes.

“Mmmh...I was just thinking, Michaela has been very busy lately, and if you and Paul could manage the bar on your own tonight, I would let her have an early finish, to recharge her batteries.”

Now Julie was in an unfortunate position. If she said that would be no problem, it could be read that they were overstaffed. If she said they could not cope, it could be read that Paul and herself were not competent of working unsupervised, all depending on Heather's mood.

“I'm sure we will be able to cope tonight, after all, it is unusually quiet,” Julie said, then in a patronising flash of brilliance added. “and if we did get stuck at all you're here, who better to have on hand!”

Heather, smiled and nodded, recognising in Julie an echo of her own personality, “this girl could be one to watch”, she thought to herself. Already, in her mind's eye she was thinking of the Moor Heather Hotel with a possible new bar manager.


Picking up her drink, Heather moved along the bar towards Michaela and Ralph, catching Michaela's attention.

“Hi Heather, I was just telling Mr Morson that I'm thinking of a trip to the USA later in the year.”

“Yes, well with all the work you have done here, you are well deserving of a nice holiday. In fact, I was just talking to Julie about you getting off home early tonight.” Heather stated and was then quite amused by the quizzical look on Michaela's face. “So if you want to tie up your work in the office, have yourself an early night, and as you are off work tomorrow, I'll see you bright eyed on Friday morning.”

Michaela knew by the tone of Heather's voice that this was not a suggestion, but a direct order.

“OK, thanks, Heather. Mr Morson, I bid you goodnight and hope to chat before you go home on Sunday.”

“You can bet on it, I hope to see a lot more of you before I go back Stateside.” The innuendo of that statement was lost on neither Michaela or Heather.

Heather had hoped that with Michaela's departure, she would simply become the new focus of his attention. However, that was not to be, as he just simply picked his Scotch up from the bar and headed back to where his fellow countryman were sitting.
Heather now sat at the bar alone, alone and fuming.

She took out her phone, fiddled about with it, in a pretence of being engrossed in whatever was on its screen. All the while though she was checking out Ralph's table in the mirror behind the bar. Her sixth sense was telling her that something was afoot, something that she fully intended to use for own entertainment.
Sure enough, after less than two minutes, Ralph rose from the table, saying something to his friends, and then left the bar area.
Heather waited, after all, he could have just been going to the restroom, so she waited, she waited five minutes. She waited exactly five minutes, as she watched the clock display on her phone. She then drained her glass of red wine by way of Spanish Courage and marched out to the reception foyer.

There was no-one behind the desk, as that was normal for this time of night when there were no guests either due in or due to check out.
The office behind the desk though, was not as it should be, as the door was closed. Heather nodded, confident that her sixth sense had been proved to be correct.
She stood by the door; her ear cocked to the wood. Then she heard it, the sound she so loved to hear, the sound she so loved to create.

“Should I barge in, or sneak in?” She whispered to herself aloud.

She chose the path of stealth, carefully she opened the door and quietly slipped into the office. What met her eyes came as no real shock, but Ralph's reaction did.
He was resting, with his bottom leant upon Michaela's desk; Michaela stood in front of him, her back towards Heather. Michaela's pinstriped skirt was hiked up high, well clear of both, her suspenders and her pale blue knickers, his hand slapping down on her cotton covered behind. The spanks were not particularly hard, but Heather could tell by the sound of their report that they would indeed sting.
Instead of jumping up as Heather entered the room, Ralph gazed at her evenly, the eye contact telling Heather that she had stumbled upon a kindred spirit, a wink from him confirming her thoughts.

“You really are a naughty girl aren't you?” Ralph whispered into Michaela's ear, “Sneaking in here to play while your colleagues do all your work. What would your boss think of this I wonder?”

Ralph smiled at Heather; he was now clearly playing to the gallery.

“And, what do naughty little girls deserve?”

No answer was forthcoming from Michaela, so Ralph gave her five hard slaps, two on each bottom cheek and one to the upper thigh of her left leg.

“When I ask a question of a young lady, it is only common courtesy and good manners for the girl to reply!”

“I deserve a spanking sir....” Michaela gasped.

“Yes you do indeed, young lady, you do indeed.”

It seemed to Heather that Ralph had choreographed this whole situation, even down to the way they were both dressed. Michaela as always was wearing a business suit. Tonight, however, Ralph too was also dressed in a suit, instead of his usual casual look.

Heather thought it looked like a boss giving his secretary a spanking for shoddy work. No, it didn't, Heather mentally corrected herself, the clothing was of too high a quality for such a scenario. This was more like some executive power play, a CEO and his lover maybe. Or maybe even a CEO and her lover, whatever the scene was supposed to be it had Heather's mind racing and her juices flowing.

“You know, I have a feeling that come this weekend you will have more than your share of spankings, it's just a feeling I have!” Ralph said, then motioned with his head for Heather to close the door.

Heather slammed the still partially open door, causing Michaela to  quickly turn around.

“I'm sorry MR Morson, you seemed to have taken a wrong door. I really should get the signage to the restrooms made clearer.” Heather said, her face calmness personified. “You need to be back out into the reception area, and then instead of going to the bar, it's the third door on the left-hand side.”

“Thank you ma'am, the Scotch seems to have gone to my head and ruined my sense of direction,” Ralph said as he left the room.

“Michaela, I want to see you at my cottage tomorrow morning at nine-o-clock sharp, and then we can discuss, both tonight's antics and your future working for me!” Heather then also left the office, Michaela did not see the broad self-satisfied smile on Heather's face as she exited.

Michaela was now alone in the office, her eyes tearing up, the tears not caused from the stinging in her bottom. But from the fear of losing her job, and the embarrassment of having being caught in such a compromising position.    

Monday, 9 February 2015

Happy Valentines Day

(An old re-post to help celebrate this Saturday)

Lori was in the bathroom brushing her teeth, looking forward to the romantic Monday that Tom had arranged for them. She could hear Tom downstairs as he switched on the radio in the kitchen, she gave herself a little smile in the mirror, before rinsing her teeth. Then she heard his voice shouting up to her.

"Lori! Are you trying to wind me up?"

She pulled her dressing gown tighter around herself and opened the bathroom door, standing looking down the stairs she sees that Tom is holding up two envelopes.

"Did you send this extra one to wind me up?" Tom asks her, with a doubting look on his face.

"I don't know what you mean," Lori replied as she made her way down the stairs.

"Well, I sent this card," Tom said, breaking the mystery of Valentine's Day slightly, "but I didn't send this one. So who did?"

"Nah, I'm not falling for this; you sent them both so that you could start the day of with an early morning bum tanning. I know you too well, Tom!" Lori replied laughing at her lover.

Tom's face darkened at Lori's laughter, and it dawned on him that the card was genuine and not just her winding him up. As he looked at her he noticed that she could not hold eye contact with him, this was turning out to be not funny at all.

"So do you know who it is from then?" Tom demanded.

Lori looked down at her bare feet, as she fidgeted from foot to foot, biting at her lower lip she shook her head, then finally said, "No not really."

"What do you mean not really? Either you know or you don't know."

Lori sniffed and looked on the verge of tears. "Well, I'm not sure; it could be from one of the guys at work I suppose, maybe."

"Oh yeah! Which one?" Tom shouted.

"Well, I don't know do I?" Lori said still shifting from foot to foot. "I could be any of them, you know fooling around, a bit of banter."

"A bit of banter?"

"Well everyone does it at work don't they?" Lori said looking very guilty.

"I don't, you are telling me you spend all day at work flirting with anything in trousers, is that what you are saying?"

"Well kind of, but you make it sound all dirty and it isn't." Lori said pleadingly.

Tom took hold of Lori's hand and marched her over to the sofa, sitting down Tom said. "Get that dressing gown off and get over my knee, and this isn't going to be a fun spanking!"

"Please, Tom this was supposed to be a special day!" Lori whined.

"Don't worry it's going to be special all right, now get a move on!"
Lori stared at Tom, her lovely heart-shaped face in her best sulky look, her blue-green eyes looking pleadingly, almost begging for tacit forgiveness. Her silent look of regret didn't work as Tom repeated his instruction. Slowly Lori loosened the cloth belt on her fleecy gown, still looking at Tom to see if there was any break in his resolve. There wasn't. As she slipped out of her gown and let it fall to the floor, she stood there in her Sloggi mint green (Tom's favourite.) two piece set. Tom pointed at the little shorts and said.

"By the way don't think they are staying on because they aren't."

"Tom please, they are so thin....." Lori pleaded her fingers hovering above the waistband of her boy shorts.

"Well, if they are so thin, it won't make any difference, so get them off."

Lori made a little theatrical stamp of her feet and snorted at Tom, but then obediently, slowly slipped them down her legs. Her shaven crotch was now coming into view as she reluctantly lowered her pants. Then Lori eased herself over Tom's lap, she had a little secret smile to herself, as she felt his excited state through the thinness of his PJ's, prodding at her tummy.
Her smile didn't last long, Tom's hand came down hard on her naked buttocks, the impact almost taking her breath away. Lori knew now that this was not going to be a fun spanking. Tom was annoyed, to say the least, they had both taken time off work for a special romantic Valentine's, and yet here he was spanking his girlfriend for being an outright self-confessed flirt.

"No more tight blouses at work for you girl. No more flashing your headlights to all a sundry. Eh?"

Apart from little squeaks and screams, Lori Stayed silent to Tom's question. His spanking had taken her by surprise, by shock actually. She had never expected to him react with such gusto. His hand rained down on her proffered buttocks, fast and hard. Before she had time to react to one hand fall, another would come down on her quickly reddening bottom. Instead of the typical spanking warmth, she was feeling an intense heat building up in her.

"God I hope he doesn't see my credit card statement." She thought to herself.

"I asked a question girl!" Tom said through gritted teeth, as he laid on an especially hard flurry.

"I won't... I'll wear loose jumpers... I'll... please Tom stop!" Lori pleaded as her view of the carpet beneath became a misty blur.

She couldn't help herself; her legs started to flail around, taking on a life of their own. All this did was open up to Tom new areas for chastisement, she now found her inner thighs and the tops of her legs coming into Tom's spanking range. All she could do was grit her teeth again, and to pray for him to stop.

Stop he did.

Tom helped his tearful girlfriend back to her feet, wiping the tears from her eyes, she looked at him and gave him weak sorrowful smile.

"Well, that will do for a start," Tom said. "now go in the kitchen, and fetch me the green plastic pallet knife."

"Wha... what for, what do you need that for?" Stuttered Lori.

"Six across your arse, that's what for, your spanking was just a warm up!"

"I can't go in there; I've only got my bra on! People can see into the kitchen, what would they think?"

"They'll think, there's a girl that's had a hard spanking, and she's lucky that she hasn't had her dirty little flirty mouth soaped as well."

Mouth soaped? That idea had never even crossed her mind, so she quickly dashed off to the kitchen before Tom thought more on it. Lori grabbed the pallet knife, all the time thinking "he must never see the credit card statement".

When she came back into the living room, Tom was standing by the end of the sofa; his erection painfully obvious under his PJ bottoms. She handed him the instrument of her immediate correction, her lower lip trembling in anticipation.

"Right over the arm of the sofa, bottom right up. Six of the best coming up."

The first one shocked her. It didn't so much hurt on impact; it slowly burned into her behind. Such an innocuous kitchen implement how could it cause such pain?

By the fourth stroke, she could taste the salt of her tears in her mouth. When the sixth stroke fell, she thought to herself, "he must never ever see the credit card statement!"

In the blur of tears and pain, she heard the plastic pseudo paddle hit the floor; she felt his hands on her naked hips. She felt herself being lifted slightly; she felt the head of his cock probing at the lips of her sex. She heard a little voice in her head say.

"Where can I leave that statement where he can find it? The one with the 'Bluemountain.com invoice on it?"

Sometimes you know, a fun spanking just can't cut it!

Happy Valentine's Day, from Lori and Tomas!

Wednesday, 7 January 2015

The Reality Checker (part 2)

I left Marsha's home, with three things that I didn't have when a arrived there.I had a cheque in my pocket to cover my wife's bad investments; the Reality Checker was on the passenger seat.
The other thing, I left with, was the resolve in my heart to bring Susie back down to Earth.

The new-found resolve was also backed up by what is known as the English Disease; a latent fascination with spanking and corporal punishment. That almost inborn tendency was dredged from the back of my mind and brought to the fore by Marsha's descriptions of Susie's disciplinary program.
As I drove along her words were still ringing in my ears.

“I can tell you now Ronnie, she will beg and plead to get out of a hair brushing, you have to be strong though, and ignore all of her empty words.
For once you decide upon this action there is no going back, cause if you do give in to her promises, she will see it as weakness. Then she will just play you like a cheap fiddle for the rest of your married life.
You have to bare her butt, and get her over your knees, and keep whacking her till either her ass is blistered, or she has a pool of tears on the carpet in front of her. Anything less is just a waste of elbow grease!
She will wail and pretend to cry, don't fall for it, keep going till you get the real tears falling, OK?”

Marsha's words seemed harsh, but I know she had said them from her heart and with love; not knowing the effect that those very words were having on me.

Once I got home, I planned out my strategy. I decided the kitchen would be the best place for her spanking to take place. That room faced back onto our high fenced garden, so was clear from prying eyes and inquisitive ears. Also, as it was in Marsha's kitchen where we had been talking earlier, it seemed somewhat apt, that our kitchen would be used for her chastisement.
I placed both the cheque and the Checker, in front of me on our little breakfast table. I then made myself a cup of tea and waited for my wife arriving home.

Susie came about five minutes later, she was all smiles, oblivious of what was about to come to her.

“You had a good day honey?” She asked as she prepared herself a cup of coffee.

“Yeah, I had a drive out to Opelika...it was...very informative.”

“Opelika? Really? What you go all the way out there for?”

“I just thought I'd pop over to see your mom,” I told her, trying to keep my voice as flat and even as I could.

“Mmmh...So, how was mom?” Susie said, now her voice had lost its chirpiness.

“She was good; I wanted to tell her about a call I had earlier; which was actually a call for you.”

“A call?” Now her voice sounded worried.

“Yeah, from the Mall, about a shop that we haven't even discussed.”

“Well, Ronnie I meant to talk to you....” Her voice then halted as she saw the Reality Checker lying on the table.

“You meant to talk to me about what Susie?” I asked, motioning with my hand for her to continue.

Instead of saying anything she just stood there dumbstruck, shaking her head in evident disbelief at what she could see on the table.

“OK, never mind the talking, I'll tell you what is going to happen,” I informed her, her eyes still locked upon the clothes brush. ”Whatever stuff you got on sale or return; you are going to return. All the other things, you are going to post on the internet tonight. Then whatever we get for it we will give back to your mom to cover, at least part of, the money that she gave me today. You are then going to ring the Mall to cancel your barrow stall; you are also going to tell them that you are not interested in a shop either.”

Susie nodded and sighed loudly, as she sighed forcing the air upwards it made her blonde fringe ripple in a little wave. That sigh and the look in her watery blue eyes almost broke my resolve. Then I heard Marsha's words again in my mind.

“she will just play you like a cheap fiddle for the rest of your married life.”

“All of that though,” I added, my resolve now restored, “you will be doing sitting on a nice soft cushion, because you will be doing it with a very sore arse, if you pardon my English. Now get over here!” I said motioning to the area of floor in front of the table.

I don't think I saw Susie move so slowly, or so despondently. Eventually, she arrived at the required spot, and my hands went to the waistband of her black jeans.

“Please Ronnie...” She muttered, her voice trailing off as I undid her belt.

“Your mom said the only way, to get through to you, is on your bare butt, and I fully trust Marsha's judgement on this.” I told her as I lowered her jeans, and then her pulled down her black knickers. I could feel myself tumesce at the sight of her freshly waxed pussy lips.

She quickly threw herself across my lap, apparently ashamed of being denuded in such a manner. Which struck me as odd, bearing in mind the status of our relationship, and our familiarity with each others bodies. But, of course, this was not our usual husband/wife situation, this was an altogether different dynamic.

“Please Ronnie, I swear nothing like this will ever happen again...ouch!” The first fall of the Checker cut short her well-predicted pleading.

After that initial shout of surprise, Susie remained almost silent for the first minute or so. The skin on the magnificent orbs of her buttocks was turning pink, but she seemed almost inured to the pain. All, I could do, was to 'up the ante' and to smack her harder, which filled me with both guilt and desire in equal measure.
It worked though, as the pinkness turned to red; her hips moved trying to escape the brush, her bottom cheeks tensed attempting to lessen the brush's effect, and she became vocal.
In fact, she became very vocal!

“You can't spank me like this; you're my husband, not my parent!...You bastard this hurts!...I swear I'm going to leave you!”

Then her previous indignation turned to regret.

“I'm sorry Ronnie!...Please stop; I've learned my lesson!...Please, I can't take anymore!”

Then another change came over her, she was gently sobbing, but her movements did not so much stop, as it seemed more that they changed.
She stopped her wriggling, and it felt as if she was now lifting her hips and arching her back to meet the Checker. Almost as if she was welcoming its contact, her bottom was now coming up to greet its touch. Then her hips would fall forcing her pubis hard against the outside of my left thigh.

“She is as turned on as me?” I thought to myself, somewhat shocked at the idea.

I had to check. I laid the Checker down on the small of her back, leaving it balanced on the little hollow above her buttocks; my hand then caressed her now blazing hot buns. My fingers then trailed down the cleft of her bottom, reaching the petals of her sex. I probed, lightly at first, into her damp folds.
She was wetter than I had ever known her to be, a quick glance at the tiled floor below her, and I could see the pool of tears that Marsha had told me to wait for. Seeing that pool of contrition, I knew that the spanking had worked. However, my fingers told me that the spanking had worked at a whole other level.

I helped her back to her feet, kissed her, then wiped the tears from her eyes.

“You know I only did that because I love you?” I whispered into her ear.

She nodded, then took my hand.

“Let's go to bed,” She said, with a dreamy almost content look upon her face. “I think I will have to be on top though.” She added; we headed to our bedroom, both of us giggling like naughty teens.


                                              THE END

Saturday, 27 December 2014

The Reality Checker (part 1)

I stared at the phone in disbelief, not anger just disbelief. We were being sucked into a financial maelstrom, and there would appear to be very little that I could do about it.
It seemed to me, every time I thought I could see some light at the end of the tunnel, it would turn out to be a train driven by my wife Susie. I knew I had no choice but to call Marsha, my mother in law; she may have some advice upon how to curb Susie's enthusiasm for madcap money making projects.

“Hi hon, how are doing?” Marsha asked as she heard my voice.

 “Been better,” I replied, then gave Marsha a brief outline of my current predicament.

“Tell you what hon, I think it would be best if you came over to see me. We can talk face to face over coffee, and see if we can sort something out. Have you anything on now?"

“No, I could be over to you in the hour,” I told her. “you know, if it's not putting you out at all?”

“Don't be a silly boy Ronnie, just get yourself over here!” She said, by way of a light-hearted admonishment.

The journey from Auburn to Opelika seemed quicker than usual, the traffic was very light, the food joints and filling stations appeared to whiz past me, as I was lost in my thoughts.
I was trying to work out how to explain our current financial quandary to Marsha, without looking like I was just blaming her daughter for everything?

The thing is though, all of our problems did stem from Susie's madcap moneymaking schemes. It wasn't that she was spending money on luxuries or clothes for herself. It was just that she could not accept the fact that she did not really have a head for business. She followed the “speculate to accumulate” theory to extreme, she believed wholeheartedly that if you threw enough money at something, it would eventually succeed.

When I arrived at Marsha's house, I was in no way surprised to find her in the kitchen. Despite her comparative youth in being a mother in law, she was not yet forty and young looking for her age. She was still very much a traditional southern lady, and to her the hub of the home was the kitchen. As always, when I visited Marsha's the radio was on and tuned to a Country station.
So, as she made the coffee, I listened to a man praying for rain in California, so that he could get drunk on wine in Chicago while listening to music from Tennessee. In an odd way, I was jealous of him, wishing that wine and music could solve my predicament.

“OK, Ronnie, spill the beans.” Marsha said as she placed the strong smelling black coffee in front of me. “Tell me what my daughter has been up to now!”

I was surprised by the matter of fact tone of her voice; it was almost as if she had been waiting for this situation to arise.

The tone of her voice, somehow made it easier for me to talk to her. It was almost as if she had broken a levy, and now the water, in the form of my words, flowed fast and free.
I explained how Susie had used our savings to purchase perfumes to sell to her friends and colleagues, in the forlorn hope of doubling our money. These perfumes were second-line scents, the sort that were supposed to smell like designer bottles, but at about half the price of the originals.
I pointed out to her that the profit margins, by the time she had covered her overheads of holding a “perfume party”, she would only, at best come away with a little pin money.
This information did nothing to deter her enthusiasm In fact it spurred her on to spend even more of our savings upon Stell and Dot jewelry, which she planned to sell from a barrow stall in the mall. No matter how hard I tried, to tell her about how the overheads would just eat all of her profits, the more stubborn and sure she became upon the idea.
Then this morning was the last straw, I received a phone call from the mall, saying that they could after all upgrade her stall to a shop outlet, of course for a much higher ground rent.

I didn't know what reaction I expected from Marsha, but the one I got stunned me, as she merely smiled.

“Ronnie, I feel a little to blame for all of this. I should have warned you, when you and Susie first got engaged. You see, the very things that most likely made Susie attractive to you, are the same things that are causing your current problems. You know, her happy go lucky everything is good attitude?” Marsha said, then with a dreamlike look on her face she continued. “You never knew her father; he died before you and your kin came over from England. You know though that he was a musician and a songwriter?”

I nodded, not at all sure as to where this conversation was going.

“He was quite successful, not Nashville guitar shaped swimming pools successful, but he did well enough. He instilled a feeling in Susie that everyone had something inside them that if they worked at it, they would be a great success and everything would be rosy. Of course, this is great if you work at your talents, the way he did, sadly Susie did not get that part of the message.
After her father had died, she became a Pollyanna, with her very own version of the Glad Game, it was like if she just thought something nice, it would happen. All you have to do is look around this house, and you'll find a multitude of discarded musical instruments. No doubt you thought they all belonged to her father?”

I nodded again, this time now seeing the thread she was forming.  

“All my husband had was two guitars, the rest they are all Susie's. After about a year of letting her flit about from one thing to another. I decided it was time to put my foot down. It was time to give her a reality check. You know what I mean by that don't you?”

I shook my head.

“I re-introduced spanking into the house” Marsha  informed me in the most matter of fact manner.

I quickly worked out the years; Susie's father died when she was about sixteen, just weeks before I started at her high school, so a year later....

“You mean you started spanking her again when she was seventeen, when I was going out with her?”

“No, you got your math wrong there Ronnie, she was eighteen.” Marsha corrected me. “Hey, don't look so shocked, it ain't that out of the ordinary down here. It's just that it ain't something that comes up in conversation.
I got myself a big wooden backed clothes brush which I named the Reality Checker, as a hand spanking even on her bare butt, didn't cut it at that age.”

I must have looked even more shocked as she then said.

“Hey boy, drop them raised eyebrows. I'm not some kinda sexual sadist; I was just trying to keep my daughters head in the here and now. Believe me, a well-blistered ass quickly brings a daydreamer down from the clouds.”

I shook my head, still not taking in all of this information.

“You know Ronnie, I can't make my mind up whether you are disgusted with me, or you just plain don't believe what I'm telling you?”

“I just find it all...a bit crazy and strange, a young adult being spanked.” I replied, just stopping myself from saying intriguing.

“OK, I'll give you a good, but somewhat extreme example of her Pollyanna ways. Do you recall two months before you got hitched, I took Susie on a Carribean cruise for her birthday treat?”

I nodded as if I could have forgotten my fiance going away for two weeks just prior to our wedding.

“Well, that cruise ship was pretty snazzy, it had a full spa onboard, so we did the whole nine yards. We had all the beauty treatments and massages; Susie was particularly taken with the hot stones. Then before I knew it, she was ringing the local college to see about massage lessons. I let it ride as I thought it's just another little flash in the pan. Then I caught on the sundeck her calling Tiger Town, to see if they had any available units that she could convert into a salon. Any of this sound familiar to you?”

I sighed and replied, “Yeah, a bit too familiar.”

“Well, I grabbed her cell out of her hand, 'you're in for a reality check young lady' I told her as I marched her back down to our cabin. Once we got there, I realised I had a problem, as I didn't expect to need the Reality Checker on vacation, I had left it here at home. Then my eyes fell upon her denim cutoffs, or I should say upon her belt.

'Take of that belt and give it to me, then drop your shorts and panties and get over the bed' I told her.

'Please Ma, not here...these walls are so thin people will hear!'

You know, the doe-eyed look on her face nearly melted my resolve, but I knew she needed that infernal blind optimism curbed. Moreso with her approaching wedding and her stepping into real adulthood.

'Just give me that belt and get your bare butt over that bed. Now!'

She was almost in tears as she handed me the belt and shrugged down her shorts and under panties. I knew that I had to make this one a spanking to remember. I took me a few tries to get my aim in and to get the correct swing. Soon enough though, I had her squirming, and her bare bottom was colouring up nicely with purple weals. By the time I finished and threw the belt onto the cabin floor, Susie was sobbing and apologising.
The following day, I made her wear her bikini on the sundeck, so that everyone would see that she was a naughty nineteen-year-old girl who had been well punished!

To be honest, I thought that that harsh punishment, and then the rather cruel way I made her display the evidence of the punishment would have been enough to set her up for marriage. Clearly I was wrong, and I apologise for that Ronnie. It would seem it is now the time for you to become the head of the household in your home.”

Marsha then rose from her seat; she went over to a set of drawers, and returned handing me the Reality Checker.