Читать книгу Shadow Lane Volume 8: The Spanking Libertines A Novel of Spanking, Sex and Romance - Eve Howard - Страница 8
ОглавлениеChapter One Lupe Freeman Meets Her Match
During the week of her matriculation at college, Lupe Freeman felt no need of a student advisor, but since one had been assigned to her she visited that young woman’s room in the east tower of her dorm at the appointed hour.
Prepared to meet a politically correct senior, harried in her selection of a grad school, Lupe was charmed by the small, striking Diana Stratton, clad in a tweed skirt, satin-backed waistcoat and crisp white shirt, her nut brown page boy smooth as a mink. Lupe knew that she too looked heavenly, in a black and white checked sundress that clove to her own petite torso and set off her waist-length black hair.
Diana was pleased to usher Lupe into her lair, which appeared to have been furnished by Oscar Wilde.
“Where are you from Beauty Girl?” Diana asked, offering her tea.
“L.A., but I’ve been back east for several years at school.” Lupe was flattered by Diana’s civility. She had often wished that her day-today existence could be as pleasant as one long, on-going Jane Austen novel, only with sex. That lifestyle never seemed more within her grasp.
“Where did you go?” Diana asked her.
“Braemar in Massachusetts.”
“In Random Point?” her hostess cried.
“That’s right.”
“I know the place quite well.” Diana said, not setting too much store by the coincidence.
“I loved it there,” admitted Lupe wistfully.
“Me too,” agreed Diana, “but probably for different reasons. Well, this is your first day at school. Do you have any questions?”
“Actually, I was wondering whether there was anything like a B&D support group on campus,” Lupe murmured.
“Not at the moment,” replied Diana with the greatest astonishment. “Perhaps you and I should start one!”
Two weeks later, after the posting of a flier campaign, Vassar’s first B&D support group met in the parlor of Cushing, the beautiful Tudor style dorm in which the girls resided.
Lupe and Diana arrived a few minutes early to fill bowls with chocolates and nuts while Diana’s other protégé, a handsome junior named Carl-Adam Johanson, carried in a keg and tapped it. His trim waist, remarkable shoulder spread and chiseled profile caused Lupe to stare, but Diana whispered, “Alas, he’s submissive.”
“All six foot four of him?”
“Oh, Lupe, look who just walked in,” Diana whispered, “that gorgeously eccentric Clarence Gerard. I’ve suspected for quite some time that he might be in the Scene!”
Lupe had already learned to admire that absurd creature. He wasn’t precisely gothic, had no long fingernails or deadly pallor. But he would affect breeches, top boots and waistcoats over shirts most days. He wore his light brown hair long and though it suited him, Lupe found it difficult to resist the impulse to pull off the black grosgrain ribbon that bound his elegant ponytail.
He was a history major, music minor, captain of the fencing team and avid devourer of two hundred year old novels. On set crew at the Powerhouse Theatre, Lupe had been watching him rehearse one of the lead roles in The Rivals for the past two weeks and was already fixated on the flamboyant junior.
She murmured to Diana, “His dad is a Silicon Valley magnate yet he himself won’t even pick up a mouse. He writes out everything in long hand and pays some scholarship kid to key it in.”
“I’m becoming more charmed by the moment. Wouldn’t he be perfect for you?”
“Bet you he’s a sub,” guessed Lupe.
“You’re probably right,” Diana sighed, “though in all probability he’s a switch.”
“I hate long hair on boys. It only serves to me remind me that my parents wore bell-bottoms,” the girl from Los Angeles reflected with a shiver.
“But what hair, he’s looks like the lead singer from The Cult.”
“You mean to say you admire his affectations?” Lupe demanded.
“He’s very appealing.”
“At least he doesn’t seem to be pierced or tattooed,” Lupe granted.
“And mar that flawless skin?”
“He’s noticed us looking at him.”
Diana waved at the young man, who immediately crossed the room to them.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m so glad you could join us! My friend Lupe and I were just trying to guess your orientation.”
“Really!” This was pronounced with such irony that Lupe waited for him to produce a quizzing glass to scrutinize them through. Instead he merely asked in the same haughty tone, “And what was your conclusion?”
“Submissive!!” Lupe cried, causing Clarence’s eyebrows to jump.
“I was going to say it was too early to tell,” Diana chided her friend.
“Submissive!” Clarence rounded on Lupe, a fine color rising in his face.
“Not submissive?” Lupe replied innocently. Clarence glared at her and stalked off to take a seat behind the piano, whereupon he began to play jagged airs from Kurt Weill’s German period with excessive violence.
“He looked like he wanted to slap your face,” Diana murmured to Lupe. “I wish he had!”
“Thanks!”
“I’m sorry, but that kind of thing turns me on.”
Diana chaired the meeting while Lupe took the minutes, Clarence remaining at the keyboard to accompany Diana’s opening remarks with the overture to Peter and The Wolf.
Nearly thirty students had arrived, with an even number of men and women. When Diana observed that they were numerous enough for a party, she received a roomful of blank looks, yet the word germinated in all of their brains as she spoke in practical terms about the dungeons and sex clubs of Manhattan.
Then the concept of a party was revived. They wondered with one voice whether they could have a party on campus?
“Out of the question,” Clarence snapped, abruptly ceasing to play.
“And why is that so?” Lupe demanded.
“The noise would disturb the other students,” he pointed out.
“Any boom box will drown out a whipping,” Lupe observed.
“The feminazis will prevent you,” he warned.
“Really, Clarence, in spite of what you may choose to believe, we’re no longer living in the 18th century,” Lupe casually remarked, flushing his fair complexion for the second time. Instead of retorting, however, he simply narrowed his eyes at her, subsided on the piano bench and fell to playing something gloomily Russian.
“I quite understand Mr. Gerard’s concerns,” said Diana judiciously, “and I believe they may be minimized by holding the proposed party in one of the townhouses facing the woods.”
“I live in a townhouse,” Carl-Adam volunteered.
“Would your roommates object to a party?” Lupe demanded.
“Certainly not!” replied the flaxen haired youth with conviction.
“What might occur at such a gathering?” queried one thoughtful girl.
“Well, what would you like to occur?” Diana threw out.
There followed a period of quiet reflection as the sexually disenfranchised of Vassar decided how best to articulate their most private obsessions. Meanwhile, the muted rumble of Scriabin provided a suitably dramatic backdrop. A thunderstorm had commenced as well and presently the noise of a heavy downpour augmented the emotion charged atmosphere of the wood beamed common room.
“A bondage demonstration,” suggested a pale boy with blue-black hair.
“I own six yards each of the finest white and black nylon rope, and will happily volunteer to be a subject,” Diana assured the enthusiast gravely, rendering him speechless with enchantment. “What else?”
“A piercing demonstration,” a heavily pierced girl suggested.
“That shouldn’t be hard,” mused Lupe, “students seem to get pierced on a daily basis around here.”
“More’s the pity,” Clarence mused with a shudder, hoping the impertinent brat taking the minutes would never do so.
“You mentioned whipping before,” said another brave coed, nodding towards Lupe, “I’d be interested in that.”
“Nothing can be accomplished more easily,” Diana promised.
“I wonder why no one has mentioned spanking,” said Lupe.
“Are you volunteering to be demonstrated on?” asked Clarence casually.
Lupe’s chin came up but then she rather saucily replied, “Why not?”
After that Lupe and Clarence seemed to run into each other everywhere. And after the unifying support group meeting, they were also beginning to share the same friends. But Clarence persisted in returning Lupe’s friendly smiles with perfect sheets of ice, making it clear that she would not be soon forgiven for assuming him to be submissive.
Then a small incident occurred that gave Lupe to understand that he was not indifferent. She was studying art history in one of the library’s most remote basement carrels while chain-smoking cigarettes when Clarence poked his aristocratic head into her cubicle.
“Oh, it’s you. I might have known,” he remarked, taking her by the forearm and pulling her out of her seat, into the aisle and down to the wall that prominently bore a “no smoking” sign. “I was under the impression that admission to Vassar was largely contingent upon the ability to read,” he declared as he released her.
“You know, nine out of ten Vassar women would take serious umbrage at being manhandled,” she commented, rubbing her arm as though he had hurt her.
“Yes, but nine out of ten Vassar women don’t deserve to be put across someone’s knee!” he told her before turning to stride off.
Lupe watched him go with a fluttering heart.
Frustration, anxiety, jealousy and pique were a few of the emotions aroused in the bosoms of our principals during the course of the first Vassar B&D party.
Martin, the ardent bondager and Carl-Adam, the fledgling submissive, suffered varying degrees of anguish from the capricious machinations of Diana Stratton, who first tormented Carl-Adam by allowing Martin to tie her to a whipping post, then virtually crushed Martin’s soul by prettily begging Clarence for a whipping while thus restrained.
Taken pity on by Lupe, who was then sleekly clad in skintight PVC capri pants and a halter top of the same material as well as stiletto heels, Carl-Adam was offered the opportunity to serve as her pony and carry her on his broad back through the split level town house as he vigorously traversed it on all fours.
While this athletic exhibition temporarily distracted Carl-Adam from brooding on Diana’s reprehensible lapse into simpering submissiveness, the arrant display of Lupe’s dominant side had only succeeded in infuriating Clarence, who had been dreaming for many days of subjecting the half-Latina girl to his own will.
He really had thought Lupe submissive and was not entirely convinced that he had been wrong, but the sight of her in stiletto heels struck all the wrong chords with the arch traditionalist, which Clarence then fancied himself to be. He had become accustomed to admiring her slender charms set off to innocent advantage by adorable wool skirts, retro cardigans, penny loafers and pearls. The sight of her sleek curves so boldly revealed by the cleavage enhancing, midriff baring outfit was shocking and made him wanted to shake her for daring to look so sophisticated.
But he was in for greater shocks from Lupe Freeman before the clock stuck twelve.
The moment that Lupe dismounted from Carl-Adam’s back and that in which Clarence ceased to crop Diana Stratton’s pantied bottom so exactly coincided that they found themselves suddenly face to face in the basement, which had been transformed into a make-shift dungeon composed of steamer trunks and ropes thrown over beams. It was then that Clarence recalled those famous words of Jane Austen about the foolish postponement of pleasure and decided to act at once on the impulse to master this girl.
“Are you ready to go?” he demanded.
Her eyes opened wide but she nodded.
“Then I’ll see you home.”
He ushered her out.
“It’s such a beautiful night,” she remarked, tightly clad in polyvinylchloride and impervious to the chill in the air. “Do you want to take the long way back?”
“And which way would that be?”
“Around by the lake?”
“You expect to do that much walking in those shoes?”
“If I got tired you could carry me,” she suggested blithely. This almost made him smile, but instead he suddenly frowned.
“I should have thought you’d been carried enough for one night!”
They had already begun down the winding wooded path that lead away from the townhouses and back to Raymond Ave. when she stumbled on the uneven ground and was forced to lean on him.
“Why didn’t you play with me at the party?” Lupe asked as he slipped a firm arm around her waist to steady her.
“In front of anyone and everyone?”
“You did it with Diana.”
“That’s different. She’s a little vixen. And a senior.”
“Oh.”
“Although you look far more the hellcat than Miss Stratton tonight,” he gazed at her shining curvature with disapproval.
“Can you actually not like my outfit?” she cried in acute disbelief.
“I’m sure it’s extremely becoming, but to me it’s an impenetrable suit of armor.”
“Not really. The pants unzip in the back,” she pointed out the zipper.
They did not resume their conversation until they had crossed the street and walked onto the main campus.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you since you showed up at the support group meeting, what exact facet of B&D are you into, Clarence?”
“The same one you’re into, I think.”
“I never said what I’m into.”
“Didn’t you?”
As they walked past the Gothic library they both remembered their last encounter in the basement. Lupe’s heart pounded and Clarence’s face flushed.
“You seemed to crop Diana masterfully,” Lupe murmured several minutes later, as they were crossing the wooden bridge that spanned Vassar Lake. “I envied the attention she was getting. But I suppose that I wore the wrong outfit.”
No sooner had these mildly wistful words issued from her lips than Clarence seized Lupe around the waist, lifted her to eye level and kissed her resoundingly. When he set her feet back down on the bridge she wobbled slightly. This gave him the excuse to sweep her up into his arms.
“What are you doing?”
“Carrying you home.”
“You can’t carry me all the way like this.”
“How much do you weigh? A hundred pounds?”
“Yes.”
“Besides, if I get tired of carrying you this way I can always put you over one shoulder,” he threatened.
“No!”
“I’ve been wanting to kiss you for weeks.”
“But you’ve been so aloof,” she reminded him.
“You needed to be punished.”
“You’re horrible,” she cried, gripped by a spasm of pleasure.
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“Why? What are you into, Clarence?”
“What do you think?”
“Could be anything from vampirism to cattle prods.”
“Oh, don’t be silly.”
“Rope bondage, hot wax and nipple clamps?”
Clarence snorted his derision.
“I know! Cross-dressing! With your alter ego being Mrs. Siddons!”
Clarence put Lupe down and gave her a shake. “You brat!” He kissed her again. “I don’t think I’ll wait to get you home before I spank you!” He pulled her off the lake path to the first fallen log he saw and turned her over his knee. Then holding her fast to his lap he brought his palm down vigorously on her shiny, PVC wrapped bottom a dozen or thirteen times. The spanking was delivered so rapidly that she hardly had time to kick before it was over and he’d set her back on her feet.
“There!” he told her. “Now you know for a certainty what I’m into!”
Lupe walked along beside him, still feeling the impact of his hand on her bottom. She wondered why in the stories she’d read on the subject, girls always rubbed their bottoms after a spanking. She herself would never attempt to disperse that exquisite sensation of just having been spanked. Meanwhile freshets of pleasure coursed through her as she pondered what Clarence had just done.
By the time they walked up the hill to the golf course and around the terrace apartments he felt it necessary to seize and firmly kiss her again.
“You’re a little character,” he said. “In fact, you’re just my type.”
They reached their dorm. Clarence being an upper classman possessed the larger, grander room. He invited her to visit him there as soon as she had changed into a more accessible costume.
When she joined him in his third floor corner aerie he had cracked the latticework windows to let in the spicy autumn air. Now clad in a fitted long sleeved dress of olive corduroy and chestnut brown riding boots Lupe pleased Clarence much more and he took her on his lap the right way around to kiss her and squeeze her 23” waist.
“Much improved,” he commended her, nuzzling her silken throat. But Lupe ached for more spanking, not necking and jumped off his lap. She strode around the room, examining his books and things. There were cobwebs on his computer. She sat down at the keyboard and stroked it on.
“Can I check my e-mail?” she asked, logging on without waiting for permission but adding earnestly as she saw him bristle, “There was a message from my dad on my machine when I went to change and it said to check my e-mail right away.”
“By all means,” he replied, meticulously filling a pipe with tobacco.
“Oh!” she cried, reading her message.
“What’s the matter?”
“I have to go home this weekend!” She pressed her small hands to her face.
“I hope nothing is wrong.”
“No. Nothing is wrong.”
“Then why do you look so shaken, dearest?”
“I have to go home to help my dad,” Lupe announced dramatically.
“Help your dad do what?”
“Increase magazine sales!”
“Increase magazine sales? Is your father in publishing?”
“Yes. He’s a publisher of men’s magazines. Ron Freeman.”
“Oh my god, you’re Ron Freeman’s daughter?” Clarence physically recoiled.
“Of course I am.”
“How hideous for you.”
“Why do you say that? Are you porno phobic?”
“No, but I’ve always found your father’s magazine particularly offensive, as must every person of sensibility. Including yourself, I should hope.”
“Yes, of course. Anyway, sales have been flat since the spring and Ron won’t be able to meet my college expenses for the next semester unless I come home this weekend and help.”
“You call your father by his first name? I don’t approve of that. It’s very confusing. And how in the world can you help?”
“Ron says if I pose for a photo spread in the magazine he can vaunt it on the cover and book lots of expensive alcohol and cigarette ads for the issue.”
“If you do what?”
“If he can put on the cover of American Lust: ‘First nude photos of Ron Freeman’s 18 year old daughter’ it will be a big selling point and earn enough advertising revenue to pay for two or three terms here at school.”
“Lupe you can’t possibly dream of letting your father exploit you in that way!”
“He’s not exploiting me, Clarence. He’s just suggesting a way to keep me here at school. He’s not a multi-zillionaire tycoon like you’re dad. He’s just a struggling pornographer trying to run his business, pay for his lawsuits and provide his daughter with a refined education.”
“Lupe! Am I hearing you correctly? You mean to say you actually don’t resent your father’s making such an obscene suggestion to you?”
“It’s not obscene. It would only be a nude photoset, not an explicit one. Anyway, I always planned to go into the business after graduation.”
“Going into the business is one thing, though I can’t imagine why a young woman of your character could want any part of that sleazy concern, but performing for it is quite another, young lady. After all, you don’t see Christy Heffner posing nude.”
“Maybe she’s shy. I’m certainly not,” said Lupe negligently. “My mother is Saturnia X, you know.”
“The sexual performance artist from the 80’s?” he asked faintly.
“Yes,” Lupe cheerfully replied, causing Clarence to shudder.
“I still can’t believe your own father would ask such a thing of you. How I’d love to tell him off!” Clarence paced.
“That wouldn’t be very nice.”
“Lupe, tell me the truth, has your father abused you?”
Lupe laughed and shook her head. “I can understand you despising the tone of his magazine. I do also. That’s why I plan to go into the business, to affect the necessary upgrades.”
“Well, be that as it may four to six years from now, this minute we’re discussing the ridiculous notion of you posing for American Lust. And I tell you, I won’t permit it.”
“But Clarence, it’s too late to apply for financial aid for this year. Would you have me take a semester off?”
“Can’t you get a loan?”
“For next year, yes.”
“Damn it, Lupe, I’ll give you the money myself if it will prevent you from taking this horrifying step!”
“You have that kind of money?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you do that for me? You scarcely know me.”
“I won’t have my girlfriend flashing her charms for American Lust magazine, even if she is the publisher’s daughter.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“You heard me.”
“And what do I have to do in return?”
“In return for what?”
“You rescuing me.”
“If you feel under some slight obligation,” he shrugged mildly, “you could of course be my slave all year.”
“But where in the world would you get that kind of money?”
“I have investments,” the multi-millionaire’s son who had almost become a math major modestly revealed.
“Clarence, I’m so touched. You make me want to cry,” she murmured, laying her head against his chest and hugging him hard.
“You make me want to make you cry,” he growled, shaking her by the shoulders again. “I’m still stunned that you could even consider such a rash act.”
“Do you have anything besides tobacco to smoke?”
“Of course.” He sat down at the desk and pulled out the top drawer. While he was feeling around towards the back for a small tin his gaze fell upon the freshly activated computer monitor with the email from Lupe’s father still up on the screen. Scanning it rapidly, then re-reading the brief note several times, Clarence felt his face redden. Forgetting to look for his weed he slammed the drawer shut and turned on Lupe with sparks in his blue eyes.
“You made it up.”
“I beg your pardon?” she politely asked, attempting to repress a smile, for she had certainly noticed him reading the screen.
“You made up the entire story about posing for American Lust.”
“Really?”
“This e-mail from your father merely informs you that he will be in Manhattan for Thanksgiving and promises to take you shopping at Barney’s!”
“Listen, Clarence, don’t get mad,” Lupe said, attempting to edge away from him but finding the room too small to put much distance between them.
“Mad isn’t the word,” he warned her, seizing her by the ear lobe and dragging her over to the bed whereupon he turned her over his knee for the second time that night. “How dare you tell outrageous lies to shock me?”
Lupe cried out in surprise as his palm came down hard on the back of her skirt and commenced spanking her resoundingly.
“Why was that necessary?” he demanded, pulling up her skirt to reveal slim bare thighs and a neat, round bottom snugly encased in white silk panties. “Weren’t you getting enough attention as it was?” Smack! Smack! Smack!
“No, not nearly,” Lupe cried between gasps and whimpers.
“Well you’ll be getting it now.” His hand came down hard again and again, warming her so thoroughly that he began to feel a tangible heat rise from the thin fabric. He pulled the panties down to examine the pinkest bottom he had ever held across his lap.
“It hurts!” she cried, attempting to shield herself with her hand. He caught her wrist and slapped her on the back of the hand.
“It’s going to hurt a good deal more before I’m through with you, young lady!”
“I was only playing a joke on you, because you’re such a prude!”
“I’m nothing of the kind.” He whacked her hard.
“Ow! You certainly are. You didn’t even want us to have a spanking party!”
“Never mind that. We’re discussing your character flaws, not mine,” he pointed out, paddling her firmly with his very hard hand until she squirmed.
“Ow, that really stings! I’ve had enough for now. In fact, I’ll be good,” she cried, really attempting to wriggle off his lap in earnest now.
“Hold still,” he ordered, mitigating the severity of the spanking by vigorously rubbing her bottom.
“Mmmmm,” Lupe intoned appreciatively while grinding against his lap.
“I’m glad you seem to like this position,” he observed, “because you’re going to be spending a great deal of time in it from now on!”
In spite of meeting a female bondage enthusiast (who subsequently became his girlfriend) at the townhouse party, Martin never forgave Diana for allowing Clarence to crop her while she was restrained in his own beautiful bondage.
Less resentful but more deeply affected by Diana’s merry submission to Clarence was Carl-Adam, who had adored the small, sophisticated coed for the past several weeks and had envisioned serving her for the rest of the school year. The sight of his lovely little mistress whimpering with pleasure and apprehension as Clarence’s crop punished her divine bottom filled Carl-Adam with confusion and unhappiness.
As he fell into step beside Lupe the next morning on the way to the dining hall her smile cheered him. Though she had recently supplanted him as Diana’s best friend, he liked her only slightly less than his goddess.
“Diana has become bored with me,” Carl-Adam reported.
“Carl-Adam, never think it. She adores you,” Lupe reassured the formidable young man.
“No. She didn’t pay me the slightest attention at the party. She cared for your Clarence much more. When all he did was hurt her!”
“Oh, Carl-Adam, he did not hurt her.”
“She flinched as he struck her. I saw her. And heard her cry out.”
“But cropping can be quite enjoyable. Surely you can empathize, or does your interest lie only in servitude?”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t you realize that corporal punishment can be a powerful aphrodisiac?”
“You mean spanking?”
“Spanking, whipping, strapping, caning,” Lupe recited the litany reverently.
“Can that be what Diana really likes?”
“You know, Carl-Adam, there’s a lot you can do with a girl when she’s across your lap.”
“My lap?” He was taken aback.
“You’re such a big young man and she’s such a little girl. Hasn’t it occurred to you that her being your mistress is incongruous?”
“No, but I’m in love.”
“Well I assure you it’s occurred to her. And if you really are in love, you’ll drop this submissive nonsense and start behaving like a man with that girl.”
Diana had become accustomed to Carl-Adam carrying her golf clubs every Sunday morning when she took her exercise on the lushly landscaped course. But that morning he was so late in arriving to meet her that she assumed he had completely forgotten this cherished obligation and was sleeping off the effects of the previous night’s revelries. But going out the door of Cushing at eleven, with her neat golf bag over one shoulder and delightfully attired in a pleated skirt, matching sweater set and oxfords, she bumped directly into Carl-Adam.
“Did you remember our appointment at the last minute?” she smiled up at him with her usual charm but was startled to note the stern resolve in his slate-blue eyes.
“I remembered,” he answered shortly, shouldering her clubs and ushering her out into the golden autumn day.
“Well, aren’t you going to apologize for keeping your mistress waiting?” she asked in all good humor, in spite of his foreboding expression.
“You forfeited that title when you behaved like a whimpering submissive in front of everyone last night!” he informed her severely.
“Oh?” she slowly replied, feeling her heart contract as she realized that Carl-Adam was angry with her.
“Yes, and in my very own house,” he continued, “after I’d arranged everything for your pleasure. You were so busy genuflecting to that silly Clarence that you couldn’t spare a moment for me. Did you think I threw a party to watch you play with him?”
“Carl-Adam, are you giving me a scolding?”
“You behaved very badly last night!”
“Mistresses don’t need to behave well. They only need to please themselves.”
“And did you please yourself last night?’
“Apparently not as much as I displeased you,” she smiled ruefully as they reached the golf course.
They continued to converse as she played her nine holes, Carl-Adam’s demeanor becoming stiffer and grimmer by the moment as he followed her across the emerald grass. In this manner ninety minutes passed quickly, Carl-Adam’s fascination growing for her with every frown.
She finally said, “If I have been mistaken in your character, you have only yourself to blame. I never asked you to dote on me. You took it upon yourself to behave as though you were here for my convenience. Now you seem to be angry about it, almost jealous. It’s really quite absurd.”
“You’re a spoiled brat!” he snapped. “And as soon as we get back to your room I’m going to turn you over my knee!”
All too soon Diana and Carl-Adam stood before the locked door of her room.
“Thank you, Carl-Adam, I’ll take the clubs now.”
“Open the door, Diana.”
“I don’t think I will.”
“Afraid?”
“Only of you humiliating yourself.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“How do I know that if I let you in you won’t simply fall to your knees as you normally do?”
“Key.”
Diana sighed and opened the door, unwilling to attract attention by arguing in the hall. He closed and locked the door behind them and stood looking at her for a moment with his hands clasped behind his back.
“Carl-Adam really, you just can’t change roles in midstream like this!” Diana flushed with embarrassment as she saw how very serious he was.
“Why not? Come over here, young lady,” he took her by the wrist, led her to the bed, sat down and deftly turned her over his knee, which wasn’t much of a challenge, given their respective sizes.
“Carl-Adam, you’re terrifying me!” Diana cast him an imploring but mischievous look, putting back one tiny hand to shield her bottom. Unmoved he took her wrist and pinned it to her side then tentatively raised his hand and firmly brought it down on the seat of her skirt. She gave a little wriggle. Again he smacked her, a little harder now. When she made no move to escape he spanked her five or six more times. She caught her breath as the slaps became harder. Carl-Adam had a very large hand and huge, muscular thighs to support a girl luxuriously.
“God,” she sighed, in heaven. “You do this well, Carl-Adam.”
His anger melting in the glow of her compliance, Carl-Adam began to realize that this could be a pleasure for them both. Again and again he brought his palm down on her pleated skirt until she couldn’t help but grind against his thighs in a state of arousal. He could feel the heat that the spanking produced though the fine wool of her skirt. No amount of kissing her tiny feet would ever bring this sort of response, reflected Carl-Adam.
Without a word he pulled her skirt up to her waist to behold the sheerest white nylon panties he had ever seen. Her creamy skin, already deeply tinged with pink, glowed alluringly through the nearly transparent material. It was all he could do not to cover her exquisite bottom with kisses. He had of course imagined her bottom to be flawless, but he hadn’t guessed how much lovelier it might appear while disposed across his lap and pinkened by his own relentless hand.
Reading his mind, Diana softly teased, “Aren’t you going to tell me how pretty I am? You used to be full of compliments when I was dominant and allowed you to glimpse far less of me!”
“Your head has been turned by too many compliments,” he told her sternly, continuing the spanking with great resolve. Lupe’s advice had not fallen on inattentive ears and he was already feeling the good of it.
“Oh? Are you implying that I’m vain?” she demanded, twisting on his lap to avoid his hand. Firmly righting her and holding her fast he spanked her six or seven times soundly.
“Not vain perhaps, but so over-confident that you’ve forgotten the importance of good manners.”
“Really! Now you’re going too far,” Diana bristled. This inspired him to pull her panties down. “No! Don’t you dare! I never agreed to a bare bottom spanking!”
“How pink you are.”
“Let me see!” Diana craned her neck to view herself. He pushed her back down.
“Later,” he told her, delivering additional vigorous smacks. Diana bit her knuckle so as not to whimper aloud. As a submissive, Carl-Adam had been endearingly absurd, as a dominant, he was remarkably daddy-like from the big lap to the heavy hand and Diana could have kissed him for it.
The spanking became harder and her perfect bottom redder. His hand began to produce a sting very nearly past bearing. She found herself gripping the bedclothes and making a great effort not to cry out. The spanking was beginning to hurt, but at the same time, it felt more exciting by the moment. Carl-Adam was quite the inflexible dom, punishing her as sternly as a strapping Swedish country minister of the early 1900’s might have disciplined a naughty village sweetheart.
Finally Carl-Adam removed his mesmerized gaze from her squirming bottom long enough to notice the great effort she was making not to cry out or complain. He dropped his hand abruptly and then deliberately and respectfully set her to rights, pulling up her panties and pulling down her skirt before lifting her from his lap.
Her hand going back to rub her bottom, she murmured, “Why did you stop?”
“That’s enough to give you something to think about,” he told her over folded arms.
“Aren’t you going to comfort me, Carl-Adam?”
“Why should I?”
“It felt so real that I was about to get tears in my eyes when you stopped. But I would have let myself cry rather than ask you to stop.”
“I’ll make you cry. With a switch out in the woods,” he promised unsmilingly. She was startled when this caused her butterflies and began to wonder how Carl-Adam had managed to pick up so much dominant polish overnight.
“Carl-Adam, you’re being very harsh with your Diana,” she reproached him mildly. This being more than even Carl-Adam could withstand, he took her in his arms and kissed her deeply.
“From now on,” he said, sitting her on his lap like a child, “instead of issuing me orders, you must ask me politely for whatever you want or need.”
“Carl-Adam, I always ask you politely,” she smiled.
“You understand what I mean. As you may have noticed, I’m no longer you’re possession. Instead, you are mine.”
“And when you do mean to take possession of your possession?”
“On the first day you want me.”
“What makes you think I don’t want you right now?”
“That naughty smile. It makes me realize that you’re much too sure of me.” Carl-Adam chastely kissed her brow and took his leave, causing her to marvel at his sudden and inexplicable metamorphosis. How smart of him to make her wait! Now she would think of nothing but Carl-Adam and the next opportunity she might give him to spank her.
Diana managed very easily to enrage Carl-Adam the following night by inviting to her room and playing spanking games with a boy named Rudy Wolfe who had homed in on Lupe and herself at the orientation meeting. Although in love with a Manhattan attorney and fast developing a tendre for Carl-Adam, the flirtatious Diana was unequivocally willing to play with virtually anyone on campus who took the trouble to ask, at least once.
Rudy was enjoying his hour of glory in Diana’s room. The shy, dark haired boy was only a sophomore and barely three inches taller than herself, but he had a friendly hand and a comfortable lap. Moreover, he spanked effectively while causing very little pain. He’d confided he had spanked his girl cousins as well as his high school girlfriend. Diana was pleased by his unassuming manners and used him for her pleasure unabashedly.
When Carl-Adam approached Diana’s door at around ten on that Saturday night and heard the spanking noises issuing from within, he was very nearly wounded into turning on his heel and walking away. But a desire to assess his rival caused him to instead rap smartly on the door. After an audible scramble within, the door was opened by a flushed Diana, who nonetheless calmly smoothed her navy wool jumper back into perfect pleats.
“Oh, Carl-Adam. Are you early? Do you know Rudy Wolfe?’
“No!” the towering Carl-Adam growled at the boy in such a way as to expedite his departure.
“So!” he accused as soon as the door had closed behind Rudy, “you sub to dweebs now?”
“Physical beauty isn’t everything, Carl-Adam I value sensitivity and expertise as well. The young man’s style was at once refined and robust. Therefore how could I help being charmed?”
Carl-Adam was about to seize and shake her when she airily announced, “I’m going down to the Vault tonight with Lupe. Would you like to drive us?” Diana went behind a wooden screen to change clothes as they continued to talk.
“Yes,” he replied calmly, though inwardly thrilled. She emerged in an open-collared black leather cat suit that clung becomingly to every dainty curve. She sat on a Windsor chair and opened a large box to withdraw a pair of brand new black thigh-high boots from London.
“Will you help me put them on?” she taunted Carl-Adam, knowing that to kneel to her and help her on with her shoes had as recently as two days before been enough to give him a raging erection.
“Of course,” he replied matter of factly, kneeling before her and deftly lacing up the leather dream boots. Expecting him to nearly swoon with pleasure at this divine duty, Diana was puzzled when he signaled the completion of the job not by covering her size five feet with the usual kisses and sighs, but by giving one shapely calf a squeeze and a smack through the skintight pant and boot leg that clad it.
“Looking like that, it’s good you’ll have me there to protect you,” Carl-Adam commented.
“But not serve me, Carl-Adam? Even while I’m dressed like this?”
“As far you’re concerned that part of me no longer exists.” He got up.
“You sound so firm, Carl-Adam.”
“You’re smiling, but some day you won’t.”
“This masquerade is very amusing, Carl-Adam, but how long can you keep it up?” He was left to brood on this impertinent question as Diana e-mailed Lupe to meet her in the lobby immediately.
They were standing in the lobby deciding whether to take Diana’s car or Carl-Adam’s when Clarence entered the dorm, laden with books. He stared at Diana in her cat suit and Lupe in her long sleeved, sweetheart cut black leather dress.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
“We’re going to the Vault,” Lupe revealed casually, delighted that he had chanced by.
“Don’t you think that Lupe’s too young for that hellacious den?” asked Clarence, reluctantly admiring Lupe’s beautiful little shape.
“Nonsense, Clarence,” said Diana. “Don’t be stuffy. Go put your books away and come along with us.”
“I think I’d better,” he agreed, marching off at once.
“Let’s leave him here,” said Lupe mischievously. “Make him chase us in his car!” She jumped up and down excitedly in spite of her four inch heeled pumps.
“No. It’s going to take both of us to make sure you two don’t get into trouble,” Carl-Adam decided maturely, causing Lupe to stare at him in fascination.
“Carl-Adam seems somehow different today,” Lupe remarked to Diana as their pet Viking went to warm up the jeep.
When Lupe begged Carl-Adam to let her drive he handed her the keys without hesitation. Sitting in the back seat with Diana for ninety minutes seemed much more enjoyable than driving, especially if she was naughty enough to give him an excuse to pull her across his lap again.
Clarence wasn’t pleased but didn’t argue. Lupe set off down the lush Taconic Parkway hell for leather. Vigorous protests from both Clarence and Carl-Adam slowed her to the speed limit, though not uncomplainingly, for the road was quite open at that hour. Clarence made a mental note never to let her behind a wheel again while Carl-Adam thought hard about a way to get Diana into his arms.
“Fucking move!” Lupe cried, thumping her horn at a sluggish motorist in front of them as she wove in and out of lanes.
“Really, Lupe, I’m sure you know better words,” Clarence scolded, earning a sidelong glance of indeterminate meaning.
“Clarence, do you realize you’re a walking, talking anachronism? I mean, will you fucking look at yourself?”
In the ten seconds of silence that followed even Carl-Adam momentarily forgot his own objective and waited agog for Clarence’s reply. That his classmate was boiling was obvious. It was quite possible, thought Diana exchanging a look with Carl-Adam, that the brief affair of Lupe and Clarence had just come to an end.
Finally Clarence tuned in the radio to an underground station and in moments the desolate sounds of the Damned filled the awkward silence.
Shame and guilt at having spoken so brusquely to the one that she loved caused a lump to constrict Lupe’s throat. She brushed away the sudden tears that over spilled her eyes while Clarence affected indifference. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, in deep misery. He handed her a clean handkerchief then ignored her for the rest of the ride, deciding he might never talk to her again.
Yet Clarence couldn’t help commenting acidly on the environs of the Vault when they debarked in the meatpacking district of lower Manhattan at around midnight.
“I’m not thrilled with this neighborhood,” he muttered to Carl-22 Adam.
“You should have brought your sword,” Lupe commented, not quite chastened enough to wholly curb her tongue.
Clarence fought the impulse to slap Lupe hard as they proceeded down the stone steps into the premiere B&D club of New York. They paid their admission to a burly doorman in a Harley Davidson vest, $25 each for the boys and $5 each for the girls, though the girls’ fees were waived.
Upon entering the play rooms Carl-Adam’s eyes widened and Clarence muttered, “What the hell goes on here?” for neither young man had been warned about what to expect from Diana, who alone of the group had been there before.
Carl-Adam observed with fascination as a handful of mistresses strutted around the rooms in command of a small army of obsequious males, on their knees to a man, with their cocks in their hands. ‘There but for the counsel of Lupe,’ thought Carl-Adam, ‘might have gone I.’ Not that he would have dreamt of getting down on his knees on that floor! But when he turned to share this revelation with Diana, he found her already securely mounted on the back of the club’s chivalrous mascot, Danny the Wonder Pony. She cheerfully waved at Carl-Adam and disappeared around a corner on the veteran centaur’s back.
“This is no place for Lupe,” Clarence scowled.
“She tried to make us leave without you, so you’d have to chase us in your car,” Carl-Adam blithely informed on the girl who had done him the biggest favor of his life. He felt it important that Clarence see the big picture with Lupe and not judge her feelings for him solely on the basis of the one unkind remark she had made in the car. Since Lupe had helped him with Diana, he felt he had to help her with Clarence.
“Oh, she did, did she?”
“Do you really think you ought to let her wander around by herself in here?” Carl-Adam asked, noticing that Lupe had slipped out of sight. Clarence sighed and went looking for her, his mouth set in a grim line. He hadn’t forgotten her incivility, but somehow the steamy, anything goes atmosphere of the Vault was beginning to work like a tonic on his overwrought nerves. If there was any place that one could grab a naughty girl and thrust her across one’s knee without raising the slightest demur, although fifty persons looked on, it was here.
And he did find Lupe, allowing a slave to worshipfully kiss the seat of her leather skirt as she leaned forward with her hands on her knees and thrust her slim bottom into his face. She looked exactly as though she were posing for her father’s unspeakable magazine, just as she had teased him she might.
“Intolerable!” Clarence said to himself, striding across the room to his sweetheart and straightening her up.
“I won’t allow you to make this kind of spectacle of yourself,” he informed her, taking her by the wrist and leading her away from the disappointed slave. “Didn’t you notice that that man was masturbating?”
Lupe contrived to look meekly chastened as he found a wooden bench against a wall for them to sit on. Her submissiveness aroused him acutely, though he still felt that she should be punished for insulting him so gravely two hours before.
“I wish you would forgive me,” Lupe murmured, reading his mind. “I’m sorry I was rude. You can spank me if it will help.”
Clarence’s organ throbbed at this winsome invitation. “If I do it won’t be playfully,” he warned her. Lupe lowered her eyes so compliantly that he almost went to pieces and took her in his arms. Instead he pulled her easily across his lap and began to spank her rather hard.
Lupe could feel Clarence’s pique in every resounding smack that descended on the seat of her tight leather skirt, and there were scores. As Clarence was young, strong and tireless, this went on for some time. A semi-circle formed around them, which Clarence greatly resented but contrived to ignore. Remembering again the ease with which a vulgar epithet had rolled off Lupe’s tongue, he redoubled his efforts to impress upon her that manners still count.
Pulling her leather skirt up to her waist wasn’t easy, so he made her get up off his lap and hike it up herself before being summarily pulled back down. As she did this she bestowed upon the breathless crowd a Giaconda smile, which it was fortunate that Clarence did not see.
Needless to say being spanked by an outrageously handsome boy in front of dozens of players in the legendary Vault when she was scarcely eighteen and a half years old figured as one of the crowning moments of Lupe’s life, the other two being: her first whipping from a leather man at the age of sixteen in Hollywood and the caning she’d received from Mr. Lawrence, her Senior Lit teacher at Braemar the previous Spring. To say that she was excited would have been a vast understatement. But she was also moved, almost to tears, by the notion of her young man spanking her indignantly for verbally devastating him earlier on. This was exactly what she wanted out of the Scene, drama and passion!
Clarence kept smacking her hard, while considering the possibility of utterly humiliating her by pulling her panties down. He felt she needed it, but did this ocean of B&D zombie-voyeurs really deserve that thrill?
“Are you learning a lesson?” he asked her, reminding her very much of her divine Mr. Lawrence as he yanked her sheer black panties down to reveal her rounded, rosy bottom to the crowd of spell bound on-lookers, one or two of whom were not chronic masturbators, but rather serious corporal punishment practitioners, who viewed the exquisite demonstration with even more appreciative eyes.
As the spanking proceeded on Lupe’s bare bottom word seemed to fly though the rooms of the club that a beautiful young couple were enacting a perfect spanking scene. Within a minute a ring of fascinated B&D players, including several attractive couples, supplanted the penis pullers in the choicest viewing spots and watched with rapt enjoyment as Lupe squirmed and kicked across Clarence’s lap. Male masters put their female submissives up on their shoulders to look on approvingly while corseted dominatrixes and their harnessed, collared slaves paused to be charmed. The next time Clarence raised his eyes to his audience he glimpsed not one wagging penis, but instead a well-behaved circle of actual players offering silent encouragement in the form of subtle smiles. This change cheered him and he returned to his job with renewed vigor.
Meanwhile Lupe was on the brink of tears for the spanking had continued long enough to become very painful. She tried to shield her bottom but Clarence caught and slapped her hand until she pulled it from his grasp and tucked it under her bosom. Then his palm continued to sharply sting her soft skin, which had already borne more spanking than she could have imagined possible in one session. She longed to cry mercy, but forced herself to endure. After all, she was being punished, which in itself was sexy. But how it had begun to hurt!
“Oh, please!” she cried at last, “I’ll be good!” She turned her large, dark eyes toward him appealingly.
“Very well, I’ll let you up, but it’s not over!” he promised, pulling her up off his lap and getting to his feet. Without allowing her to lower her skirt, Clarence took Lupe by her bare forearm and led her to the closest corner. “Stand there just like that until I come back for you,” he ordered sternly, forcing her to leave her skirt up and her panties pulled down, with her freshly spanked bottom turned towards the room. It was a horrible thing to do to Lupe, but it made Clarence very happy.
Lupe was aware of how angelically naughty she looked, standing in the corner, with her hands clasped together in front of her and her straight, black hair flowing to her waist. She could also imagine how adorable her bottom looked as well, so pink above the lace tops of her sheer black hose. But these aspects of her situation did not completely comfort her. She wondered how long Clarence planned to leave her there. The club didn’t close until four. Every minute or so she would hotly decide to break her position and tell Clarence off. But then it occurred to her that this might be some sort of test, and that if she balked at it, he might not want her for his girl friend after all. And she wanted very much to be his. So she didn’t move. She didn’t turn around either, terrified that if she did she would confront a full battalion of masturbating males, all fixated on her backside.
Only once was her reverie disturbed and that was when someone came up beside her and slipped a card into her hand. Startled she turned to look into the eyes of a bold, young Latin male with collar length black hair and a moustache. He was dressed all in black and was obviously dominant. She looked down at the card. On one side his name was printed: Xavier Duarte. On the other side there was a phone number. When she looked up from the card he was gone. Lupe turned back to face the wall, and this was how her friends found her moments later.
“Poor girl!” Diana cried, changing mounts as Danny’s strong back yielded her to Carl-Adam’s sturdy shoulders. Enclosing his neck between her thighs she grabbed a hank of straight blond hair for balance and was transported closer to the scene of Lupe’s humiliation. Carl-Adam held her steady with one hand on each of her leather-clad thighs. “Should we rescue her, Carl-Adam?”
“Don’t you dare!” Clarence cried, coming up beside them with a faint smile on his face. “I’ve never enjoyed myself so much in my life,” he added, admiring his handiwork while glancing at the clock on the wall. She had only been standing there for eight minutes.
“Well I think you’re a horrid brute!” Diana charged while continuing to gaze with fascination at her beautifully exposed friend.
“Oh, all right,” Clarence said, going to fetch Lupe out of the corner, which was indeed becoming surrounded with the masturbating males she had anticipated.
Walking briskly up to Lupe he pulled her panties back up into place, worked her skirt back down over her slim hips and turned her around to face him. Lupe’s big brown eyes reproached him for his cruelty while her full red mouth pouted for a kiss. Instead he took her by the wrist as though she were a child and led her back to Carl-Adam and Diana. Clarence noticed she refused to meet their eyes and took pleasure in her embarrassment.
“Lupe, would you like to go back now?” Diana asked, putting her arm around her friend’s shoulders and hugging her. Lupe nodded and they all left the club.
The night air was bracing above ground. This time Carl-Adam got behind the wheel, with Diana beside him, while Clarence and Lupe took the bench seat in back.
For the first half hour on the road back Carl-Adam, Diana and Clarence held an animated discussion on what they had seen at the club. Lupe curled up in her corner and pretended to doze. Eventually the conversation fell off, with Carl-Adam and Diana now and then murmuring soft comments to each other.
Observing her tensely curled posture, Clarence pulled Lupe out of the corner and made her stretch out with her head in his lap. When she shivered he covered her with his jacket. Lupe fell fast asleep, only to be woken once they were back at the dorm.
Pulling her up the stairs by the hand he waved at Carl-Adam and Diana, who together headed off.
Lupe was very nearly awake when they arrived at Clarence’s room. She allowed him to unzip her and take her out of the dress, revealing to him for the first time her saucy bosom. This he covered with kisses as he took her down to his bed, stripping off all of her remaining apparel and accessories as rapidly as he could. Naked in his arms for the first time, Lupe clung to him and thrilled to hear him tell her that he loved her.
Meanwhile Carl-Adam had escorted Diana to her door.
“Aren’t you coming in, Carl-Adam?” she whispered, because it was after three a.m. and most of the dorm was asleep.
“May I?’
“Please.”
Diana didn’t turn on the light, but pulled back her mauve silk curtains to let the moonlight in through the multi-paned windows. Opening them slightly, a gush of crackling autumn air filled the room. Carl-Adam helped Diana off with her boots first then took off his own as she went behind her screen to peel off the cat suit. When she emerged in a blue cotton wrapper, Diana curled up on Carl-Adam’s lap and threw her arms around his neck to kiss him resoundingly. He bounced her on his lap, squeezed her gently though the dressing gown and kissed her ears and throat until she squirmed.
“Oh, Carl-Adam, take me as forcefully as ever you can!” she encouraged him, opening an ebony box filled with condoms and lubricants.
Carl-Adam needed no further prodding to rip off his clothes and attempt to match a rubber to his huge erection.
“My god, Carl-Adam, forget what I just said and do go easy with that thing!” she cried.
