Читать книгу Shadow Lane Volume 10: The Spanking Adventures of Amanda Sands - Eve Howard - Страница 11

Chapter Four Amanda’s Diary December

December 1st

Met a most unusual and highly simpatico girl today as a direct result of Hugo’s magazine (with me on the cover) coming out. I’d pretty much forgotten the little squib that Hugo inserted about me (with the stage name April Sebastian) looking to assemble a video cast in Boston for my freshman film project. Not that I’ll even get into a film class until next year, but I can begin stockpiling material now. Hugo says that nothing I can do in this area will be wasted, for when a young girl into spanking creates spanking erotica, the result is always sure to be of interest to the spanking community at large.

I’m not sure I’ll be able to get away with this, but if I work it right, I’ll also be able to get an economics paper or perhaps even a thesis out of the idea, in due course. My plan is to start a small business from scratch, on the cheap, develop my own marketing strategy and whether it fails or succeeds, use the data gathered in the experiment for academic credit. (Of course, it will succeed. How could it fail with Hugo’s mailing list behind me and an angle no one in the spanking biz has pursued so far - young, hip, and a little hip hop.)

Thalia Dunbar, a sophomore at B.U., saw the ad and called me. We met for lunch at The Grist Mill and is she cute! Wonderfully curvaceous, slim-waisted torso, baby-faced features, creamy complexion, blue eyes and chin length, straight brown hair. She told me she’d just started getting Hugo’s magazine and couldn’t believe how good it was, that she didn’t really know if she was into spanking, but that the pix and stories were so hot that they turned her on.

She said she was a secret exhibitionist and had been a bad girl since age 14, so she was up for being in a video, either giving or receiving and that she was very interested in working with men of color, if they were beautiful. I showed her photos of Tommy and Ronnie on my camera and she agreed they were extremely good-looking. Not that Ronnie would ever agree to be in my video, but I’ll bet I can get him to work the camera. I’ve already decided to offer both of them a financial partnership with me in lieu of compensation. Thalia told me she could find me other cast members because she ran into freaks all the time. I told her I’d give her a finder’s fee for every one she found that I could use but she said what she really wanted was to meet Hugo. I told her nothing could be easier, as I have a standing invitation to visit whenever I want.

We agreed to take the train to Random Point this weekend to scout out locations for our first shoot. Maybe that nice Mr. Flagg will let us use his tavern after hours. I know I made a good impression on him.

December 2nd

Still reeling from the unsettling encounter with Castor Reyes in the quad this afternoon. I was returning from the library as a light snow began to fall. He marched up to me, brandishing the New Rod Quarterly (with me on the cover) in my face. Then he said, perfectly hatefully, “So, this is what my frosty virgin does in her spare time!” I could only stare at him dumbly, then mumble something like, “Where did you get that?”

“At the Globe.”

“Just happened to catch your eye, did it?” I asked.

“Yes, I was looking for something erotic to read, as a substitute for sex, because my girlfriend doesn’t put out. Except maybe for her father!”

“That’s an ugly thing to say,” I replied, trying to walk away, but he blocked me.

“Don’t walk away from me. I want to know what kind of game you’ve been playing with me. Why have you been stringing me along for weeks, pretending to be pure and renunciant when all along you’re planning to ...” he looked up my ad for the video cast and read aloud, “write, direct and star in your own spanking video this year!”

“Gee, you really read that thing from cover to cover, didn’t you?” I marveled. “I’m surprised it held your interest to that degree.”

“I’ll tell you what really holds my interest, spanking the hell out of you for holding me in a state of suspended hard-on for over a month... for what? Fun? To see how long you could frustrate me before I went raving mad???”

I protested, “I thought you were old fashioned... a traditional Latin male, who would value me more highly if you had to woo me a bit.”

“A bit? One kiss last week was as much as I’ve gotten from you. What kind of stereotype do you think you’re dealing with? Some sort of Ramon Novarro mamma’s boy, confessional-kneeling pansy? I was born in Manhattan in the 1980’s, not Mexico City in the 1880’s. You think I wanted you because you were pure?”

“Does this mean you aren’t going to continue tutoring me?” I asked.

He looked at me for a moment before replying, then practically jumped down my throat with renewed indignation, “Oh, I’ll tutor you all right. I’ll goddamned drill you mercilessly. Be at my room tonight at nine!”

He turned to stomp away before hearing my reply. I called, “Castor!” The moment he turned to look at me I snapped him with my camera.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled.

“I’ve never had a scolding from a college boy before,” I told him, tucking the camera away, “I wanted to capture your face.” He scowled and walked off. I studied the face on the way back to my dorm. Short, soft brown hair, wide-set hazel eyes, high brow, high cheek bones, pencil moustache tapering off to a sexy five o’clock shadow, strong chin, golden skin tone with an under flush now he was aroused - quite the most beautiful boy in all Boston. Oh goddess of love, let him be as potent as he looks!

December 3rd

Completely and most dreadfully in love, I write this first thing before class. Spent the night with Castor and ran back from his dorm just now in a freezing rain. The sky is like lead and it looks to rain all day. Only two hours before class and I’m starving, should shower and change, but let me just say....

I had knocked on his door on the second floor of Wigglett at ten p.m., dressed in a navy wool dress with a white linen collar and three quarter sleeves, sheer cream thigh high stockings and high, stack heeled, chestnut leather roll top knee high boots. He called for me to come in and was waiting for me, sitting on a chair with a riding crop between his hands. Dressed in black jeans, some kind of hot black boots and a tucked out grey cotton shirt. He sprang to his feet (as I started at the crop) and hastened to lock the door behind me, as if I might bolt if he didn’t at once. It was a single with a window on the yard, with the hardwood floor and dark wood wainscoting that makes this dorm so desirable. Lightning struck, then thunder, then it started to rain and continued raining all night.

“Where the hell have you been? I thought I said nine.” he demanded, taking the books out of my hands and tossing them on the desk. My eyes went to the neatly made single bed with its grey comforter and white linen. It looked inviting, like a page out of a Restoration Hardware catalog. It even coordinated with my navy outfit. The whole room was meticulously organized and uncluttered. God, he’s anal.

“I had to read my assignments for tomorrow,” I explained matter of factly. Being unprepared would be a hell of a lot more embarrassing than what he was about to do to me. “What are you doing with that crop?” I asked.

“What do you think I’m doing with it?”

“Are you saying that you’re in the scene?”

“You think I found that magazine by accident?” he summarily turned me around and unzipped my dress down the back with adept confidence.

“What are you doing?” I turned in surprise. That was fast!

“Two months ago, I would have let you keep your clothes on for your ...spanking.” (He pronounced the word with a certain savor.) “Now I want you naked. Immediately. Do you understand me?” He turned me back around and kissed me masterfully on the mouth. The next thing I knew, the dress was on the floor and he stared at me -taking in my fitted, cream lace décolleté teddy, hose and boots. A full-length mirror affixed to the wall opposite me reflected my ... I must admit, rather dainty image. (Note to self, insert photo of self in cream lace teddy and boots for reference.)

“Don’t look at yourself!” he snapped at me, giving me the first slap on the bottom of the night with the palm of his hand. Then he deftly and confidently reached between my thighs, expertly unsnapped the teddy crotch and before I knew it, had it up over my head and off. Now I was in nothing but the stockings and boots. It was a little cold in the room and my nipples were standing up and very pink. He circled me and looked at me. I stood up straight and arrogantly thrust my bosom out at him. He didn’t have to say anything, I could read his mind at that moment and he was thinking “they are even more perfect than I’d dreamed,” as sure as my name is Amanda Sands.

“Get up on the bed,” he ordered crisply, “On all fours. Right now!” He slapped the crop against his own flank for emphasis. I obeyed, but slowly. “Hurry up!” he snapped, shaking the crop at me. “Insolent little slut.”

“You don’t know that,” I protested.

“Yes, I do, actually. I’ve been asking around ever since I found that magazine. Apparently you’re already a legend in this dorm!” He came around to stand in front of me, tearing his gaze from mine to drink in the voluptuous effect of my breasts hanging down as I knelt, doggy style for his pleasure. I silently dared him to reach out and squeeze them and reading my challenge, he did, but gently, running his fingertips all across their velvet fullness, then fastening, lightly, but firmly around each erect nipple.

Then, quite deliberately, he took a small bottle of astroglide and several condoms out of his jeans pocket and tossed them on the bed right in front of me. “Well?” he demanded.

“...Okay,” I replied, with girlish hesitation.

“I’m so relieved we didn’t have to have our first quarrel over anal sex,” said Castor, taking me around the waist with one arm, leaning up on the bed on one knee and bringing the spanker at the end of the crop down on my bottom in a shower of crisp smacks, evenly distributed from cheek to cheek and thigh to thigh, not unbearably hard but hard enough to make me catch my breath with every swat.

This set the pattern for the rest of the night. His style was a little dynamic, a little extreme. But I was ready for it. Then just when I was thinking, “He’s a lot more B&D than he is spanking scene,” he sat on the bed and pulled me down across his lap.

“Oh how I have wanted to do this!” he confided, bringing his hand down on my bottom hard and fast for less than a minute, but it was a very full minute. Then he lay me back on the bed and spread my legs, telling me that if I didn’t have a wet pussy he would use the crop on it until it got wet. It was wet. He put two fingers in to test. I squeezed him hard to let him know what he had in store. I’m reading this back and it’s getting fairly pornographic. Even though I was very, very wet, I urged him to do what he said with the crop, to get me even wetter. I have always wanted someone to crop me on my Venus Mound. He seemed enchanted that it wasn’t shaved, but fleecy. I stopped the crop before it came down the first time and asked him to please go lighter now. He pretended to be annoyed but adhered to my request. I asked him to play Love Me Two Times, the original Doors arrangement. He actually had it. Then he had me, two times.

That’s all I have time to write. Have to get to the dining hall or I’ll perish. He is a hot head. I wonder if that’s how he’ll ruin this for himself.

Same day, afternoon

On reading this over, Castor comes across like a soulless meanie. Therefore let me hasten to add that we slept locked in each other’s arms and kissed incessantly throughout the night and he gave me a gold ring with a small but blazing sapphire stone that he said had belonged to his late mother.

But I can’t let him think he owns me now. I have to keep him hungry for me.

I’m going to ask Thalia if she wants to go to Random Point with me for the weekend. It’ll get me out of Castor’s reach and allow her to finally meet Hugo.

December 5th, Random Point, Cliff House

Susan Ross invited us to stay at Anthony Newton’s house with her over the weekend. Thalia’s mind is blown to get her own room overlooking the coast. Susan picked us up at the station, drove us up to the house and put herself at our disposal for the rest of the day. I had explained to Thalia that Susan met her famous lover, the composer Anthony Newton, through Hugo, about five years before and in addition to securing one of the best financial set ups on the planet, she loved the guy. Thalia said she too could use a sugar daddy as soon as possible. Her college loans were already mounting.

I told Thalia that if we made a good impression around Random Point we might get to shoot there when we started our project. So Thalia changed in the car from a cotton button down shirt to a ribbed woolen sweater that dramatically hugged her high, well-rounded bosom. I noted the improvement.

I decided to introduce Thalia to Hugo as a girl who wanted to do some modeling for the magazine, not the horny little sophomore who wanted to fuck him, which she was. Thalia thinks about and has more sex than I do, but she studies much less and smokes a lot more weed. I do like her!

Susan was the soul of hospitality, giving us the beautiful rooms and taking us out to a most elegant lunch in the village at the Ball And Feather Inn. A light, flaky snow was beginning to fall when we arrived at Hugo’s shop in the late afternoon. Susan visited with her sister Laura in the front of shop where a fire was blazing in the hearth, while I brought Thalia into the back where Hugo’s offices were. He was expecting us and ushered us into the lounge graciously, smiling at me while regarding Thalia with interest. In addition to the sage green sweater she had on, she wore a brown tweed skirt and calf high brown boots, all wrapping pinup girl proportions. Hugo seemed genuinely pleased that I had brought him a beautiful new model and praised her physical charms without reserve, knowing how much models like this type of thing. Thalia, who doesn’t think she’s especially pretty, only seemed to listen vaguely, unable to help staring at him in a moony fashion. At the first opportunity I took him aside to whisper, “She has a crush on you.”

He looked harassed and replied, “Amanda, you’re not setting me up with your friends!”

“Isn’t that how the scene works?” I asked.

“In most cases,” he replied, patiently enough, “but as you very well know, I’m still pressing my suit with Laura. Where do you get off throwing bosomy nineteen year olds at me in front of her?” (I admit, I hadn’t thought of that. I must have gone very red in the face because he stared at me.) Then he said, “Yes, you may well blush for shame!” My heart raced as I tried to think of an excuse for objectifying my own biological parent.

“It was a reward for her consenting to be in my video,” I lamely offered.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve. I should turn you over my knee right now,” he threatened.

“I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you’ll mind.”

“Don’t you like her for the magazine, though?”

“Yes, but what the hell is she expecting from me?”

“She will probably try to seduce you,” I admitted, thinking it was best to forewarn him.

Hugo shook his head in amazement. “Here’s what I don’t understand,” he said, “are you pimping your friends out to me or are you pimping me out to your friends?”

“I perceive I have been in error,” I said, bowing my head.

“I’ll ask Michael if we can shoot in his bar tomorrow morning. He can spank you friend and I’ll take the pictures.”

“Good idea!” I agreed happily. I love Michael Flagg!

It is disturbing how little I am missing Castor.

Hugo took us to the bookshop for coffee and gave most of his attention to me. This may have been to discourage Thalia. I noticed he never met her eyes. But he couldn’t avoid laughing at some of the outrageous things she said. Nor did she scruple to shake him down for weed before we left the village. He gave us some and sent us on our way, telling us to meet him at Michael’s tavern tomorrow morning at ten.

We went down to the tip of the village that is rimmed by a tiny strip of rocky shore. The snowflakes began to fall thicker and faster now and started to stick to the ground. We smoked the joint Hugo gave us and stared into the water. Then we walked over to the dress shop a friend of Hugo owns and bought a couple of fitted dresses with kick pleats to wear tomorrow. They were expensive but Hugo told me to have the bill sent to him as it was for his shoot and we could keep the dresses. The owner of the shop, Damaris, (who is married to Laura’s ex husband William, who knew my mother), made a great fuss over me as Hugo’s just-surfaced daughter. Then I found out that this dainty Damaris is also Michael Flagg’s ex wife! Is it the spanking scene that is so incestuous or just this Random Point clique?

“I wonder if Hugo’s fucked that hot little chili pepper,” Thalia said to me as we stood outside the shop under the awning waiting for Susan to pick us up. The sun was going down and it was turning too frosty for comfort in our thin woolen coats.

“I’ll ask Susan. She knows all the local dish,” I told my new friend. I got Susan to talk plenty last night. We made a big fire in the library hearth and sat around it for hours drinking wine and nibbling on toothsome snacks from the pantry. After becoming moderately baked, Thalia admitted it might be thought a bit perverse, her being hot for her friend’s dad, but she couldn’t help it, she had developed a tendre for Hugo after reading his stories and looking at his photos in the magazine.

Susan told her not to feel constrained. It wasn’t as though anyone here even knew about my existence until two months before. So even though he was technically my father, the whole thing seemed unreal. Except for our uncanny resemblance. “He belonged to the scene long before he belonged to Amanda. And he’s had every woman in it, why should you be an exception?” Susan encouraged Thalia. Then Thalia wanted to know if Hugo had had her and Susan told us some very interesting things about Random Point, which had been a scene magnet ever since Hugo had bought the shop and settled there twenty years before.

“The summer before I started college I stayed with my sister Laura and her then-husband William here in Random Point,” Susan explained. “William had answered Laura’s personal ad in Hugo’s magazine. He started courting her while Hugo was in Europe and by the time Hugo got back, they were already married. Hugo was somewhat resentful at having lost his opportunity with Laura and this made him irascible for some time. Laura brought me to see Hugo several times, since I was of age and just out in the scene. When he noticed that I found him fascinating, he used me without apology, to bring Laura to him. He was a lot more demanding in those days. One night when I was at his house with Laura, he took us down to his wine cellar and fucked me right in front of her, just to see if we both would put up with this, and we did.”

Thalia demanded details and Susan replied, “He bent me over a trestle table and just pulled up my skirt and took me.”

“Like in a porn?” Thalia pressed her.

“Exactly like.”

“And he’s fucked other women that you know?” she persisted.

“Almost every one,” Susan replied with conviction. I was proud!

“But it was years before Hugo got my sister as a girlfriend. She was very hard won. Now he seems interested in marrying her.”

“All the more reason to sew a few more wild oats first?” Thalia asked.

“Couldn’t hurt,” said Susan.

I felt compelled to relate the conversation I’d had with Hugo earlier, about how he wanted to stay focused on Laura and how peeved he had seemed at my throwing my nineteen-year-old friend in his path.

Thalia thought it cute that an inveterate slut like Hugo should suddenly become so romantic and go out of his way to avoid free teenaged pussy. Susan said it was proof he had evolved.

Thalia wanted to know if either Laura or I would be disturbed if she, Thalia made a successful play for him and got him to fuck her. Susan said that Laura would be in Boston all day and over night so she’d never know unless Hugo told her and he probably wouldn’t. I assured her that I regarded Hugo as more of a glamorous legend than a blood relation and that I had no emotions invested in his sex life. Personally, I don’t think she’ll get anywhere at this point, but maybe I’m not giving her enough credit.

December 5th, Evening

I’ve definitely not been giving Thalia enough credit. She managed to accomplish her goal within an hour of arriving at Michael’s bar. She had her outfit and makeup on perfectly when we arrived so she didn’t have to go in the back like I did and fuss with anything. When I came out, properly dressed as well, Hugo was setting up lights and Michael picking out a bottle of expensive champagne to use as a prop for the photoset. Thalia was sitting on the bar swinging her shapely legs, punctuated by high heeled ankle strap closed toe, shiny black patent leather shoes. I noticed her staring at Hugo and now and then, he’d look up at her because he was lighting that area first. Then, rather unbelievably, I saw Thalia make an ok sign with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand and repeatedly begin to insert the index finger of her right hand into the circle it made while continuing to fix an intense gaze on Hugo’s face. I looked at him and saw him blink in disbelief then shake his head at her with a grin. Thalia looked deadly serious as she tapped the dial of her watch, held up five fingers and then jerked her thumb towards the back of the bar, apparently confident that he’d understand what she wanted, when and where. He looked at her for a few seconds more, still shaking his head. Then he seemed to change his mind and shrugged quite casually before continuing to tinker with his c-stand for exactly five more minutes. At this point he straightened up and strolled towards the back rooms behind the bar. I looked up and saw Thalia was already gone.

I went to engage Michael in a conversation to distract him.

“How lucky for us you were available this morning,” I told him.

“For me, you mean,” he replied graciously.

“I hope we don’t really have to drink that,” I motioned to the bottle of Mum. “It’s a bit early in the day.”

“I wasn’t going to open this, it’s just for the set up. I was about to go find an empty bottle and fill it with ginger ale,” he said helpfully. But that would mean him going in the back!

“Thalia loves champagne. And maybe it would loosen her up a little.”

“But I’ll bet you’re both too young to drink, aren’t you?”

Before I could think of any reason to prevent him from going to look for the empty Mum bottle, Hugo reappeared in the big room and went back to tinkering with his lights. Thalia followed a few seconds later, flushed like a peach and smoothing down her dress all around. When she caught my eye she gave me the thumbs up sign with a complete lack of self-consciousness.

As before, Hugo refused to take any bare bottom photos of me getting spanked, but encouraged Michael to get Thalia’s panties down as soon as ever he liked. Thalia seemed a lot more sensitive to spanking than I am, or has a much lower pain tolerance because it seemed as thought the lightest swats of Michael’s very large hand inspired the highest kicks I’ve ever seen. At one point it seemed as though she would start to cry at any moment and I expected Hugo to intervene and advise Michael to go a little lighter on the young bar patroness, who in the context of the photo set who could not manage to pay for the expensive champagne she had ordered and drunk a few glasses of very quickly. But Hugo simply appeared to be enjoying the performance and eventually, Thalia did start to cry. Without scruple, Hugo moved in for an extreme close up of her face, bedewed with real tears. I heard him whisper, “Poor baby,” in the most blatantly insincere tone. But I saw him brush her face gently with his hand and make her smile as he added, “That’s what you get for being so bad.” She lifted her chin as much as to say, “I get what I want and damn the consequences!”

As soon as we were alone I asked her if she was furious at being spanked hard enough to make her cry the first time out. She told me it was fine as she was getting some extra hundreds of dollars for her discomfort and that on one level the entire experience was extremely arousing. Michael’s cook arrived just as we were finishing up the shoot and we all had lunch before the bar opened. Then Hugo had to go and open his own shop so he dropped us off at the beach behind the woods at the end of Shadow Lane and told us to call him when we wanted to be taken back to the Cliff house.

As soon as we started walking on the beach Thalia told me how she and Hugo had achieved union in the powder room, with her bent over the sink and staring into both their faces in the mirror above. The entire operation had taken five minutes. “It was just right,” Thalia confided, “I knew instinctively I wouldn’t have to give him head. “And he talked all the while about how he was going to enjoy watching me get spanked really hard by the ex-cop,” she added. “He also said if I wanted to get hired again I’d better cry real tears for him.”

I should have been shocked and appalled but since it was Thalia, I wasn’t. Still I had to ask, “But that was okay by you?”

“It was fucking hot,” she replied.

I told her I wasn’t surprised. He is a Scorpio.

Tuesday, December 8th

All of this reckless promiscuity may be beginning to back fire on me. I may be fooling around with too many men. And at the moment, half of them appear to be ...upset with me. Yesterday afternoon I ran into Ronnie at the library. He was working behind the reserve desk and I needed some books. He took my slip without even a smile so I knew something was wrong. When he brought back the books and stamped them I asked him what was up. It turned out he had just found out about me and Tommy and me and Castor and wanted to know if I was going for some kind of Wigglesworth record as sluttiest slut in the entire hall. I’m afraid I became rather rude and informed him in a low tone but as forcibly as possible that he was an asshole. Then I deliberately sat in the next room and read over my assignments right there where I could see him and see when his shift was over. As it turned out, he was off in fifteen. I jumped up and followed him out of the building into the cold, windy quad at dusk. A wet snow was falling and it was most unpleasant out.

“You have no right to be mad at me,” I charged.

“I know,” he countered, looking at me sternly as snowflakes fell on his beautiful, long eye lashes.

“I never said I’d be yours exclusively.”

“That’s so,” he agreed, looking at me hard.

“Apologize for that remark!” I said, stamping my foot at him.

“I will not. What I said was true.”

“Maybe it is, but the way that you said it was perfectly hateful!”

After saying this I impulsively scooped up a snowball of wet slush and crammed it into his sanctimonious face. He became furious and chased me through the quad, the both of us slipping and sliding. I skidded onto a bench and he fell onto the seat next to me. He pulled me over his lap and slapped me hard through my cords five or six times. He’s got one hell of a hard hand, but maybe that was because he had so much (in his view) righteous indignation on his side. He pulled me up abruptly.

“Why did you stop?” I asked, breathless with excitement. He looked around. The quad was empty, all sensible people being inside next to a fire. Then he took me in his arms in that patented 1930’s Hollywood-style, possessively protective, ultra-masculine clinch that had melted me so completely the first time he did it.

He let me go and said, “Why did you wait for me?”

“To tell you off.”

“Well, consider me told off,” he said, getting up and brushing snowflakes off his sweater. We were both just in jeans and sweaters but I didn’t feel cold.

“But you’re still mad at me,” I said, rubbing my bottom as we walked back to the dorm.

“Just crazy with jealousy and insanely hungry for you,” he admitted.

“Take me to your room and kiss me like that again and you can do anything you want with me,” I said, taking his hand.

“And then share you with three or four or five other guys?”

“Well... why not?”

“I’m sorry, I just can’t be that casual about you.”

“Ronnie, even though I can’t pledge my heart to any one person right now, I would consider you above anyone else as a permanent boyfriend.”

“I guess I’m supposed to feel flattered by that?”

“I didn’t mean to sound patronizing,” I protested.

“No, you’re being entirely judicious, Amanda. You’re a goddess and therefore entitled to your whims. Someday I’m sure I’ll feel honored to have been chosen as one of your toys. Right now though, thinking about you with anyone else is killing me.”

We entered the dorm together but separated in the foyer, Ronnie going directly to his room without another word to me.

The encounter left me feeling hollow and guilty. Ronnie is a good man and I can’t play with his emotions.

After dinner I went to the library to read for three hours. In the middle of this my phone rang. It was Castor, reminding me that I needed to come see him and cram for the next quiz. It wasn’t too difficult to interpret his clumsy double entendre. How romantic! I felt a little peeved and delayed going to his room by stopping at the canteen for a cup of coffee with Alicia. She was rather unsympathetic about my quandary with regard to Ronnie and continues to maintain a no-man-is-a-good man attitude. When I wondered aloud whether I should admit to Castor that I really didn’t need any help in studying for Spanish tests she heartily endorsed the move. “Why should he be allowed to think himself more important than he is?” she asked me indignantly. And scolded me for ever having had Castor tutor me in the first place. She was of the opinion that there was entirely too much protecting of male egos going around as it was. “Why do you spoil them so?” she demanded. Adding, “If you must use them, do so, but at least make them serve you, not the opposite!”

I can see her becoming a mistress some day, but not the type who wears leather and corsets. That would be objectifying and she’ll have none of that.

My brain was nearly dead and I knew I could do no more work that night, yet I was restless and far too wound up to sleep, the half-pleasant half-unpleasant encounter with Ronnie going around and around in my head. I didn’t think I was spoiling for trouble when I showed up at Castor’s room, but I guess I really was.

His door was ajar and I walked in. He wasn’t there but entered in a few minutes, fresh from the shower across the hall, with a towel wrapped around his slim waist. His black hair was still wet and gleaming and the v of his golden back flecked with drops of water.

“Amanda!” he cried, delighted at my appearance. Then he contrived to look severe and demanded to know why I hadn’t called him all weekend. I explained about going out to the Cape with my new girlfriend and the photo shoot we had done. He was immediately jealous of another man having spanked me, even in the context of the shoot and became rather huffy with me. Things went from bad to worse when he locked the door and dropping the towel without further preamble, asked me to give him some head. Not that he needed any, mind you, what with that flagpole waving around!

“I’m sorry, I don’t do that,” I replied, looking at him steadily. Perhaps if he had been much, much more charming about the request or even have gotten me stoned first, but going from “Hi” to “Blow Me?” I’m not a porn star!

“What do you mean, you don’t do that?” He seemed puzzled, as though I had suddenly started to speak in a language he didn’t comprehend.

“I don’t like to give head,” I told him. “And, you’re not even circumcised,” I added to myself.

“I thought you were submissive,” he protested.

“Why did you think that?”

“You let me spank you and sodomize you,” he pointed out.

“Oh well, I do enjoy spanking and sodomy. But not oral. And after all, I’m not asking you to go down on me, am I?”

“I’d love to go down on you,” he volunteered with a grin.

I covered a yawn with my hand. He stared at me.

“So you’re saying you won’t give me head?” he asked in disbelief, the flagpole drooping a bit at the revelation. He quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a shirt.

“Don’t you know that being a good lover is all about giving pleasure to others?” he lectured. “Are you a spoiled brat who just wants what you want and doesn’t care about what anyone else wants?”

“I guess so,” I replied. What an awful day so far!

“Maybe you need a good spanking before you do as you’re told,” he suggested, picking a small hairbrush up off his dresser top.

“You mean to try to force me to go down on you?” I bristled.

He stared at me hard, smacking the back of the brush against the palm of his hand.

“Luckily, I don’t need a b.j. that badly,” he said, “but you deserve something for sheer orneriness!”

With that he caught me by the arm and pulling me over to his desk, bent me over it. Then he administered six extremely stinging swats to the seat of my jeans with the little wooden brush.

Two pants warmings in one day - in retrospect - were not unstimulating. But I was in an emotional state when Castor put me over the desk and punished me and the spontaneous spanking really hurt! Suddenly awash with self-pity, I began to sob violently.

Amazed that such a brief spanking over corduroy pants could result in this type of reaction, Castor pulled me up and looked at me to see if I was kidding him. He was visibly shocked at my wet face and trembling lips and pulled me against his chest to comfort me.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” he murmured into my ear, kissing my wet cheeks and throat. “I didn’t mean to bully you.” As he pulled me against him I felt his renewed excitement, which I found quite annoying. How could he earnestly apologize for hurting me and yet unapologetically thrust at me a hard-on that had developed solely from my pain and tears?

I couldn’t bear to let him see me at this extreme pitch of vulnerability any longer and tore out of the room with the briefest of farewells. I stumbled back to my own room, brushing the tears from my face and trying to ignore my own latent excitement at what had just happened.

Luckily Alicia was out when I got back to my room and I was able to get off against a pillow before drifting off to sleep. A most disturbing day!