Читать книгу Shadow Lane Volume 10: The Spanking Adventures of Amanda Sands - Eve Howard - Страница 8
ОглавлениеHugo Sands had seldom, if ever, been interrupted while spanking a girl in his shop, but that autumn afternoon the bell tinkled at the very moment he had impulsively seized Laura Random and thrust her down across his immaculately trousered lap.
“You’re really lucky,” he told his beloved, releasing her and getting to his feet. “The first time I bother to propose to you in all these years and you turn me down? This interview is not over!”
“I just said I wanted to think it over,” Laura protested weakly as he strode out of the lounge and onto the floor of his antiques shop to greet the very interesting looking young lady who had just walked in. She was a willowy ash blonde in a flawlessly tailored navy suit with a pencil skirt, narrow lapels and a crisp white shirt. She wore navy spectator pumps and carried a matching envelope clutch. Her long, straight, fair hair framed a charming face, aglow with health and intelligence.
“Hello!” said Hugo warmly.
“Hello!” she replied, with ill-suppressed excitement, “Are you Hugo Sands?
“Yes! You must be the model from Boston?”
The girl stared at him for just a moment in perplexity before nodding in smiling agreement with his conclusion.
“I thought your train wasn’t getting in until two. Oh well, no matter. You photo didn’t do you justice, Margot,” said Hugo, shaking her slender hand.
“Oh, Margot couldn’t make it. She got sick. They sent me instead. I hope that’s okay. My name is Amanda,” said the girl with a smile that crinkled her light blue eyes in a childlike fashion.
“It’s fine,” he said, looking her over again. “You are over eighteen though, right? I mean, you have photo id?”
“Oh, certainly. I have a passport and a driver’s license.”
“Perfect! Well, come on back to the office and I’ll show you the set and where you can get ready. Though you won’t have to do much. That’s a honey of an outfit you have on.”
“Thank you! I bought it just to meet you.”
“Really?”
“Believe me, this is the most exciting day of my life!”
“So, you’re really in the scene, then?” Hugo led her back to his office where Laura was checking the battery on her camera. “Laura, this is Amanda. She came instead of Margot, who’s apparently sick.”
“Hi Amanda. I’ll be taking the photos,” said Laura, shaking Amanda’s hand. “God, you’re gorgeous,” Laura added, delighted by the beauty of her subject.
“And I’ll be spanking you,” said Hugo.
“I’m both thrilled and terrified,” Amanda replied with her hand to her heart.
“Seriously, though, you look incredibly young,” Hugo said. “Just how old are you?”
“I’m 18.”
“And, have you played before?”
“With my boyfriend I have!”
“So you’re saying you were into spanking before you started modeling?”
“Oh, definitely. I think it’s in my blood!”
“Why?” Laura asked, interested because an enthusiasm for spanking seemed to run in her own family as well.
“Well, because I know for a fact that my father spanked my mother on the night I was conceived.”
“How do you know that?” Laura asked.
“Because she told me that he always spanked her before they had sex.”
“Wow,” said Hugo. “Well, you’ll do very nicely, I think. Why don’t we go back to the studio and get started?”
Laura showed Amanda to a small room fitted up as a dressing room where Amanda sat at an ebony vanity and touched up her lipstick. The adjoining photographic studio featured a set that had been furnished as an old fashioned executive office, with a large mahogany desk and matching bookcase, brass-riveted leather chairs and a matching sofa.
Hugo and Laura had posed for and shot so many spanking photo sets over the years that the positioning and action flowed effortlessly, with a minimal exchange of verbal direction.
“Now listen honey, since this is only for stills, I’m not going to really spank you until we get to the bare bottom part, when you need to be pink,” said Hugo, once the initial pull over and surprised reaction shots had been taken by Laura.
“But, I won’t be able to produce the proper expression unless I’m really feeling it!” Amanda protested, looking back at him.
“You want me to really spank you?” he grinned at the agreeable girl.
“Yes! I need something to write in my diary tonight!”
Hugo shrugged at Laura, then slowly and methodically began to enact all the stages of a spanking that would go into making up an exciting photoset for an elegant spanking magazine. He’d been publishing his New Rod Quarterly since before Amanda was born and had a reputation for posing the most refined spanking photos in the scene. This Amanda would be the newest jewel in The New Rod’s crown. For a slim girl, she had a remarkably shapely, jutting bottom, which Hugo began to warm through the fine wool suit skirt with the palm of his hand.
“Oh,” she interrupted him. “I can take it much harder than that.”
Hugo grinned at Laura, tucking his hand around Amanda’s waist and pausing while Laura lined up the shot.
“Amanda, cheat your eyes up like you’re looking back at Hugo but keep your face turned towards me,” said Laura. “Hugo, look at her, in my direction. Okay, give her about six swats, but slowly.”
Hugo administered six hard swats, spaced ten or so seconds apart, each one eliciting a sharp intake of breath, a leggy kick and a vigorous flip of a curtain of silken sandy blonde hair.
“You two almost look alike,” Laura commented, snapping photos every couple of seconds. “You have identical coloring and the shape of your eyes...Hugo, we should make this a father-daughter scenario.”
The comment caused a naughty smile to flit across Amanda’s face, again crinkling her eyes in a manner that made her look years younger than eighteen. Laura snapped another face shot then paused.
“Hugo, could I talk to you for a minute?” Laura said.
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Just a second,” said Laura, marching out of the room.
Hugo put Amanda off his lap and told her to wait there then joined Laura in the dressing room.
“What is it?”
“We need to look at that girl’s id before we lift her skirt. She looks so young to me!”
“Okay, okay, no problem.”
They went back into the studio.
“Honey, let’s get your id shot now, so we don’t have to think about it later,” said Hugo to Amanda.
“Sure,” replied Amanda, digging her documents out of her purse and presenting them to Hugo.
“Go ahead and hold them so Laura can photograph them,” said Hugo, “you know how.”
Amanda looked momentarily puzzled then laughed and replied, “Well, I’m kind of new to this, I forgot how.”
“Hold them under your chin,” said Laura, positioning the opened passport and driver’s license in Amanda’s hands.
While Laura was focusing on Amanda’s face and the identifying documents below she noticed that Amanda’s last name was Sands.
“What a funny coincidence,” said Laura, “Amanda’s last name is Sands.”
“That is funny,” said Hugo. “Well? How’s that birth date?”
“Oh, she’s eighteen all right. Just,” Laura replied.
Just then the phone rang. Laura picked it up, spoke for a few moments then turned to Hugo. “It’s Margot. She’s at the station.”
“I thought you said Margot was sick?” Hugo said to Amanda.
“She must have felt better at the last minute and not realized they sent me,” Amanda replied calmly.
“Laura, would you run and pick her up? We’ll turn this into a double shoot.”
“That will work,” said Laura, leaving Hugo to stare at Amanda with a strange sensation.
“You’re not... related to me, are you?” he asked, feeling as he looked into her pale blue eyes that he was looking into a mirror.
“Yes, I am. Haven’t you figured it out yet?”
“I know I don’t have any more nieces. Are you perhaps a second cousin?”
“You wish. I’m your daughter.” A moment of silence passed as he stared at her intently, searching her face for a trick or a prank. It was impossible, unbelievable, for to his certain knowledge he had never impregnated any woman in the entire course of his life. And yet, she looked so much like him, it was almost impossible not to believe it at once. Even Laura had instantly noticed the resemblance.
“But...” Hugo hesitated as he groped for the right words, “...how is it I haven’t heard about you before? Who’s your mother?”
“Don’t you remember who you were making love to eighteen years ago?”
“Cassandra,” he replied at once, recalling his long lost love and a prophetic poem, which she had left behind, containing a cryptic, line about two becoming three. That line had haunted him since Laura had unearthed the scroll on the upper shelf of a closet in a room in his house occupied by Cassandra almost two decades before.
“Yes!”
For a moment they simply gazed at each other. Then he came out of his reverie, resisting the urge to embrace his newly sprung offspring as he remembered the event she had interrupted upon her arrival.
“Of all days you had to show up!” Hugo snapped, pacing with his hands in his pockets.
“Why? What’s the matter with today?” Amanda queried, observing that he seemed more peeved than upset.
“I was proposing marriage to Laura after six years of being crazy about her and she was thinking about saying yes. How unsexy is a suitor with a grown daughter!”
“I think you’re incredibly sexy,” said Amanda, unfazed.
Then Hugo began to process the scandalous realization that he’d just spanked his own daughter. “So, what was with the prank?” he demanded.
“The posing as a model? That was a sudden inspiration. I’ve always wondered what a spanking from my daddy would feel like!” said Amanda, spontaneously hugging Hugo. He hugged her back briefly then thrust her away, exclaiming, “This is absurd. It can’t be. It must be a practical joke. Why show up now? Why today? I’m confused. Let’s get coffee.”
They locked up the store and walked across the street to Marguerite Alexander’s bookshop, where Hope Spencer Lawrence was presiding over an empty coffee bar.
“Hi Hope,” said Hugo, leaving Amanda at one of the small tables by the hearth. “Bring us a couple of double caps, would you?”
“Who’s the babe?” asked the resident blonde beauty of Random Point in all innocence, used to Hugo stuffing his models with chocolate chip muffins during photo shoots. Hope Spencer Lawrence would have shot regularly for Hugo herself, had her husband not been an instructor at the local prep school attempting to maintain a low profile about his wife’s professional B&D past.
“My daughter, apparently,” Hugo confided, too struck by the uncanny resemblance between himself and the girl to attempt to deny it. Anyway, the word Cassandra had more or less explained it all. Anything was possible when that laser-focused female was involved.
“She’ll bring us coffee,” said Hugo, sitting opposite Amanda, who folded her French manicured hands calmly on the small, round wooden table between them but grinned back at him, mirthful at the trick she had pulled off.
“I just don’t understand your mother’s behavior,” Hugo said somewhat helplessly. “I was still completely enamored with her when she left me. She never said a word about a baby. Why? I would have married her.”
“Yes, we always felt you would have. But Mother knew you didn’t want children and didn’t feel it was fair to thrust me on you.”
“She might have let me know! Oh, am I going to thrash her for this!”
“She also said your aura was too powerful to expose an impressionable child to.”
Hugo groaned and exclaimed, “That’s the first thing you’ve said that doesn’t surprise me. No doubt she traced the moment of your conception to a period during which mercury was in retrograde, and it gave her a foreboding of evil.”
“She merely felt that a child should be reared by milder and less mercurial types than yourself.”
“Oh, is that so? And who’d she fix you up with instead?”
“A wise and industrious vegan who married Mother when I was three and has furnished me with gentle guidance ever since. He owns yoga studios and health food stores in San Francisco.”
“Well, what the hell did she think I would have done to you?” Hugo bristled.
“She just didn’t want me growing up to be a spoiled daddy’s girl.”
“So? How did you turn out?”
“I’m a daddy’s girl,” she grinned. “But not spoiled. I worked in the store and taught yoga classes all through high school.”
“So, when did you find out about me?” Hugo asked, thanking Hope for the large steaming cups of cappuccino she set down before them.
“Hello,” said Hope, smiling at Amanda.
“Hello,” Amanda replied.
“Later,” said Hugo, shooing Hope back to the coffee bar.
“Well, I was twelve going on thirteen when I began to explore Mother’s sizable collection of erotica, which included issues of your magazine going back many years. Enthralled, I worked my way backwards in time until I reached the issues that my mother actually had modeled for and worked on with you. Mother saw how much the New Rod Quarterly interested me and told me about the relationship she’d had with its editor, confiding that it had been the first great romance of her life. The magazines had publication dates so it was easy for me to figure out that she’d been sleeping with you when I was conceived. She didn’t deny it.
Naturally I wanted to meet you at once, but she convinced me to develop myself into an independent person of whom you might be proud before inserting myself into your life. When I asked her what she thought I should do to make you proud of me, she suggested I get myself into Harvard. I’m starting my freshman year next week.”
“You don’t say so! Congratulations, honey!”
“Thank you. By the way, here’s the bill for my first semester,” she said, handing him an eye opener of an invoice.
“Oh my god, is that what college costs these days?”
“Mother didn’t think you’d mind since she’s handled everything else.”
“Sure,” Hugo said, folding the bill and slipping it into his jacket pocket. “It’s the least I can do.”
“Actually the least you could do would be to buy me this coffee. Paying for Harvard is handsome,” smiled Amanda, sipping creamy foam.
Hugo kept looking at her, unable to stop himself from smiling. “I can’t believe she kept this kind of secret from me. But she’s certainly done a good job with you. Probably much better than I could have done.”
“She’ll be happy to hear that. She always told me that you were the only man she actually tried to please.”
“What about your current dad?”
“He’s easy to please. You just have to be perfect at all times.”
“Is that why you’re so together?”
“Thank you for noticing,” she grinned.
“You seem like a happy girl. Are you happy?”
“I’m as happy today as I’ve ever been,” Amanda replied, clasping one of his hands between both of her own for just an instant.
“I wish I didn’t have the shoot scheduled, but Laura will be bringing back the real model any minute.”
“Can’t I continue to be in the shoot?” Amanda asked.
“You really WANT to be in a spanking magazine?” Hugo was astonished.
“I really WANT to be on the cover!”
Hugo laughed and shook his head.
“I’m serious, Mr. Sands,” said Amanda.
“Is that what you plan to call me?”
“What would you like me to call you?”
“Hugo will do.”
“I notice you’ve already acknowledged me as your daughter,” said Amanda, nodding towards Hope, who was pretending to polish the counter. “That’s charming.”
“I’m still going to thrash your mother for keeping you a secret.”
“We saved one ritual for you to take me through,” Amanda said with a newer and even more naughty sparkle in her eyes.
“Really? Which one?” Hugo leaned his chin on his hand, fascinated by the well-mannered, beautifully spoken girl.
“I’ve waited to smoke weed all this time!” Amanda announced triumphantly.
“You did?”
“It’s true. When I was around fourteen Mother suggested I save that one particular rite of passage to enjoy with you for the first time. She said you’d be the perfect guide and that you always had good bud. I think she was very clever, devising such an interesting way to keep me straight all during high school, don’t you? I’ve always been into postponing pleasure. It’s why I’ve been a good student.”
“What a beautiful and appropriate sentiment,” Hugo reflected, recalling that Cassandra’s first gift to him was that of mushrooms. “I guarantee that the bud will be good,” Hugo promised, briefly touching her velvety cheek. “And you being my daughter, I’m sure you’ve smoked enough by now to know the difference.”
Amanda pinkened but only slightly.
“But about the photo shoot...” he began.
“You could call the photo spread Daddy’s Girl,” she persisted enthusiastically.
“It’s very sweet of you to offer, but I can’t exploit my own daughter.”
“It isn’t exploitation. What you do is art.”
“Thank you,” Hugo said, “I’m bowled over by your sophistication.” “Well, I grew up in San Francisco.”
“Look, Amanda, even if it’s not exploitation, me spanking you... isn’t that ...I mean, doesn’t that feel incestuous to you?”
“Why should it? To me, you’re a glamorous stranger who came into my life through glossy photos and thrilling fiction, my mother’s favorite lover from long ago.”
“She said I was her favorite?”
“Can you doubt it?” Amanda teased, with a gleam in her eyes.
Hugo couldn’t help but laugh, “I see you already know how to get a man in the palm of your hand.”
“Mother thinks it would be fitting for me to appear in The New Rod Quarterly, as an example of things coming full circle. Besides, it would make me happy to be able to contribute, since you’re taking on my college expenses.”
“You seem very uninhibited.”
“I am,” Amanda agreed.
“That’s a rare quality in one so young.”
“My goal for freshman year is to become a Playboy centerfold.”
“A...What???”
“Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But it’s part of my strategy to take the world by storm.” Amanda shrugged out of her jacket and draped it on the back of her chair, her fitted white blouse amply revealing how well suited she would be to pose for any centerfold on the planet.
“So, you’re extremely uninhibited!” Hugo grinned. “I have to say, Cassandra certainly raised a more interesting child without me than she could have done with me.” Then he happened to notice the clock on the wall. “Damn it, we have to get back. The girl will be there and I’ll have to figure out what to do with you. Damn it!”
“Just let’s finish the photo set,” Amanda suggested brightly.
“No, I’m not laying another hand on you until I think this through and arrive at the same casual attitude you seem to have. Anyway, we already got enough photos for a cover and a profile spread.”
“Oh, all right,” she agreed, with resignation. “I’ll work on you while you’re getting me stoned tomorrow. I’ll change your way of thinking.”
“You are going to be a dangerous woman,” Hugo predicted, leaving money on the table.
“I knew you’d get me,” she said, jumping up to follow him out.
“Did you drive into Random Point?” Hugo asked as they walked out of the bookstore and back across cobbled Shadow Lane to his own shop.
“Yes, I left my rental car at the Inn.”
“You’ve got yourself a room?”
“Of course. I didn’t know if I’d be welcome to stay with you.”
“Well, keep the room for tonight while I break the news to Laura. Did I mention I was in the middle of proposing to her when you walked in? And she was in the middle of putting me off, for some reason I can’t understand. Tomorrow you can come and stay with me. Tonight I need to hash this out with her or it’s going to preoccupy me. And I want to give you my full attention.”
“She’s beautiful. I hope she likes me.”
“Oh, you’ll be like a sister to her before you know it. In fact, I have a lot of friends who are going to make a very large fuss over you.”
Amanda beamed. She had worked hard and been modest to please her stepfather, with the new one, she would merely have fun and in so doing, please him as well. She had one week before her freshman year commenced. After which there would be little time to spare. She saw that she was making a good impression. Her mother’s predictions about Hugo had all come true. He was easily beguiled, pleasant, natural and more than willing to treat her as a mature adult. Mother had been wise to withhold her from Hugo. He would have turned her head.
She’d been perfectly serious in expressing her desire to pose for Playboy, for it was part of her master plan, to develop a glamorous persona as an arresting counterpoint to her serious academic one. She planned to double major in economics and Latin American studies, and was already fluent in Spanish. She envisioned herself at some future point, in a tight, white linen suit and four inch high, ankle-strap heels, devastating dark, hot-blooded men across board room tables in sultry climes, then being ravished by them under mosquito netting. She had a framed photograph of Benecio del Toro by her bedside and a scrapbook of the greatest Latin actors of the 20th century that she used to look at before going to sleep, choosing a different dark eyed face each night to fantasize about in her dreams.
The next afternoon, a shimmering one in late September, Laura was still thinking over Hugo’s proposal as she peddled her bike down leaf-dappled Shadow Lane. The sky was exceptionally blue and the air sweet and balmy on this last golden day of summer. She’d unconsciously turned her wheels toward Michael Flagg’s tavern. She might get a sandwich. Perhaps Marguerite would be there and they could discuss everything. When Laura discovered that it was only Michael there, in the empty pub, her pulse raced.
“Fate has decided the events to follow,” Laura told herself, sliding onto a bar stool and smiling at her host. Michael stopped polishing glasses and clasped her hands in greeting.
“You’re just in time for lunch,” said Michael, opening the box of sandwiches that had just been delivered from the Ball and Feather Inn. “They sent chicken tarragon, roast lamb and pepper steak.”
“I’ll have a pinot grigio and the chicken,” said Laura, then watched her fair haired, attractive and muscular 6’3” host open a bottle for her. “Where is everyone?” she asked, when he set the plate and glass before her.
“Carmen’s not coming in until later.”
“Where’s Marguerite? I didn’t see her at the gym this morning.”
“She took the baby and the nanny to Boston for a few days to visit her family.”
“This must be kismet,” Laura thought to herself, taking a sip of the crisp, fruity wine. She said, “Hugo finally proposed to me.”
“High time!” Michael smiled, well aware of Hugo’s long pursuit of Laura, which had only resolved itself into a relationship in the last few years. “Have you said yes?”
“I’m still thinking it over. I still have one wild oat left to sow and I think I’d rather do that before than after I’m married.”
“Really!” Michael leaned back against the counter behind him and folded his arms. The former detective immediately realized that hunger for something other than a fancy baguette sandwich had brought Laura to The Dutch that day. “And might this particular oat be the lawful wedded possession of your best friend?”
“I don’t think Marguerite would mind. Especially since she’s out of town anyway. She was Hugo’s plaything for years. Why shouldn’t I be yours for one hour?”
“That’s all I get, one hour?”
“Maybe two?” Laura grinned.
“Is Hugo going to hear about this?”
“No. He’d find it disagreeable.”
“In that case, Marguerite shouldn’t hear about it either.”
“Agreed.”
“We don’t want to risk her blurting it out to Hugo.”
“Right.”
“Well? Where should we do this thing?”
“The house in the woods, I think,” said Laura, referring to Michael’s residence, a handsomely fitted out cottage which together with Marguerite’s white Cape Cod house in the village afforded the newlyweds just the right amount of living space. It was the place where he and Marguerite went to make love and play in complete privacy, a luxury worth an extra mortgage payment.
Laura bit delicately into the sandwich and drank some wine. Then she laughed.
“What?” Michael was looking at her, trying to figure out why it had taken her six years to ask him to play. He had always coveted the dark-eyed brunette, from the first day he met her, in Marguerite Alexander’s shop.
“Hugo thinks I’m hesitating because I’m still brooding about that stupid caning he gave me years ago.”
“Well, you didn’t talk to him for two years,” Michael pointed out.
“I know. It was the only way I could make sure he realized I don’t like that kind of thing.”
“I think you made your point.”
“So, you’ll never believe this, but guess who walked into the shop yesterday...”
Hugo and Amanda had spent the afternoon biking around Random Point, eating a picnic lunch on the beach and getting stoned in the woods.
He’d brought a blanket in his knapsack and they lay on their backs, looking up at the cottony clouds scudding across the deepest of blue skies through the latticed umbrella of turning leaves.
“This IS the best day of my life,” she confided. “Everything is just so engaging.”
“What I can’t understand is,” he leaned up on an elbow to look down at her, “why you didn’t get in touch with me until now. I mean, I can understand you letting your thirteenth, maybe even fourteenth birthday go by, but you’ve known about this for how long, six years? Why didn’t you at least write to me?”
“Mother convinced me to keep the secret.”
“Well, I think it’s the worst thing she’s ever done in her otherwise morally spotless life,” Hugo said with feeling.
“She didn’t want you to regard me as a responsibility to contend with. And my stepfather thought you’d spoil me and distract me from my studies, like candy. Since I don’t mind putting off treats, I didn’t press to meet you.”
“I suppose it’s for the best,” Hugo reflected, dropping back down to gaze up at the sky. “Your step dad sounds properly strict, not someone you can get around, like me.”
Amanda rolled over on her stomach and leaned up on her elbows.
“I think it would have broken his heart if I’d defected to you any earlier,” she admitted. “And, as you say, he did a lot for me.”
“I just hope this isn’t about her being afraid I’d actually spank a child.”
“Oh no. Of course not. Everyone knows that spanking people don’t do that sort of thing with their own children.”
“So you got your first spanking from a boyfriend?”
“Who said that? My stepfather spanked me many times.”
“Really?”
“Between three and five I would throw tantrums to get attention. My stepfather has a low tolerance for misbehavior and he’s half Chinese. Corporal punishment is big in their culture. So I got spanked.”
“Well, I don’t suppose it did you any harm,” said Hugo, lazily admiring his surprising progeny. That afternoon she looked the picture of autumn, in brown tweed leggings, brown knee boots, a white shirt and gold merino wool cardigan, her fair hair a mixture of natural pale shades, appearing even lighter in the dappled sunlight filtering down through the russet canopy above them.
“Can’t we pick up where we left off yesterday in the studio?” she asked.
“You mean, me spank you again?” he stared at her in disbelief.
“Yes, you stopped just as I was getting into it.”
“But... to what end?” he appeared genuinely puzzled, unable to comprehend her motivation.
“It will give me something to write in my diary.”
“No,” he pillowed his head on his hands, “it’s too perverse, even for me.”
“Why?”
“I’m sorry, honey, but to me this is too sexy a thing to do with my own daughter.”
“Gee, it’s not like I’m innocent,” she protested. “I’ve already had six lovers.”
“No kidding,” he smiled. “I thought you were into postponing pleasure.”
“Every kind but that. That I go for.”
“Know what, Amanda? There are a half dozen decent, gentlemanly players right here in Random Point. Any one of them would be happy to furnish you with diary entries on a moment’s notice. In fact, I’ll take you to meet the hottest one of them on our way home. He wound up marrying one of my favorite submissives, but I happen to know that she’s out of town.”
“I think you’re being very conventional,” Amanda declared. “And anyway, I’m not trying to seduce you. I just want to play. It’s so ridiculously innocent that I can’t see what you’re hesitating about.”
“I see that you’re determined to get your own way,” Hugo observed, his concern about breaking taboos beginning to ebb. What harm could it really do if this was what she wanted? “Maybe I’ll have to teach you a lesson about playing with fire.”
This declaration, though mildly couched, caused an instant blush to mantle her cheeks. Hugo sat up with a sigh, saying, “Remember, you asked for this!” The next moment he had pulled the lithe girl across his lap.
A spanking over street clothes, with its spontaneity and insulated warmth, is a type of spanking relentlessly sought by romantics and purists alike. Amanda was thrilled to receive it and expressed her approbation by making practically no sound beyond the occasional gasp, pant or yip as Hugo’s palm descended on her upturned seat. What followed was a series of rhythmic, medium hard smacks, administered briskly while continuously alternating cheeks, straight across the jutting centermost portion of her slim but well formed bottom. Then he spanked the upper middle portion of her bottom just as thoroughly, then the lower. Then he spanked her upper thighs and even bestowed a few smacks on her shapely calves through the backs of her leather boot shafts, which made her catch her breath and emit the faintest of moans. “Yes! I like it there!” she suddenly cried, pointing the index finger of one gloved hand towards her calves.
“Trust you to be different,” he said, continuing the spanking as she liked it, by including her legs in his rotations.
“And, maybe, it could be harder,” she murmured, almost inaudibly, before hiding her face in her hands.
Impressed by her serene tolerance, Hugo increased the force behind his swats but slowed the velocity, allowing every harder smack to penetrate through her layers of outer clothing before administering the next.
“Oh,” she groaned, “please, harder still!”
“All right, twelve of the best. Right now. Are you ready?”
“Yes!”
“But you’d better think pure thoughts,” he warned. “because if I get the slightest inkling that you’re thinking the other kind, this is never going to happen again.”
“I understand,” she promised. “I’ll be good.”
Whether she was good or not, Hugo never knew and never asked. He finished the spanking with twelve hard smacks, the last four across her calves, each of which made her kick and then let her lay perfectly still across his lap while she composed herself. When he finally turned her around, she threw her arms around his neck and hugged him hard.
She looked at him and said, very slowly, “That...was...perfect!”
“Okay,” Hugo thought to himself, “this is all past weird. I am obviously having a very perverse dream, from which I am about to awake. I’ll find myself in my bed at the house, Laura will be beside me. It will be the morning of the day I planned to propose and the only one to show up for the shoot will be Margot, the legitimate model from Boston.” Hugo closed his eyes hard, then opened them. But the only thing he saw when he did was Amanda jumping to her feet and brushing down her slightly rumpled clothes.
“I’m hungry, aren’t you?” she asked with a grin.
As the day began to wane, they peddled homewards, passing close by Michael Flagg’s cottage, off Shadow Lane.
“A friend of mine lives there,” said Hugo, the next moment noticing a familiar bike banked against the porch rail. As they came closer to the cabin, the distinctively crisp sound of a paddling from within could be heard without. Hugo flushed with pique as he realized his almost-fiancée was inside Michael Flagg’s house, being played with.
“It sounds like he’s corporally punishing someone!” Amanda exclaimed.
“That’s Laura’s bike,” Hugo revealed, already comfortable enough with Amanda to make her his confidante.
“Oh!”
They stopped their bikes and stared at the cottage.
“Do you want to go in and break it up?” Amanda asked conspiratorially.
“It would be fun to discompose them,” Hugo mused.
“You have the perfect excuse for dropping in. Introducing me.”
“So that’s how she considers a marriage proposal from her lover,” Hugo remarked.
“You’re not really mad, are you?”
Hugo smiled. “How can I be mad on such a beautiful day?”
“But you’re annoyed.”
“I am annoyed,” said Hugo.
“Come on, let’s have some fun!” she urged him. “Imagine how irritated they’ll be at having to stop playing.”
“You’re bad,” Hugo grinned at her.
“I’m having so much fun today!” she exclaimed.
They dismounted, parked their bikes against a tree and climbed the porch.
“We should make them feed us, anyway,” Hugo said. Before Amanda could reply, the front door swung open and Michael Flagg stuck his head out. Flushing as only one of Celtic ancestry can do, he nevertheless recovered quickly from the shock and emerged to greet his unexpected guests.
“Hugo! Well, and this must be Amanda? Laura was just telling me about your arrival.” Michael extended his hand to shake Amanda’s.
“Yes, we could hear you talking from here,” Hugo said dryly.
“You’re a little prankster, I hear,” Michael said.
Laura emerged next, dressed in a beige wool dress, brown sweater and boots that laced up the back. Her long, chestnut brown hair was unrumpled but her color was high.
“Hi,” she said, smiling at Amanda and avoiding Hugo’s eyes.
“Come in. We’ll have some coffee,” said Michael, ushering them inside to a large, paneled room with a fireplace and a good deal of oversized oak furniture, upholstered in royal blue with cream and burgundy accents. There were no animals mounted on the walls, but the cottage had a lodge-like feel and scent.
“Any food to go with that coffee?” Hugo asked, casually falling into a chair.
“I have just the thing,” Michael said, going to start the coffee and bring out some sandwiches he’d brought home from the tavern.
Laura slipped into a chair near Amanda and stretched out her hand to the younger woman, saying, “I have a younger sister you’re going to like very much.”
“I think I’m borrowing her bike today,” Amanda said, squeezing Laura’s hand warmly before letting it go.
“I’ll introduce you on your next visit,” said Laura.
“I haven’t been invited back for a second visit so far,” said Amanda, in a stage whisper, shooting a look at Hugo.
“Honey, it goes without saying that you should consider my home your own,” he assured her. “Now, let Michael show you around the house, its got quite lot of features.”
“All right!” Amanda followed the path her host had trod out of the room, leaving Hugo to freeze Laura with a glance.
“You’re so lucky Amanda is here,” he said.
“I think I recognize you from the magazine,” Amanda said to Michael as he showed her the ingenious hideaway punishment furniture that the house’s designer had built into the paneled walls.
“I’ve appeared in a couple of issues,” Michael admitted.
“I’ll bet you have girls lining up to play with you,” Amanda observed, having quickly taken note of his V-shaped back, monumental quads and large hands.
“Well, I’m married,” Michael said.
“To a lady in the scene, right?”
“Yes. You may have read some of her stories. She writes under the name Alma.”
“I’ve read all her stories!” Amanda declared. “I hope I can meet her next time I visit.”
“She’d love that, Amanda.”
“Now I can see where she gets her inspiration,” Amanda flirted.
“Look at this. It’s a pull down spanking horse,” Michael said, opening a cabinet and causing a leather-padded bench with support braces underneath to drop down.
“So, someone in the scene built this house for you?”
“Laura’s ex-husband.”
“Is he in the magazine?”
“Yes, he’s been in a number of issues, going back to when your mother worked with Hugo.”
“If he wears glasses, I know exactly who he is. There’s a photoset of him spanking my mother and her sister. I’d love to meet him! Imagine, someone from this world who knew my mother before I was born!”
“So, you heard us playing when you walked up, did you?”
“What do you think?”
“You girls in the scene are all so impulsive. I hold myself blameless,” he replied, patting the spanking bench. “Go ahead, try it out.”
“What, you mean, bend over it?”
“Sure. You’re curious, aren’t you?”
“Are you suggesting that I let you spank me? Here and now? With Hugo and Laura in the other room?”
“Why not?”
“Well...” she looked at him, “okay!”
“Wait a minute,” said Michael, positioning a cheval glass opposite them so Amanda could watch. Then he bent her over the spanking bench, so her tummy was flat against the leather. When she raised her eyes she saw her own face and above her and behind her, his. His large hand went around her waist to hold her in place while the other smoothed down her snug, woolen leggings. “Oh goddess of love, this is sexy,” thought Amanda.
The next thing she knew, his big hand had come down on her bottom. Smack on one side, smack on the other. He let her savor the full-bodied sensation then increased the count to two per cheek. Then he went back to one, then two again. He left space between the medium strength swats, so the warmth and the impact could penetrate through the protective garments she wore.
“Do you think they’ll be able to hear us?”
“Not from this room. It’s virtually sound proof.”
“So why weren’t you playing in this room with Laura?”
“Hey, don’t kibitz when you’re in this position!” Michael warned, with a volley of admonitory swats. But Amanda was too fascinated by their reflection to notice the pain.
“With all this talent on hand,” she suddenly said, turning to him, “why hasn’t Hugo ever shot videos?”
“I guess he thinks it would be too much work,” Michael replied at length.
“Maybe it will fall to me to take the company into the 21st century,” she posited with some excitement.
“I see your mind is going all the time,” Michael observed. “But that sort of interjection is very (swat!) very (swat!) rude (swat! swat! swat!) when someone is taking the time to show you around their equipment.”
“Would you please show me around that equipment?” Amanda said, turning her head towards the rod-like object tenting his trousers.
“Fresh little girl, aren’t you?” Michael responded by smacking her a good deal more vigorously and now, unremittingly, for a good two minutes, until a violent orgasm took her by surprise, leaving her tingling and breathless. She jumped up and rubbed her bottom through the wool trousers, which kept the heat in. It had been the combination of hard, fast, thoroughly penetrating spanking and looking up at that handsome and determined profile while it was happening that had triggered the throbbing, drenching response.
“Thank you,” she said, throwing her arms around his neck and pressing her lips lightly against his but for a very long moment.
“I didn’t do anything,” he replied, squeezing her waist, burying his face in her hair and pressing his mouth against her silken throat. She trembled against him, electrified by the sensation of being kissed first softly and then hard by this extra tall and extra virile older man, the man even her father’s fiancée had come to give herself to.
“Yes you did, you made me come, just by spanking me, through my clothes. I didn’t even think that could happen.”
“It must have had something to do with the way you were pressed against the bench.”
“You were pressing me down. You really know what you’re doing.”
“If you came just like that you must be incredibly responsive.”
“I hope we can do this again,” said Amanda.
“Whenever you like,” Michael promised. “You’re just so cute, I want to eat you up,” he said, kissing her on the mouth again. “But I shouldn’t keep you in here any longer.”
“Hugo, please don’t jump to conclusions,” said Laura, pouring and handing him a glass of Cognac with a none too steady hand.
“Novel way you have of thinking over a proposal,” Hugo observed, sampling the amber Courvoisier.
“It was just something I had to get out of my system,” Laura explained, a gust of defiance coming into her voice and demeanor.
“Well? Is it out?”
“No, because we got interrupted,” she replied.
“I see!” Hugo slammed his glass down and she jumped. “You planned to go all the way.”
“I did, but Michael didn’t want to. He said it wasn’t right, since you’d just proposed.”
“Admirable. But I happen to know he has the morals of a rubber band. If we hadn’t come along you would have consummated.”
“Hugo, don’t you understand, all my girlfriends have had him, my little sister’s had him, her best friend’s hand him, Marguerite, Damaris, Patricia, Carmen, Hope, Polyxena, Susan, Diana - everyone’s had him but me, and I’ve been looking at him all along. I’m curious!”
“You deserve to be strapped until you cry.”
“I’m sorry!”
“Nothing is ever going to be easy with you and me, is it?”
“You’re putting too much on this. View it as a sort of bachelorette party. For one.”
“So, you’re saying you’d decided you do want to get married?”
“Yes. I want to get married. I really do. You’re the only one for me. Forever and ever.”
“Really?” Hugo broke into a smile and took her in his arms.
“I love you completely,” she murmured, her pulse returning to normal as she realized she’d either escaped or postponed a serious licking.
“But you’re still determined to sleep with Michael!” Hugo thrust her away from him, his indignation returning at half strength.
“Just once.”
“Okay, Laura, you get a free pass, just this once.”
“Really?”
“Why not? I’m not unreasonable,” Hugo said with sudden decision, realizing that he himself would be needing at least one free pass in the very near future.
