Читать книгу The Paddle Club: A Fun, Romantic and Erotic Spanking Novel - Susan Kohler - Страница 8

Chapter One What Do You Wear To Be Caned?

Suzanne was both disgusted and captivated as she turned the page and read:

The girl stood stock still, petrified. She was barely eighteen with a slender body, moist blue eyes and long blond hair pulled back at her neck. She stared at the rod held so lovingly, so menacingly, in the headmaster’s hands and shivered.

Finally the quiet, dreadful command came. “Take off your skirt, Miss, fold it neatly, and place it on that chair.”

When the skirt had been folded and placed on the nearby armchair, he spoke again, his voice louder and lower pitched. “Please remove your panties. I want to punish you on your bare bottom. It’s the only way to punish you properly. It will hurt you more and also humiliate you.”

She lowered her panties to the floor. She stood there, shivering in the cool room, immobile and embarrassed. She was suddenly aware of the open study window and of the furtive faces looking in. Male faces, filled with lust. She was being watched! A blush crept up her neck to her face.

“Put them on the chair, folded neatly.” His voice was gruff. He pointed at the sofa. “Kindly bend over girl. Right over the end of the sofa, with those legs spread well apart. Let’s get this shameful business over with as soon as possible. I hate this onerous duty but I’m forced to whip you into obedience, to beat the defiance out of you.”

Her legs trembling, she moved to comply. For several long moments, she lay there. At his urging, she squirmed, trying to get into the position he wanted. Finally he moved her forcibly; bending her more tightly over the padded end of the sofa so that her bottom was raised well up and her legs far apart. Her toes barely touched the floor. Her pale bottom was a perfect, heart-shaped target. It was also positioned so that anyone looking in the window could see every detail.

The master stoked her behind gently before he raised the rod, drawing it well back before slashing it down on her with a terrific cut. She gasped with the pain but she made no outcry. The whipping continued, she wiggled and squirmed as cut after cut landed on her soft, exposed bottom. Her gasps became screams. Welts crisscrossed her tender flesh, and droplets of blood appeared on her skin. Her screams combined with sobs. She kicked out with her feet. He slashed viciously with the rod, using an upstroke, bringing it up under her bottom. He slashed to the tops of her thighs. Then he slashed down on the crests of her buttocks. She squirmed and screamed more and more.

“Hold still girl and cease that noise or I’ll add another dozen cuts!” he said sternly. “Surely you can take a little punishment better than that!”

She tried, really she did, but eventually she moved to cover her bottom with her hands. It was exactly what the master wanted! He quickly moved to grab her hands in one of his and gave her six quick slashing cuts as hard as he could!

When it was finished, she lay there, defeated and spent. Her quiet sobs filled the room. The master walked over to draw the drapes. He returned to the sobbing girl. He was now gentle as he stroked her soft bottom, tracing the welts and spreading the small drops of blood over her tender, bruised flesh. Eventually she heard the sigh of a zipper and soon realized that it was not his hands stroking her soft flesh. Not daring to move, not even daring to breathe she waited, tense and uncertain as she felt his hands spreading her flesh, urging her rear cheeks apart. The tip of his…

Suzanne sighed and threw the paperback across the room. It hit the wall with a soft thud and fell to the floor. She lay back on the bed and slid her hands down, her fingers parting the soft folds of her flesh, working gently but furiously to bring herself some relief even as she felt dirty and disgusted for reading the book.

Later, as she lay on the bed, she wondered how those girls always managed to hold themselves in position, only wiggling and squirming enough to earn extra strokes. Why didn’t they kick? Get off the bench or sofa and fight back? Run? They were also so damned compliant before the whipping started. They stood still, removed their clothes in front of the man who was going to whip them, with an audience no less, and then meekly got into position for their whipping. No struggling and no protesting.

Well, she felt as if she wouldn’t have any chance to struggle or protest either, in her upcoming spanking. She would be forced to comply. She would be stripped in front of an audience and strapped down when she finally found out how a cane really felt. The very thought put her into a haze. In fact, she had been in an emotional haze all day. She teetered back and forth between wondering how she had gotten herself into this situation, secret arousal and excitement, and complete denial that anything was going to happen. How could she have agreed to it? How could she have let her lover talk her into going to an S & M club? Was she nuts?

The feelings only sharpened while she was dressing and getting ready for her evening out with her lover, Michael. He had made the plans. Plans she had agreed to with a lot of reluctance and great deal of trepidation, and quite a bit of secret excitement.

Still, there was something so unreal about the evening ahead of her that it almost felt as if she was getting dressed to play a part in a movie, a very exotic and somehow erotic foreign film. She felt almost like a puppet being manipulated against her will, and yet that wasn’t quite right. She had given her agreement freely, hadn’t she? But why? She wasn’t really sure.

It wasn’t just to shut him up, to stop his constant alternation between commanding and pleading; she silently answered her mental question. She had agreed because agreeing to the date was her last attempt to hold onto a failing relationship and out of the same rather mindless curiosity that killed the proverbial cat. Michael’s plans for the evening began with her initiation into a club for spanking enthusiasts. She looked in the mirror and ruefully shook her head, grinning sardonically at her reflection. Spanking. What was she thinking?

Spanking was something she had never tried before, something she had read about in books like the one tossed across the room and secretly fantasized about, but never really thought about trying before she met Michael. In fact, she had never previously been spanked by any of her boyfriends, even by her parents. In all her twenty-five years, Suzanne had never been so nervous or so aroused.

In plain English, she was dressing up to be publicly stripped naked then caned and paddled. She shuttered and put the palms of both hands over her bottom, imagining her buttocks were already bruised and the blood had already started to flow. That’s morbid, she thought, there won’t be any blood, not really.

Going to the club was strictly Michael’s idea. Something he pushed Suzanne into doing, threatening to end the relationship if she refused. Something, he had said with a smirk, which was sure to add a bit of spice to their sinking relationship. The whole evening was one more of Suzanne’s attempts to do anything to please Michael, and it was certainly more than she felt he deserved. Lately he had become arrogant and demanding, also very mean-spirited. The only reason she had agreed to this evening’s plan was because she was intrigued and slightly curious about spanking, and by the thought that such a club even existed. What kind of people were in the club and what could they possibly be like?

Of course there was also the poignant memory of how sweet Michael had been when they first started to date, before he seemed to change. There was another reason she agreed to go to the initiation, a reason that she had not yet admitted, even to herself.

Suzanne sat on the edge of the bed and remembered her first date with Michael as she pulled the black lace stockings up her long, slender legs fastening them with her garter belt. They had gone to a very expensive, five-star restaurant near the marina and following the superb meal, walked along the beach talking and holding hands. Michael was funny and kind. He was older than Suzanne, ten years older, but he was slender and fit. He had a kind, almost boyish quality. That date, the first of many, ended with a gentle kiss.

She put on a black lace bra and stood as she pulled on a pair of matching panties, pulling them up over her garter belt. Sitting down on the bed again, she continued her mental replay of her relationship with Michael. She remembered how his optimistic outlook disappeared when he lost his job through no fault of his own. He had been blamed for another man’s incompetence.

As he searched for a new job his hostility grew until, by the time he finally found a position his whole personality had completely changed. It got even worse once he was working again at a more menial job; his deep bitterness was mixed with a fierce and hard-hearted determination to move up the corporate ladder. The combination of bitter ruthlessness and fear of failing had completely robbed him of the simple joys in life.

Even their dates had changed; there were no more simple walks along the beach or picnics in the park. Now all their dates were business related social functions. Michael liked having a poised and polished Suzanne on his arm at these affairs. He thinks of me almost like he does his expensive watch or his gold signet ring, Suzanne realized, as though I’m an expensive status symbol. A trophy girlfriend. How did I ever let him get away with that kind of behavior? She wondered, disgusted with herself.

Suzanne then pulled on her dress, a sexy but very modest piece of blue satin that was not very tight but clung to her slender waist and hugged her well-rounded buttocks and her large, firm breasts. The dress was not especially low cut, but it was still in some ways, very lush and sensuous.

The color brought out the vibrant blue of her eyes. Her long, straight, shiny black hair was piled on top of her head, and she wore no make-up except blush to emphasize her high cheekbones and lipstick to bring out her full, perfect lips.

She was ready. One more time she sat on the bed and thought about Michael. She hoped against all hope that her willing participation tonight would show him that they still had a relationship worth saving. Extremely nervous and very frightened, she almost felt like an old-fashioned bride on her wedding night, facing the unknown for the first time. She looked very sensuous and at the same time, elegant. Her height, at 5’9” was tall enough to give her an almost queenly air in the silky formal gown.

In spite of her nerves, her natural grace and poise added to the total picture of regal serenity. She had a bearing of gentility and maturity that completely masked her lustful nature and her wicked sense of humor.

Smiling to herself she remembered the first long phone call she had received from a member of the club. The man, who had identified himself as James, was the club’s host for the initiation. His voice was exceptionally kind and his manner surprisingly reassuring.

James told her about the club, and explained about tops and bottoms. He told her that for some reason their club had an unusually high percentage of members who would switch from one to the other; he called it going from topping to bottoming. The members were generally monogamists, not into wild orgies, and he explained that nothing would happen to her against her will. He gently spelled out what would happen at the club’s initiation, and gave her explicit instructions on what she was to wear and how to act.

He gave her code words to use if she wanted things to stop or just to slow down, and told her the code words were for her protection. She should challenge herself to avoid using them, if at all possible, but to shout them out when she felt she needed to. No one would think the less of her. He also assured her that there would be no blood and she would suffer no real injuries.

He made sure she had no illusions or hidden surprises waiting for her at the club’s initiation but told her that her lover, Michael, would indeed be on the receiving end of a surprise, a big one. The surprise was almost the last thing James told her as he explained the club to her. His explanation was strangely reassuring.

James concluded the call by recommending a couple of erotic books featuring S & M and by saying, “Don’t get so nervous, it’ll be fun, a little scary maybe and a little painful certainly, but still fun. Not at all like those books.” He laughed softly, “I’ll bet you even like most of the people in the club. We really aren’t as weird as you probably think we are. Remember, I’ll be there to make it just as good as I can for you, okay?”

James told her most of the details about the surprise they had in store for Michael. If his voice and manner hadn’t been so warm and courteous and even somehow strangely reassuring in spite of the very painful plans he had in store for her, Suzanne probably would have backed out of the whole affair. Even though she hadn’t realized it, James was the third reason she had agreed to go to the club. Even over the phone, he intrigued her.

Michael, ever the perfectionist, arrived precisely at eight o’clock. He used his own key to let himself in, and walked up the stairs and right into Suzanne’s bedroom. Suzanne turned to study him. He had become a stocky man, now about thirty-five. He looked out of his element standing there in his tuxedo. In spite of a spare tire beginning to form around his waist he was still a fairly attractive man. His boyish charm had vanished, leaving behind a man who was handsome in a dark, brooding sort of way. He had an aquiline face, with short, dark brown hair, brown eyes and thin lips. He hid the bitter aspects of his nature under a facade of expansive good humor.

Since his gradual transformation into a mean-spirited and merciless man, his favorite hobby was criticizing and baiting Suzanne. He seemed almost disappointed that she was ready and waiting for him, and that she had followed his instructions perfectly. She had left nothing for him to criticize, and that was the worst sin of all. He vowed to make her pay and had the perfect means to torment her. Just to irritate Suzanne, Michael had her pull up her dress and look at her own ass in the full-length mirror.

“Take a good look at that pale butt before the club members get their hands on it. It’s going to be so red and hot, I can hardly wait. I bet it will hurt like hell. In fact, if I close my eyes and use my imagination I can almost see the welts right here.” He put his hand on her ass and he taunted her cruelly, with no hint of his former affection.

Suzanne wondered to herself why she didn’t just dump this loser, but almost against her will she found herself walking down the stairs with him. When they got outside she noticed a long, white limousine waiting for them.

“The club sent it to pick me up,” Michael boasted. Big shot!

“It’s picking me up, too, Michael,” Suzanne muttered under her breath.

The limo driver turned out to be a kindly looking older man about sixty. He was short and chubby. He had merry green eyes and wavy, snow white hair. The man introduced himself as Jerry and said he was a member. He held the door very formally as they got into the car. As Suzanne got in he gave her a lusty swat on the left cheek of her buttocks. Even through the dress the swat made her bottom sting and tingle.

“Sorry, Miss. I got ahead of myself.” He sounded completely unrepentant then laughed at the surprise on her face, and winked. “Maybe later you can pay me back for my dreadful impertinence.”

She sank back into the plush velvet interior of the limo. Michael got in beside her. The upholstery was burgundy and the rest of the interior was rich wood paneling with gold trim. The limo was fully stocked. It had a small bar with champagne and tall, crystal fluted goblets. There was a television, a phone and a small drawer filled with condoms. In addition to the champagne, a shelf above the bar had a bottle labeled “Spanking After Care Lotion” on it. The sight of the lotion and the thought of its possible use made Suzanne’s mouth feel dry. During the ride to the club headquarters her butt tingled on the spot where the cheerful chauffeur had slapped it.

When they arrived at the club Suzanne had a brief glimpse of a large brick building, with white trim. There was a covered porch that ran the whole length of the front of the building. It was also painted a gleaming white. There were several wrought iron chairs and wooden swings on the porch, and a well-manicured lawn surrounding the long, curving driveway. The gardens in front of the porch were planted with colorful flowers, mainly roses, and there was a trim hedge around the property. The limo let Suzanne and Michael out before it pulled right into a large, enclosed garage.

Several club members came out of the clubhouse to greet the new couple. Suzanne noticed immediately that they were a very diverse group. She saw people of all ages, from early twenties to late sixties, and all sizes from thin to fat, mixed racially between White and Hispanic. Were there any members of the other races, Blacks or Asians, she wondered vaguely in a corner of her consciousness, or does a club like this practice racial discrimination?

Suzanne relaxed a little as she realized that the members all seemed to be very friendly and normal, even ordinary. Most of them acted very cheerful and welcoming. Secretly she was glad to see that none of the members present were wearing any weird black leather outfits, with shiny silver studs or carrying whips.

A stranger seeing the group would think they were gathered for an elegant ball since they were all dressed formally in lovely evening gowns and well-tailored tuxedos complete with white tie and in some cases, even tails. As the group moved into the clubhouse, several women were chatting so cheerfully with Suzanne that she almost forgot what was going to happen inside the brick building. Almost but not quite.