So long never use signature already.You all miss my signature is
it?
------------------
It was Saturday morning and I needed a break from studying so I
thought I would try to round up a friend or two to go out and do
something. I didn't have far to travel to my first stop since it
was the apartment next to mine. I didn't know two of the women that
lived there very well but the third was in the same graduate
program as me and we got along together pretty nicely. When she
answered the door I said, "Hello Sweetheart. What do you say we get
the rest of the gang and check out the zoo? Come along quietly and
nobody will get hurt." It got a smile but the lightness quickly
faded and she appeared pretty dejected as she spurned my offer. I
couldn't just leave with her looking like a lost puppy so I closed
the door behind me and asked her what was wrong. I was too late to
stop the tears. She started crying as she turned away from me and
sat on the sofa. I plopped myself next to her and she fell into my
arms. After a few minutes she composed herself and I dabbed under
her eyes with my handkerchief. She asked if I remembered the test
we got back the day before. Of course I did and she said that was
the problem. Not that I remembered it but because of the grade she
got. I tried to be sympathetic and encouraging as I said, "Don't
worry about it. I know you didn't study for it but I'm sure it was
just a temporary lapse. You're very smart. One bad grade isn't
going to ruin your chances for graduating and you'll do much better
on the next test." She sniffled and said, "I got an `A'" With just
the teeniest bit of sarcasm I answered, "Oh, now I comprehend your
dilemma. Getting the highest mark you can receive would get me
upset too. I just hate it when I get good grades. I got an `A' once
and I felt bad for weeks." My humor wasn't getting the response I
hoped for so I gave up and said, "I'm afraid I don't understand why
you have a problem with the grade." He short response left me
speechless. "I cheated." This was not the girl I thought I knew.
She was unbelievably honest. We would tease her every time she
drove us somewhere because she wouldn't go one mile an hour over
the speed limit. And then there was the time we went to get lunch
and she drove back into the fast-food drive-through because they
gave her a dollar more in change than they should've and she wanted
to return it. Now she's telling me she cheated on a test? But if
she got her test back what was she upset about? I asked if she got
caught. She broke into tears again just after she said, "No." O.K.
I'll admit it. I was stumped. "Then what's with the crying. You're
safe. It was a stupid thing to do but you got away with it." She
said, "That's the problem. I cheated and that wasn't right. I
should've gotten caught. Now I'm going to feel guilty. It's just
like last time." Ever insightful I said, "Last time? You mean
you've cheated on tests before?" She stopped crying but still
sniffled as she explained. "It was when I was in junior high and
the teacher caught me. I failed the test and she wrote a note about
it that I had to have signed by my parents." I interrupted, "That
doesn't sound like the same thing. This time the professor didn't
find out." She looked down and continued, "I didn't take the note
home. One of my friends forged my father's signature and the
teacher never questioned it." Still a bit confused I asked, "And
this was a bad thing because..." "Because it was wrong and I felt
guilty about getting away with something as horrible as cheating
and lying about bringing the note home." I offered some of my great
insight. "But you were just a kid. Doing stupid things is required
at that age." She smiled. "I know that now but at the time all I
knew was that I had done something very wrong and hadn't paid my
penance." I asked, "In that case, why didn't you just tell your
folks about the test? They were young once and they understand
mistakes." She nodded. "I could be very noble and say I was trying
to save them from being disappointed in me but at the time all I
could think of was myself. My real concern was my ability to sit
comfortably for the next couple of days which is something I
wouldn't have been able to do if they saw that note. In retrospect
I think that taking my punishment and getting it over with would
have been better than feeling guilty for weeks. I've always tried
to do the right thing and accept responsibility when I screw up but
who can I confess to now? If I tell the professor he'll flunk me
and there goes my degree. I'm too old to claim childish foolishness
as the reason and now it really would be a great disappointment to
my parents. So I'm stuck with the guilt. I'm sorry for being such a
wet blanket. You want to go out but I'm not going to be much fun as
company today. Go and have a good time. Don't worry about me, I'll
get over this thing in time." Somehow, going to the zoo didn't seem
very important right then. Not when I had a friend in need.
Suddenly I had an idea. Maybe it was a stupid idea but at least it
was something and to help her, anything was worth a try. I asked
where her roommates were and she said they had gone out shopping at
a large mall. They asked her to go with them since they were
planning on making it an all day trip but the turned them down for
the same reason she didn't want to go with me. However, she didn't
tell them why and then added, "It would have been too embarrassing.
I didn't mean to cry in front of you but I couldn't stop myself. I
still feel just as guilty but I had to tell somebody even if it
didn't do me any good." I was more eager than ever to try my idea.
I said, "Maybe it did. You said you wanted to confess to someone
and you just did. If it'll make you feel any better, I'm very
disappointed in you. I really like you and would hate to think of
you as the kind of person who would stoop so low as to cheat on a
test. I have a solution to your problem if you're willing to try
it." She asked what I had in mind but I didn't answer. That is, I
didn't answer in words. I had a feeling if I told her what I
planned she would immediately refuse but if neither of us had to
say anything out loud maybe she would go along with it.
Fortunately, she was sitting on the right side of the sofa and I
was in the middle so there was no need for either of us to have to
get up and move. I had been holding her during our conversation so
I already had my arms around her. I gently pulled her towards me
and there was plenty of room for her head on my left as I led her
to a face down position over my legs. Although I was hoping for her
acquiescence, I was also half expecting her to speak up and either
demand to know what hell I thought I was doing or since her new
position made it fairly obvious, to get off the sofa and slap my
face. Neither happened. I slid her forward so her rear end was
directly under my right hand which came down as soon as it could. I
waited for her to explode in indignation now that there was no
doubt about my intentions but instead she rested her head on her
hands and although she turned her face away in what I assumed was
embarrassment, it appeared I had gotten her permission to continue.
I repeated my feelings of shock and dismay at her lack of
discipline in not studying and then to risk her whole career in
order to pass one silly little test. I punctuated my lecture with
numerous spanks and they were getting harder and harder with each
word. She was crying again but it couldn't have been because the
spanking was hurting her. I think she was letting her guilt have an
outlet through her tears. I was just providing the excuse. She was
getting what she thought she deserved to cleanse her soul. Maybe I
should've kept the spanking at that level but it didn't sound like
her parents limited themselves to only a few hand slaps over her
clothes. If she truly wanted to be absolved of her crime it would
have to be something more than just a token punishment. I stopped
both the lecture and the spanking and guided her to her feet so she
was standing directly in front of me. It was now an established
fact that I had taken it upon myself to see to her proper
chastisement so I felt safe in speaking about it. "Your parents
would be extremely disappointed in you and since they're not here,
I'm going to see that you get the kind of spanking they would have
given you if they knew how their daughter cheats on tests." Hearing
no objection to my decree, I lifted the bottom of her sweatshirt
and told her to hold it up so I could get to the snap on her pants.
She took it in her hands and even pulled it a little higher as I
undid the fastenings and the pants came down. I leaned over and she
lifted one foot after the other as I removed them entirely. When I
came up again I noticed she had the sweatshirt high enough so I
could see the bottom of her bra. I don't know what came over me but
I said, "Take it off." In one sweeping motion it went over her head
and fell to the floor. Since she was barefoot when she answered the
door she was now clad only in her underwear. I always thought she
was pretty but now she was beautiful. She was blushing and there
were still signs of tears so it was time to get back to business. I
put one of the throw pillows over my lap ostensibly to raise her
bottom a bit more but actually to try and hide the effect that
spanking a partially clothed and very good looking girl was having
on me. When she was over my lap again she turned her face towards
me and gave me a nod as if to say she was ready for the next phase.
I returned her gesture and accentuated my concurrence with my hand
many times. During this portion of her spanking the waterworks
started again and additionally, she was giving out little grunts
and quiet sounds that led me to believe she was really feeling the
effects of my rising and falling hand. Actually, I don't think she
minded the hand going up, it was the coming down hard and fast that
she acknowledged most vocally. Anyway, her bottom was bouncing with
each impact and the skin outside the boundaries of her panties was
getting pretty red. We were finally getting somewhere but although
it was obvious it was really hurting, we weren't anywhere close to
infringing on her ability to sit comfortably for more than an hour
or two at the most. I was taking my role as her parent in absentia
seriously but I wanted to make sure I was doing it right so I
slowed the pace of the smacks and asked about how they spanked her.
She said it would be too humiliating to talk about but a few more
well placed and very hard swats helped her overcome her shyness. As
I said, I was not striking as fast as I was earlier but I didn't
stop completely so her explanation was often interrupted by some
little cry or yelp. I won't try to accurately reproduce what she
said but in essence I discovered that she was subject to corporal
punishment at their hands (and other things I found out about
later) until she was sixteen. However, it must be said that, for
the most part, her feelings about honesty and clear definition of
right and wrong were deeply ingrained and the need for external
discipline was a very rare event. But when it was necessary, they
were not adverse to seeing it applied in a manner to make a lasting
impression. Although this was enlightening I still was in the dark
as to their technique. An interlude of very hard swats got her to
tell me more. Their method of choice was a stern lecture while she
was over their laps getting her first spanking. That was the
prelude to her real punishment which was usually with her wooden
hairbrush. I asked if that was what they used all the time and she
admitted that on one occasion she tried to hide the brush when she
knew she was in for a spanking but she only did that once. Her
father was upset but not deterred and used his belt as a suitable
substitute. Additionally, he felt this method would have limited
effect if she was on his lap so he made her bend over a chair. She
learned more than one lesson that day and always made sure the
hairbrush was available after that. That's not to say she
particularly liked getting spanked with it but given the
alternative of receiving the belt when he could get a full swing
prior to impact, she choose to be over his knees and letting their
favorite implement drive its message home. As you can imagine, it
took a lot of effort on my part to elicit this history and it was
getting harder for her to speak clearly but I had one more
question. Did they spank her on the bare bottom? She must have had
trouble remembering since I had to encourage her at least ten more
times before she admitted to receiving all her punishments on
unprotected skin. At that point she started sobbing so hard it was
impossible to elicit any more information but I had heard all I
needed to hear. I stopped swatting and gently rubbed her until she
calmed down. She turned her face towards me and asked if the
spanking was over. Her voice was a little shaky and her cheeks were
still damp so it was hard to read what she was really saying but I
thought I detected a note of disappointment. I couldn't be sure and
since the primary reason for this whole affair was to assuage her
feeling of guilt, I would let her decide. I sent the question back
to her by saying, "I don't know. Is it?" She turned her head to
stare straight ahead and after a few seconds, whispered, "No." I
had only part of my answer so I asked, "Do you know what I'm going
to do next?" Again I waited. She seemed to feel the need for more
punishment but I don't think she was comfortable declaring her own
fate. She shook her head and then contradicted herself by offering
a suggestion. "You're going to spank me again." I said, "Right.
Where am I going to spank you." She looked back me and not without
a little bit of impishness, said. "Right here on the couch." I
clarified my question. "Where are you going to feel the
punishment?" She didn't hesitate this time. "My bottom." I
corrected her. "Almost right. Same question but tell me what your
bottom is going to be wearing." There was a catch in her voice as
she said, "Nothing. You're going to spank me on my bare bottom the
way my parents used to do." I was slowly taking the initiative in
deciding how and what was going to happen next. "Good. You got that
one correct. Now what do you think I'm going to use to spank that
bare bottom?" She didn't answer which ironically was all the answer
I needed. I asked if she still had the hairbrush and this time she
answered both this and my earlier question. "You're going to spank
me with my old hairbrush. It's in my room. If you let me up I'll
get it." We stood up together and when she turned away and started
to move I stopped her. "Stay here. Tell me where it is and I'll
bring it out. In the meantime, I want you to stand here and think
about what you did to deserve this and contemplate how that brush
is going to feel on your bare bottom. And speaking of that..." I
pulled her panties down to her knees and told her to keep them
there until I returned. Then she would take them off completely
before going back over my lap. She was starting to cry again but
she nodded and said the brush was on her dresser. In order to keep
the panties from falling any further she had to open her knees and
I was looking at more than she wanted me to see. The old hairbrush
was a formidable object. Thick wood with a wide head and I returned
to find her as I left her. I sat down and said it was time to
continue. I got the feeling she was glad to put her legs back
together while not really being very happy about doing the final
preparations for the sort of spanking she remembered as the reason
she had her friend forge her father's signature. She had to bend
down to finish the job and when she stood upright again I got
rather bold. She had shown no reluctance to remove her sweatshirt
earlier and she looked silly dressed in nothing but her bra so I
pointed to it and said, "That too." I'm sure she had never had a
punishment quite like this one. Not only was her rear end going to
pay for her sins but she was going to be totally nude in front of
one of her friends who just happened to be of the opposing gender.
Her face became even redder but she obeyed. When this last garment
fell to the floor with the rest of her clothes she did a September
Morn stance with one hand covering her privates and the other arm
across her chest. I could see she was getting impatient for me to
get on with the next spanking and get it over with but I kind of
liked what I saw and felt I was in the position to demand more. I
told her, "You're being punished and part of that includes the loss
of your rights to modesty. Put you hands at your side and push your
shoulders back." Without a word, she did as I commanded and I and
spent a few minutes looking at her lovely form. When I woke up this
morning I never guessed that I would shortly be gazing at a lovely
and totally naked girl and that she would voluntarily put herself
across my lap for a hard spanking. She had done so once already and
I had complete confidence that she was it going to do it again. The
tears were streaming down her cheeks by the time I put the pillow
back on my lap and patted my thigh as a sign that I was ready to
continue with the physical part of her penance. Yep, she
reluctantly but of her own free will moved to my right and then
stretched herself over me for more punishment. Not only was my
target raised by the pillow but her muscles were firm and well
formed so even laying flat, the twin hemispheres were rising above
the rest of the territory like a couple of rounded plateaus.
Although the area covered by her underpants was not quite as red as
the areas where my hand contacted directly against the skin, it
definitely showed signs of the spanking so far. It was a most
enjoyable sight but she had an appointment with an old friend. She
buried her face in the cushion to muffle her cries as the brush
landed. She vocally noted receipt of each swat and I gave her ample
opportunity to repeat herself again and again. My hand got this
area to bounce around but it was obviously no comparison to the
actions the object I was using now was producing. Those
breathtaking globes flattened out under the wood and quickly
regained their form only to jiggle and wiggle delightfully as they
anxiously and fearfully awaited the next visit from her faithful
hairbrush. I figured I would let her give me some indication when
she thought she had enough. Aside from her screeching at each
contact she was apologizing for her behavior and promising to be
good in the future whenever she could form the words. What she
wasn't saying was that she wanted me to stop. No plea for mercy or
even for a few minutes respite and not once did her hands attempt
to cover her bottom for protection. The brush continued to inflict
its special brand of discipline and she submissively endured all it
had to offer. Eventually, she seemed to collapse and the tension
that I felt in her up to that point was gone. Except for the
involuntary jump her body was forced to do in order to properly
acknowledge the arrival of another impact, she was a limp target
and totally accepting blow after blow. Even her cries of pain were
losing steam. We had reached the point where further punishment
would be of little benefit and besides, my arm was getting tired.
It was quite a while after I stopped before she was able to speak
clearly. During that time I was doing my best to soothe the
battered skin and telling her it was all over and she was forgiven.
The important thing was if she forgave herself. Her face was a mess
but still managed to have a look of contentment when she looked
back at me and thanked me for being her friend and for giving her
the punishment she needed. I was glad to hear her say she no longer
felt guilty when we stood up. We hugged each other and then I
picked up her clothes. As I gave them to her she thanked me again
and asked if I would mind waiting while she got herself cleaned up
so she could go with me to the zoo after all. I smiled and gave her
another hug. The spanking had gone far beyond what I originally
intended and had lost some of its erotic appeal so the reason for
the pillow on my lap had subsided. I was holding a beautiful girl
who was totally naked in more ways than just the lack of clothes
but the desire to explore the delights of the flesh with her was
not present. My arms were wrapped around a good friend and I was
happy just to have been there to help her. We decided not to gather
any of the others and spent the day together. Luckily, the zoo was
within walking distance so she didn't have to sit in a car enroute.
She also choose to remain standing while we ate lunch. We had a
lovely day and when I dropped her off back at her apartment I got a
very sweet kiss. I didn't see her on Sunday and waited till after
class on Monday to mention her almost imperceptible squirming on
the seat in the lecture hall. She blushed ever so slightly but
smiled coyly as she whispered, "I hope nobody else noticed. I
haven't had a spanking like that in years. In fact, I would have to
rate it as the second worst one I ever got. I guess I should thank
you. It hurt like hell and as you have noticed, I'm still a little
sore but it made me feel better and believe me, I'll never even
think of cheating on a test again." I told her she was welcome but
couldn't let that comment about being only the second worst one
pass without comment so I asked her if the top honors went to the
time she felt her father's belt. She shook her head and said it was
not something she wanted to talk about on campus but if I would
spring for dinner she would give me all the gory details. What an
offer. I accepted. I wasn't sure where I was going to take her to
eat but when my roommates announced their plans to play poker with
some friends I knew I had the place to myself till the wee hours of
the morning. She might be uncomfortable relating her spanking
experiences in a restaurant but things might be different in the
privacy of my apartment. I made my world famous spaghetti and put
an extra cushion on the chair. After dinner we sat on my couch and
she snuggled into me. She said, "That was delicious and now I'll
fulfill my part of the bargain. I should be embarrassed to talk
about this but after what we did Saturday morning I feel I can tell
you anything." She gave me a kiss and it was a little more romantic
than the quick peck I got after our outing. Then she settled back
and began, "I told you how I can't keep a secret when I do
something wrong. Well, as you can imagine that got my rear end in
trouble a few times but usually my folks would say they were proud
of me for telling them what I did before they had to find out from
someone else and didn't feel the need to punish me too much. But as
I said, not always and occasionally my bottom paid the price for my
sense of honor even if there was no way they would have ever found
out what I did unless I told them. The incident I'm going to tell
you about falls right into that category." "Your guess about the
time my father put me over the chair and used his belt was pretty
close. That one really hurt. I remember telling you I never
neglected to have my hairbrush available when they punished me
after that. It was the worst spanking he ever gave me but didn't
hold that number one spot for long. I should tell you more about
that first spanking so you can appreciate what came next. I knew I
was in for a well deserved session over one of their laps and as
you can imagine, it was not something I was looking forward to very
much. I don't remember what I did but whatever it was, I didn't
think it was worth getting the hairbrush for it. It was useless
trying to argue with them but I thought I still could have some say
in how I was punished so I told them I left my hairbrush at school.
They didn't question my story since they had complete faith in my
always telling the truth. For the most part, they were right. I
still can't lie very well. Anyway, that night I learned that the
hairbrush was not the worst implement they could use and that I was
foolish to think I could have any control over the severity of my
punishment." "The other thing about that night was when I thought
about how I had betrayed their trust and how they completely
accepted my tale of the missing hairbrush. That gnawed at me all
night and even though I was reminded of the belt every time I sat
down the next day I was still feeling remorseful. After dinner I
couldn't stand it any more and told them the how I had the brush
all along and had made up the story about leaving it at school. To
top it all off I added that I thought the spanking with the belt
was a suitable punishment for my earlier misbehavior but I deserved
nothing less than the original spanking I should have received with
the proper tool. Although I normally did not engage in the
practice, I knew they hated lying. Anytime they caught anyone
telling them less than the absolute truth they would be furious,
especially with politicians. But this was not some outsider, this
was a member of their own family whose lips had been defiled. They
agreed with my idea of repeating the spanking of the previous night
and sent me for the hairbrush. When I returned and handed it to my
father he said he would give me my first spanking. At the time I
assumed he meant the lecture and hand spanking before the second
portion with the brush. Boy was I wrong but I didn't realize it
yet." "I did get to hear him recount his disapproval of my actions
while his hand prepared me for the real spanking and then he laid
into me with the hairbrush. Let me tell you, getting that thing
applied to my bare rear end after what it had been through the
night before was no picnic. But that was only the first part of my
punishment. My mother shoved a bar of soap into my mouth and sent
me to stand in a corner. My crying just made me suck on it even
more but I had been ordered to keep it in there until they said I
could spit it out and there was no way I was going to disobey them.
I was feeling sick to my stomach and I thought the pain in my ass
would never go away but after about a half-hour it diminished to a
dull but consistent ache. That's when I was told I could finally
get rid of the soap but I was not allowed to rinse my mouth. Then
they lowered the boom. My father had given me the original spanking
I had been foolish enough to request and now Mom was going to give
me another one for lying. I was dragged over her lap while she and
her hand gave me her views on prevarication and then she let the
hairbrush finish the conversation. It had a lot to say and took a
long time saying it." "Can you imagine? In less that 24 hours I got
six spankings. Three with their hands, one with a viscous belt and
now two with the hairbrush. I might add that they were both the
longest ones I ever remembered. I was sent to bed and cried most of
the night. I didn't sleep very much but they still demanded that I
go to school. I hated sitting in class after they spanked me but I
think I was usually able to hide my discomfort pretty well but not
that day. I'm sure every one of my classmates and all the teachers
could tell I was still subject to corporal punishment and had
received a better than average dose in the recent past. I was
embarrassed to tears every time someone made fun of the way I
gingerly sat down for the next three days." "Well, there you are.
The story of my absolute worst spanking. The one you gave me was
right up there but you'll have to go a long way to top the amount
of punishment I took those two days. Actually, it was more than two
days if you consider the humiliation I felt afterwards as part of
it and they did." I said, "I hope I never have to spank you like
that but you let me know if and when you need a small refresher."
She laughed and said, "Next time I'm feeling guilty you'll be the
first to know." Neither of us said much for the next few minutes as
our lips were otherwise occupied and when that embrace finished we
decided to try another. Somehow my hand slid around to caress the
front of her shirt which magically became unbuttoned. Now if I
could figure out how to get that contraption around her breasts
undone I'd be in business. She provided assistance and soon the
shirt and bra were tossed to one side. More kissing and groping and
then she pulled back. With an obviously false smile of complete
innocence she put her hand on my crotch and said, "By the way, what
was it you were trying to hide with that pillow? Were you getting
turned on by spanking me?" I probably blushed as I sputtered
something but she save me from embarrassment by adding, "There was
something about being almost naked and feeling your hand on my
bottom that made it totally unlike any spanking I ever had. In some
way it was sort of sexy. I tried to push those thoughts from my
mind and concentrate on the punishment and you were a big help.
What I needed right then was a really good spanking and you were
kind enough to see that I got it. Long before you even started with
the hairbrush I wasn't thinking about anything else except that I
was sore and it was going to get a lot worse. It did. But I have to
wonder. If you didn't spank me too hard and only used your hand on
my bare bottom, how would I feel about that?" This was an offer I
couldn't refuse. I gave the only answer I could. "There's one way
to find out." She stood up and in a moment every stitch of her
clothing was in a pile on the floor. There was no embarrassment
this time as she put her hands to her side and moved her feet apart
to let me stare at her. Part of me wanted to carry that lovely body
to my bed but that would have to wait, at least for a little while.
I patted my thigh as I did Saturday morning and soon was entranced
by that gorgeous bottom under my eyes. There were still a few
bruises from the hairbrush but there was plenty of room for the
pale skin to turn red. In time it did but not a very deep shade. As
requested, my palm landed relatively softly but repeatedly and
without the pillow under her, she was well aware of how I was
reacting to our game. I could only judge by her sounds that she was
not finding our activity too unbearable either. She was nice and
pink when she rolled off my lap and knelt between my legs so her
hands could free what needed to be out in the open. It did not stay
exposed very long. While her mouth was working wonders I got rid of
my clothes above the waist and she managed to stay wrapped around
me as I stood up and let her remove my shoes, socks and pants. To
be honest it was more comical than outright sexy but that did not
diminish my enthusiasm. She had to let me swing in the breeze to
get my underpants off and then she lay on her back and offered me
another place to find refuge. I'll save you all the details but
we're much more than classmates now. On our wedding night I sat on
the edge of the bed and got that wonderful bottom bright red before
neither of us could wait any longer to consummate our marriage. It
was a chore but one we felt the need to repeat numerous time that
night and many nights since.
I have been called into the lounge. It is a large room with a
fireplace, two couches and a number of easy chairs. I have no idea
why He wishes to see me but I have nothing to fear. If he wished to
punish me I would have been told to report to the room that he has
set aside for that purpose. There are three men with him and they
rise at my entrance. He announces, "Ah! The entertainment has
arrived." I am confused until He tells me to take off my shoes and
leave them by the door. My heart begins to sink. The removal of
shoes is a ritualistic part of my preparation for punishment
whenever I enter the special room. Nervously I do as he wishes and
then I notice The Chair has been brought here and placed in the
center of the lounge. I stand, too frightened to move. Surely he
does not intend to spank me in front of these strangers. He has
come forward to meet me. I try to read something in his face but it
is impassive as always. Although he is nothing more than a gracious
host to me most of the time, he has often deemed it necessary to
punish me in the other room and I have always submitted to it
without question. During those times he more my Master than my host
and it is in that light that I see him now so I offer no resistance
as he takes my hand and I am led like a lamb to slaughter.. He sits
in The Chair and brings me down into an all too familiar position.
I lie there in a daze as he raises my dress and slip. He grasps my
waist and I instinctively take hold of the chair legs. As I wait
for the first stroke I hear him say, "When I am using my hand I
prefer leaving her underwear on. The texture of the material when I
rub it against her firm backside is quite nice and there is a
delightfully different feel to spanking her that way. Of course it
doesn't hurt her as much but its a good start I see no reason why
we can't have a little fun before I get to the real spanking." If I
could bring myself to speak I would correct him. Keeping my panties
on is slightly less humiliating especially in the present
circumstances but they offer little protection and Yes, it hurts.
Not only that but I most decidedly disagreed with his other
comment. I don't think those spankings or the one I'm apparently
going to get tonight are any fun at all but I remain silent. I am
too ashamed to be in this position in front of these men and
besides, it would not do to contradict someone when they are about
to punish you. There would be nothing to gain and considerable to
regret. The spanking starts. He is starting out harder than he
usually does and I resign myself not only to the almost unbearable
humiliation of being spanked for the entertainment of strangers but
now to the pain which will build to an agonizing level sooner than
normal. I am surprised when he stops. I wasn't counting but it
didn't seem like much more than a dozen swats. He lets go of my
waist and I quickly reach for the floor to steady myself. I didn't
see the little table where he puts the implements nor did I see any
of them in the room although I must admit, I didn't have time for a
thorough search. Even so, I try to comfort myself. As I have said
before, he is a man of ritual and when he punishes me over his knee
he waits to use his chosen implement until he decides that I have
been properly prepared for it and that usually takes a lot longer
than this. There has never been a time when I have received such a
short and relatively mild spanking. I feel him returning my clothes
to there proper place and my heart soars. It has been most
humiliating and I know I will still have to face the guests who
have punctuated my shame by polite applause but maybe the
entertainment he spoke of was just a demonstration of my
submissiveness. I hope I pleased him. He guides me to my feet and
stands beside me. I cannot bring myself to look up so I stare at
the floor until he takes my hand and leads me to one of the men who
has risen to greet us. My hand is transferred and with it my fate
as I am brought back to The Chair. My guide sits and gently moves
me to his side. I want to look at the man who is truly my Master
this evening but I don't. I'm afraid it would be misconstrued as
asking for mercy. If he wishes me to be punished at the hands of
another I will be. It appears the evening's entertainment includes
audience participation and I resign myself to be spanked again by
the man who holds my hand. I fear he will not be the last. My
reverie is broken as the man in The Chair speaks. "Personally, I
prefer the feel of soft and silky skin. Take your underpants off."
I realize he is talking to me and it takes a moment for his message
to sink in. When it does I reach under my dress modestly, unsnap
the garter straps, pull my panties down a little and reattach the
garters. I am told to take the pants off completely and I do as
ordered. My face is red with shame as I hold them in my hand,
unsure of what to do and he says, "You may hold them until I'm done
and then you can put them back on." I nod and with his kind
assistance, find myself over his lap. He does not grasp my waist
but rests one hand on the small of my back so I must keep my hands
on the floor and cannot hold the chair legs. I mourn the loss of my
anchor as he raises my clothes and spends a few moments gently
rubbing his target. The shame of submitting to a spanking by a
complete stranger is momentarily overshadowed by indignation. How
dare he take such intimate liberties. Needless to say I keep my
views to myself and listen to him complimenting the one who had
previously had exclusive rights to this part of my body on how nice
and soft he found the territory. I pray for him to get on with the
real reason I am in this position and then wish he'd go back to
that nice rubbing as the first of his swats lands. It hurts as much
if not more than the last of the my Master's demonstration. The
second one lands swiftly and I barely have time to catch by breath
for the next few. When he stops it is only to readjust my position.
The force of his blows has driven me forward and he pulls me back
with the admonition to brace myself harder. He strikes hard again
and again. I am trying to keep from crying out but each one is as
bad as the first and I am about to lose the battle. I long ago gave
up trying to count my Master's strokes in the other room but now it
seems important, however, the pain is getting worse. I think we're
somewhere around twelve when I cry out and that encourages him to
strike even harder. Just as I abandon my efforts at counting he
stops again. I think there were about fifteen I am crying and
hoping he is done but I jump as I feel his hand again. He is not
hitting but has gone back to rubbing. Even this gentle touch is a
little painful but what was humiliating before is now soothing. Oh,
No! Rub the pain away if you must but don't move your hand there. I
am ashamed to find my own body betraying me and I cannot close my
legs to prevent his hand from sliding down there. Please don't
touch me there! Please, please! Too late. He has found my secret
and I moan as he explores further but just enough to satisfy
himself that I have had the required response to his efforts. He
tells the assemblage what he has discovered. I'm not sure if the
applause is for him or me and I'm too ashamed to care. He helps me
to my feet and tells me I can put my underpants back on. I still
have them in my hand but had forgotten them. I step into them and
the elastic hurts as it slides over my recently abused skin. When I
complete my task he takes my hand and leads me to the next man. I
am not sure how I will survive another onslaught much less two but
I must do the best I can. I am led back to the chair and wait as
stranger #2 settles himself. He informs (me or the group, I don't
know) that he also prefers panties off. I half expected as much but
he doesn't stop there. He also does not care for the business of
moving clothes after I'm over his lap so (now I know he's talking
to me) the dress and slip will be removed first. With fresh tears
in my eyes I unzip my dress and let it drop to the floor. I pull
the straps of my slip off my shoulders and it joins the dress. I
step out of them and a voice I recognize as having the power to
stop this nightmare says, "You know better than that. Hang them
up." I look to see him pointing to the hat rack that is normally in
the other room. I pick up my clothes and walk towards it. As I put
them on hangers I realize how close I am to the door. Freedom is
but a few feet away but I cannot even think of such things. I turn
back to center stage as it were and walk proudly. As proudly as I
can with nothing on but my underwear and with the knowledge that as
soon as I'm back at The Chair I have already been doomed to stand
in front of them wearing even less. As I put distance between me
and my outer clothes I know it is unlikely that I will be allowed
to put them on again before they're finished with me and I have
little hope that they won't make strip me entirely. The spankings I
am being forced to submit to for their entertainment are, at best,
only half over and I fear they will not be the full extent of the
punishments I will endure before the night is over. Upon my arrival
I'm told to take my pants down. I've already done this once but
then at least I had the small modesty of performing this action
under cover of my dress. Now I am in full view as I go through the
steps of undoing the garter snaps, pulling my pants down a little
and reattaching my stockings. I stand in readiness with my pants
just above my knees and he informs me he is left handed. I don't
understand what he means till he guides me around to his other
side. In the process my pants have slipped down to my ankles and he
decides it would be just as well if I took them off entirely
adding, "Since you won't be needing them for the rest of the
evening." Again I hold them but he takes them and tosses them to
the side before pulling me down. It seems odd to be lying in this
direction but I do not have long to reflect on it. He wastes no
time in making me more uncomfortable. No intimate caress from this
guy. Just a lot of pain as he starts right in with no ceremony. If
he is trying to outdo his predecessor he is succeeding but lest he
feel too smug, he's striking on territory that has been well
prepared and the humiliation regarding my state of dress or undress
makes each stroke even more acute. I am giving voice to every spank
and crying continuously. It takes every effort but this time I
count and hope my assumption of fifteen swats from each is correct.
It is. My ass is on fire but his turn is over. He is nice(?) enough
to let me revel in my humiliation and pain for a few minutes before
he helps me up. At least he didn't put his hand where the other man
did but I speak too soon. He has me stand in front of him and tells
me to open my legs. In shame, I do and he reaches in to grasp my
most intimate area. His finger enters and all I can do is moan. He
doesn't stop immediately but continues to stroke and probe. My body
is torn between the pain behind and the heaven in front. My knees
are getting weak and there is no doubt about the state of my
arousal. I lean forward and put my hands on his shoulders to
support myself. Suddenly he stops. I shamelessly move my crotch to
follow his hand but it is gone. I want him to do more and don't
care who knows it now. I hear them laughing and the memory of where
I am comes flooding back. I hang my head and feel the tears forming
in my eyes. I jump as he touches my thigh. He is not finished with
me yet. Apparently he feels he should give me to the next man with
even less clothing on as he unhooks the garter snaps and peels my
stockings down. I lift each foot in turn as they are removed. He
puts his fingers in the garter belt and pulls that down. He is
dragging the elastic over my sore bottom and it hurts but I hold my
position as it too is added to the growing pile of my underwear.
The only clothing left is my bra and I have already resigned myself
to it's departure. I am slightly comforted that if I am to be
stripped in front of these men, at least it will be at their hands.
He has risen and turned me to face the other men as he unhooks my
only remaining garment and with agonizing slowness, exposes my
breasts to them. I look at the floor as I listen to more applause.
He steps to my side and gazes on what he uncovered. Not satisfied
with just looking, his hand completely engulfs one of them. He
squeezes a little and pinches the nipple. Does my entertainment
value include such liberties? The one who has that decision remains
silent and so I have no choice but to endure them. However, I am
embarrassed to admit that endure is not the right word. In spite of
the humiliation of being played with in such an intimate manner in
front of an audience, my body is responding to his touch and I find
myself leaning into his hand. This seems to amuse them but I'm
beyond caring. I'm led to the next man but not by the hand. He is
still holding onto my breast as he guides me. With a smile that
bodes no good to me, #3 puts his hand on my free breast and I feel
#2's fingers slipping off me as my new leader pulls me back to The
Chair. He never lets go so I am pulled down with him as he sits. I
had almost forgotten about the spankings in the heat of the last
few minutes but he finally releases his handle and I have my rear
end sticking up in the air, ready for what I hope are the last
fifteen swats. Oh! That one hurt. He's not holding anything back.
The next is just as bad but I find my attitude changing. I have
shamed myself in front of these men and have little doubt I won't
do so again before the night is over. I want, no, need to be
punished severely. I am trying to raise my ass higher as the third
hard swat lands. Yes, make it hurt. I have made a lot of noise
since I came into this room but they were sounds of pain or moans
of sexual delight, frustration and humiliation. For the first time
I say an actual word. "Harder." He hits again and a voice says
wait. I'm staring down as footsteps approach. I know who it is and
he drops one of his implements to the floor by my hands as he turns
and walks away. I don't know where he had it hidden and part of me
wonders if he intended to use it himself or if he knew I would want
it. There is silence in the room and I realize the decision
regarding its use is mine. I am afraid to think about it so I
quickly pick it up and hand it back to #3 who asks if he should
continue his count at five or start at the beginning again. The
question may not have been put to me but I answer anyway, "Start
again." Part of me (the rounded part pointing up) regrets my
decision immediately. This tool is designed to hurt and I scream
and writhe in agony. After the next few I give up counting. Fifteen
is a concept I can no longer comprehend. Each stroke is being
applied forcefully and my whole world is bounded by pain. I
gradually become aware that he has stopped and is now emulating the
first man's actions by rubbing my bottom. I have no shame now so I
open my legs. Oh good. He's taken the hint and moved his hand
lower. That's it. Touch me there. His fingers are probing in and
out but I can feel something else. I think it's his thumb but
where's he going with it? He's pushing it in but not in the same
hole as his fingers. He commences moving it in and out like his
other fingers are doing. No one has ever done this to me before and
I am surprised to find it a not unpleasant experience as long as he
has no ideas of putting anything bigger in there. His other hand is
sliding under me near my shoulders and he lifts me up as he stands.
His grip on my lower anatomy is a little painful but I have no fear
of falling as he transports me to the couch. I am placed over the
arm and he steps back. My position is such that it could invite
more attention with their hands or the implement to what has been
the target of all of them. With a small hope that I can encourage
them in the direction I desire, I spread my legs in open invitation
and am gratified to hear the sound of a zipper opening. I grimace
as I feel hands on my ass but it is only to steady me for the
impalement I crave. I raise myself a little higher to facilitate
his entry and it is done. He has filled me quickly but stays still
long enough to compliment me on how nice it feels. I cannot bring
myself to answer but respond by moving in a manner to suggest he
might do more than just stand there. Yes! That's the idea. He is
using me forcefully. He stops. Why? Please continue. A blindfold is
put over my eyes and he goes back to his actions. Harder and
harder, faster and faster. When he is finished I am moved to the
floor on my back. The rug hurts my ass but I accept it as more
punishment for the way I'm acting. My legs are wide open for
whoever wants me. I don't wait long. I can feel his clothes against
my thighs but all I'm concerned with is if his fly is open. It
feels like it is as he plows in. I don't mind that he doesn't take
the time to give me any compliments as I buck to meet his every
thrust. His hands are mauling my breasts and pulling the nipples
but so what if it hurts, it spurs me on to more action down below.
All too soon I feel him reach his goal and then I'm flipped over
and pulled to my knees. Almost immediately, another takes his place
and he's pushing so hard I'm moving across the floor. I brace
myself and thrust back to meet him. Our activities are bordering on
violent and I'm not complaining. The pain is forgotten and I am no
longer even aware of what kind of spectacle I'm making. He slams
harder and finishes. I slump to the floor but they are not done
yet. I'm on my back again and filled again. Again my breasts are
squeezed and pulled but wait, this is the fourth man to take me. My
Master has never used me in this manner before. Is this him or was
he one of the others. This is not the time for such musings as I
respond to my present ravisher's manipulations with all the
enthusiasm I can muster. He finishes his turn and I lay exhausted
but they are not through. I am picked up and put back over the arm
of the couch. Oh God. My ass is in the air again and they have all
had their turn. Am I to be spanked again or worse, whipped with the
implement to the extent I have come to expect in the other room? My
answer come quickly as I feel a man inside me. I am so grateful
that I'm not getting punished that it takes a few minutes for me to
wonder who this could be. Are they each going to try another round.
If so, I'm all for it but this guy comes to his climax too quickly
to be one of the ones who just had their way with me. Hands grab me
and I'm spun around leaning backwards over the couch and here comes
another one. Yes! Do it hard like that. At last he goes away and I
am moved to the floor again but they put me on my knees with my
body raised. I am not in any position for more of what six men just
used me for. Someone cuffs my hands and the blindfold is removed. I
am shocked to see the butler and chauffeur standing with my Master
and the three guests. They all have their penises out of their
pants and are standing in a line. One by one they step forward and
I must clean my residue from them using my mouth. My Master is
first and I perform this service lovingly. Then the guests and
finally the employees. I'm sure they were aware of how my Master
treats me in the special room but have said nothing. Now there is
no escaping that they see me for what I am and as I grudgingly
clean them I wonder how I will ever be able to walk through the
house with any pride ever again. The question of me walking through
the house is immediately answered and my world shatters as the man
who will never again be considered to be just the host to a young
houseguest tells the butler, "Take her to the basement. We can fend
for ourselves for a while so gather the staff and let them have
their way with her. She will be more than happy to service them in
any way they wish. That includes the women and these gentlemen's
drivers. They may all spank her but limit them to five swats each.
That ought to be enough to keep her satisfied. You may have her for
an hour and a half. Clean her up and bring her back here when
you're done. We should be ready for another round by then." Turning
to me he says, "Welcome to your new life. Would you like to take
this." He is holding the implement so recently used on me. I look
down and say "Yes." as I accept it and follow the butler out of the
room.
I've been on a job in Madrid and living in a hotel again. The
project I'm working on is fairly large and there are folks from
France, England, America and of course Spain. Conferences and
meeting with all those languages represented are interesting to say
the least. I'm fairly fluent in French and my Spanish is passable
but how can you understand the British? Anyway, the bottom line is
that I can't just fly home every weekend but most of us on the
project are staying at the same place so there is always company
for dinner or sightseeing. However, being part of the slightly
older set I don't much care for going out drinking and carousing
every night and the few of us with similar feelings tend to hang
around together. There was one other American in that group. A
middle aged woman named Nora. We had been talking about the trials
and tribulations of the consultant's life and I said it must be
worse for a woman to dine alone since she may inadvertently attract
unwanted male attention. She rather coldly replied that nothing of
the sort had ever happened to her and I understood why. She was the
most unsexy woman I can recall meeting. There was nothing
physically wrong with her face or figure and her personality was
quite pleasant once you got to know her but she had an air of
unapproachability that overpowered any trace of femininity.
However, I wasn't looking for sex, just companionship and since we
shared the same language and culture we were together a lot. In
fact, one of the younger workers commented that he thought we were
married. We laughed it off and I tried to imagine this unpassionate
woman sharing my bed every night. I just couldn't see it but she
had been married for twenty years so I guess her husband, Sam,
found something in her that I overlooked. There was a much younger
woman from Nora's consulting firm who went to some of the tourist
attractions with us but she talked constantly about her boyfriend.
She was twenty-four years old, very much in love and he was all
Connie talked about. We heard how Mark did this and Mark said that
and Mark was going to move in with her and Mark was... You get the
picture. One day she went off with the younger crowd which left
Nora and I to wander about the streets alone. That's when Nora
shared her true feelings about Mark. She had met him and thought he
was a shiftless, uncaring young man who never remembered things
like Valentine's Day, Christmas or Connie's birthday and it seemed
that Mark saw Connie as an easy lay and a free meal ticket since he
seemed incapable of holding a job. Nora truly cared for the girl
and wished she could get her to see Mark as an irresponsible
parasite before she got hurt. She was working up good tirade and
said that what Connie really needed was a damn good spanking to
wake her up. As you can guess, my ears perked up immediately and I
said, "I understand your feelings but most people would think her a
bit old to get a punishment of that nature." She was still upset
about Connie and wasn't thinking clearly as she answered, "Tell
that to my husband. As far as he's concerned no female is too old
to get a spanking when she needs it." She realized what she said
and turned beet red. I probably should've ignored it but I said, "I
know it's none of my business but you don't have to put up with
that you know. You have no children and a good job. Why don't you
leave him?" She looked surprised and said, "Why? Just because he
spanks me? As long as it's out in the open that's what keeps me
close to him. I need his discipline and he's never punished me when
I didn't agree that it was necessary but can we talk about
something else?" I pointed out an interesting building and we went
back to our sightseeing until we came to a statue of a naked woman.
When we stopped to look at it she said, "That reminds me. I forgot
to stop the newspaper delivery before I came here." I'll admit it,
I couldn't make the connection so I asked why that statue made her
think of newspapers. She blushed and said, "Sam was on a trip when
I left and when he came home there were five newspapers on our
front porch. That's an open invitation to burglars and we were
lucky nobody broke into the house." Her explanation didn't go far
in enlightening me so I asked, "And the statue?" Now she really
blushed and whispered, "The statue is dressed the way I'll be and
looks like she could be getting ready to bend over for what I can
expect from Sam when I get home since it was my responsibility and
I screwed up." I apologized for pushing too hard with my questions
and making her talk about `that subject' again but she shrugged.
"Don't be sorry. It's been on my mind and I've needed to tell
someone. Since I've already opened my big mouth about getting
spanked I figured I could tell you the rest. I hope I haven't
shocked you." We sat on a bench and I said, "It would take more
than that to shock me and I get the feeling you'd like to tell me
more. How does he spank you?" She looked around and there was
nobody in sight. Even if there was they probably wouldn't
understand her so she said, "This is embarrassing and I've never
told anyone about it but if you really want to know..." She trailed
off and I encouraged her to go on. "First of all my spankings are
never a surprise. I know when I've done something to deserve
getting punished and if he isn't already aware of it I usually tell
him what it was. I've tried keeping some of my sins secret in the
hope that he wouldn't find out but it's never worked. He knows me
too well and can tell when I'm hiding something. When he has to
probe to find out what's bothering me I can count on an immediate
spanking for trying to avoid the proper punishment. That rarely
happens anymore but I'm getting off the subject. Once it's
established that I need it he decides on either the belt or the
hairbrush and we wait at least one full day so I can think about
what I've done and what he'll do to help me correct my behavior.
Because of our work schedules there are times when the next day is
not convenient so we have to make a later appointment. I never
thought about it but in a way it's funny. The two of with our
calendars out and trying to find a time we can mutually agree on
for me to get spanked. Anyway, I get to choose from the first three
days he has available and if I can't make it I get an extra swat
for every day I go beyond that without proper retribution. When I
agreed with those terms I wasn't considering being stuck 5000 miles
away and it will be three weeks until we're together. He
understands that I have no control over the travel plans on this
trip but the extras will add up anyway. Every day I think of how
much worse the punishment is going to be." She stopped and
curiosity got the better of me so I asked, "What happens when you
finally meet for your appointment?" She looked around again and
asked, "Do I really have to tell you that?" I detected a
vulnerability in her that I had not seen before. Along with it was
a form of submissiveness that was very out of character. Rather
than just refuse to relate this very personal part of her
relationship with her husband she wanted my permission. The
question was, permission to do what? Stay silent or be `forced' to
expose her secrets? I chose the latter and commanded, "Yes. Tell me
everything and don't even try to gloss over the slightest detail."
She waited a minute and I wondered if I had overstepped my bounds
but then she said, "The appointment is not only for a specific day
but for a definite time. That's when he'll come into the bedroom. I
must be nude like that statue and waiting with my nose in a corner.
I hate that. The spankings I can accept. Just because I'm a mature
woman doesn't mean I don't need a physical reminder from time to
time to keep me honest but the corner business makes me feel like a
little girl. I'm supposed to stay in that spot for ten minutes
before he arrives. I tried waiting till I heard him approach once
but he knew from my whole attitude that I hadn't obeyed him. Our
schedules were open so it was easy to arrange another appointment
the next evening to deal with my sneakiness. I had only one day to
recover from the spanking I got that night with the hairbrush
before I got another with the belt. So like it or not, I do what I
have to and I'm reduced to a little girl every time. I don't expect
the spankings to hurt any less but just once I'd like to be treated
more like a grown-up first. I'm sorry, I shouldn't complain. He
says the extra humiliation is good for me and I suppose he's right.
If it was only a spanking it might not go as far in convincing me
to be more careful. Be that as it may, all I can see is the wall as
he lectures me. That's another thing I don't like. I know damn well
why I'm going to be punished and don't need him to remind me but
it's part of the humiliating little girl routine. Finally he says
he's ready to give me the spanking for making the appointment." She
must have seen the confusion on my face because she explained, "No
matter what I've done wrong I always get spanked for the simple
fact that I've let my self-discipline lapse. That's the way we
always start. An old-fashioned over the knee hand spanking and
since it's supposed to be a punishment in its own right he makes it
good one. I can tell you it's not any fun at all but then again, it
isn't supposed to be. Then I pile the pillows on the bed and lay
across them. Over the lap is good enough for the first spanking but
he can cover more territory by striking from one side and then the
other as he addresses the specific reason for the appointment with
the hairbrush or the belt." I asked, "How long does that last?" She
sighed, "Twenty-five strokes. More if do something stupid like try
to cover my bottom with my hands which I learned not to do a long
time ago and then any extras I've earned for delaying the spanking.
When I get home I'll have almost fifty strokes waiting for me and
it will be with the belt. I wish there was some way I could go home
early or get him to come here so I could get it over with and avoid
at least some of those extras. After the hand spanking even a light
swat with the belt or the hairbrush would be agony. Of course, he
wouldn't think of depriving me of the full benefit of the
punishment so there's nothing gentle about the way he uses either
of them. He goes slow so I have time to reflect on every stroke and
anticipate the next. When we get to twenty-five all I can think of
is that my rear end is on fire and any extras are almost
unbearable. I've only had to get the additional strokes a few times
and I do everything I can to avoid them. I'll cancel meetings with
clients if I have to in order to make room on my schedule for our
appointment. Now there's nothing I can do except wait but the
thought of my welcome when I get home is always on my mind" She
needed a sympathetic ear and I was there to give her what comfort I
could. I might also find a way to help with part of her problem. I
asked, "When was his last available time?" She looked up and said,
"The day before yesterday. Why?" I didn't answer her directly.
Instead I mused, "So as of today it's twenty-seven strokes. I
wonder if he's more concerned with you getting the proper
punishment or the fact that he's the one to deliver it." She was
starting to catch on and said, "I don't know. Are you suggesting
that someone else spank me while I'm here?" I nodded and she
thought for a moment. "We've never discussed that possibility but
even if he agreed how would he know I really got it? Any marks
would be long gone by the time I saw him again." I asked, "Could
you lie to him?" She smiled and said, "I know what you mean. No, I
couldn't and he knows it. Am I correct in assuming you're
volunteering to do the honors?" This time I smiled and said, "What
are friends for? However, I should warn you. I have some experience
in this area and can assure you and Sam that if you accept my offer
it will not be a friendly spanking. You will be well punished but
on the bright side, you'll be spared twenty-one extras. I'm living
at the end of the hall and none of the rooms between mine and the
elevator are occupied so we'll have some privacy unless you make
too much noise." She grimaced and said, "He doesn't like it if I
scream too loud either but don't worry, I know how to muffle myself
in the mattress. I get the feeling that your comment about me being
well punished is probably true but it can't be any worse than what
I'll get from Sam. I'll ask him. When would be a convenient time
for you to do this?" I looked at my watch and did some time
difference calculations. "We can head back now. He should be awake
by then and if he agrees I'll expect you in my room in time for a
six o'clock appointment." She nodded and said, "Which means I
better get there early so I have time to do my corner thing. All
right, I'll call him as soon as we get there." Neither of us said
anything on the long walk to our hotel where we went our separate
ways. About thirty minutes later my phone rang and it was Sam. We
ta
