THE MYSTERY OF THE BATON ROUGE

               

  The name’s Jack Wayne. I’m a private detective.

It all began on a sweltering Friday in June. I was sitting behind my desk thumbing through a paperback

of "9 & 1/2 Weeks" and sipping a glass of bourbon when my secretary stuck her head into the office.

  “Hey, Jack.” she said in that annoying tone she had.

“Jack, put the book down for a minute!”

  “What is it with you?” I growled. “You always butt

in right when I’m getting to the best page, Betty!”

  “Well excuse me for interrupting your reading hour!”

she replied, tossing a handful of her long jet-black hair over her shoulder. “But I thought you’d like to know there’s a lady out here to see you.”

  I sat up and quickly tossed back the whiskey.

  “Send her right in.” I said as I shoved the glass, the bottle and the book into the bottom desk drawer.

A moment later an elegantly dressed woman walked into my office. Her light brown hair, which was pulled back into a bun, was highlighted by a few streaks of gold. This wasn’t the kind of clientele I was used to.

She was classy, like a linen napkin or a glass of single-malt scotch. She was smooth and relaxed as

she introduced herself.

  “Olivia T. Kendrich.” she said, offering me a

gloved hand. I didn’t know whether I should shake

her hand or kiss it. I reached out and gave it

a polite squeeze. She smiled and squeezed back.

“You come highly recommended, Mr. Wayne.

An acquaintance of mine, Miss Stephanie O’Hara,

said that you were quite effective. Do you remember

her by any chance?”

  Stephanie O’Hara was a cute little red-haired debutante from the right side of the tracks. She had hired me to watch her fiancee’s activities for a while. She suspected that he was two-timing her. I tailed the guy for weeks and it was obvious he wasn’t up to any hanky-panky. When I went to her father’s house to

tell her so, she accused me of covering for him and  demanded her retainer fee back. When I told her

no dice, she  started getting physical. She kicked my shin a real good one, then started slapping my face.

I tried to stay cool, but she’d smacked me until I didn’t have a cheek left to turn. So, I grabbed her

by the arm, threw my foot onto the nearest chair and tossed her over my leg. She twisted like a demon.

Apparently, she’d figured out what was coming next.

It was about all I could do just to hold her in place. Then I started slapping her fanny like it was going

out of style. She had a thick wool skirt on, but I didn’t let that stop me. I just laid it on all

the harder. The way she kicked and screamed, you’d think I was killing her. It’s too bad her rich daddy never gave her that kind of attention, but I figure it’s never too late to learn. When I was done spanking

the little brat, I pushed her onto the floor and

walked out. I remember looking back as I was heading out the door. She was lying there in tears, rubbing

her ass and screaming at the top of her lungs demanding that I come back, but I just kept moving.        

 

  “She mentioned what a worthy adversary were.”

Ms. Kendrich continued. 

  “Oh, is that what she said?”

  “Yes, she did. I’m to understand that you two had

a little run-in.”

  “Well, there was a bit of a scuffle. Is she still sore about that?”

  She was... for quite a while.”

  “It was no big deal. She ought to put it behind her.”

  “I doubt she had much of a choice.” Olivia smirked. 

  “Yes.” I agreed. “But certainly you didn’t come here to talk about Miss O’Hara.”

  “No, of course not. What I want to talk to you

about is this.” She took a dark-pink envelope from

her purse and slid it across the desk. I picked it

up and opened it. Inside was a type-written note

which read:

  “Go down a red road and find a three. Then add

a three. Now do it again. When you hear the bell,

turn to your left and you’ll see me just above

the earth. Take me in hand and turn me over.

You’ll know what to do next.”

  “It came in the mail, yesterday.” Olivia told me.

  “I have no idea what it means.”

  I examined the envelope carefully. There was no

return address and no postmark.

  “This was delivered by hand.” I stated.

  “Some of the best things are.” she replied. I turned the note over in my hand and tried to think of what the

words could possibly mean.

  “It’s a riddle all right.” I muttered to myself. 

  Olivia took a checkbook and a pen from her purse.

  “How much is your retainer?”

  She seemed ready to write down any number I chose.

I reached across the desk and put my hand over hers,

closing the checkbook.

  “I couldn’t take a dime from you Ms. Kendrich,

not for something like this.” I said, softly.

I left my hand on top of hers as long as I dared then slowly pulled away. “Like I said, it’s some kind of riddle, so it’s got to be a practical joke- probably not worth looking into.”

  “I see.”

  She nodded in agreement, but I could see a lot

of disappointment in those lovely, blue-green eyes.

I was such a sucker, you could have written Tootsie-pop right on my forehead.

  “But I’ll tell you what- I’ll work on this for a

day or two and, if I come up with anything, I’ll let you know.”

  

  She smiled sweetly as she put her things back in

her purse and stood to leave.

  “That sounds fine.” She handed me a card with her phone number and address on it. “Come up for dinner when you have it all figured out. I want to hear all about it. How does poached salmon, steamed turnips

and raspberry sorbet sound to you?” Once again she offered her hand. This time I leaned down and pressed my lips to the silk knuckles of her glove. 

  “I can almost taste it.” I said.

   She blushed warmly as she walked to the door.

  “Good luck, Mr. Wayne. And remember, I’m expecting

a blow-by-blow account.”

  And with that, she was gone.

  I walked over to the window and watched as she got

into her white Mercedes and drove away. Her perfume drifted faintly in the air like a ghost. An old song began to play in my head.

  “What was that all about?” Betty’s voice cut through the music like a chain-saw. I slapped my hands together and pointed at her.

  “Go make me a big pot of coffee, honeybuns! I’ve got a mystery to solve and it may take all night.”

  “Good!” she said, picking my paperback up off the

desk as though it were a soiled diaper. “I guess that means I can throw this piece of trash away?”

  “When did you become a literary critic? Do you even read books?”

  “I’ll have you know that I’m starting a book

right now! It’s all about Sleeping Beauty and how she-”

  “I don’t have time to hear about your fairytales!

I’ve got to get to the bottom of this Kendrich case.” 

  “I bet that’s not all you’d like to get to the

bottom of.”

  “One of these days, Betty-” I waved a threatening hand at her.

  “Promises, promises!” she pouted, tossing her hair as

she left the room.

  I spent the rest of the night kicking that riddle around my office. The road and the numbers- those were the keys. Then, at about midnight, it hit me. The red road was a street and the numbers were an address!

When I took a three and added  another and did it again, I came up with 369. I checked a city street map for something with red in it and found Scarlet Lane.

I dialed information and found that 369 Scarlet Lane was the address of Grayson’s Pawn Shop. I caught a little shut-eye on my office couch and headed over there the next morning.

                                                           

  Grayson’s was a run down little joint, but it possessed a kind of dusty charm. As I’d expected,

a bell rang as I came through the front door. I turned to my left. There were several shelves of used junk on the wall, but only one thing caught my eye- a huge globe circa 1955 sitting right at eye level and above that was a wooden paddle hanging by a leather strap.

It was about a foot and a half long and maybe four inches wide.

  I suddenly heard a woman’s voice behind me. 

  “Checking out the old board of education, eh?”

she asked in a friendly manner. “Hi, my name’s

Lucy Grayson.”

  She was a nice looking lady. I’d say medium in most

respects, average in height and weight. Her auburn hair

was shoulder length. Maybe she was a bit plump and her voice was a little rough, but she had a nice smile and that goes a long way with me.

  “Nice to meet you, Lucy. I’m Jack Wayne.” 

  “So, what’s your interest in the fanny-whacker?

Is the little woman getting out of line?” she joked.

  “It looks like a classic piece of workmanship.”

  “Yeah, it’s a real tear jerker. I bet that one kept

a few ladies on their toes!”

  “Really? You think this is an adult toy?”

  “Oh yeah!” Lucy said as she reached up on tiptoe

and brought the paddle down. “See these little hearts carved into the corners? This was a romantic gift between two grown-ups, not something a school principal would use. My folks had one like this. I found it under their bed once when I was a kid. You never know what people get up to behind closed doors.”

  It was heavier than I’d expected, smoother too. I ran my hand along it’s flat surface and let it fall into my palm a few times. I flipped it over in my hands to find some writing etched into the wood:

  “It’s time to get personal with June. Maybe some

time in the corner is needed. Want some candy?

Just remember that the hand moves faster than the eye. Now, get cracking!” 

 

  That afternoon found me back in my office, mulling

over those cryptic words. Was June a woman’s name?  What did time in the corner refer to? The rest of it made even less sense. Betty brought me some coffee and a couple of doughnuts. She noticed the words from the paddle which I had scrawled onto some paper in front

of me.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  

  “Damned if I know!” I said and took a bite from the

old-fashioned with strawberry icing.

  “Is this part of that Kendrich case?”   

  “Yeah, and I’ve got to admit, it’s beginning to get the best of me!”

  “Well, don’t get slap-happy over it, especially if she’s not paying you!”

  “Wait a minute. How do you know I’m doing this

for free?”

  Betty started to get a little flustered. “I, uh...

I mean-”

  “Have you been listening at the door again?” I said

as I got up and started to walk toward her. Betty was forever listening in on my private conversations with clients and I’d finally had enough of it. She backed out of the room and tried to make for the front door, but I cornered her.  

  “Now hold on, Jack. You’ve got it all wrong!”

  I picked up a newspaper from her desk and started to

fold it lengthwise. 

  “Come here, Betty! Your bottom has a date with the

classified section!” Her hands instinctively covered her backside as she attempted to out-maneuver me. She faked to the door and then made a break for my office. I lunged forward and grabbed hold of her wrist before she could slam my own door on me. Then it was just a matter of dragging her over to the couch and pinning her over my lap. Betty made a lot of noise, but didn’t put up much of a fight. In fact, for a second there,

I could swear I caught her starting to giggle.

“She won’t be laughing for long!” I thought as I lifted

the newspaper. And that’s when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. It was right there on the paper.

Just below “Help Wanted” and “For Sale” was the word, “Personals”.

  “This is it! The personal ads!”

  “The what?” Betty gasped.

  “The clue on the paddle said to ‘get personal’.

That’s where I’ll find the answer.” I sat Betty up and got off the couch. She tried to regain her composure, not to mention her breath as I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door.

  “Where are you going?!” she said angrily.

  “To a dirty book shop, sweet cheeks. I’ll just have

to toast your buns some other time.” I was outside and getting into my car when Betty stuck her head out the office window. 

  “You’re a real jerk, you know that?!” she shouted. Then she started addressing her comments to the

entire block. “Jack Wayne is a complete jerk and

he doesn’t know how to finish what he’s started!”

  “What are you mad at me for? I didn’t lay a hand

on you!” I shouted back. That just seemed to tick her off even more. 

  “Oh! You make me furious!” she screamed and slammed the window down.

  “Women!” I thought to myself as I hopped into the

driver’s seat. “Will I ever figure them out?”

  

  Pinky’s Adult Books was a neon covered building in the red-light district. They had every girlie mag and erotic novelty item anyone could ever want. Never mind how I knew about it. I walked in and went straight for the spanking literature. A few seconds of browsing and there it was- the June issue of "Corner Time Magazine", a publication dedicated to adult corporal punishment.

I flipped through the pages and stopped at the

personal ads. There were several of them, so I decided to buy the issue and study it back at the office.

  When I got there, Betty was gone. There was a note on her desk. As I picked it up, I could see that the ink had been smudged by her tears.

  “Dear Jack, I thought we had something special, but I

stand corrected. You’ve always had the upper hand in our relationship, why couldn’t you take advantage

of it? The bottom line is, I’m leaving. It’s not like me to turn tail and run away, but what else can I do? Goodbye. Love, Betty Storm”

  Strictly speaking, I usually don’t go in for office

romances, but I have to admit that Betty always did have a special place in my heart. I stood there for

a while, staring out the window with her letter in

my hand. I thought about calling her home number,

but I’d never thought to ask for it. She was right, 

I was a jerk. But there wasn’t much I could do

about it, so I decided to get back to the business

at hand.

  I scanned through that issue of Corner Time checking ad after ad as the night wore on. There must have been a thousand naughty ladies looking for some firm-handed guy to adjust their attitude, but nothing caught

my attention. It wasn’t until I’d reached the next to the last page that I finally struck pay dirt. It was an ad next to a picture of a gorgeous blonde which read:

  “I’ve been a bad, bad girl and I need some serious

behavior modification from a man who’s hand moves faster than his eye. So get cracking and call

Candy Maxwell!”

  At the bottom of the ad was a phone number for

an answering service. I called it and left my

office number.

  Not two minutes later, my phone rang.

  “Jack Wayne’s office.”

  “Is this Mr. Wayne?” a soft feminine voice asked.

  “Yes it is.”

  “Hi, I’m Candy. I’m so glad you called. I was on the edge of my seat waiting!”

  “Do we know each other, Ms. Maxwell?” 

  “No, but we have a mutual acquaintance.”

                                                                 

  “And who would that be, Candy?”

  “I’m not comfortable talking about it over the phone.

Why don’t you come over to my place so we can meet

in private?”

  “Is this for real?”

  “Why don’t you head on over here and find out

for yourself?"

  Within half an hour, I was pulling up to Candy Maxwell’s house. It was a big Victorian place with an iron gate up front. I walked up to it and pushed the buzzer on the intercom.

  “Hello?” Candy’s voice crooned through the speaker.

  “It’s me. Jack.”

  “Great! Come around to the backside of the house.

I’m having a swim.” The large gate slowly swung open and I walked across the driveway past a bright pink BMW with red leather interior. It looked to be brand spanking new. As I came around the side of the house,

I noticed a small wooden structure at the far end of the backyard. It was an old woodshed from the days

when people needed such things to stay warm. I could hear splashing as I rounded the corner and when

the pool came into view I was overcome by a vision. There, swimming naked before me, was the most beautiful woman I’ve ever almost dropped dead from seeing. 

She stopped swimming for a moment and waved to me.

  “Care to cool off?” she asked.

  Sliding naked down a glacier wouldn’t have cooled

me off right then.

  “No thanks.” I said, trying to keep my eyes in

their sockets. She paddled around in the water as though it was nothing to swim nude in front of

a stranger.

  “I’ll be right out.” she said, heading for the stairs at the shallow end. I needed a distraction to keep from losing my cool. I fumbled around in my pockets for some cigarettes or a lighter before remembering that I didn’t smoke. Then, like Venus rising from the sea, Candy stepped out of the pool and stood before me 

shaking the water from her long, golden hair.

  I was harder than Chinese arithmetic.

                                                             

  “You’re quite striking.” I commented.

  “I hear the same about you.” She walked over and took me by the lapels. “Isn’t it a little hot for this?”

Our lips almost met as she slid my jacket over my shoulders, down my arms and casually tossed it onto

a nearby deck chair. She placed her hands on my chest and gave me a little shove. I fell back onto a

chaise lounge. Just as I sat up, she climbed over my lap and arched her bottom at an angle that would tempt even the most amateur spanker. I couldn’t help but notice how pink her cheeks were. They were the shade

of bubble gum.

  “You have an incredible back porch.” I said.

  “It could use a man’s touch, though. Care to take a whack at it? Or maybe several?

  “Looks like someone’s already done that today.”

  “Yeah. I got a little cheeky with a friend of mine,

so he bent me over and showed me the error of my ways. But that was hours ago.”

  “Does it still sting?” I asked, giving one of her cheeks a squeeze.  

  “Marvelously!” she moaned. I let my right hand roam across her perfect pink ass. Candy rolled her shoulders in anticipation. I lifted my hand and was poised

to give this minx a spanking she’d never forget. Unfortunately, the moment was shattered by the sound

of an angry voice.

  “What the hell’s going on out here?!” it said.

  I turned to see a large powerful-looking man in a business suit approaching us.

  “Who are you?!” he demanded.

  “Jack Wayne. I’m a private detective.” I stood up, pulling Candy to her feet as I did.

  “Well, I’m Melvyn Maxwell and the woman you had bent over your knee is my wife!”

  “Melvyn, you’re making a scene!” Candy said.

                                                            

  “I’m making a scene?! The guy had his hands all over

your ass!” The man grabbed Candy by the arm and took her to his side. “Where are your clothes?”

  I handed her my jacket which she quickly wrapped around her shoulders.

  “Thank you, Mr. Wayne. I’m glad to see there are still some gentlemen left in this town!” She sneered

at Melvyn who paid no attention to the dig.

  “Get in the house and put on an outfit, will you?!” 

  As Candy went off to the house in a huff, Maxwell and I stood there for a few awkward moments.

  “I suppose you answered one of those ads.” he asked in a semi-polite manner.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t as simple as that. I’m working

on a case.”

  “I see. So it’s part of your job to spank beautiful naked women?”

  “If only that were the deal!” I chuckled.

  “Look pal, I don’t blame you for wanting to spank

my wife. I do it two or three times a day myself!

But her ass isn’t public property, okay?!”

  Candy came back out of the house with my jacket over one arm. She was wearing a white blouse, a plaid skirt, ankle socks and black patent leather shoes.

The ensemble was very fetching, but it sort of looked like a school girl’s uniform.

  “Here, Mr. Wayne.” she said, handing me my jacket. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out. Mel can be a real wet blanket!”

  “That’s enough out of you, Miss!” Melvyn replied. “Now, go march yourself into that woodshed and wait

for me!”

  “But I don’t want another trip to the woodshed!

I want this guy to-”

  “I’m going to count to three, Candy!”  

  That’s all he had to say. Before he could even start counting, the beautiful young woman walked away with arms angrily folded and her lower lip sticking out.

  “I’m sorry about all this, Mr. Wayne. It looks like you’ve been set up.”

  “Looks like it.” I put my jacket back on and we both walked toward the front of the house. I went straight for the driveway and he veered off toward the shed. “Don’t be too harsh with Candy.” I said.

  "Are you kidding?" Maxwell laughed. "She’s in there eating this up with a big spoon! Let me tell you, if I didn’t keep her fanny as hot as a pepper at least

eight hours a day, she’d drop  me like a bad habit! Good luck, Mr. Wayne."

  "Thanks."

  On the way out I could here the fireworks show starting up in that woodshed. Melvyn’s hand was making solid contact and Candy was squealing and begging

for mercy. The smacking sounds followed me all the way to the car.

 

  By the time I was nearing my office, the sun was touching the horizon and the distant hills were bathed in a rosy glow. I reached for my sunglasses but found something else in the breast pocket of my jacket.

It was a hotel room key with the number 303 on it. Candy must have slipped it in there when she

was changing. It wasn’t from some cheap, flea-bag

inn, either. This key was the property of the

Baton Rouge- the ritziest hotel in town. I drove to

the Baton Rouge’s parking lot and sat there in my car for a while, wondering if I should go up or not.

The whole thing smacked of conspiracy. But finally,

I resolved to see this thing through. I took an elevator that was only slightly smaller than my apartment to room 303. I slid the key in and opened

the door to find four women on the other side:

Olivia Kendrich, Stephanie O’Hara, Lucy Grayson and

Candy Maxwell. They were all in silk nighties in various shades of pink and all looked as if they

were expecting me. Olivia and Lucy were playing cards at a glass-top table. Stephanie and Candy were

lounging on an enormous red velvety couch. Candy was stroking Stephanie’s strawberry locks with a large wooden hairbrush. 

  “Nice of you to drop in, Mr. Wayne.” Ms. Kendrich said, rising and pouring a glass of pink champagne from a bottle that was chilling nearby. Then she handed me the glass. “I suppose you’re wondering why we lured you here tonight.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite. What’s this all about?”  

  “Remember that afternoon in my father’s study?” Stephanie asked me. “I was being such a brat that day! Do you remember how I yelled at you and kicked you

and all? A lot of guys would have folded in a situation like that, but not you. You put me in my place. And you did it so swiftly, so...”     

  “Soundly?” I interrupted.

  “Yes.” Stephanie agreed. She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment as though she was remembering her first taste of chocolate. “Well, ever since that experience, I’ve been looking for some way to relive the moment. But first, I had to find somebody to confide in. I needed to share my strange little story with someone.”

  “Why didn’t you just give me a ring.” I asked.

  “You don’t understand. As enthralled as I was by the

way you took me in hand, I was still furious. I'm a proud woman. Having a man spank me like a child was very confusing. It was frightening and embarrassing

and yet it woke me up in ways I’d never expected.”

  “It’s true.” Lucy joined in. “When a woman realizes she really likes to be spanked, there are lots of issues to deal with. She wants to be punished and humiliated in her fantasy life without losing anyone’s respect in the real world. It’s hard for most people to understand that.”

  “Not to mention trying to explain that there’s a difference between a playful spanking and hard-core

S and M.” Candy added.

  “Besides,” Stephanie continued. “I did try to

contact you. I came to your office two months ago.

I’d finally worked up the courage to tell you about

my feelings, but your secretary told me you were on

a case out of town and wouldn’t be back for days.

I sort of broke down there in your waiting room.

I couldn’t stop crying. But Betty was so nice.

She brought me a box of tissues and listened to my whole story. I told her everything.”

  “What? Betty knows about all of this?” I gasped.

  “Oh, yes! It seemed she was very familiar with

my situation. She got right on the phone with Olivia and started arranging this whole charade.”

   “That’s right.” Olivia said. “Betty and I have been plotting this for weeks. You see, we’ve both been spanking aficionados since we went to college together. We were in a sorority that took paddling its pledges very seriously.” Olivia’s hands went to her ass cheeks as if she could still feel the sting. “Many is the night we smeared cold cream on each other’s sore little 

bottoms after a brutal session with the paddle.

We looked around, but we never found a man that could swing a paddle quite like our senior sorority sister.”

  My eyes went to Lucy who’s smile seemed conspicuous.

  “And that sister would be you, Ms. Grayson?”

  “Excellent, Jack. You see, you are a good detective. Yes, I was Betty and Olivia’s senior sister and I took every opportunity to lay wood on their delicate

young fannies. It seemed as though Olivia here spent most of her freshman year bent over in front of me, dancing to the crack of my paddle. But it never gave me the satisfaction I'd felt being on the other end of it when I was a freshman. And it was nothing compared to the rapture of being taken over a man’s knee for a

good spanking. After college, the girls and I stayed

in touch. We came to realize we didn’t have a passing fancy for spanking, but a life-long devotion. So we formed a club. We call ourselves ‘The Sore Subjects‘. Candy joined us about a month ago.”

  “I met Stephanie at a bookstore.” Candy chimed in. “She saw me browsing through 'The Art of Discipline' and we struck up a conversation. The next thing you know, I was in the club. You can imagine what the initiation was like! I couldn’t sit comfortably for

a week!”

  The women all laughed. I was still confused.

  “So, you ladies meet here once a month and spank

each other?”

  They all laughed again.

  "Not exactly, Jack." Olivia explained. "You see,

we always get some authoritative male to be our

‘master of ceremonies’. Last month it was Melvyn.”

  “Melvyn Maxwell? Your husband?” I asked Candy.

  “Oh, he’s not really my husband. His real name is

Melvyn McLintock. He’s a friend of ours who was helping

us out.”

  “It’s all part of our complicated little plot to get

you here.” Olivia added.

  “I understand, but how did you come to choose me?”

  “Well, why don’t you ask the other member of our

little group?” Olivia walked to the bedroom door and

opened it. When I looked into the next room my jaw

fell down to the lobby. It was my runaway secretary, Betty, sitting on the edge of the bed in a French maid’s outfit.

  “Hi, Jack.” she said, standing up. “Are you angry?” 

  “I’m just glad to see you.” I told her. “I’ve been worried about you, honey. I didn’t know what to do!”

  Betty stared at the floor, biting her lower lip.

  “I know, but it was the only way I could think of

to introduce you to our little group. Still, it was really thoughtless and mean of me to let you worry

like that! You know what I think?” she said, looking right into my eyes. “I think I need to be taught

some manners.”

  “And I think these two need some time alone.”

Olivia said with a knowing grin. “But don’t wear yourself out, Jack.” she added as she left the room with the other ladies filing out behind her.

“Remember, you’ve got four naughty accomplices in

the next room waiting for their just deserts.”

 

  Stephanie, the last to exit, gave Betty and me a wink as she closed the door.

  “Alone at last.” Betty said, embracing me.

  “What’s the deal with the little maid get-up?”

  “It’s just one of my fantasy costumes. You don’t

like it?”

  “No, I like it all right! I just think it would look better draped over a chair.” I said, kissing her neck.

  “And how do you think I’d look draped over a chair?” she whispered huskily into my ear.

  “I feel like a dope.” I told her. “For years I’ve

been trying to figure out your mysterious motives and all you wanted me to do was smack that cute little backside of yours! Some detective I am!”

  “You’re a great detective, Jack! It’s just that sometimes you can’t see the forest for the trees.”

  She put her hands on my face and kissed me softly.

I wrapped my arms around her slim frame and whispered, “You’re going over my knee, young lady!”

  “It’s about time!” she said as I sat down on the edge of the bed. A quick yank on her left arm and she was over my lap. I lifted the back of that little black skirt to reveal the sweetest sight these eyes have

ever seen. It was no shock that she wasn’t wearing panties, but I wasn’t prepared for the absolute perfection of Betty’s bottom. I’d seen it swishing

around the office a thousand times under a cotton skirt or nicely packed into a pair of slacks, but I never could have imagined how lovely those two alabaster moons really were. My hand was quivering as a ran it across the smooth rounded surface of her ass. I lifted my hand and brought it down hard across Betty’s sweet white cheeks. She jumped and gasped. The next few

swats were much more powerful and got an even

better response. Betty ground herself against my leg and then lifted her bottom in anticipation of more. Then the real spanking began. I started swatting harder and faster until my hand was a blur. I slapped those round little cheeks until they turned carnation pink and when that shade didn’t suit me, I smacked them until they were rose red. She kicked and cried

like a kid who had lost her bike, but I just kept

on spanking. Then, when Betty’s ass was so red it looked as if it might glow in the dark, I stopped swatting and just ran my hand across her hot,

crimson flesh. She arched her back and moaned

with pleasure as I massaged her swollen buns.

  “Don’t ever leave me again, Betty.” I sighed.

  “Or else, what?” she said, looking over her shoulder

with a big grin on her tear-stained face.

  Once again I lifted my hand into the air. I knew

I wouldn’t have to answer that smart-ass question

with words.

                      THE END