THE MYSTERY OF THE BATON ROUGE
by Alex B.

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 an annoying tone.
“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!”

“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 that there’s a lady out here
to see you.”

I sat up and quickly tossed back the whiskey.

“Send her in.” I said as I shoved the glass,
the bottle and the book into the 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 who'd
hired me to tail her fiancee’. She suspected him
of two-timing her. I shadowed the guy for a month
and it was clear 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 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 of thought I was
killing her. It’s too bad her rich daddy never
gave her that kind of attention, but I figured
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 demanding at the
top of her lungs 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 wasn’t that big a deal. She ought to put it
behind her.”

“She hardly had a choice.” Olivia smirked.

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

“No. 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 some kind
of joke- probably not worth looking into.”
She nodded in agreement, but I could see a lot of
disappointment in those lovely, blue-green eyes.
You could have written Tootsie-pop right on
my forehead- I was such a sucker. “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. “Come over for dinner
when you have it 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. Remember, I’m expecting a
blow-by-blow account.”

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 just starting a book!
It’s all about Sleeping Beauty and how she-”

“I don’t have time to hear about your fairytale
stories! I’ve got to get to the bottom of this
Kendrich case.”

“Yeah, I bet that’s not all you’re trying 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 lining the walls, 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 heard a woman’s voice behind me say.

“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?”

We both laughed.

“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!” she replied
with a wink.

“Really? Do think that’s an adult toy?”

“Oh yeah!” Lucy said as she reached up 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 something
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
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. How do you know I’m doing this for free?”

Betty started to get a little flustered.

“I- uh... Well, I mean-”

“Have you been listening at the door again?”
I said as I got up and walked toward her.
Betty was forever listening in on my private
conversations 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 towards 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, almost sounding
disappointed.

“To a dirty book shop, sweetcheeks. 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 the fun side of
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? Good-bye. Love, Betty Storm”

Strictly speaking, I 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 Corner Time magazine 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 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. Five minutes later my phone rang.

“Jack Wayne’s office.”

“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 a half-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
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
in 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 don’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, 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.”

“Yes. 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 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,
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.

“Me?! 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. 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 something on!”

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. You see,
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 fetching, but
it sort of looked like a school girl’s uniform.

“Here, Jack.” 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-” she cried.

“I’m going to count to three!” 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.

"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. Finally, I resolved
to see this thing through to the end. 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 if 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, Mr. Wayne. Having a man spank
me like a child was very confusing. It was
frightening, embarrassing and yet it awakened me
in ways I’d never expected.”

“Yes.” 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 big difference between a playful spanking and
hard-core S & M.” Candy added.

“I did try to contact you. I came to your office
two months ago." Stephanie continued. 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 your secretary,
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.”

“Betty and I have been plotting this for weeks."
Olivia said. "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
quite conspicuous.

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

“Excellent! 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 that we didn’t have a passing
fancy for spanking, it was a life-long devotion.
So we formed a little 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 checking out '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. “I hope you're
not 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 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.” 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. It's just, sometimes
you can’t see the forest for the trees.”

She put her hands on my face, kissing me softly.

I wrapped my arms around Betty's slim frame.

“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 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 shook 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 a little.
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. 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