by Rose de Fer
I looked up the website for Garters and found the hours of operation. They were open now. I should just get it out of the way. I’d have to change but I could be there within the hour.
I didn’t let my mind turn to worry. I went, on autopilot, back into my closet. A black bra, black panties, thigh-high hosiery, black heels and a gold and black wrap dress. It was the closest thing I could put together to exotic dancewear.
When I drove, I didn’t let myself think at all. I turned up the music and let the wind blow in my hair. I made sure to breathe and not panic.
I pulled into a parking spot and grabbed my bag. I marched into the bar like I owned the place. I’m not the calm, cool, confident one. That’s Simon. But I find at times like this the trick is to channel Simon. I adopt his attitude and his self-confidence and pretend it’s my own. Fake it till you make it, as the saying goes.
‘I’d like to see the manager,’ I said to the bartender. He gave me the once-over, cocked an eyebrow and nodded.
‘Just a second.’
He came back with a short, bald man who had an unlit cigar in his mouth.
‘What can I do for you?’
‘Well, Mr…’
‘Moore,’ he said. Apparently, it was his turn to give me a once-over. I tried not to take offence. This was a man whose business it was to appraise women like horses.
‘Mr Moore, hello, my name is…’ I faltered for a second. ‘Emma.’ What the hell. Close enough to Anna.
‘And?’
Clearly he thought I was wasting his time.
‘I’d like to dance,’ I said. ‘Just one dance. Just today. And…I was wondering if that could be arranged.’
He laughed. It wasn’t an unkind laugh. Just a startled laugh. ‘You want to dance for one dance for one day?’
‘I do.’ I reached into my bag and found my wallet. ‘I’d be happy to—’
He cut me off with a wave of his hand. ‘Save your money. Honey, you don’t have to bribe me to let you dance. I have no idea why you’re asking, but I’m more than happy to help you fulfil your fantasy. Or complete your turn in Truth or Dare or whatever the hell it is you’re doing.’ He put the cigar in the pocket of his shirt and said, ‘Any requests?’
‘Sorry?’
I noticed the bartender, tall and lean with a shock of black hair done in an undercut, smiling. He was very amused.
‘Song? Any request?’
‘Oh, no,’ I said. ‘I hadn’t thought about it.’
‘Right. I’ll choose then. Something retro, maybe. Stereotypical 80s strip song work for you?’
A bubble of laughter leaked out of me and I quickly covered my mouth. ‘I’m not sure if I’ll be any good at all.’
He raked his gaze over my body again and said, ‘Trust me, with that body, you could stand still as a board and just slowly take off bits of clothing and it would work. Oh, and regulations, sweetheart. Tits out is fine, no baring the beaver, OK?’
I blinked at the sudden coarse language but nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘As soon as Marie is done you can take the stage. Can Charlie get you a drink? On the house. You might need it.’ He gave me a wry smile.
I exhaled loudly. ‘I’ll take a vodka with a twist of lime,’ I said. ‘Thank you.’
The liquor went down fast and hard and before I could second-guess myself Mr Moore was announcing a special one-time-only performance. Me.
‘Good luck. Want me to hold your bag?’ the bartender asked.
I passed it over the bar, too far gone to worry if he’d rifle through it. On legs made of wispy cotton, I trudged to the stage. The stereotypical 80s strip song was cued, as promised, and I began to dance.
The men in the front row didn’t unnerve me so much as startle me. Their gazes were atavistic. A shiver worked through my core as I grabbed the pole and tried to remember what to do. What was there to do beyond shimmy and writhe while trying to get my shaking hands to remove bits of clothing? A turn, a bounce, a shoe flipped off into the crowd. A huge man in a business suit caught it and tipped me a nod. I liked him, the easygoing, ruddy-faced look of him, so I focused on him as I danced.
A thudding bass vibrated through my now bare feet and it occurred to me, too late, I should have kept the shoes. Wasn’t that the point of the heels? Bare but for heels and very little else?
I shook it off and tossed my hair as I danced. Fuck it. Too late now. I tugged the tie on the dress, hoping to distract from my sadly bare feet. When it fell open someone wolf-whistled near the back of the room and I heard the manager laugh.
After peeling it open slowly, I let the wrap dress fall from my shoulders like a bathrobe. Then I danced around the puddle of silk on the floor. It was easy enough to stoop to unroll my thigh-high stockings. Slowly, but not too much, didn’t want to run out of song.
My heart was thudding like some trapped beast’s but I paid it no mind. I was high on adrenalin and the rush of this strange spectacle I was making of myself.
I dropped my stockings and stood on tiptoe, dancing as if I had heels on. It was the best I could do. No one seemed to mind. I heard a few more whistles, some shouted encouragement, and, as the song neared its end, I remembered the words ‘Tits out is fine, no baring the beaver…’
I worked the straps down first, because who doesn’t love a bit of anticipation? My head was fuzzy like it was full of cotton but my body seemed to buzz with an electrical charge.
As the song wound down, I undid the bra clasp and held it to my chest for a beat before holding it out by two fingers and dropping it on top of my dress.
Then I got some applause. They drowned out the end of the song as I took my final turn around the pole. Not too bad for a terrified beginner.
Then the manager rushed at me with a robe and someone, maybe the bartender, gathered my clothes.
I was led to the restroom and handed my clothing and a single shoe. ‘You sure you don’t want a job, doll?’ Mr Moore asked.
I laughed. I was truly shaking then. Every part of me was in a fine tremble, even my lips. ‘I’m sure.’
‘Well, come back any time, special guest star.’
I dressed hurriedly and went out to find my bag. The burly man who’d caught my shoe was waiting at the bar. He pushed my heel across the black bar and simply said, ‘Nice.’
When I walked out into the bright sunlight I felt like I’d been dropped on another planet. It took my trembling fingers three tries to type out COMPLETED, SIR and manage to send the text.
Then I waited.
I got home and took a hot shower, my mobile phone resting on the windowsill so I could hear it. This time I didn’t get a text. This time, as I was stepping out, my phone rang.
Despite our many years together, getting a call from Simon, especially a call like this, made my heart skip a beat.
‘Hello?’
‘There’s my girl. Are you ready for your last assignment?’
I nodded before catching myself and answering. ‘Yes. Of course.’
‘It’s hidden in the pantry behind the cookies you try not to eat too often. Sugar being the devil, and all.’
I laughed. I couldn’t help it.
‘You can fulfil it tonight or tomorrow. If you do it tonight, you’ll have to wait a whole day with no play before I get home. If you do it tomorrow, it’ll torture you all night. Either way, I’m satisfied.’
‘I—’
He cut me off. ‘I love you, Anna. I have to go. Be a good girl. Or don’t. Either way you’ll get punished.’ Then the connection was dropped and I had to put a hand on the sink to steady myself.
It took me only a moment to throw on a robe and make my way down to the pantry. I dug around at the back of the second shelf until I found the envelope. It was tucked behind the chocolate-dipped cookies I tried so hard not to eat. They were decadent and lovely, but one or two a month was good enough for me. Otherwise, they turned cloying and heavy.
I ripped open the envelope with shaking hands and read his impecc
able penmanship. Really, who could boast impeccable penmanship in an age of texting and typing and face calls on smartphones? Simon and my grandmother were the only two people I knew.
Your third assignment, my pet, should you choose to accept it, is a nice hearty paddling. You know our new neighbour, Kyle? The one who lives behind us and stammers every time you appear? I’ve had a few words with him over that fence. I know he’s smitten with you. I’ve filled him in on some of our colourful history. All you need to do is go to him and say, ‘Daddy said I need a paddling.’ He’ll take care of the rest. You may pleasure yourself in front of him as a reward but no fucking. He’s well aware of the rules, and more than willing to play along.
XXX
Simon
I stood there absorbing what I’d read. I couldn’t quite believe it. But, knowing Simon as I do, I did believe it. Thoroughly. I conjured up the image of Kyle. Hair the colour of wet sand, bright-blue eyes, an easy smile. He did stammer when I was around but I’d assumed he did that with everyone. Apparently not. I pushed my hands to my face, forcing myself to breathe deeply. Tonight or tomorrow? Anticipation all night long or nothing to keep me occupied tomorrow until Simon’s arrival the following morning? It was a hard decision.
I poured a glass of Shiraz and thought of my busy day. Masturbating in a restroom. Dancing around a pole while strangers watched. Did I want to keep my momentum going or did I want to just barrel through?
‘Sleep on it,’ I said, and downed the wine. And then I did exactly the opposite. I pulled my kimono tighter around me and marched out the back door, through the wet grass, to the fence that divided our property from Kyle’s. I unlatched the small gate between the properties. (Rumour was, the women who used to live in these houses had been best friends and had installed the gate so that they could visit each other.) Before I lost my nerve, I forced my feet to walk across the yard, go up the two small steps and knock on his back door.
His face appeared and then seemed to pale a little before a smile erupted. ‘Anna. There you are…’ He tripped over some of his words. And now I knew it was because of me. An oddly pleasing titbit.
‘Hi, um…Kyle. I just…what I mean is—’ I wasn’t doing so well navigating my words either. Finally, I pulled in a deep breath and said, ‘Daddy said I need a paddling.’
My eyes went to his crotch and I could see his cock was hard and straining against his jeans. ‘Here or there?’ he asked.
I shrugged. I had no specific instructions on location. ‘I assume he gave you something? For the paddling?’
He inclined his head and said on a shuddery breath, ‘Yes.’
‘Then here is fine. If you’re OK with it.’
He opened the door wider and stepped back so I could enter.
I followed him through his clean but somewhat stark apartment to his bedroom. The bed was made up with a blue duvet and there was a single framed Monet print on the wall. It was clearly the apartment of a single man, but a neat one. I was grateful for that.
He opened the drawer of the bedside table and withdrew a balsa-wood paddle. A plain, run-of-the-mill paddle that you might expect to see a rubber ball tethered to with an elastic string. But I knew what a paddle like that could do. Sting like a bastard.
Face burning with blissful shame, pussy wet beyond belief, I dropped my kimono to reveal nothing underneath. He inhaled sharply and I almost smiled. It was flattering, really.
‘He said to just…have you…’ He was really having trouble getting the words out now.
‘Assume the position?’ I asked.
He nodded.
‘Bare-assed?’
Another nod. His face was the colour my ass would be soon. His throat worked like he needed to swallow but couldn’t.
I got in the middle of the bed on my hands and knees, ass pointed his way. I knew in this position he could see the wetness glistening on my folds. Maybe even see the erect little spike of my hard clit. My heartbeat had become a nearly sickening gallop and I tried mightily to breathe.
I wasn’t worried, though. Simon would never have sent me here if it wasn’t safe. I was about to ask Kyle if I was supposed to do anything else when the paddle came down on my ass. My body bucked and a low moan escaped me. A moan that echoed my own came from him. It would have almost been comical, and I might have laughed, had he not brought the wood down on the opposite cheek with equal force. I bucked again. So, that was it. Simon had simply told him to paddle me – no counting, no nothing – until my bottom reached a specific colour. Knowing him, ketchup or rubies or crimson. And, God bless him, Kyle was carrying out the orders.
On the fifth blow I felt my wetness had spread to my upper thighs I was so drenched. I reached to stroke myself and Kyle surprised me with a brusque ‘Don’t. He said not during.’
I dropped my hand and bowed my head and took my blows. He was getting into it now. I literally heard the whistle of the air around the paddle as he brought it down again. By the time I was weeping, he stopped. I turned to look at him and he reached out a hand to touch my ass but quickly pulled it back, remembering orders, most likely, not to touch me. But my bottom was so sore and so sensitive that I swore I could feel the energy of his palm as it came close. Like electricity shimmering across the swollen, hot skin.
I dropped to the bed and rolled on to my back. He stood there, eyes wide, breath erratic. ‘I was told I could reward you,’ I managed.
He barely blinked.
I spread my thighs and dipped my fingers into my wetness. Then I began slow, swirling circles across my hard clit. I met his gaze with my own, thrusting three fingers into my cunt and then resuming my teasing strokes. I was already so very close to coming. I didn’t want to rush it for him. He deserved a reward.
I ground my tender ass against his duvet and then used both hands. Burying my fingers in my pussy, thrusting deep and hooking my fingers to hit my G spot. My other hand played across my clit, swirling and stroking, occasionally pinching. When I finally came, hips thrusting up involuntarily, he looked like he might faint.
I stood on shaky legs, gathered my kimono and wrapped it around myself. ‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘for your…help.’
He simply nodded, one hand straying to press flat against the fly of his jeans. ‘You should go,’ he said. ‘I have to…’ He blushed from the roots of his hair to the V-neck of his sweater.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Of course.’
I hurried home and texted my completion to Simon. I imagined, as I fell asleep, that I could hear his dark chuckle. And what he’d probably say. ‘Such an impatient girl.’
The following day dragged. I scolded myself as I worked for rushing my string of assignments. I could be having a nice paddling today if I hadn’t rushed it. If I hadn’t been greedy. I focused as much as I could on my work and then went into a frenzy cleaning the house. When evening arrived, I poured a glass of wine and took a long hot bath. I masturbated leisurely in the hot water, reliving the day before. When I finally crawled into bed, eager to get the day over with, I was heavy-limbed and tired.
So when the sheets were whisked off me a few hours later I cried out.
‘Oh, don’t make such a fuss,’ Simon said, hiking my hips up and tugging my panties off. He left my nightshirt bunched around my waist. ‘Is that any way to greet a man who left early because he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you?’
His fingers played over the small purple starbursts on my ass that I’d been admiring just a few hours earlier. ‘He really did his job well, didn’t he?’
I nodded, chewing my lip. Now that I was fully awake I was beyond excited. When he pushed his fingers inside me, he smiled. ‘Someone’s happy to see me.’
He kept fucking me with his fingers for a moment as I lay there on my belly struggling to breathe. His fingertips trailed across the skin of my ass and goose bumps rushed up to meet his touch.
‘Did you get off for him? Let him watch?’
I nodded again, face pressed to the mattress.
‘Did you like it?’ There was a pregnant pause. I nodded. His hand came down and heat spread through me like a brushfire. ‘Of course you did. My perfect little slut.’
He thrust his fingers inside me once, twice, three times and then pulled them free. The absence of them was staggering.
‘And getting caught diddling yourself? Did you like that?’
Another nod. A flurry of spanks. I knew damn well why he’d had Kyle use a paddle. He’d never in a million years let another man lay his bare hands on me. The realisation made my nipples spike hard. They ached for him to pinch them, suck them and tug them until I thought I couldn’t bear it.
‘Where was it?’
‘Denby’s.’
He chuckled and the sound seemed to tiptoe up my spine and across my scalp, making it prickle. ‘Nice place. Good girl.
‘And your second assignment?’
‘The gentlemen’s club. I danced. On stage.’
Five fast blows of his flat hand against my ass. I bucked, my body torn between trying to avoid his blows and arching into them.
He moved me up to my knees and I put out my arms to steady myself. I heard the whisk of his belt being removed. The rustle of his clothes. He paused at one point to push his fingers inside my cunt and lay a kiss on my left ass cheek. I was torn between a whimper and a sob.
I stayed there, on hands and knees, waiting as he studied me. And then the very tip of his belt licked across the meatiest part of my ass, and I sobbed in earnest.
A grunt was his only reply. Until he got on the bed and moved behind me. He pushed his cock to my wet entrance and I had to bite my tongue to stay still. If I moved, sought him out or tried to rush him in any way he’d deny me, and I couldn’t stand even the thought of that.
‘Shhh,’ he said when I whimpered. ‘There’s my good girl. Does what she’s told and enjoys it. Takes her punishment and enjoys it.’
He thrust into me and I started to tremble. His hands possessive on my hips. Holding me tight and anchoring me as he fucked me. I lost my composure and pushed back to meet him, to eagerly take him. Simon was past caring about anything like that. He was just as lost in our reunion as I was and my heart felt light from the knowledge.