Cream of the Crop

by Josephine Scott

  ‘Yes, we are,’ smiled Stella.

  ‘I saw you laughing over here and thought I’d share the joke.’

  ‘Not this one you can’t,’ laughed Isabel.

  Stella was looking up at the tall blond, eyes sparkling, lips slightly parted, and Isabel narrowed her eyes a little. It was no wonder Terry had programmed the robot like that. Look at the minx, she thought suddenly, right now that man doesn’t know I exist, look how he’s looking at her!

  ‘I don’t remember seeing you in here before,’ said the manager, to both of them, but looking at Stella.

  ‘We don’t usually stay in town long enough to eat,’ Stella smiled. ‘But my husband’s a captain on the Mars run, you know, and I had nothing to do.’

  ‘If he’s a captain you must spend a good deal of time alone.’ The man was sitting down now so he could look into Stella’s eyes more easily. Isabel got up.

  ‘I’ll just visit the rest room, Stella, back in a minute.’

  ‘Right.’ Stella didn’t even look round when Isabel left the table.

  In the rest room Isabel stared at her image m the mirror, raging with jealousy. I’m every bit as pretty as she is, she thought angrily, so why should he sit and talk to her and not to me! If that robot was around, she’d be sorry. Isabel followed the thought through and smiled suddenly. She left the rest room cautiously but Stella had her back to her and didn’t see Isabel walk to the visibooths. Isabel coded the Black number and Dommie appeared on the screen.

  ‘Mrs Black is not at home,’ he said instantly.

  ‘I know, Dommie, she’s with me. I wanted to tell you she’s been flirting with the manager at the restaurant here.’

  ‘Are you sure, Madam?’

  Isabel stood aside. She had chosen a visibooth that was in direct line with the table, and Dommie could clearly see Stella sitting with the manager.

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Wyatt,’ he said, and the screen went blank. Damn, thought Isabel, I wanted to ask him not to tell Stella I called. She looked through her bag but had no more tokens. She shrugged, deciding she’d have to take a chance on Stella’s reactions if she found out.

  Back at the table Stella was deep in conversation with the manager, and Isabel deliberately interrupted her.

  ‘Time to get back, I think.’

  Stella blushed a little.

  ‘We were just talking.’ She got up and fumbled for her bag for her share of the bill.

  ‘Please come in again next time you’re in town.’

  ‘I will.’ Stella gave him her most dazzling smile.

  You wait, thought Isabel viciously. You’ve got a surprise coming to you! She chatted idly of nothing in particular until the transporter drew up outside the house and Stella waved to her from the doorway. She drove away, grinning gleefully to herself as the pictures went through her mind.

  Inside the house Stella found Dommie barring her way.

  ‘Let me pass, Dommie,’ she said, surprised at him.

  ‘I had a telephone call.’

  She stared. ‘So what?’

  ‘I saw you sitting at a table talking with a man other than your husband.’

  ‘Isabel! The bitch! I’ll - I’ll scratch her eyes out. I’ll tear -’

  ‘Come, Madam.’ And once again Dommie grasped her wrist in his iron grip. Stella hung back, causing Dommie to drag her along.

  ‘I wasn’t doing anything, it’s all a mistake!’

  But Dommie was deaf to her protests and once again Stella found herself in the kitchen, waiting while the robot carefully and stiffly sat down and pulled her face down across his knees; experiencing a strange mixture of fear and excitement as she felt Dommie’s plastic hands turn back her clothes and then tug at her knickers. They were tight, but not tight enough to stop the robotic, iron hand, sliding them down, exposing her to the cool air. The fear was in knowing what was to come, the excitement was remembering the afterglow she had had last time, even if Terry wasn’t around to do anything about it! There was always the solar vibrator...

  She waited apprehensively, hanging limp over his legs, which felt like chair legs, they were so hard, so unyielding. Passions raged through her, causing her to go hot and cold in turn. It seemed to take forever, but then came the first smack. It was far worse knowing how hard he did it. It was as hard as last time and as deliberately long and drawn out, ensuring she remembered each and every separate smack on her exposed cheeks. Despite her best intentions. Stella fought and struggled, while knowing she had to take the programmed twelve resounding whacks before she was allowed up. Individually they stung, together they made a painful whole that glowed down her thighs and up into her stomach. She ran for the bathroom, and stared at her tear-stained reflection. All she could see was a vision of Isabel telephoning Dommie and shopping her to the pre-programmed robot, knowing what would happen.

  ‘I’ll get her for this!’ she shouted, stamping her foot. ‘I’ll show her what it’s like!’ She suddenly realised what she’d said and stopped crying instantly. She cleaned her face and ran back downstairs, calling to Dommie. ‘I’m going out!’

  She set the coordinates in her transporter for Isabel’s house and sat, getting angrier by the metre, as the transporter rolled along, the glow from her bottom painfully reminding her of what she had suffered because of her so-called friend.

  Isabel opened the door and stepped back in surprise and shock when Stella stormed in.

  ‘I want a word with you! Dommie just spanked me, all because of you!’

  ‘I didn’t mean any harm,’ protested Isabel, ‘it’s just that you weren’t taking any notice of me, flirting with that manager, and I -’

  ‘Got jealous and called Dommie. Thanks very much! Now I want you to know just what I’ve suffered!’

  She ran into the kitchen looking around for a suitable implement. In the comer lay Isabel’s sandals which she’d kicked off when she came in, and Stella grabbed one, eyeing the solid sole with glee. ‘This’ll do,’ she announced. Isabel had followed her, wondering what she was going to do. Stella’s temper was raging through her now, and anything could happen. Isabel made the mistake of getting too close to Stella, who instantly grabbed hold of one of Isabel’s wrists, just as Dommie had with her. She sat on a chair and pulled the protesting Isabel over her knees, wrapping one arm around her friend’s waist. Dommie taught me a lot, she thought, as she snatched at Isabel’s flowing skirt, not wanting anything to get in the way. Isabel was fighting too much for Stella to worry about her knickers which, in any event, were thin and wouldn’t give much protection.

  ‘Now see how it hurts!’ Stella brought the sandal down with a resounding whack on Isabel’s rounded bottom. Isabel fought, shouting her protests and Stella had the utmost difficulty in holding her. She smacked her again, her temper giving her the strength to hold on, her outrage giving her a strong arm to deliver some stinging slaps. She only managed six whacks with the sandal before Isabel broke away and collapsed on the floor.

  ‘You - you,’ she spluttered, lost for words.

  ‘Now you know how much it hurts,’ said Stella, ‘and you can double that, because I got twelve from Dommie, thanks to you!’

  Isabel slowly, slowly got to her feet, rubbing her bottom.

  ‘Sorry, Stella,’ she said, genuinely abject. ‘I never realised it hurt so much.’

  ‘I’m glad I did it then,’ remarked Stella, putting the sandal back on the floor. ‘Now the score’s settled – this time.’

  The feeling of revenge was good, and Stella also recognised the first stirrings of a serious erotic feeling too, which surprised her. It was time to go home and find that vibrator.

  Terry came home a week later, bringing Stella a sculptured piece of Martian rock. They immediately fell into bed, making love with the wild abandon that only separation can bring. When the first passion
of their reunion had abated a little, Terry casually asked Stella about Dommie.

  ‘Oh Terry, he’s marvellous,’ enthused Stella. ‘He really looked after me.’

  ‘Took very good care of you?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘That’s good. As long as I know I have nothing to worry about when I’m gone.’

  ‘Nothing to worry about at all.’

  Next morning, before Stella roused herself from bed, Terry went to the kitchen to speak to Dommie.

  ‘Did you have occasion to punish my wife in my absence?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘On one occasion she flirted openly with a man here and on that day she was also wearing what I understood to be insufficient clothing. On the second occasion Mrs Wyatt telephoned me. I could clearly see Madam with another man in a restaurant.’

  ‘Mrs Wyatt called, did she?’ Terry grinned broadly. ‘Thank you, Dommie. I don’t think I’ll be changing your programme.’

  He went back to the bedroom.

  ‘Dommie tells me he had to spank you,’ he said, sitting on the edge of the bed and letting one of Stella’s long black ringlets slide through his fingers. Stella blushed, rolled over and hid her face in the pillow. ‘Did it hurt?’

  ‘Yes, it did!’

  Terry laughed. ‘I’m not changing Dommie’s programme. You know I want you to behave when I’m gone.’

  Stella wriggled in the bed. ‘You’re hard. Terry, I’d never be unfaithful to you, it’s only fun.’

  ‘I know, darling, but often fun gets out of hand, and I’d rather know you were being kept in check. What made Isabel call?’

  Stella sat up, pretty in her disarray.

  ‘We went to town and had lunch. You know that place in the Plaza? The manager came over to talk just after I’d made a bad slip and told Isabel how you programmed Dommie. Because the manager talked to me more than her, she got jealous and called Dommie. He was waiting when I got home.’

  ‘What did you do about Isabel? You surely didn’t let her get away with it.’

  Stella began to giggle with the memory. ‘I was so mad I went over and gave her a spanking!’

  Terry roared with laughter. ‘Good for you, it’s what that meddling girl needs.’

  ‘The trouble is, she struggled so much I couldn’t give her the twelve I wanted to, but at least she apologised afterwards.’

  ‘And I bet Ken doesn’t know about it.’

  ‘I bet he won’t, either!’

  ‘I’ll have to have a word with him about getting a domestic, and programming it so that Isabel gets a tanning every time she gossips or meddles.’

  ‘That would never do, she’d be over the robot’s knee half the day!’

  Terry looked at Stella, at his watch and back at Stella again.

  ‘Just about enough time,’ he murmured, sliding back into the bed.

  The night before Terry was due to leave for another trip, they invited friends round for supper, and Stella went out of her way to be nice to them. When they left, Terry turned to her.

  ‘I think I’ll have to increase the number of smacks Dommie gives you.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Stella, surprised.

  ‘Because if you can turn a man on by just being nice, like you were tonight, you’re going to need a lot of taking care of!’

  ‘I didn’t turn anyone on and I didn’t flirt.’

  ‘You did, and you didn’t have to, my love, your being nice is enough. Didn’t you see the dangerous looks Diane gave you?’

  Stella laughed. ‘She’s so cold and hard, a little jealousy might do her good!’

  Terry grabbed her and held her tight. ‘You, young lady, need a good deal of taking care of, as I said, and I’m not going to leave it all to Dommie. Why should he have all the fun?’

  He pulled her to a relaxa-chair and sat down, dragging her firmly across his knees. Stella squirmed round, trying to get free, glad at least that Terry’s legs felt warm and human, unlike Dommie’s. Terry held her tight and took his time pulling down her lacy panties, revealing the soft cheeks. He gently caressed them.

  ‘I programmed Dommie to do this, but it’s wasted on him,’ he murmured, and he brought his hand down hard on her left cheek, raising an instant pink hand-sized flush.

  ‘Ow! That was even harder than Dommie does it,’ she wailed, renewing her struggle to escape.

  ‘No, you’re not getting away from me. You were right, you didn’t flirt, but you came close enough to it for my liking.’ And Terry smacked her again, raising another pink hand-sized flush, and another squeal. Despite all her objections, he spanked her long and hard, much longer than Dommie would, and considerably harder, aiming for the top of her thighs and other tender spots until she was an abject and quivering limp rag doll. Then he sat her by his side and held her close while she shivered and cried a few tears, while rubbing frantically at her sore cheeks.

  ‘You really are a beast!’

  ‘I know,’ he said and kissed the top of her head. ‘That was from me, something to remember when I’m gone. Dommie’s are only a reminder to behave while I’m away. The real spankings will come from me!’

  Stella wriggled as the painful spanking settled to a warm glow. ‘Terry...’

  ‘Mmmmm?’

  ‘I feel all sexy, I don’t feel like that when Dommie spanks me.’

  ‘I should hope not - he’s only a robot!’

  ‘Yes, I know but he’s more real than some robots.’

  ‘Getting designs on Dommie, are you?’ he jested. ‘Getting a sexy thrill when he spanks you? In that case, I’ll programme him to spank you if you flirt with him, shall I?’

  ‘No, you’d only take my fun away, and besides, what’s the good of feeling sexy when you’re half way to Mars?’

  ‘Not much, I must admit,’ said Terry thoughtfully, running a finger down the side of her face. ‘It won’t be for much longer, anyway, then you’ll have me around to spank you, instead of a cold robot. Let’s go, I’ve got a flight tomorrow.’

  ‘And leave me alone again,’ pouted Stella as they climbed the stairs.

  ‘You’ve got a nice red bottom to remind you of me.’ He patted it gently, playfully, and she moved out of reach of his hand.

  ‘That’s still hot,’ she protested.

  ‘And so am I.’ He held her close. ‘You’ll be all right while I’m gone, you’ll have Dommie to obey your every command, well, almost every command.’

  And that, decided Stella as the bedroom door closed behind them, is something I’ll be looking into, when he’s gone!

  Girl Talk

  Once upon a long time ago, I wrote a three-part novella. It was going to be published, then the magazine changed hands, changed editor and the copy went walkabout. I offered the copy to another editor who lost the carbon too. I know you should never let a carbon go out, but this was pre word-processor and I didn’t fancy typing it out all over again. And it wasn’t the sort of thing you’d take to the local shop for photocopying... So, I tried to recreate the story, and this is as far as it went. The ideas were there but…

  What do girls talk about when they meet for coffee? If you come with me, we will do a little eavesdropping on a group of girls sitting with their cups of coffee, their eager ears ready for titbits, eager thighs ready to part.

  No, not yet.

  First we must make our way there along this smart suburban road. See how nicely the gardens are laid out, how neat the fences, how free of weeds each drive. This is suburbia, where the women all wear designer jeans to go to the supermarket, in their Audis and Volvos, of course.

  Here is the house occupied by the Stephensons, Joanne and Nigel. It’s a typical four-bedroomed detached, highly desirable property. Joanne is considered by Nigel to be
a highly desirable property too. She is blonde, petite, with a neat attractive figure. They have been married for five years and hardly a month has gone by, during that time, without her getting her bottom well and truly warmed by his hand or one of the many implements they keep in the bottom drawer (highly appropriate) of a chest of drawers. Joanne also considers Nigel to be a highly desirable property, not least because he is six foot tall, extremely good-looking and fun to be around.

  No good pausing here today, though, Nigel is at work in the systems design office where he is top man, and Joanne is along the road, drinking coffee and swapping tales with her friends.

  On the opposite side of the road is the home of Sonya and Joe Marrin. Sonya is dark haired, with burning eyes that appear to eat up every man she looks at. It’s all an act. Joe loves it, it gives him a thrill to see men turned on by his wife’s look, knowing all the time it is only meant for him. Sonya looks like a tough lady, looks as if she would eat men for breakfast, but over someone’s knee (preferably Joe’s), being well and truly spanked, she shows herself to be a true submissive; loving every moment of it, even as she cries and pleads for mercy. Joe isn’t a tall man like Nigel, but he knows how to give a spanking. No doubt about that. Joe is at work today in the insurance office: work which he is good at but which is sometimes a bit on the boring side. There he entertains himself with fantasy sessions with Sonya, fantasies which (lucky man) he can turn to reality as soon as he gets home.

  Next door to Sonya and Joe live Heather and Alan Henderson. They’re CP fans too. Heather is a little on the plump side, it must be said, but pretty with it; a cluster of brown curls around an ever smiling face. Alan is a more serious person, befitting his position as a technical adviser for a local firm. Do I have to say they aren’t at home either? Alan is at work and Heather is along the road.

  Come with me just a little further along the road. See that house there, set back from the street - the one with the long drive? That’s the home of Anne and David Portram. Yes, it is the most expensive house in the street, and that’s where the girls are now, drinking coffee and swapping tales.