by Sam Eden
‘Have you any jewellery?’
‘Not really. I’ve some rings and bracelets my mother left me. My parents weren’t well off.’
Rebecca fetched a white box from her bedroom. ‘I’ll lend you these for the night, if you like.’
Nicola handled the beautiful pearl necklace and earrings. ‘Are you kidding?’
‘No, of course not. Put them on.’
Nicola was beginning to enjoy the warmer, more relaxed Rebecca. Although not fond of her methods, deep down she admired her for fighting to keep James. They settled down in the living room with some wine and chatted about James and Carlo. When Rebecca asked if she could call her Nick, she readily agreed.
‘And should I call you Becks?’ she asked impishly.
‘Not unless you want another paddling,’ laughed Rebecca.
‘Was James the first man to spank you?’ asked Nicola. She couldn’t imagine the daunting Rebecca allowing many men to reprimand her.
‘No, it was my cousin, Mark. I was sixteen and I was crazy about him. I flirted shamelessly. Real hussy stuff. But he wouldn’t play ball. He was training to be a doctor and quoted statistics about the higher rate of congenital deformity in children whose parents are first cousins.’
‘How romantic!’ Nicola cried sardonically.
‘I suppose he was right, but I wasn’t planning to have kids by him. I just wanted to lose my virginity.’ Rebecca mused a while. ‘He looked a bit like an English version of Carlo. He was very serious; always worrying about people in poor countries. He was so different to the other boys I knew.’
‘How did he come to spank you?’ prompted Nicola.
‘He was going to Oxford medical school and he came to stay with us before term started. For some reason he couldn’t stay in his college for the first couple of weeks. It was still my summer holidays so we were alone together most days. With both my parents at work I could torment him to my heart’s content. I walked round the house half naked and I was always brushing my hair near him. I could see his sneaky glances so I knew he found me sexy, but he thought I was shallow because I didn’t know anything about the genocide in Rwanda.
‘That summer Nelson Mandela had been elected President of South Africa with loads of fuss in the media, so I asked Mark to tell me what was so great about him. He was sitting on the sofa so he could have all his books on the seat next to him. I pushed them out of the way and sat down. I was wearing a short summer dress. I kicked off my shoes and sat with my legs under me, careful to make sure most of my thighs were bare.’
‘And you ended up over his knee?’
‘No, not then. He was so animated about Mandela I hadn’t the heart to be too provocative. But I edged closer for a kiss. He knew what I was doing, and when I got close enough I dived in to kiss him but he dodged me and jumped to his feet. “It’s not right, Becky”, he said, but I saw the tent in his trousers so I reckoned it was only a matter of time.’
‘What happened next?’ Nicola was riveted.
‘Next day I went for a run. Instead of my normal jogging kit I wore my strip from the school athletics team: tight black shorts and a blue top which left plenty of bare midriff. I didn’t tire myself out though, because the exercise I wanted was after the run. When I got back I could hear music playing on the radio in his bedroom. Now or never, I thought, and when I opened the door he was lying on the bed reading.
‘“I’ve just been for a run, so I’m going for a shower”, I said. He didn’t say a word, just looked up at me. I took my top off. I had a black sports bra underneath. My shorts were high-cut so there was usually a fair bit of lower cheek exposed, but I’d run them into my bum crack so that most of the cheeks were bare. As I said, I was really slutty. I turned round in the doorway and let him have a good look before going to my own room. My stomach was all butterflies. I waited to see if he would come. He didn’t, so I took off my bra and was about to go back into his room when he appeared at my door and grabbed my arm.
‘“This has got to stop now, Becky”, he said. He sat on my bed, dragged me over his knee and gave me a really good spanking. To him it probably seemed like a punishment, but he was acting out my most frequent fantasy. Although my shorts were on my bum cheeks were bare anyway, so I got a good feel of the palm of his hand. When he stopped I was really tingling and ready for him. I asked him why he didn’t take my shorts down and do a proper job of it, and in reply he pulled me up and fetched the hairbrush from my dressing table. He made me bend over the foot of the bed and kept slapping me with it. Eventually I couldn’t stop myself. I put my hand down my shorts and started to masturbate. He stopped hitting me, but I just stayed bent over until I’d finished. Thinking about it later things might have been different if I’d turned as soon as the spanks stopped. I don’t really know why I didn’t. Just inexperience, I suppose. When I eventually turned round he was staring at me with an enormous erection in his pants. I unzipped him and gave him a blowjob. It was my first time, and even though it wasn’t what I’d planned, it was just as erotic. Afterwards he went back to his room and I had a shower.’
‘Did your parents ever find out?’ asked Nicola, breathlessly.
‘No. He was very quiet that night at dinner so I thought they might guess something had happened, but actually they were pretty caught up in their careers in those days, so they often didn’t notice things at home.
‘For the next few days he made sure he was out most of the time at the library. Then his college room became available, so he left us.’
‘Do you ever see him now?’
‘After he qualified he went off to do a year with Oxfam in Africa. He was hacked to death by robbers stealing the medical supplies.’
Nicola was aghast. ‘Oh my God! That’s so awful!’
‘And of course he had avoided me like the plague after that summer, so I never had a chance to apologise. When I grew up and realised life wasn’t just about girly fun all the time, I would have loved just to be friends with him.’
Rebecca’s eyes had taken on a distant look, and Nicola pressed her hand.
‘We never cry in our family, but I wept buckets at his funeral. I think my parents were ashamed of me.’
Being entrusted with this intimate incident from Rebecca’s past made Nicola feel much closer to her. She wanted to stay on and talk, but at that moment Carlo came in from the pub.
After the meal the lights were dimmed and the string orchestra gave way to a dance band. Nicola and Rebecca used the brief lull to escape to the ladies’ room.
‘Do you think we can trust James and Carlo alone with that waitress?’ asked Nicola.
‘I doubt it. That minx is a spanking waiting to happen,’ Rebecca laughed. ‘By the way,’ she continued, ‘that tall blond guy from the DCMS you were speaking to over drinks - he’s leaving the civil service to stand for Parliament. He’s tipped to be a future cabinet minister, at the very least.’
‘Wow, I didn’t know how honoured I was,’ laughed Nicola. Then her tone grew serious.
‘Listen, there’s something important I need to tell you.’ She related her plan to go to Milan with Carlo. Rebecca was astonished; she hadn’t realised things had gone so far between them.
‘But are you sure? We know so little about him.’ For a while Rebecca tried to persuade her to delay her decision.
‘I know there’s a risk, but in my heart I feel it’s right,’ said Nicola.
‘What about the language?’
‘I speak holiday Italian. My guardian spent summers dragging me round ancient ruins. I expect it’ll improve quickly under Carlo’s tuition.’
‘What will you do for a job? We have contacts there. It’s a long shot, but there may be something.’
‘Thanks. If you could ask them it would be great.’
‘What about his...?’ Rebecca stopped. Other women had c
ome into the room so they left it, and in the corridor outside Nicola picked up her point.
‘We had a long talk yesterday, and I told him there would be days when I wanted to be able to sit down without my bottom aching,’ she said dryly. ‘He promised never to whip me again, but we agreed he can punish me less severely when I’m a bad girl.’
‘And how often will you be a bad girl?’ laughed Rebecca.
Nicola mused for a moment. ‘Every four to six weeks, I think.’
The sight of two beautiful women giggling together gladdened the hearts of the men they passed on the way back to the ball.
While Rebecca was circulating Carlo amongst various bigwigs, James asked Nicola to dance. They glided happily about the floor until James’ hand caught one of the weals on her back. Nicola grimaced and James looked at her with concern.
‘I’m sorry, did I catch your foot?’
She told him it was minor back problem, but when it happened again he insisted on knowing the details and her weak cover story began to fall apart under his probing. When he tested his suspicions by pressing his right hand into her bottom she flinched. James insisted on examining her. After all, he told her, this would affect the remaining punishment session which had yet to be rearranged. So reluctantly she took him to her hotel room, where he had her take off her dress. Standing in her black lingerie she watched him in the mirror as he ran his fingers along the livid stripes on her legs, buttocks and back. He was horrified and wanted to know who had done it, and when she told him it led to more questions.
‘But why?’
‘I begged him to,’ she said
‘You begged a stranger to whip you?’ James sounded incredulous. ‘Why on earth would you do that?’
‘I... I felt guilty about us. It was a form of penitence.’
James did not sound at all convinced. ‘And why Carlo?’
‘I guessed he was cruel enough to do a good job,’ she replied, not adding that he was also sexy and mesmerising.
‘Where was Rebecca when this was happening?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘In London, arranging the ball,’ Nicola lied. She wanted to protect Rebecca but felt guilty about lying to James.
His eyes narrowed. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’
She was silent, knowing how bad she was at lying and not wanting to say too much. Instead she tried another direction.
‘You know you and I wouldn’t work out,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘You’re engaged to a beautiful and successful woman.’
‘Always tears with you, Nick,’ said James. ‘Playing the damsel in distress while you twist us all round your little finger.’
Nicola was mortified that James thought so badly of her.
‘No, it’s not like that!’ She looked imploringly at him, but he did not relent.
‘Well you may find you’re scheming yourself into trouble.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked.
‘What do you really know of Carlo; his life in Italy, his friends and associates?’
‘I know I love him.’
‘Love him? You’ve only just met him,’ James snorted angrily.
‘I need a new direction. Carlo feels right.’
‘What you need is some sense spanked into you. Remember our agreement lets me spank you whenever I want to.’
‘Spank me then, if you must,’ she said defiantly. She was exasperated and frustrated. Everyone always thought she was in the wrong.
‘Come here,’ he said menacingly, throwing off his dinner jacket. He sat on the foot of the bed and pulled her across his lap. She yelped in protest at his roughness, but he settled her waist snugly over his thighs and held her in place with his left forearm. She stretched her hands to the floor to support herself. With his right hand he pushed her thighs down so that her knees were bent and her bottom spread to its fullest extent. She dug the tips of her shoes into the carpet to hold her position.
‘Are you comfortable?’ he snapped.
‘Am I supposed to be comfortable?’ she snapped back.
In answer he brought his hand down sharply on her right buttock. Then he paused and caressing her whole bottom. Was he suddenly reluctant to whack her existing welts? He wasn’t. He slipped her panties down her legs and set to work. At first he spanked her alternately on each buttock at a fast pace. Then he switched to slower, harder strokes across the centre of her bottom. She winced as the old bruises were smacked anew, but she made little sound apart from the occasional ‘ouch’. Being spanked by James felt good.
Finally he stopped, but neither of them moved. She was wet and she could feel he was hard, but this time they could do nothing about it.
‘I would like to have gone on much longer, but we’ll be missed,’ he said quietly. He didn’t sound angry any more.
For a minute or two they stayed silently as they were, then sombrely he said, ‘So you are into Italian primitives, after all.’
‘I was falling for you, James,’ she said, still facing the carpet. More confessions over his knee, she thought. ‘After what happened between us I can’t stay on with you. It wouldn’t be fair to Rebecca.’
He lifted her up gently then left her to re-do her make up and dress before returning to the ball.
Back in the ballroom the tables were sparsely populated but the dance floor was full. There was no sign of Carlo and Rebecca, but Nicola could see the professor and his wife dancing contentedly together. His wife was beaming at him. Perhaps Nicola’s attentive treatment had rejuvenated him. She felt she could do with some rejuvenation herself, and something to ease her latest bout of bottom bashing. She sat down cautiously. The waitress appeared and she ordered a vodka and tonic. The banker’s wife, whose name was Audrey, was the only other person at the table.
‘You look a little saddle sore, dear,’ the woman said. ‘Have you been out riding today?’
‘No, but I’ve had some hard workouts this week.’
‘Oh, the gym. I hate it, but I have to go. Otherwise I’d need to live on lettuce.’
Audrey asked if Carlo was her partner. She replied that he was, but soon regretted it because the woman immediately became inquisitive. Nicola felt foolish in being unable to answer many of her questions about him, and in the end she had to admit that they had met only a week before.
‘I saw one of his paintings in a shop in Milan,’ said Audrey. ‘His stroke work is very energetic.’
‘It can be,’ agreed Nicola. At least that was one aspect of Carlo she felt qualified to talk about.
A young man appeared at her side and asked her to dance, saving her from further displays of ignorance. He was from the group she had mingled with before dinner, and although she was glad to escape Audrey’s re-run of the Spanish Inquisition, she was not looking forward to further torture on the dance floor.
In the end it wasn’t so bad, because the music had moved into the modern era and most couples were happy to dance apart. After her first partner came a succession of the other men she had met in the reception room, ending in the future cabinet minister himself. Nicola found herself flirting with him.
‘Aren’t you too good-looking to be Prime Minister?’ she asked. He smiled modestly and asked if she would answer a personal question. He was so polite and had such a ready smile that she immediately felt able to open up to him, although she knew what was coming.
‘Are you really with that artist?’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m going to Milan with him.’
‘I’ve changed my mind about being Prime Minister,’ he said solemnly. ‘I want to be the Ambassador to Italy instead.’ Nicola knew it was corny, but she liked it all the same.
As they left the dance floor James appeared with someone at his elbow. Her dancing partner greeted James deferentially, and politely asked af
ter his fiancée before excusing himself. James turned to her.
‘Nick, this chap had been pestering me to introduce you to him. Would you mind?’
James seemed to have perked up since their last encounter. She thought several scotches may have had something to do with it, although he was far from drunk.
‘This chap’ turned out to be a world famous sculptor of the Brit Art movement, and though Nicola knew little about art she was an avid fan of the celebrity gossip magazines which featured his exploits from time to time.
‘Gosh, yes, I’d be delighted,’ she said in astonishment. It was clear that the awe in her voice pandered to the artist’s vanity, and she soon found herself on the dance floor again.
The tunes had moved back in time to traditional waltzes once more, so contact was inevitable. Nicola was determined not to grimace, so she fixed her smile and forced herself through it. The artist was a little tipsy, but he was light on his feet and handled her gently. After escorting her to her table he cheekily slipped his card into her purse and begged her to call him one day soon.
Audrey’s husband had returned and inevitably he too wanted to claim a dance with Nicola. He was such a boorish and heavy-handed man that she didn’t bother to hide her discomfort as they waltzed. Fortunately he was so certain that his billions bought him limitless sex appeal that he noticed nothing amiss.
Nicola was reprieved from further dancing when the floor was temporarily cleared for the results of a charity auction to be announced. She was thrilled to see a minor member of royalty appear, amid a bevy of aides and photographers. As he swept by he nodded greetings to several people, including James, who gracefully bowed his head in response. Nicola was impressed, but wondered what the royal would have thought of James had he been in her hotel room an hour before. But knowing her recent luck, she decided, she would probably have had to take a turn across both their laps.
He made a short speech about the charity, art therapy for victims of serious injury, of which he was patron, and shook hands with the winners. As the dancing resumed Nicola watched him share a few words with various VIPs before being whisked off to his next engagement. It was a life that needed stamina, she thought.