Arthur Hadley was wishing that he'd taken his vacation by himself this summer. Not that he didn't like the seashore and particularly the scenic beauties of Malibu Beach. But there was a kind of loneliness to it, even though his eighteen-year-old daughter Hester was accompanying him this summer. And perhaps Hester herself was cause for some of his problems which were besetting the handsome young widower.
At least, he liked to think of himself as still being young, although he was forty-three. Still in all, as he glanced down at his still very pale body in the natty bathing trunks he had bought just before coming on this trip, he told himself that he didn't have a paunch or the middle-aged spread typical of office workers who had reached his maturity. He still had most of his brown hair with hardly a touch of gray, and his appetite and general health were quite excellent. Just the same, he reflected, he wished that Sonya could have been along this summer. She had died a year ago this March after a sudden attack of virus which had reached epidemic proportions in the college town of Pomona where they had been living while he was doing a job for his management counselor firm. Perhaps, too, the fact that his job had necessitated several moves to small towns along the Southern California coastal region had hampered him in bringing up Hester the way he and Sonya had planned. But Sonya had always tended to spoil their only child--unfortunately, after Hester's birth, the doctors had told Sonya that it would be dangerous for her to risk another pregnancy--and so Hester had gone her own way, which was almost anti-social.
She was in her room right now reading a book, of all things, when she ought to be out here on the sand, lazing in the sun. Her sallow complexion and a touch of acne certainly would be improved by it, he felt.
Of course, there was no gainsaying the fact that Hester was an extremely brilliant girl in school. Scholastically, she had never given Sonya or him the slightest concern. It was only that, left so much to her own resources, she was often self-centered with company, awkward and ill at ease in the presence of others, and tended to dominate the entire conversation, which she invariably tried to change to the topic of her own making. Sonya and he had often gently remonstrated with her, but to very little avail. Now, on the eve of her first year at college, there was every indication that she was going to be a loner there too just as she was back at home in Pomona.
It was the second week of July, the third day of Arthur Hadley's vacation, which had another two and a half weeks to go, and he had come to Malibu Beach with the express intention of enjoying himself and forgetting if he could gloomy and distraught feelings he had had lately because he was beginning to miss Sonya a great deal more than he had believed would happen. She had been a gentle woman, very lovely in a quiet, rather dreamy way, perhaps Hester had inherited some of her mother's introspective tendencies--and they had been happily married. There had been very few rifts on their horizon, and as for their physical life together, he had really no complaints. Sonya had always been dutiful, though always shy about sex. Still and all, a man couldn't expect his wife to be an accomplished houri. And they had had about eighteen happy years. To be ungrateful would be to defy the wrath of the gods of fate and circumstance.
All the same, as he reached for a pack of cigarettes and lit one, looking out towards the ocean where people were frolicking, he wished that there were a companion along to drive away this blue mood of his. He had always been very virile, and with Sonya he had had to quell much of his innate sexual vigor. He had been very gentle with her, understanding and sympathetic, and of course that was what a proper husband should be. But now, more than a year after her death, and still virile and healthy, Arthur Hadley was beginning to feel the pangs of continence.
The thought of remarrying hadn't occurred to him. To begin with, he didn't think that Hester would like the idea. She had been extremely devoted to her mother, and that was understandable too.
He took another puff of his cigarette and looked around him. At that moment, a large beachball bumped against his side. Startled, he looked around, and saw an enchantingly lovely golden-haired young girl running towards him, wearing a blue bathing suit and sandals.
"I'm terribly sorry!" the girl gasped, "I hope we didn't hurt you. Mother and I were playing ball. I guess we shouldn't have, and we just got carried away."
"Quite all right," Arthur Hadley said gallantly as he rose to his feet. "I was beginning to think that maybe a little exercise wouldn't hurt me either. No harm done at all, young lady."
"Gee, thanks," the girl giggled as she retrieved the ball.
At that moment, a stunningly handsome brown-haired woman approached them. She was about five feet seven inches in height, her light brown hair very modishly short-bobbed and hidden under a bathing cap. Her face was oval, somewhat imperious, with large, widely spaced gray-green eyes, a delicate aquiline nose with thin and flaring wings, and a firm, incisive mouth. The figure shaped out by the neat and very chic and at the same time quite modest black Jantzen was so exciting that Arthur Hadley almost forgot his manners. She had high-perched, round, closely spaced breasts, a delightfully slender waist from which ripe, ample, yet solid hips flared. Her thighs were long but beautifully and fully rounded, and her calves were sleek, upstandingly rounded and quite mobile, which the rippling play of fascinating muscles along her sunbronzed skin delightfully evidenced.
"I do hope you weren't inconvenienced," she said in a pleasant, rich contralto voice. "Betty was keeping up with me and perhaps threw just a little too wildly that time. I hope you'll excuse us both."
"But there's nothing to excuse, I assure you. In fact, I hope you won't think it impertinent of me if I invited myself to share your game. As I told your daughter, I was just hoping for a chance to get a little exercise."
"Why, that's very gracious of you. My name's Eleanor Stanfield, and this is my daughter, Betty," the handsome brunette matron smilingly made the introductions.
"And I'm Arthur Hadley, and I have a daughter too, but she's in the hotel at the moment," was his rejoinder.
"Come along then, and we'll find a stretch of unoccupied beach and have a little game. I can see you haven't been here too long, seeing that you don't have a suntan yet," Eleanor Stanfield gaily remarked.
"No, it's only my third day. I really haven't had a vacation in about two years, and the last time my wife was with me. I'm a widower now, you see," he explained. Somehow, curiously, he felt the need to explain himself to this beautiful, mature woman who seemed so poised and who also seemed to have her daughter so well in control.
He observed, however, a few singular marks on the girls legs. Betty, who could not have been much more than sixteen, was about five feet five, with a heartshaped face, gentian-blue eyes, a dainty little snub nose, a sweet rosy mouth, round, dimpled chin, and an absolutely breathtaking body. Her skin was a baby-pink, her thighs were magnificently rounded as were her calves, but her buttocks were shaped out so snugly in the blue suit as to indicate the magnificent resilience and rondure of their contours. Yet on her upper thighs, as they marched along now in search of their unoccupied little playground, Arthur Hadley could see a few faint bluish blotches on both legs, just where the hems of the bathing suit left off. Apparently, Betty was extremely athletic. Her golden hair would have been the envy of many women twice her age, and far more worldly. It was a thick pageboy, with the curls turned under, and it was unencumbered by any bathing cap.
"I'm sorry about your wife, Mr. Hadley," Eleanor Stanfield sympathetically replied. "In a way, we're sort of in the same boat."
"How do you mean?"
"Why, I'm a widow myself," was the unexpected rejoinder. "My husband passed away six years ago."
"I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Stanfield."
"Please do call me Eleanor. The other is so formal. And I'll call you Arthur, if I may. It would never do to play ball and to say 'please throw me the ball, Mr. Hadley!', now would it?"
"Not at all," he laughed heartily. Arthur Hadley felt a great weight lifted from his heart. It had been Providence itself in the personage of that deliciously pretty golden-haired girl who had roused him from his lethargy and from feeling sorry for himself.
CHAPTER TWO
Arthur Hadley couldn't help being grateful to golden-haired young Betty for having misjudged her throw of the beachball. After what had started out to be a dreary and lonely vacation, in which even the sunlight and the scenic beauty hadn't stopped him from thinking about how much he missed Sonya, he now found himself part of a laughing, carefree trio tossing the ball to mother and then daughter, calling upon his own somewhat out-out-practice athletic ability to catch it and throw it within range of his two partners. It was certainly exhilarating, and after about half an hour when Eleanor Stanfield laughingly called a halt on the grounds that she and her daughter had best go back to their rooms and dress for dinner, he felt genuinely sorry that so pleasant an interlude should come to such an abrupt end.
During the game, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off either Eleanor or her daughter, and the latter had certainly come from good stock and inherited a fine legacy of tempting, healthy young physique. Still, the marks on Betty's upper thighs puzzled him again, and when she bent to catch a low throw from her mother, the hems of her bathing suit crept up just enough to indicate that there were quite a few of these inexplicable marks.
But what entranced him most of all was the voluptuous figure of Eleanor Stanfield herself. Even though he had been a faithfully married husband during the eighteen years with Sonya, Arthur Hadley had always had an eye for an attractive woman. In fact, he had had to do a good deal of sublimation, for he had occasionally procured stag films and erotic books and magazines during the course of his travels, many of them foisted on him by well meaning business associates which had stirred unholy desires in his body. Since his firm was a highly ethical and quite famous one, he didn't dare risk any scandal that could be traced back either to his employers or himself, and he knew that Sonya would certainly never forgive him if he cheated on her in a way that brought notoriety. This wasn't to say that he hadn't many times lusted for a different girl in bed with him, especially when he was on one of his trips, but he invariably had had to close his eyes, pretend that such a girl was beside him, and then sublimate by relieving himself with the age-old way that Onan had discovered.
In fact, so delicious did Eleanor Stanfield's body appear to him that Arthur Hadley several times had to admonish himself for thinking lustful thoughts, which certainly wasn't in keeping with the period of mourning he had been observing since Sonya's tragically unexpected demise. Her flesh wasn't at all flabby or fat, and when she ran after a ball or flung it, the magnificent jiggling of her bottom and titties and highs began to make him experience an agonizing itch in his loins.
As Eleanor and Betty picked up their robes and started back to the hotel, he felt himself tongue tied and at the same time desperate at the notion that this delightful and enjoyable experience might not be repeated. "I-I want to thank you for letting me share your fun, Eleanor," he blurted.
"How very nice of you, Arthur! I enjoyed it too, and I'm sure Betty did. Didn't you, darling?"
"Oh yes! And I hope Mr. Hadley isn't mad at me because I hit him with the ball," the charming golden-haired teenager pertly retorted.
"Isn't angry with you, dear, not mad at you," her mother gently but firmly corrected. "I'm sure he's forgiven you by now."
"The fact is," Arthur Hadley plunged, "I'm really glad she did hit me. If she hadn't, I wouldn't have had the pleasure of meeting both of you."
"Why, what a nice compliment!" Eleanor Stanfield smilingly acknowledged his words with a cordial little nod.
"I was wondering, if it isn't too presumptuous of me, if perhaps we might have a drink or even dinner together at your convenience."
Eleanor Stanfield seemed to frown as if pondering the advisability of accepting an invitation after so short an acquaintanceship. Then she looked at him and smiled. "Why, as a matter of fact, I do think I'd like a cocktail before dinner. Betty, dear, suppose you run along and change. Then you can meet me down in the lobby by quarter of six, and we'll go into dinner."
"All right, Mother. Glad to have met you, Mr. Hadley," Betty said in her clear sweet voice. Then she turned and hurried away.
"Don't run, dear," her mother called after her, and Betty immediately slackened to a moderate jog.
Arthur Hadley looked after the lovely young girl, and he was thinking about his own recalcitrant and moody daughter Hester. "She really minds you, doesn't she, Eleanor? In this day and age, I think it's amazing. And it does you a great deal of credit," he remarked.
"You're much too flattering, Arthur. Besides, I can't take all the credit at all. I'd rather give it to the method I use. But we'll discuss that over cocktails. Let's see--give me about fifteen min-cuts, and I'll meet you down in the lobby."
"Say, that's right," he chuckled, flushing hotly, "I forgot I was wearing my bathing suit. I guess it would never do to go in there for a drink. I'll meet you there in the lobby, then. And-and thanks for being so nice, Eleanor."
* * *
When he came down to the lobby in the new white linen suit he'd bought for the vacation to Malibu, his eyes widened with pleasure to see Eleanor Stanfield seated in a thickly upholstered armchair wearing a perfectly ravishing blue rayon frock which hugged her luscious curves almost like a second skin. The hemline was classic, neither too short nor too long, just to the tops of her knees. And since she had crossed them, he could observe the flawless symmetry of her magnificently rounded, beautifully muscled calves sheathed in beige nylons, and her dainty feet shod in trim black leather pumps with three-inch heels. He approached smilingly, and somehow, ridiculously, he felt like a schoolboy on his first date as he greeted her: "You're certainly punctual, Eleanor! That's another admirable thing about you."
"My, Arthur, I've never met a man who's as full of compliments as you are at first meeting. Shall we have our cocktail now?"
"Nothing would suit me better. But what about dinner this evening?'
"Oh, I am sorry. I'd promised Mrs. Thompson --she's a friend I met on my first day here and the invitation is of two days' standing. Otherwise, I'd certainly say yes."
"Well, perhaps tomorrow night, then? I'd like it very much if you'd bring Betty, too. I think she's a wonderful girl."
"You know, Arthur," she said archly as she rose with a sinuous elegance from the chair that left him tingling with excitement and the awareness that he was being sensually roused as he hadn't been in years, "you know all the right things to say to a woman. Now complimenting me is fine, but my weak spot is Betty, because I'm very proud of her. And it hasn't been easy, being a widow bringing up a little girl and trying to teach her how to behave properly and eventually assume her role in the world. Not when you think of all the delinquents and the vandalism and the wrong influences that are being aimed at kids these days."
The attractive cocktail room hostess seated Arthur Hadley and Eleanor Stanfield at a quiet little table in a corner, for which he was extremely grateful. He ordered sherry after learning that Betty's mother preferred gin and tonic. He was bursting with questions, but he knew that it would be a tactless mistake to hurry this relationship. Psychologically, he would be on the defensive if he tried to press and to go too quickly. It was only, he told himself, that he was so starved for affection since Sonya's death and because he found this mature and beautiful woman so fascinating, so sympathetic. So he wisely waited till the drinks had been served, and then he lifted his sherry and proposed a toast, "To our getting to know each other better and my thanks for making this vacation memorable."
"That's very sweet, Arthur." Eleanor Stanfield raised her glass and clinked it with his. "You're really a very gracious man. And you know, I'll bet you're thinking that I'm thinking that you're trying to pick me up."
Arthur Hadley's face went red and he shifted nervously in his seat, looked down at his glass. "Well, I certainly didn't want you to get that impression," he finally stammered.
"It's perfectly all right. As soon as you told me you had a daughter and were a widower, I realized that you were bound to be lonely. And then of course when I noticed that your daughter wasn't with you--and isn't with you now--, I was convinced of it. No, Arthur, I'm not afraid that you're just a masher. I can see the signs of good domestic training in a man, and you evidently loved your wife very much."
"That's very true, Eleanor. And perhaps because I did, I find myself now at loose ends after all this time and my vacation was really going to be rather boring. Hester doesn't much care for swimming, though she does play a little tennis and will on occasion go horseback riding. I guess I came to Malibu because Sonya and I used to come here so often when she was alive."
"I understand." Eleanor Stanfield gave him a gentle smile and put out her hand to touch his. It was only a brief contact, but it sent a shiver through him and he quickly took a sip of his drink to calm his exacerbated nerves. "Tell me about your daughter, Arthur," she went on.
"Well, she's eighteen, and of course an only child. This fall she's going to start at Pomona College this September, and I brought her down here because I'd hoped she'd get outdoors and take some interest in something else besides her books."
"Then she doesn't have too many friends of her own age, I take it?"
He shook his head. "No, and it's worrying me. Oh, her grades are fine, she's always been in the upper third of her class throughout high school. That's not what I'm worried about. Of course, she was that way even when Sonya was alive, but she was my wife's pet and--"
"And you respected your wife and therefore you didn't try to maintain any discipline with your daughter," Eleanor Stanfield finished for him.
"That's just about it. That's why I suppose I admired your daughter so very much this afternoon when I saw how obedient and polite and just naturally sweet she was. She doesn't seem to have a worry in the world."
"Yes, she was a happy child almost from birth, it's true, Arthur," she told him. "But I can assure you that what you see now took some trying and not a little unpleasantness for Betty herself before it was achieved. And she still is by no means perfect. No sixteen-year-old girl could be, after all."
"I suppose not. Just the same, although I've only known her for a little while, I can go so far as to say that I wish Hester had some of her qualities."
"Thank you. But as I said, Arthur, Betty, just like any other young girl, was self willed, selfish and thoughtless when we started out together. By that, I mean after my husband died. She was ten years old then, and she was the apple of her father's eye, to use a trite phrase. What you see today is the result of six years of methodical and, I hope, judicious discipline."
"You mean you've taught her to acquire the politeness and the sweetness that she has?"
"Yes, you might say that. But not by talking entirely, believe me. No, Arthur, it was done by means of the elementary laws of cause and effect."
"I don't quite understand you, Eleanor."
"Very well, let me put it this way," she leaned back and smiled at him. "As I told you, Betty's father idolized her and of course he spoiled her. She was used to having her own way, she interrupted, she wanted things to revolve around her entirely, and she was certainly very sloppy when it came to taking care of her room and her own things. She also had the habit of fibbing, nothing ever very serious, but there were tendencies which indicated that if she wasn't curbed, she might well develop into a very cunning little liar. At first, when my husband died, Arthur, I felt just as helpless as I'm sure you felt when your Sonya passed away. Fortunately, so far as economics were concerned, my husband had a great deal of insurance and had purchased our house and left no debts, so that I didn't have to worry about the future. That meant I could devote myself entirely to bringing Betty up as I believed she should be. And so, to make a long story short, it wasn't long before I had the full authority of her supervision that I employed discipline with her. And I don't mean talking. In a word, Arthur, when she was naughty, I spanked her."
"You spanked her?" he echoed. "I didn't think that any modern mother resorted to that these days, not with all the books I've read by Dr. Spock."
"Yes, I know. The business that Junior will have a trauma, if his parents say no to him or hold him back from his natural instincts. I consider that hogwash, pure and simple. Forgive me for speaking so plainly, but it's a subject on which I'm quite opinionated, Arthur. So you see, at the very outset, Betty, who had never had so much as a slap, suddenly found that with me as her only parent, she would be punished each time she did something that I believed to be out of line with good behavior. And at first, I can assure you, I sometimes felt that I was being much too severe. But gradually it bore fruit. Which is not to say, to be sure, that I have given up this discipline even at her age today. Yes," she paused a moment and regarded him levelly, "whenever Betty disobeys me or does something that I consider entirely out of character, she is punished for it. And by punishment I mean a spanking."
Arthur Hadley stared at the beautiful mature widow across the table from him. The most singular emotions were beginning to take subtle possession of him. In his mind's eye, he saw that delicious golden-haired young girl, smiling and carefree, her lovely blue eyes shining with happiness, lying across this handsome woman's lap, her bottom upturned, being spanked. It was a picture which was unique to him and also singularly disturbing. A kind of sensual titillation had begun to permeate his mind, aroused entirely by the eloquent and direct speech his lovely companion had just made.
CHAPTER THREE
It had made such an effect, indeed, that before Eleanor Stanfield took her leave of him to keep her dinner engagement with the woman friend she had previously mentioned, Arthur Hadley eagerly exacted a promise that she and Betty would be his guests for dinner in the hotel dining room the following evening.
He ate by himself that evening, for Hester was in one of her blue funks and had complained of a headache. Accordingly, he had room service send a tray of dinner to her room. So he was lonelier than ever, and he ate without much appetite. Fortunately for the sake of distraction, there was a movie in the little assembly hall to which all the guests were invited, and Arthur Hadley took advantage of the opportunity to relax and, while he watched the frothy comedy which was being enacted on the silver screen, ponder over the almost incredible new direction his thoughts were taking.
He was reasonably sure that Hester really didn't have a headache and was just indulging in one of her little spiteful tantrums to show her disapproval of their vacation spot. He remembered that she really hadn't wanted to come to Malibu after all, and he was piqued to remember, now that he was in a faultfinding state of mind, so many of her little "stunts" over the past few years. If Hester could be as well trained, as docile and as charmingly and refreshingly gregarious as Betty Stanfield, he thought to himself, he would be a much happier man.
But most of all he found it difficult to credence that a big grown girl like lovely golden-haired Betty should be so humiliatingly and childishly chastised. He found himself examining with a great deal of curiosity the possible ways in which this voluptuous and handsome widow would administer such discipline to that lovely girl. And when he went to bed that night, he tossed and turned, his drowsy mind haunted by the most singular phantasmagoria in which he saw the ripely curved adolescent not only across her mother's lap, kicking her legs and turning back a tearstained face to implore mercy, but also standing on tiptoe with her hands tied high above her head and tethered to an antique whipping post.
Until now, Arthur Hadley's erotic dreams had been perfectly unimaginative, though very definitely frequent, even while he had been enjoying harmonious and pleasant--if not thrilling exciting--sexual relations with his beloved Sonya. But now it was as if he were reborn and aware for the first time of the curious vagaries of physical desire. And before he finally fell asleep, he told himself that he must learn all he could about the methods which this fascinating woman employed to produce such praiseworthy results in so delightfully charming a daughter...
The following afternoon he put on his bathing trunks and went out to the beach again. Hester's headache had vanished, apparently, and she decided that she would take a long walk. Since this was outdoor exercise of a sort, he couldn't very well sermonize her about her lack of cooperation, for he would have really enjoyed her companionship. Perhaps he might have intimated to her, had they been together, how far she was from the standards he had set for her and how it would be beneficial to them both if she tried to be more companionable and tolerant of others.
His heart bounded as he saw Eleanor Stanfield seated on her blanket and with a beach umbrella above her, browsing through a book and looking up every now and then out towards the sandy shore of the beach. Following her gaze, he recognized golden-haired Betty tossing a beach-ball back and forth to three youths of about her own age. There was no doubt about it, she had one of the loveliest figures he had ever seen, and in a few years she would certainly be as desirable and delectable as her mature mother. The moment he thought this, he guiltily rebuked himself for having carnal desires toward Eleanor Stanfield--but he knew perfectly well that was the case. Sonya had been dead now for sixteen months, and if he wanted to keep thinking of himself as young and vital, he would have to return to the living world of reality, and that in turn would mean thinking about remarriage. Why not? A man wasn't a monk, and Sonya herself would have wanted him to be happy. Besides, it was more evident than ever, judging from Hester's behavior, that the steadying influence of a wise and understanding mother was more important than ever now, particularly as she was approaching college and the test of mingling with others of her own age who would undoubtedly have had better training in the amenities of polite society. It was true that he was going too fast, but then he had never before met a woman as stimulating and desirable as Eleanor Stanfield.
There was almost a kind of magnetic response between them, he joyously told himself, for now the comely widow turned and saw him, then waved to him in a gesture which suggested that he join her. He didn't wait for a second invitation, but quickened his step and moved towards the red and yellow beach umbrella which marked her sunbathing vantage point.
"Good afternoon, Arthur," she said cordially with a dazzling smile. "Sit down and keep me company. How are you today, and how is Hester?"
"I'm fine. Hester's out for a walk," he replied.
"I do hope I'll have a chance to meet her soon, Arthur."
"I was thinking that perhaps this evening at dinner--that is if our date still holds--I might bring her along?"
"Do you know, I was about to suggest that myself! Oh, now, just look at that girl of mine!"
He turned to look in the direction of the shore. Betty had abandoned her beachball and was now playing gymnastics with the boys. One of them had hoisted her to his shoulders, and she was trying to balance herself on them like an acrobat.
"Betty!" Eleanor Stanfield rose to her feet and, cupping her hands to her mouth, called out. "Come here, if you please!"
Betty very nearly toppled from her precarious post, but the two boys standing around their crony hurried up behind him to catch her and then lower her to her feet. She extricated herself, and then hurried towards her mother and Arthur Hadley. "Hi, Mom! Did you want something?" she gaily asked. "Oh, hello, Mr. Hadley."
"Hello, Betty," he answered. But his eyes were on Betty's mother, whose face was stem and grave.
"You know perfectly well, young lady, that I don't like you making a spectacle of yourself being part of that muscle bunch."
Immediately Betty's dazzling smile vanished and a look of contrition appeared on her lovely heart-shaped face. "I-I'm sorry, Mother," she murmured placatingly.
"Not half as sorry as you're going to be in a little while, my dear," was the brisk retort. "Let me see, it's three-thirty now. You may go to your room and prepare. I'll be there at four."
"Yes, Mother. I-I'm sorry. Goodbye, Mr. Hadley," Betty flushed, lowered her eyes, and then meekly trudged off towards the hotel.
Eleanor Stanfield turned to the bemused widower: "I'm dreadfully sorry, Arthur. But I'm afraid that Betty won't be able to accept your very gracious invitation to dinner this evening. I trust you will forgive her this once?"
"Certainly, Eleanor."
"But I want you to be sure to bring Hester, because I'm quite anxious to meet her," Betty's lovely mother continued, glancing at her wrist-watch. "And I'm also afraid that in a little while I'm going to have to leave you, Arthur, till I meet you for dinner this evening."
"You-you're going to-to punish Betty for what she just did?" Although his face was impassive, he couldn't quite hide the unsteady tone of his voice. And once again the lewd, startlingly intimate image leaped into his febrile mind, of seeing that delicious pinkskinned adolescent draped across Eleanor Stanfield's voluptuous lap, her round, succulent young buttocks upthrust to maternal chastisement.
"Decidedly I am, Arthur. And you tell me that you've never punished Hester, and that your wife didn't either?"
"That's true. But you see, while it might have been possible when she was just a child, she's all of eighteen now."
"But she's still under your direct supervision and she lives at home and is supposed to obey you, isn't she, Arthur?"
"Yes, I suppose that's so."
"Of course it is. But then, my dear man, I don't expect you to change over night your educational methods. You see, it took me quite some months after my husband's death to discover that the method I am now using is the only practical and sensible one. And you can see for yourself that Betty doesn't look at all abused or starved or unhappy, does she?"
"No, I'd certainly never say that of her," he admitted.
"Well, we shall talk about these things later, Arthur. I look forward to meeting your daughter, and again, all my thanks for being so attentive. I'm very glad we came here on our vacation."
"Likewise," he said and then blushed like a schoolboy. She flashed him a deliciously coquettish smile, and then rose and smoothed the sand off her magnificent thighs. As he looked up, his heart nearly stopped beating with desire as he caught the glimpse of the valley between her full round titties, and he observed that although her skin was beautifully tanned from the sun, the tender soft skin between those luscious love-globes of hers was breathtakingly milky-white.
"I-I'll see you at dinner, then, Eleanor," his voice quavered as he rose to his feet. And he was hugely embarrassed to discover that his cock felt hard and throbbing, though fortunately it wasn't in sufficient erection to be discernible...
It was as well for Arthur Hadley's peace of mind that he couldn't look into the bedroom which Betty occupied at the hotel at this particular moment. A strange scene was being enacted. After the reproof by her mother, the golden-haired teenager had gone directly to her room, taken off her bathing suit and then put on her bra and panties. Next, she had pulled open the second drawer of the dresser, and taken out two straps, one with a buckle at one end, and the other without one. Next she had taken a pillow from the bed and placed it in the middle. Then she glanced around nervously to make sure that her clothes were tidily hung in the closet and that there was nothing on top of the dresser. Then, as if satisfied, she stooped and removed her panties and placed them neatly over the back of a straight-backed chair beside the bed, and then clambered onto the bed and carefully laid herself down so that her stomach was directly over the pillow. Then, folding her arms, she laid her head on them and waited.
In the adjoining room, she could hear the footsteps of her mother entering, and she shivered a little, turned her face to the other side, and closed her eyes and continued to wait. The naked skin of her buttocks twitched spasmodically, but other than that she exhibited no signs of apprehension or distress. She acted throughout, indeed, as if this were an exercise which she had practiced many times--and so indeed she had. She knew, for example, that her mother would leisurely remove her bathing suit, put on a slip and robe and not come back into her room until the exact moment announced out at the beach.
It was usually anywhere from fifteen minutes to half an hour, and the longer prolongation was used when the offense had been extremely serious, as it apparently was this time, for the wait became almost interminable, and one could see the contraction of Betty's thigh and bottom muscles becoming more and more frequent as she lay there waiting. The pillow proffered up her naked bottom in the most enticing way imaginable; it tautened the smooth satiny skin and defined the voluptuous and already quite mature contours.
Then the door opened and her mother entered the room. Betty looked up and said in a soft, faint voice, "I'm sorry, Mother."
"I am too, my dear, because I'm afraid you won't be able to accept Mr. Hadley's very kind invitation to dinner this evening. I'll have a tray sent up to your room. Now you know perfectly well why you're being punished, don't you?"
"Yes, Mother."
"Suppose you tell me, then."
"For-for playing rough games with those fellows down at the shore."
"And I told you about such things before, haven't I, dear?"
"Yes, you have, Mother. I'm sorry. I won't do it again."
"I certainly hope not. Very well, give me the buckling strap."
Now the fatal moment had come, and Betty was seen to shiver throughout her entire almost naked pink-sheened body. She reached out to her left which was near the edge of the bed, and took up the buckling strap, which was of brown soft leather. Eleanor Stanfield took it, and Betty dutifully clasped her hands together and extended her lovely bare arms out in front of her while her mother proceeded to wind the strap tightly around the slim wrists and to draw up the buckle as tightly as she could. The other strap was black and polished, about two feet long, of double thickness along the last three inches at one end, and about a quarter of an inch thick throughout its major length. At the applying end, it was rounded off in a kind of semi-circle, to create a kind of extra-stinging slap.
"Get ready, dear," Eleanor Stanfield said as she took her stance by the edge of the bed, the strap in her right hand. Betty quickly squirmed till she was exactly over the center of the pillow, her stomach and loins pressing down upon it, and pressed her thighs together, then laid her left cheek against the surface of the bed and waited.
Her bottomcheeks were splendidly ample, up-standingly rounded and quite plump and firm at the summits. The groove between them was gradually sinuous, broadening at the base. There was an adorable dimple in the exact center of each buttock, and both seemed to come and go as the girl's bare skin twitched and shrank in understandable anticipation of what was to follow. She pressed her bare dainty little toes down hard into the covers, to give herself support, but this maneuver served to project and tauten the target of the black leather strap which now slowly rose in the air.
Crack! The strap flashed down and leaped across the tops of both delightfully rounded naked hips. Betty caught her breath and closed her eyes, convulsively tightening her clasped fingers ahead of her, but she made no sound or movement other than that. As the strap lifted, one could see the bright pink tracery imposing its vivid hue over the baby-pink satiny epidermis of the teenager's naked behind.
The strap rose again slowly, hovered in the air, then again flashed down with a sonorous impact, visiting the girl's naked upper buttocks, perhaps half an inch below the mark of the first stroke. Betty's calves flexed and her toes scrabbled at the covers, while she lifted her head slightly, and then laid it back down in exactly the same place as at the outset of the punishment.
Eleanor Stanfield continued with a deliberate cadence, allowing perhaps ten seconds between strokes. After twenty-five, she paused to contemplate her handiwork. Betty was sniffling now, squirming uncomfortably, but she had not left the limited boundaries of the pillow. Her face was now pressed down on the other cheek, so that it seemed turned towards her beautiful, relentless executioner. Her eyes were still closed, but there were tears glistening at the ends of the long thick curly lashes, and her face was flushed. Her arms were still thrust out ahead of her, the fingers tightly clasped together, and her thighs had begun a nervous kind of rubbing together, and shifting just prior to the infliction of each new biting kiss of the black leather strap.
The marvelous smooth pale pinkness of the young girl's naked body, with the lovely back adorably hollowed by the spinal column and the pronounced vista of the chinkbone, and then the soft sheen of the bare thighs and calves, was emphasized all the more by the now vividly crimson-striped pattern designed on the girl's round, voluptuous young bottom. From the tops of her hips to the base of her buttocks, the strap had visited with an impartial vigor, and Betty's netherglobes seemed to tense and then relax with a sporadic motion she seemed unable to control.
After this brief pause, the handsome brown-haired widow once again lifted the strap, and Betty, who had opened her eyes at this moment, uttered a gasp, "Oh, Mother!" and quickly closed them again while at the same time she seemed to press herself down tightly against the pillow in an attempt to steel herself for the resumption of punishment.
Thwack! This stroke encircled the base of both quivering nether globes, and Betty's hips squirmed convulsively under the stinging impact. A stifled sob escaped her, and she turned her face to the other side now, pressing her left cheek down against the covers, while she stretched her arms out ahead of her with a kind of supreme gesture. If it had not been that she lay on her stomach, one could have seen the beautiful young titties arch and jut with that maneuver which tautened them.
Again the strap fell, this time slightly higher up, and now the spanking resumed with the same methodical regularity as during the first portion. With brisk horizontal cuts, the black leather band wedded to both globes at the same time, ascending the inflamed and twitching posterior to the tops of the hips, covering every cranny of tender young flesh with the chalorous embrace of leather. Now "Ohhhs" and "Ahhs" began to be heard at virtually every stroke, and from time to time it was seen that Betty's bare hips convulsively swerved to this side and then to that. But never once did she leave the confines of the pillow, nor did she make any outcry for mercy or reprieve.
Again after twenty-five, making a total of fifty, Eleanor Stanfield stopped and lowered the strap. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling, her lips moist, and her magnificent bubbies rose and fell majestically under the thin bathrobe which covered the even sheerer black nylon slip. Betty was crying softly now, and rubbing herself nervously back and forth over the pillow, as she attempted to find a less irksome pose in which to endure the finale of her punishment. During the last three or four spanks, she had kicked up first one leg and then the other, but never once throughout this already prolonged and quite painful whipping had she attempted to roll to one side to escape any of the punitive, biting descents of that black leather strap.
During this pause, the golden-haired culprit turned her face again so that her right cheek rested on the covers, and her tear-filled eyes fixed on her mother's beautiful, absorbed features. This time she crossed her ankles, tightening her leg muscles as she prepared for the resumption of correction.
Eleanor Stanfield slowly raised the strap, and Betty uttered a "Ohh, Mother!" as she hurriedly closed her eyes. She seemed to press herself down tightly against the pillow in an effort to diminish the much too vulnerable plumpness of her now vividly streaked hindquarters. The strap descended with an ominous "Crack!" and this time fell vertically, dividing the left buttock exactly in half as it merged its black polished leather end along the luscious netherhillock.
"Ouch, ohh!" Betty sobbed, she shifted her bound wrists nervously, lifted her head, and then closed her eyes and pressed her chin down firmly against the covers, her entire body rippling with tremors. The strap rose slowly again, paused in the air an excruciating moment, then fell vigorously down the right buttock, attacking it from the base to the small of the girl's bare back. Betty's body jerked convulsively under the stinging lash, her hips swerved frantically from left to right, then from right to left again, and she pressed herself down frantically against the pillow as once more she tried to diminish the prominence of the inescapable target of that punishing, burning strap.
Eleanor Stanfield concluded the whipping with a dozen more lashes down each bare bottomcheek, and then a final cut, delivered horizontally, across the plumpest curve of both naked globes. Betty was sobbing aloud now, and almost each stroke had brought fervent "I'm sorry, Mother!" and "Aaahhh, I'll be a good girl from now on, honest, Mother!"
The whipping had been reasonably severe. It had comprised fifty horizontal strokes, twenty-six vertically applied lashes, and a final "finisher-upper" delivered with full strength across both flaming naked bottomglobes.
Eleanor Stanfield folded the strap and laid it down on the edge of the bed near Betty's bare feet. Then she went through the door connecting their rooms back into her own, and left her daughter there for at least ten minutes. The goldenhaired culprit, her face wet with tears, was thus compelled to remain with her wrists bound, unable to soothe the burning anguish of her well thrashed bottom, which was exactly one of the nuances of discipline which her mother had imposed during this ritualistic chastisement. Left to herself, Betty cried softly, squirming back and forth over the pillow, lifting first one leg and then the other, sometimes rubbing her bare calves together, in ingenuous though understandable attempts to alleviate the fiery pangs in her voluptuous young naked seat. Finally Eleanor Stanfield reappeared and, leaning over the still softly sobbing girl, deftly unbuckled the wrist strap. At once Betty plunged her soft little hands to her flaming behind and rubbed it feverishly, while her mother moved over to an armchair, seated herself and then beckoned to the girl.
Sniffling and trying to control her crying, the almost naked young culprit got down gingerly from the bed, wincing and gasping as the movement aggravated the seemingly intolerable heat in her posterior, and approached her mother, head hanging, in a total attitude of abject contrition. She was breathtakingly lovely in this punishment attire which consisted of only a pink nylon brassiere; the lovely round globes of her titties rose and fell agitatedly, and through the nylon one could make out the narrow, light coral aurolae and the pouting, saucy buds of her nipples. Her bellybutton was wide and shallow, and there was already a surprisingly thick fleece of silky dark blonde curls over the plump mound of her virgin Venus.
Eleanor Stanfield patted her lap, and the goldenhaired penitent cautiously seated herself on her mother's lap. Eleanor Stanfield's left arm curved around the girl's naked waist, and she cupped Betty's chin with her right hand and murmured gently, "I'm sorry I had to punish you, darling. But you know that my heart was in my mouth when I saw you playing with those boys."
"I-I know, Mummy." After a spanking, Betty invariably seemed to use the childish title rather than the more formal one of "Mother." Then she added, "I-I know I shouldn't have. I'm awfully sorry."
"And I'm sorry I had to whip you so hard, precious. But most of all, because you won't be able to have dinner with Mr. Hadley and me. He's a very nice man, and he has a girl who's two years older than you are, Betty. I'm afraid she isn't nearly as lady-like and well bred as you are, though. I'll have a chance to meet her. Now then, you go to the bathroom and take a shower, and then put on your pajamas. I'll send up a nice dinner for you. But don't you ever do that again, young lady, because you know how I worry about you."
"I promise I won't, Mummy. Thank you--thank you for punishing me because I was naughty," Betty quavered. Then, impulsively, her beautiful pink round satiny arms clung around her mother's neck as she exchanged a fervent "kiss of peace" with the voluptuous and mature brown-haired widow. When she rose, a brave little smile was trembling on her moist red lips, and Eleanor Stanfield playfully patted the flaming naked seat as she said cheerfully, "That's a good girl, Betty. Now take a nice cool shower and you'll feel lots better, I'll tell you all about what Mr. Hadley's daughter is like when I come to see you and wish you good night, darling."
CHAPTER FOUR
Arthur Hadley had never been so conscious of his daughter's faults as on this particular evening, and he was the more annoyed because secretly he had hoped that Hester would offer one of her moody excuses for not wanting to accompany him to dinner so that he could be alone with the fascinating Eleanor Stanfield. Regrettably for his romantic aspirations, Hester listlessly agreed to go. But so far as cordiality and charm was concerned, all she contributed was her presence.
She was five feet six inches in height, with a rather oval-shaped face, slantingly set cheekbones, large, widely spaced blue eyes, very thick brows, a straight nose, and a small ripe mouth whose upper lip was petulantly curved and full, indicative at once of her egoistic nature. A few tiny red spots of acne decorated her chin and cheeks, as well as the top of her forehead. Her auburn hair was drawn away from the forehead and fixed into a thick rather ungainly bun at the back of her head. Her skin was tawny but rather sallow, for she rarely indulged in outdoor sports and she had thus far during the first week of this vacation been hardly out at all. When she did her studies, she wore harlequin glasses, which gave her a rather piquant air; but without them, she gave the impression of being overbearing and quite unconcerned with what went on around her.
Nonetheless, she had an elegant figure and had she taken more pains with herself, it would have been really stunning. Highset, pear-shaped breasts set rather widely apart, a slim waist which gave way to lithe and supple hips, and a pair of ample oval-shaped buttocks with a broadening crease, long nervously chiseled thighs and calves. Her voice was midway between contralto and soprano, and it too gave the impression to a first-time observer that she was most pretentious. However, if one listened to her speech at any length, it was evident that she was perhaps scholastically intelligent but vastly immature as regards emotions and a knowledge of how to deal with people.
She monopolized the conversation from the start during the dinner, and though Eleanor Stanfield was sweetly polite and even encouraged her with an occasional phrase, Arthur Hadley at once discerned that the voluptuous brown-haired widow found her irritating at times.
After dinner, Hester delighted him by casually remarking, "If that's all, Father, I think I'll go for a walk. Nice to have met you, Mrs. Stanfield."
"And to have met you, Hester," Eleanor Stanfield graciously remarked. "I hope we shall see each other again some time soon."
Hester gave a kind of shrug of her shoulders for which her father could cheerfully have slapped her, and then flounced off as her father and Eleanor Stanfield emerged into the lobby of the hotel. She turned to him with a knowing smile: "Perhaps, Arthur, you'd like to take a walk too... in the other direction?"
"You must have been reading my mind, Eleanor. Let's!" he eagerly rejoined.
They directed their footsteps towards the attractive landscaped little park, where there were tennis courts for the guests, and after a long silence, Eleanor turned to him and commented, "I can see that you do have a problem, Arthur, and that you've been thinking about it recently."
"Yes I have. Let me apologize for Hester. She was really bad-mannered tonight, as I've never seen her before."
"No, my dear man. It's only that you haven't exposed her to very much social life since your wife's death, and it's only because you did tonight that she shows up badly."
"But--" he began.
"Let me finish, Arthur. She's quite intelligent, alert, with a keen mental grasp of her studies and of things that interest her. That's excellent. But that's as far as it goes. She's ill at ease and, I think, a little on the defensive."
"On the defensive, Hester?" he echoed incredulously.
"Believe me, before I got married, I was a teacher for about a year in a junior high school. I was very young then, just about twenty-one, but I had my certificate just the same and I was all set to have a career when I met John. But that's beside the point. What I'm getting at, Arthur, is that I can recognize Hester because I had a girl by the name of Janice in my first class and I'll never forget her. She was a product of a broken home, and she was constantly getting into trouble, picking quarrels, arguing with me before all the other pupils. Then I found out that she was really lonesome and unhappy, and she was just striking out. I think Hester's going a little bit through that process, if you don't mind my saying so. And it's no reflection on you at all."
"You may be right. I do wish I could spend more time with her, but my job keeps me traveling quite a bit throughout the state. But-but that's not what I wanted to talk to you about, Eleanor."
"Oh?"
"I-I was wondering about Betty."
"I see." Eleanor Stanfield looked at him intently for a moment, and then smiled, and linked her arm with his. "And what did you want to know about my daughter, Arthur?"
"Well, she's such a lovely girl, and at dinner tonight I could see the comparison between the two. And yet, I couldn't help thinking that she was the one who was being punished and Hester wasn't. Did you--I mean--that is--did you really punish her?"
"Let's sit down here on this nice bench and look at the moonlight. That's fine. To answer your question, Arthur, yes I did."
"You mean--you--you spanked her?"
"You might call it that, yes."
"And she didn't resist?"
"Good heavens, Arthur, you make it sound so melodramatic!" Eleanor Stanfield uttered a charming little laugh. "Let me tell you what I had started to tell you this afternoon. When John died, I was first crushed by my loss, and then I reflected that financially I didn't have to worry, so my main responsibility and my really only concern was that of bringing up my daughter properly. But Betty had already developed some nasty little habits, though she was only ten. At first I tried reasoning with her. That didn't work at all. And then one day, in exasperation, I decided to spank her. Well, it seemed to work for a little while, and then she reverted back to her bad habits again. I realized also that it would be a great mistake ever to punish her in anger, to inflict more punishment than the offense called for simply because I had lost my own temper."
"That's a most interesting theory."
"It's more than a theory, Arthur, it's an axiom with me. And you see, by explaining to Betty very calmly and very logically why she was being punished and then proceeding to inflict just that punishment on her, she began to understand the law of cause and effect which I've already mentioned. Oh, I don't mind telling you it took some time. And gradually I got her to the point, when she was about thirteen, I'd say, that she accepted and understood her own responsibility in this relationship of ours. She knows also that once a punishment is over, it's forgotten--unless of course she makes the mistake of repeating the offense. She tries very hard, she's a good-natured and cheerful girl at heart, so you mustn't think that I'm an ogress. In fact, she has learned that when I tell her to go to her room, she's to prepare herself until I come to her. That too, I may tell you, took many lessons and occasionally repeated punishments until I achieved the degree of understanding submission which a girl her age has to have."
"Then how--"
"I'll tell you exactly what happened. When I went up to my room this afternoon, Betty had already taken her shower, put on her bra and probably her panties too while she prepared herself. By that I mean, Arthur, she took a buckling strap from the drawer which I use to put around her wrists so that she won't try to cover up when I'm spanking her, and then she took out the strap I use to spank her when she's done a very wrong thing, such as playing rough-house with those boys."
"You mean, she did all that without your telling her?"
"Exactly. It was all done by the time I entered her room. Oh, I came in a little bit after her, and I purposely waited. First of all, when a punishment is announced, the suspense that is created by having to wait for it lets the girl know exactly how serious her offense has been and makes her reflect considerably upon her wrongdoing. Hence when its time for the actual chastisement, Arthur, she's in a quite impressed mood, I assure you. Well now, to continue. When I entered the room, Betty was lying on her stomach over a pillow which she had taken from the top of the bed and placed in the middle. The buckling strap and the spanking strap were beside her and ready. I told her briefly why I was going to punish her and I asked her if she agreed with me. She said she did and that she was sorry. I then strapped her wrists in front of her, I told her to get ready, and then I used the spanking strap on her bare bottom. She's quite brave and her endurance is quite good. However, I strapped her thoroughly, and she was crying quite satisfactorily by the time I stopped. Then I went back to my room for a few minutes while I let her lie there and think things over. That's the hardest part for Betty, in many ways, Arthur."
"And why is that?'
"Well, because her first instinct is to rub her burning bottom, and she can't. She must stay in position until I am ready to release her. And when I've done this, then we talk things over. Then she's my little girl again, and she comes to sit in my lap and to give me a kiss to show me that she bears me no ill will."
"It's simply amazing!" he shook his head and uttered a sigh. "I can just see myself doing something like that to Hester. She'd throw a book at me."
"No, you can't take her by surprise after all this time, Arthur. It's going to be a more difficult process to discipline Hester because you've let her go so long. And yet she's still not too old for it, you can see that yourself."
"I agree with you. But then," he sighed again, "there is the problem of moving about on my job and not being home all the time. I've got an elderly housekeeper back in Pomona, but then after all I assume that at eighteen Hester is old enough to take care of herself."
"In everything except the secret of learning how to get along with people. And that's the most important of all."
"And Betty--is everything all right?"
"Her bottom is quite red, if that's what you mean," Eleanor Stanfield laughed gaily as again she linked her arm with his. "I imagine that she's had a very good dinner which I sent up on a tray, taken a cold shower this time, no doubt, got into her pajamas and is busy reading. Or perhaps not, since it's just about her bedtime now. Which reminds me that I'd best go back and give her a good night kiss. And I can assure you that we get along beautifully together. There are rewards as well as punishments. I often do unexpected little things for Betty when I'm very pleased with her. As I say, by and large, she's a very good girl. And now I really had better go. Thank you for a lovely evening, Arthur."
As they rose together, he faced her, and in the moonlight she looked infinitely more desirable than ever. He felt himself trembling. "Eleanor-- I-I know it's awfully soon--I mean, we've only just met--but--well, darn it all, I just have to say this--I-I like you alot."
"Thank you, Arthur. I like you too, very much."
He uttered a gasp of joy, and put his arms around her, and before he knew it was kissing her on the mouth. The feel of her full breasts against his chest, and the exquisite sensation of having her arms circle him, made him feel reborn. They stood there for a long and magical moment, until he felt his cock aching violently. And then he blushed at the thought that perhaps she would be aware of his erotic arousal. But it was Eleanor Stanfield who first broke off the embrace by giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and then whispering, "Now definitely I've got to go back, darling. I'll see you tomorrow on the beach, shall I?"
"Please do. And bring Betty. I'll try to get Hester."
"Fine. Till tomorrow, then." She held out her hand to him, he squeezed it, and then impulsively swept her into his arms again and kissed her on the mouth. God, how warm and moist and quiveringly exquisite her mouth was!
"Whew! You're a very impetuous fellow, Arthur. I really had better get back now before I get into trouble. And you know something?"
"What, you beautiful, fascinating, adorable woman?" he breathed.
Eleanor Stanfield gave him a sly little wink. "You know, I'm rather glad myself that Betty's aim of that beachball was so inaccurate. Good night, Arthur dear."
CHAPTER FIVE
By the end of his second week at Malibu Beach, Arthur Hadley knew that he was in love with Eleanor Stanfield and that he was going to ask her to marry him. He had two problems, to would accept him; the second, assuming that she be sure: the paramount one was whether she did, was how Hester would react to the idea of having a step-mother at this most impressionable and supposedly mature stage in her young life.
On two occasions during those idyllic days, he had had dinner dates with the fascinating brown-haired widow and each time Hester had accompanied him. Each time, too, he had been embarrassed by her diffidence and her invariable manner of turning the conversation around to herself, sometimes even rudely interrupting when she wished to make a point. This tactless-ness convinced him that he had been entirely wrong in her upbringing and that it was high time to take drastic measures. But he foresaw also the difficulty of such a procedure unless he could have the cooperation of this magnificently beautiful and mature women who had already given proof of her maternal authority by turning golden-haired Betty into an absolutely adorable girl... a perfect step-sister for arrogant Hester and one who could show his own daughter by her own example how to behave in exemplary fashion.
And so on Sunday night which ended the second week, he had dinner with Eleanor Stanfield alone, and he put on his very best suit, had a haircut at the barber shop and a manicure as well (the stimulating sensation of having a pretty young girl bend over his hand and caress his fingers titillated him into hoping that with Eleanor's acquiescence, his nights wouldn't be lonely from now on!), and then met her in the lobby of the hotel and escorted her into the restaurant.
He ordered steak and champagne, and the charming brown-haired widow gave him an arch look. "What's the celebration, Arthur?"
"It's the anniversary of my meeting you, Eleanor. I have something I want to say to you, something very important. It means a great deal to me."
"And what is that, pray tell?" she whimsically smiled at him and leaned back, in a way that made his heart bound again to see the magnificent thrust of her bubbies against her blue rayon dress.
"I'm not going to say it until the champagne comes," he warned laughingly. "By the way, how is that lovely daughter of yours?"
"Betty? She's fine. Somehow I had a feeling that you didn't want her along this evening."
"Eleanor! You-you wonderful woman! You've got a seventh sense. I didn't want Hester along, either, to tell the truth."
"So it really must be very important, Arthur?" Her eyes fixed on his and her red full lips curved in the most enchanting smile. He knew that if she didn't say yes, he would be the un-happiest of men.
"I think, sir," she reproved him but with a twinkle in her eyes, "that you're trying to turn my head. Steak and champagne and flattery. It's a good thing we're in a public place."
"Well," he blurted, feeling his face redden. "To tell the truth, I wish this were a private suite and we were dining just by ourselves with no one else around so I could tell you and show you all that you mean to me."
"Arthur Hadley! I do believe you're going to propose. Is that it?"
"Oh gosh!" he groaned. "Now the secret's out."
"But I'm not offended at all. And I think it's a lovely proposal. You know, I wasn't certain that I was going to marry again after John's death. But I realize that it's time Betty had the authority of a father and the love and the care as well."
"I do love your daughter, Eleanor. And I feel as if she were my own flesh and blood."
"That's very dear of you, Arthur." She put out her hand over his and squeezed it gently. He felt his cock throb with indescribable ecstasy at the prospect of this gorgeous creature was going to be his to fondle and to fuck! "And I'll feel the same way towards your daughter, too, Arthur."
"Am I to hope then, Eleanor, that you aren't going to say no?" his voice trembled a little.
"The answer, you enterprising man, is yes."
"Eleanor!" he exclaimed so loudly that diners around them turned to look. "Gosh! Darn it, how I wish we were alone, so I could take you in my arms and kiss you and tell you how happy I am and how happy I'm going to try to make you."
"There'll be time for that, dear. You told me that you work in management counselorship, don't you?"
"Yes I do. But I've been doing some thinking too--of course, it was contingent upon your saying yes. For the last few years, Eleanor, I've had the idea of founding my own firm. I've always wanted to be my own boss, and several of the contacts I've made on my last few trips indicated that they personally liked me and would give me a chance to handle their business. And I'd have to engage a staff and open an office, but what I'm getting at is that I wouldn't want to take you and Betty away from your hometown and your circle of friends. And for myself, I'd welcome the chance at last to settle down in one place and have a family."
"Why, Arthur Hadley, do you know what you just said?" Eleanor Stanfield murmured with the most provocative smile he had ever seen on a woman's lips. Then he really did blush.
"Well, all right, I mean, we can talk about--oh darnit anyway, Eleanor, I can't wait to get you out of the restaurant--"
"And into bed?" she whispered meaningfully, arching her lovely eyebrows and giving him a soft, thrilling, humid look.
Whatever he might have said then was halted by the arrival of the waiter with the steaks, and for the next few minutes each of them, too moved for conversation, did justice to the superb cord-fed beef. After dessert and coffee, Arthur Hadley, who was almost bursting with joy, beckoned to the waiter for the check, tipped him with a five-dollar bill, and then hurried to help Eleanor out of her chair and lead her out of the lobby.
"That was a marvelous dinner, dear," she said. "And I drank just enough champagne to feel like celebrating."
"Not too much, I hope, to change your mind though?" he asked nervously.
"Of course not, darling. You know, when Betty hit you with that beachball, and I came over and saw what a nice-looking fellow you were, I told myself that if I did fall for somebody, it might very well be someone like you."
"Eleanor!" he breathed, completely floating on a cloud.
"Then you really are serious about forming your own business and coming to Claremont, where Betty and I live?" she asked as they got into the elevators.
"Yes I am. I've had several offers for my house, but I've always resisted them because--well, I didn't think I was going to remarry, either. You darling!"
"Shhh, the elevator boy can hear us," Eleanor warningly whispered, but her eyes and lips weren't the least bit reproving. As for Arthur Hadley, he was in something of a quandry; did she mean for him to come to her room or was she going to go to his? His eyes eloquently appealed as he stared at her silently. And Eleanor Stanfield comprehended through ESP; standing beside him and very close, she whispered, "Your room, if Hester can't come in."
Now his heart really bounded with joy, because he had got Hester a single room with bath just across the way from his own. Now the only problem would be if his brashly selfish daughter should happen to come out of her room at the moment that he and Eleanor were entering his. But at this moment, he was willing to take that chance, because the pressure of Eleanor's thigh against his was making his prick ache with longing.
The gods of love smiled kindly on him because when the elevator boy opened the door and he gallantly escorted Eleanor out, there wasn't a soul in the hallway. He took his key and swiftly unlocked his door, then, with a nervous glance to each end of the passageway, ushered her in ahead of him and hastily closed and locked his door. She stood facing him, an enigmatic smile on her firm, incisive lips, her eyes dancing, and the rich swell of her titties made the ache between his legs grow almost intolerably agonizing.
"Eleanor, my sweet darling Eleanor!" his voice was husky with longing as he put his arm around her shoulders and for the first time tasted the sweet nectar of her lips. Her arms swiftly closed over his shoulders, and she arched to him, and he felt the thrilling pressure of her firm swelling hubbies and the warm suggestive hollow of her pelvic basin as she merged to him in this osculatory embrace.
When the kiss finally ended, it was she who spoke first, her cheeks rosy like a schoolgirl's: "My gracious, Arthur, I guess you do mean it!"
"Didn't you think I did, darling? I think when I first saw you on the beach coming after Betty and that ball, I knew then you were the girl for me."
"You're awfully nice, Arthur, and you have a knack for saying just the right things to make a woman happy. But what touches me most is that you're willing to change your whole career just so that you can be with the two of us. That decided me that you weren't just an adventurer out to seduce me."
"Well," he heard himself say, his voice thickening with desire, "I want to seduce you, and that's no lie."
"You wouldn't be much of a man if you didn't, and I wouldn't be much of a woman if I didn't feel that you want me right away," was her thrilling answer as she whispered it into his ear and then lightly nipped his earlobe with her sharp white teeth. He uttered a stifled groan, because his prick was threatening to burst through the fly of his trousers, and he knew that she must be feeling it, clinging as she was to him with her entire body so supple and lithe and warm and inviting.
"I can see where Betty gets her beauty, my darling," he huskily told me as his hand stroked her dimpled rounded shoulders. He still hesitated for fear of offending her, even though she'd said yes to him and had obviously come to his room for love. She was such an unexpected bounty from the goddess Venus that he didn't want to spoil matters by being too precipitate, and if she only knew how hard and agonized his prick was, she might be a little scared.
"There are a couple of things you ought to know about me right away, Arthur darling," she murmured, her hands now cupping his cheeks and her eyes luminous with desire. "I'm not exactly the stern cruel disciplinarian you may think and I have all the urges and impulses of any healthy woman, and I think I'm still young enough and capable enough of adding to the family if you really want to, Arthur dearest."
"Oh Eleanor, I can't believe you've said yes, it seems just like yesterday that we first came here, Hester and I, and I was so down in the dumps--and now I've got you. Pinch me to make sure I'm not dreaming--ouch! I guess I'm not--oh Eleanor!" he jubilantly blurted, hugging her tightly and again taking her mouth. He felt it grow moist and move under his, and then suddenly he gasped as he felt the flick of her dainty pink tongue.
"You see?" she giggled impishly when at last that kiss ended, "I told you there is a lot you have to learn about me yet, Arthur. And don't think that this is a one-night conquest either, young man. I'm taking you on trust, so you'd better mean what you say."
"I do mean it! I'm going to marry you, and I'm going to start my business in Claremont--oh you darling, you wonderful, beautiful woman!"
Once again their lips met, and again her tongue nimbly pried between his lips to thrill him with the candor and zest of her ardent nature. His hands glided down her back till they reached her hips, and then impulsively, his face reddened with desire, he pressed her against him so that she couldn't help feeling the stab of his swollen prick which threatened at any moment to burst through the fly of his trousers.
"My gracious, we must do something about that, mustn't we?" she whispered, again giving him a wicked little nip on the earlobe. "I want you very much, Arthur. And not just for tonight, either, young man."
"Eleanor!" His voice was choked with longing.
"And you needn't worry about right now. I'm just as modern as the next woman, and there are little pills these days," she intimated, further enchanting him with the boldness and the generosity of her voluptuous beauty. "I just thought I'd mention that to set your mind at ease, darling. I've a feeling you're still very old-fashioned and romantically sweet in many ways--and I like that in a man, don't think I don't. You're going to make a wonderful father for Betty."
"I only hope she likes me just one tiny bit as much as her mother does," he hoarsely rejoined.
"I'm sure she will, dearest. She already thinks you're awfully nice. She told me that herself. Arid some day perhaps you may be called upon to be the disciplinarian in the household, too, you know."
"You think I could pinch hit satisfactorily?" he joked, and then went very red at his own temerity.
"Arthur Hadley!" Eleanor Stanfield grasped his sides and looked teasingly at him as she pressed very tightly up against him, "that was really very naughty! But somehow I think you'll be able to do that well too, darling. But that's a long way off. Betty would have to get used to having a father in the first place after all these years, and then it would be a matter of psychology to get her to accept punishment from you the way she does from me. But now that's enough talk isn't it, sweetness?"
"Uh huh," he panted, his desire swelling up in him so tremendously that he was almost blind with it. The smell of her, the feel of her, the unexpected daring of her words, the knowledge that this fascinating woman had consented to be his wife and to be his bedmate from now on, filled Arthur Hadley with an indescribable admixture of emotions.
"I want you so much, Arthur," Eleanor Stanfield confided, and now her hands moved down to stroke the fronts of his thighs, as with a cry of rapture, he sank his fingers into the jouncy rondures of her bottom. He heard her catch her breath as she felt the stab of his prick, protruding violently against the taut material of his trousers. And then again she broke away, a little flustered, her cheeks flaming, as she whispered rather unsteadily, "I'd better get more comfy if you're going to do that, lover. This is a new dress and I wore it just for you."
"It's lovely. It fits you so beautifully. You've a marvelous body, Eleanor," he hoarsely told her.
Swiftly Eleanor Stanfield doffed the rayon frock, and then the slip beneath it. He caught his breath with speechless admiration and lust as he stared at her now, in the provocative dishabille of white nylon bra and pantie-girdle, whose narrow tabs clung to the tops of charcoal-brown nylon hose. Her ripe luscious body was almost pagan in its voluptuous opulence, yet nowhere was it overly proportioned. And, as he had seen from that one glimpse of the valley of her bubbies, her satiny skin had a milky pallor to it that was absolutely breathtaking, where the sun hadn't caressed her limbs and midriff. As she put her hands behind her to unfasten the bandeau of her bra, she teased, "Hadn't you better get undressed too, lover?"
His face flushed as he nodded, and then, averting his eyes and trying to distract himself by concentrating on the removal of his clothes, he followed suit. When he was down to shorts and socks, he looked at her again, and saw that she had taken off the bra and draped it over the back of a chair near the bed. Her titties were absolutely dazzling. The brownish-coral aurolae were wide, the nipples pouting and turgid, a delicious dark coral, exquisitely crinkly, as if nuzzling out for kisses and tonguings and tactual adoration. Her navel was deep and very narrow, a tiny slit in the pale white goblet of her luscious belly.
"You're very good looking, Arthur. How old are you, darling?"
"Forty-three, Eleanor."
"That's just perfect. You're in your prime. And I hope I am too, because I'm not forty yet. I shan't be forty until next January. So you see, I can still give you a child if you want our own."
"Oh my darling, my dearest Eleanor," tears sprang to his eyes at this frank avowal.
"Do you want to do the rest of me, sweetheart?" came her thrilling question.
He moved towards her now, his prick sticking out violently against the thin shorts, and she smiled teasingly as he came to her. His hands cupped those closely spaced round titties, and his first touch of their satiny nakedness made him tremble with desire, for they were still firm and without sag. Under his palms, her nipples had grown turgid and he could feel the palpitating tremors of their erogenous buds. Their lips met, and now her tongue boldly entered his mouth and slushed this way and that, encountering his own tongue until he uttered a gasp of desire and put his hands on her bottom and again pressed her very tightly to him till his prick was doubled back between their bodies, rubbing against her belly.
The feel of her naked titties against his straining chest was ultimate rapture. The nuzzling flints of her nipples scraped his skin with a sweet insistence, and now his mouth crushed hers, and boldly he asserted his maleness by foraging his own tongue deep between her eagerly parted lips. Their tongues rapiered together, and an electrical current seemed to galvanize them as she uttered a soft moan and trembled violently in his arms. "Oh take me, Arthur, take me now," she breathed.
He disengaged himself from her, and his hands began nervously and fumblingly to unfasten the pantie-girdle, first loosening the tabs which held up the charcoal-brown nylons on those lusciously rounded calves and thighs of hers. She too helped him, tugging at the waistband, squirming sinuously to wriggle out of the clinging sheath, which at last dropped to her feet, and she stepped out of it. In high-heeled sandals and the sleek, gauzy hose, her body milky-naked where the sun had not bronzed it, Eleanor Stanfield was mouthwateringly fuckable. And when he thought that this opulent houri, who looked far younger than the age she had admitted to, was actually the mother of that voluptuous golden-haired teenager whose luscious bottom she chastised, Arthur Hadley felt the blood rush through his veins with a hot surge of furious rut. For the first time in his life, he had become aware of the sensual overtones of corporal chastisement... and soon he was to learn how domestic chastisement could provide a gamut of the most voluptuous ecstasies hitherto untasted even with his beloved Sonya.
"You're so beautiful, Eleanor," his voice was shuddering with desire. He sank on his knees, in a pose of reverence, his eyes feasting on the thick fronds of dark-brown pussyhair, which shrouded the plump pink lips of her voluptuous vulva. There was an exquisite perfume emanating from her naked body, together with the woman-scent of her moist warm flesh. It was intoxicating, like cantharides mingled in champagne. Impulsively, his fingers on the edges of her lush hips, Arthur Hadley kissed Eleanor Stanfield's cunt.
"Oh darling! That's so lovely, so very lovely!" she gasped, taken by surprise at his impulsive tribute. Her hands cupped the back of his head and pressed his mouth against the sacrosanct cleft of her lovetemple. "I can tell already it's going to be wonderful for us together, Arthur dearest. So many men think it's unmanly to do that--oh darling, do go on, and I'll do the same for you!"
Already he was blinded by his ecstatic lust, hearing such a pledge of sweetly uninhibited passion to be his. He deposited another long and passionate kiss on her cunt, and then rose, husked down his shorts and his long, thick, dark-blue-veined cock stabbed against her abdomen, demanding entry to the grotto of delight.
Her left arm circled his waist, and her slim right hand--the hand, he thought ecstatically, which had chastised Betty's lovely pinksheened bottom--glided down between their bodies to take hold of his prick near the meatus, separated as it was by a narrow circumcisional groove from the rigid and pulsing shaft, and drew it down against the mossy thatch of pubic hair to guide him along that secret pathway which would not be denied him. Arthur Hadley ground his teeth to hold back the furious welling-up of gism, because he had a horror of being a premature lover on this their first carnal conclave.
"Oh, Arthur, quickly, let's go to bed," she whispered in his ear, her voice husky-soft, evocative of the most wanton delights to be bestowed upon him. He lifted her in his arms, and it was the test for his manhood, for she was voluptuously opulent, and yet the sweet feel of her naked flesh in his arms was indescribably heavenly. He laid her down upon the bed, and then mounted beside her, his prick bobbing as he crouched there, staring at the panting swell of her magnificent titties, at the quivering belly with its almost disappearing, narrow indentation of the navel, and the fleece which covered the plump mound of Venus.
"Let me pay you back for that sweet kiss you gave me, dearest," she breathed. He understood, and with a choking cry of delight, reversed himself so that his face was over her cunt, while her arms caught him round the thighs and drew him back and adjusted him, then drew him down. With a groan of rapture, he felt the sweet torment of her mouth nuzzling the tip of his prick, and he buried his mouth in her cunt and thrust his tongue deep between the pouting pink lips of her loveslit. At once he found the clitoris, and Eleanor Stanfield moaned deliriously: "Oh, Arthur, of Arthur, that's wonderful! Slowly, darling, oh my dearest darling, I'm so glad Betty hit you with that ball! I ought to let her off a couple of spankings just for that!"
Deep down inside of him, now that he was awakened and almost rejuvenated by the erotic fury that possessed him, Arthur Hadley had an impulse to call out to her to let Betty off not a single punishment... indeed, to let him be a secret witness to that delicious young girl's chastisement. But wisely he controlled himself. There would be time for that later after he had married Eleanor Stanfield.
The tip of her tongue rubbed against the urethral lips of his meatus, and he closed his eyes and shuddered violently as he felt his juices surging to the brink in answer to that lascivious summons. In retaliation, his tongue flicked the nodule of her clitoris, feeling it turgify and throb, while the soft gasps and moans and whimpering little sighs which emanated from her parted lips told him that he was rousing her to her own concupiscent readiness for fucking.
Suddenly he could bear it no longer, and drew back from her, and then reversed himself to face her, kneeling between her thighs. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling, and the nipples of her breasts were hard and dark with longing and she held up her arms to him. "Oh give it to me, give it to me, Arthur," she breathed.
With a sobbing gasp of delight, forsaking his loneliness and inassuageable desires now, Arthur Hadley sank down and felt his prick delve into the quaking channel of Eleanor Stanfield's moist and churning cunt. The warmth and the suctional grip of her vaginal sheath nearly unmanned him and again he had to exert all his self control to keep from pouring forth his lusty libation to Venus.
His hands slid under her buttocks, his fingers glorying in the lush, satiny warm and resilient flesh, as he slowly dug himself up to the balls, till their hairs merged, and Eleanor's arms locked tightly round his neck as her lips fused to his, her tongue delving and darting furiously inside his mouth. Her stockinged legs clamped instantly over his thighs, as she arched herself up to take every inch of his manhood, and she held him there with what felt like a muscular grasp as in the Venus-vise of her palpitating cunthole, while he gasped and shuddered over the inexplicably heavenly torture which her cunt inflicted on his agonized and aching prick.
Then very slowly he drew himself back, and Eleanor's arms tightened convulsively as she rose with him, not wanting him to depart from her citadel for an instant. He thrust back, and she cried out, a cry that was drowned by his clinging mouth, and then he began to fuck her with accelerated vigor to which she responded with violent squirmings, her legs and arms shifting constantly and tightening their grip until he felt himself one with her, flesh and flesh, skin and skin, even pores to pores.
And when at last he felt himself burst inside of her, felt her answering tides merge with his, he knew that fate had led him to this haven as a compensation for the loss of his beloved Sonya... and that he had gained not only a voluptuous and magical houri, but a woman who could help him make a proper daughter out of Hester and whose own daughter Betty would cause him much rejoicing and a pride of fatherhood even if Betty were not of his own flesh and blood.
CHAPTER SIX
Arthur Hadley's proposal to Eleanor Stanfield caused the latter to rejoice that she had found ah understanding and sympathetic man who had already proved himself to be a more than adequate lover. That he would be an excellent father, too, she had not the slightest doubt, provided that he would accept her own advanced theories on the proper uprearing of offspring... and when Eleanor Stanfield thought of uprearing, she foresaw the image of a juvenile girlish posterior upraised over the maternal lap for justified chastisement.
However, Betty was not quite so jubilant at the outset when, just two evenings before she and her mother were to return to Claremont, the mature brownette widow closeted herself with the golden-haired teenager to break the news that soon there would be a new father to round out their little family.
Betty's lovely heart-shaped face at once grew tense with anxiety. "M-Mother," she faltered, "can I ask a question?"
"Of course you can, dear, and you also may." Eleanor Stanfield's smile was both teasing and authoritative, and the girl flushed as she recognized that she had been guilty of a grammatical slip: "Excuse me, I meant may I. Well, it's just that--I mean, you honestly are going to marry him, aren't you, Mother?"
"Quite honestly, my dear," Eleanor Stanfield laughed gaily. "You do approve of my choice, don't you?"
"Oh, for heavens sake, Mother," Betty nervously exclaimed, "I wouldn't dare make it my business to question what you do. And I do like him, yes, lots. But what I was getting at--"
"I think I see the end in view," her mother rather mischievously punned. "You're wondering if this is going to change our little disciplinary sessions, aren't you?"
"Y-yes, I-I am, Mother." Betty's lovely pink cheeks were now flaming crimson with embarrassment and she lowered her eyes and nervously twisted her fingers in her lap as she sat in the straight-backed chair regarding her mother over on the couch of their room. "I mean--I'd just die if--if he saw me getting spanked, Mother. I know that when I'm naughty I do deserve it, and I won't ever disobey and resist, but I was hoping that maybe--"
"Don't worry, darling. Mother has no intention, at least not for the first few months, of letting your new father watch you being spanked. Nor for that matter, of letting him punish you himself. But very seriously, dear, one day he will, and since he will be your father then, he will have every right. You do understand that, don't you?"
Betty lowered her eyes and uttered a deep sigh. Then docilely she murmured, "I-I suppose so, Mother. I guess the only thing to do is to see that I don't get spanked so the problem won't come up."
"Exactly. But though you're a very sweet and healthy and normal girl, my dear, I can't quite see you escaping punishment in the next few years, no matter how hard you try. Still and all, the last year or so you've done very well and I'm proud of you, darling."
"Oh Mother," Betty impulsively exclaimed as she rose from her chair and came to sit down beside Eleanor Stanfield on the couch, putting her arms around the handsome brownette matron and kissing her ardently, "I was really so worried. I would just die of shame if Mr. Hadley had to watch me getting punished... and I don't know what I'd do if you told him to go ahead and spank me, honestly I don't."
"Well, for the time being, that worry needn't concern you, darling. What does concern me, however, is that you will soon have a new sister, Hester, Hester. She's two years older than you are, but in my opinion lags far behind you in social adaptability and general good behavior. She's been spoiled a great deal, and that isn't Arthur's fault at all. I think he begins to realize it now. But then, of course, he does know how I've brought you up."
"Ohh Mother!" Betty gasped, and now even her dainty earlobes turned a vivid crimson as she hid her face in her mother's bosom. "You--you told him how you--how you--punish me when I'm naughty?"
"Yes, darling. But only because I felt him to be entirely trustworthy and sympathetic. Otherwise, naturally, I wouldn't even be considering marrying him. He's a very good man and very devoted to his daughter. So you must try to make friends with her. At the same time, Betty, I shouldn't at all be displeased if you let Hester understand from time to time that good behavior is rewarded and bad behavior punished."
"You--you mean you want me to let her know that I get spanked whenever you do it, Mother?" Betty anxiously inquired.
Eleanor Stanfield frowned and was silent for a moment, while the blushing golden-haired girl, nestling in her arms, looked anxiously up at her for a decision. Finally she said, "There are a few more things I must tell you, dear. First of all, Arthur--and perhaps if calling him Father or Daddy doesn't come easily at first, you might substitute by calling him Uncle Arthur--is thinking very seriously of going into business for himself and moving to Claremont with us. Now you know that our old house is still pretty big, and there's even a room for Jennie, our colored maid who stays with us. Arthur was very proud and didn't want to think about moving in with us, but I convinced him that it was silly to go ahead and buy a new house when the old one we've got is perfectly satisfactory."
"He-he goes around to offices and tries to straighten them out, doesn't he, Mother?" Betty wanted to know.
"Something like that, darling. At any rate, he's going into business for himself so that he can be home with us. And of course Hester will live with us too. I'm so glad it's a nice big two-story house and there's plenty of room. There were times about five or six years ago when I seriously thought of selling it, but I'm certainly glad I didn't as things worked out now. But what I'm getting at, darling, is that when you go back to school this fall, you'll naturally resume all your associations with your friends and our good neighbors. Like the Gilmores, and the Carruthers and the Jamisons. And you are well aware, I'm sure, that your friends, both the boys and the girls of those three families, are punished just about the way you are."
"Yes, that's true, Mother."
"Well, of course you're going to introduce Hester to them. And since it's going to be a while before school starts for all of you, there'll be a few weeks in which you'll have time to get to know one another pretty well. Hester is probably going to find out that most of your friends are punished the way I punish you, dear. It will have an effect upon her, and I think that it may prepare her for a redirection of her own conduct, once she sees that her father and I both are agreed on impartial and just chastisement when it is deserved."
"I see." The lovely golden-haired teenager pursed her lips and her lovely forehead was furrowed with concentration for a moment. Then, with another almost doleful sigh, she managed, "Well, Mother, you can rely on me. And she is awfully bossy, isn't she? Are you going to spank her too?"
"I'll tell you another little secret. I should like nothing better than to turn that young lady over my lap, have her skirts up and her panties down and apply the spanking strap thoroughly until she realizes that it's time she brought herself up short and began to consider other people beside herself. But that can't be done overnight, and it can't be done too drastically until Hester is emotionally prepared. That's where you and your friends are going to come in. And of course I'm going to talk to Louise Gilmore and to Mabel Carruthers, as well as to Frieda Jamison about my plans. In other words, darling, Hester is going to discover a new kind of domestic regimen which she didn't dream exists, and yet she will find out also that it's perfectly wholesome and natural and that once a punishment is over, it is forgotten and parents and children are good friends as always. Don't you feel that with me, darling?"
"Oh, yes, Mummy," Betty sighed, this time with a tremulous smile as she hugged her mother tightly and turned up her lovely mouth to be kissed. "I know I don't like spanking and I never shall, but you've shown me how to understand that when I'm naughty I have to be punished for my own good. And then when it's over, I want to be your little girl again and have you love me just as always."
"I do, darling, you know I do. Mummy is going to have many nice little treats for her favorite girl if you manage to give Hester a liberal education as you go along. But we'll play it by ear, so to speak, darling. And now, I think you'd better help me pack, because we're both going to have dinner this evening with your new... well, I'll tell him that you're going to call him Uncle Arthur. He won't insist on anything more until you feel it of your own desire, darling. That's another thing that makes him such a wonderful man and why I'm going to be proud to be his wife, Betty dear."
* * *
Arthur Hadley had made some long-distance phone calls from his hotel room at Malibu, sounding out accounts who might be willing to work on a retainer basis with him when he began his new firm of industrial management, and the results were extremely gratifying. Accordingly, he sent off a registered special delivery letter to his employers indicating that he was resigning and that he was grateful for the consideration with which he had always been treated. Fortunately, the accounts which he had contacted were not under contract to his employers and therefore he could proceed with the full knowledge that he was acting in an ethical way. When he broke the news to Hester, she sulked a little, so much so that again he felt his palm itching to slap her--and this time, instead of in the face, as might normally have been his reaction in previous days, he had the impulse to take her over his lap and slap her bottom soundly. If only she could be as good-natured and amenable to reason as lovely Betty was! "I realize it means giving up friends and contacts, Hester, but it's going to be the same for me," he patiently explained to his daughter. "I'm going to have to get used to being in a new town and making new friends, and from a business point of view it might be a little tougher to start out from scratch in my own business. But it's really what I've always wanted, and Eleanor is a wonderful woman and she's going to make a wonderful wife and a mother to you, darling. I hope that you do like her."
"Oh, she's all right, I guess," Hester diffidently replied. "But Betty is absolutely insipid. She's such a goody-goody girl, and we don't have too much in common."
"Well, she's the outdoor type, and you're not, to begin with," Arthur Hadley said. He was striving to be perfectly rational and logical, because he realized that his only child had a precocious mind and that an appeal to her intellect would go much farther--at least at this point-- than to her emotions. "It wouldn't do you any harm to be out in the sun more, Hester. It might clear up that acne which bothers you so much."
"Father!" Hester gasped, and her cheeks flushed with annoyance at this reminder of a physical defect which she found too childish for words.
"I mean it, Hester!" he said more sharply than was his want.
Hester again shrugged. "Well of course, Father" she drawled in that maddeningly impersonal tone, which Arthur Hadley had come to find so irritating of late. "Of course I'll try to get along with Betty. Am I still going to the same college, though?"
"Probably not, my dear. There's an excellent girls' school in Claremont, and tomorrow I'll phone the dean of admissions and find out if we can get your credits transferred."
"All right, if that's what you want, Father," Hester had the refined air of a martyr. Once again her father felt the itch in his palm, not one signifying money, but rather an overwhelming instinct to smack a girlish posterior quite close to him. But manfully he restrained himself.
"We're going to be married at Eleanor's church in Claremont, Hester dear," he told her when he had full control of his voice and reactions. "And then we'll go for two weeks on a honeymoon, perhaps to Mexico City. I haven't quite decided yet but I'm going to take it up with Eleanor tonight. You and Betty will stay at Eleanor's house, and she has a very wonderful colored maid, who, I'm told, is a marvelous cook and very warmhearted. You can spend the time getting better acquainted with Betty, and I'm sure that she'll introduce you to many of her friends."
"Oh, dear," Hester sighed heavily, "she's only sixteen, Father, and so her friends are likely to be about that age, and you're forgetting that I'm going to college in September."
"I'm forgetting nothing, Hester. Don't try to anticipate trouble, please. I'm sure that everything will be fine." Even as he said this, Arthur Hadley wasn't quite so sure. But now that he had found this wonderful, fascinating woman, he wasn't about to lose her just because Hester might register tantrums on the emotional storm gauge scale....
And so, on the following Wednesday, Arthur Hadley and Eleanor Stanfield were married in the little Episcopalian church where she had first been wed and where Betty had been baptized. The happy couple escaped the traditional shower of rice from a bevy of Eleanor's friends, and hurried off to Arthur's Buick which was waiting at the curb. Hester, as the maid of honor, glanced forlornly at her father, then at her new stepsister Betty, who was simply adorable in a white chiffon dress and veil and a bouquet of gladioli. Jennie, a portly smiling talkative negress of about forty-eight, dressed in her Sunday best, brushed a tear away from her eye, and waved a handkerchief at the happy couple. "There they go," she said mournfully, rolling her eyes, "now you chillun better come along home. I'm gonna cook you a real nice supper to make you sort of take your mind off bein' orphans for two weeks."
That morning, on the telephone in her own room, Eleanor Stanfield had performed a few last chores whose purpose was dedicated to the proposition of making her new husband-to-be the beneficiary of her advanced ideas on the Proper care of offspring. She had made three phone calls, one each to Louise Gilmore, another to Mabel Carruthers, and the other to Frieda Jamison. Each of them had been about the same subject with variations.
Her first call, to the stately and dignified and still extremely attractive forty-four-year old silver-blonde Louise Gilmore had been rather more intimate than those to her other two friends, though this was not to say that she did not maintain with Mabel and Frieda quite as warm and happy a relationship as with Louise. However, Louise Gilmore had been her dearest friend and aided her most of all during the trying times when her husband had suddenly died and she had found herself bereft of energy and ambition to go on.
"Well, Louise, I just wanted to talk to you before we met at the church this afternoon, dear. It's been a sort of whirlwind courtship and I'm wonderfully happy."
"I'm glad to hear it, darling, you deserved it. From what I hear, he's a very fine person and he's going to settle in our community."
"That's true, Louise. As soon as we get back from Mexico City, he's opening his own office in the mall, and of course his daughter Hester is going to live with us."
"I think it's perfectly wonderful! You could call it fate, because he was a widower, wasn't he?"
"Yes. His daughter is eighteen, just the age of your Janet, and I must say I only wish Hester could have profited from the training you've given Janet these last years."
"Well, Eleanor, that's very kind of you to say, but I'm still not satisfied with Janet's thoughtlessness and impulsiveness. In fact, just a few minutes ago, I told her to go write down in her demerit book a couple of black marks for breaking one of my best dishes."
"Oh dear, I sort of feel responsible, this being my wedding day! The poor darling must have been upset because she was thinking of the pretty dress she was going to wear to my wedding, no doubt," Eleanor Stanfield laughed.
"Be that as it may, so on Friday she will just have a few more spanks to pay up."
"And how are Tony and Constance?"
"I'm happy to say they haven't been in too much trouble lately. But I had to whip Constance last week for tearing her new dress. She's somewhat inclined to be a tomboy, and it's not at all becoming."
"Well, I just happened, to think my new daughter Hester will be going to Claremont college along with your Janet the end of September. I think Janet to be a very helpful influence on her."
"Now you're being most complimentary, Eleanor darling, but I think I detect something concealed behind this nice little conversation or ours. Out with it!"
"You're so refreshingly direct, Louise!" Eleanor Stanfield laughed. "Well, it is true. You see, during our honeymoon, Betty and Hester are going to be alone in the house with Jennie. And I'd be very grateful if you'd allow Betty to bring Hester along sometimes, and I wouldn't at all be displeased if it would just slip out that Janet and Tony and Constance are punished the old-fashioned way and excellently, I might add."
"Again you're flattering me, darling. Thanks. Well, that's an easy enough favor to handle, and of course you've got my promise I will. So you think that Hester's spoiled?"
"She's egotistic, vain, conceited about her intellect, which I will grant is quite good. She's inconsiderate and quite rude. And something of a snob, because she's always breaking in to show off some French phrase or some item or other she's just acquired in her studies, just to impress us all."
"That's really regrettable. But I'm sure that eventually you will straighten her out and she'll be just as well behaved as your darling Betty."
"Thank you, Louise. Coming from you, my dearest and oldest friend,--well, what I really mean, is friend of longest standing, because heaven knows you're certainly not old at all--"
"I'm glad you added that in time," Louise Gilmore laughed.
"You know what I meant to say, Louise darling. Oh, I almost forgot to ask, how's Hilda?"
Hilda was the German maid whom Fred and Louise Gilmore had hired about eighteen months ago. She was a buxom, quite attractive blonde of about twenty-eight. And she had also been introduced to disciplinary measures at the Gilmore household. Hilda had originally come to Claremont to live with her cousin, but financial reversals had forced him to sell his house and take a job in Los Angeles, whereupon his bewildered and attractive cousin found herself practically abandoned. At this critical juncture in Hilda Messering's life, Fred and Louise Gilmore had offered her a job as a maid, with the understanding that she would work diligently to improve her English and to qualify for citizenship, and also that she would submit to corporal chastisement just as the Gilmore children did. Now Hilda was as docile as Jane, Tony and Constance, and loved her master and mistress dearly.
"Well, Hilda is improving and she's going to take her citizenship test any day now." Louise Gilmore replied to Eleanor's last question. "But last night she burned the pie I'd asked her to bake for Fred, and so I had to give her the dog-whip."
"In front of Janet, Tony and Constance, I suppose?" Eleanor Stanfield asked.
"Naturally, that is part of her humiliation, and was explained to her when we engaged her, Eleanor dear. She bent over the top of the straight-backed chair on which I made her kneel, drew up her own skirt and slip, and I rolled down her pantie-girdle. The poor dear is wearing a very tight rubber one these days because she's become extremely weight-conscious and wants to lose some pounds in a hurry. Just the same," And here Louise Gilmore giggled in a most unladylike way, "I can tell you it takes some maneuvering to get a tight pantie-girdle down from such bulky hips and round buttocks. But I managed, naturally. She got eighteen cuts of the dogwhip over her backside, and I finished with two strokes on each of her thighs, just as a little reminder to be more careful in the future."
"And then, I suppose," Eleanor Stanfield continued, "you made her kiss the dogwhip and thank her for the good whipping."
"Naturally, and then she apologized to Fred, and she went back to the kitchen, Eleanor dear, and she baked another pie and this one was perfect. It just shows you that a little discipline at the right time will do wonders."
"That, darling," Eleanor Stanfield, about to become Eleanor Hadley, concluded, "is a maxim which ought to be engraved in letters a foot high over the door of every house containing children. Well, I better hurry and get ready now for meeting you in church--and I don't want to be late in getting Arthur now that I've found the man I love."
And thus, as Eleanor and Arthur Hadley sped away towards the airport from whence they would shortly fly to Mexico City for a wonderful two-week honeymoon, the future of Hester Hadley was being forged in the mysterious crucible of neighborly parental practice.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Arthur Hadley had never known such happiness before, not even with Sonya. And thus the vacation, which had begun at Malibu with the prospect of a rather dreary time with his daughter Hester would hardly make any less difficult with all her moodiness, rhapsodically extended into what the French call the lime de miel, or, literally, "moon of honey."
In Eleanor Stanfield, he believed that he had found an understanding and most attractive mature companion who would be well past the time of adolescent anxieties and sheer sensual mischievousness, and hence could give him the placid life he sought. Instead, to his great joy he discovered that he had married an authoritative woman who could at the same time be all woman, yielding and passionate, fiery and imaginative, still with the vigor of youth and yet with maturity's deeper, lengthier knowledge of byplay and foreplay in the bed of love. And so he felt himself revived in outlook as he had not even been at the time of his first marriage to Sonya, whose gentle and reticent nature had precluded any wild ecstasies and vivid improvisations in the tourney of physical conclave. For Eleanor was also an excellent conversationalist, quite well read--he discovered, for example, that she spoke Spanish passably well enough to procure the very best of service and to make friends with the old hotel porter and the doorman and their maid so that they were treated virtually like royalty.
They spent the first week in Mexico City, making passionate love and sleeping late till about noon, then, commandeering a car and seeing the magnificent sights of Mexico City, from Chapultepec Park with its new and dazzling National Museum of Anthropology and History and famous zoo; the National Palace with frescoes by Diego Rivera, and the Bazaar Sabado with its fascinating display of modern Mexican arts and crafts. They were lodged at the Re-forma Inter-Continental on the fashionable Paseo de la Reforma, a little world unto itself with many new restaurants and nightclubs. They dines at restaurants celebrated for French cuisine, but they also enjoyed the famous Mexican specialty of mole de guajolote, turkey in spicy chocolate sauce as well as the tostadas, roasted fried tortillas with chicken, beans and lettuce. On Thursday afternoon of the first week, Arthur and Eleanor enjoyed the horseracing at the Hipodromo de Las Americans, and in the evening watched the furiously combative jai-alai games, betting on the horses and the players and in each instance winning, which Eleanor gleefully proclaimed was a happy omen for their marriage.
At their hotel, on Friday evening, they visited the spectacular El Koyau nightclub, and on Saturday Arthur bought his beautiful wife some exquisite Mexican jewelry of handmade silver, perfumes and a pair of stunning suede shoes.
On Monday of the second week, the Hadleys went to Cuernavaca, about fifty miles from Mexico City on the new super highway. Here there were pyramids, lakes, cathedrals, quaint streets, wonderful old houses and excellent shops. And their hotel room had an immense double bed in which, Tuesday night, the handsome brown-haired matron teasingly told her husband, "I feel like a courtesan of olden times on a bed like this, darling." And Arthur Hadley discovered that Eleanor had that indescribably exciting admixture of propriety and wantonness which is so indispensable to a harmonious sexual relationship; she could be passionate without being boldly suggestive, and by implication could rouse him to furious exultance. She would lie there smiling at him, her slim hand reaching down to fondle his cock, her other hand caressing one of her round lush titties, while his lips adoringly moved over her satiny naked skin. And then suddenly her fingers would tighten on his meatus, and he would know that that was her signal to take her fiercely. With a stifled little gasp she would welcome him as he thrust inside of her, her legs promptly locking over his, while she kept her thumb and forefinger very lightly against his shaft near the scrotum, so that he had the added frictional delight of feeling her fingers against his prick driving him into the warm moist cavern of her lovetemple.
During this second week, after the first wild ecstasies of learning each other's needs and desires, Arthur and Eleanor began to talk of the future and particularly of Hester and Betty. Arthur was more than ever convinced that he had been an extremely fortunate man in finding such a mother for his difficult daughter, and indeed it was he who first brashly proposed that there be no further delay in acquainting Hester with corporal chastisement. But Eleanor shook her head: "No, darling, that would be a great mistake. She would feel martyred, deceived and betrayed. She would hate both of us, but you especially for having changed her life so abruptly. No, Arthur, leave it to me. When we get back, there will be three of four weeks before school begins for her as well as for Betty, and I propose to have both the girls meet Betty's friends. They are all of them without exception subject to corporal punishment when they misbehave, and I've already had a little talk with Betty so that she is apprised of my feelings on the subject. In other words, Arthur lover, Hester is going to meet young people who have been spanked and are used to it, and she's also going to discover in the normal course of events that it's not quite such a tragedy as she would probably think right now."
"You never cease to amaze me, darling. And I was a very lucky fellow. I'll say one thing," he told her as he put his lips to one of her nipples and gently nuzzled it, while his right hand caressed her smooth belly and moved down to the thick dark brown curly thatch of her pussy, "the way I feel now, if Betty hadn't selected me as her new father by bouncing that beachball off me I'd turn the little minx and give her the spanking of her sweet young life."
"Why, Arthur Hadley!" Eleanor laughed huskily as she turned over on her side towards him and put one arm around his neck and her other hand over his stiffened cock, "you certainly have changed! And you're not going to go too fast with my girl either, I'll have you know. In fact, just before we left on this wonderful honeymoon of ours, darling, Betty was all fidgety over worrying whether I was going to let you watch her being spanked when I sentenced her to punishment and whether you yourself were going to take a hand."
"And what did you tell her, darling?" he huskily questioned.
"That we'd see, but that at the outset anyhow, things would go on just as before. She'll have to get used to you, Arthur, just as Hester is going to have to get used to her new responsibilities as part of our family. Besides," this with a teasing wink and a naughty little squeeze of his prick in her soft fingers, "I never dreamed that the mere mention of spanking would set you off so. Just look at how bold you are, young man. It's all my poor little fingers can do to keep that monster of yours in check until I'm ready-- oh yes, Arthur, now, or put it into me slow and deep, I just want to feel it going into me all the way--aahhh--oh, darling, what a wonderful lover you are!"
She flung her left leg over his right hip as they merged, her ringers caressingly fondling his cock as his meatus probed between the lips of her eager vulva and entered the gripping channel of her sheath. He could feel the pulsations and contractions as he sank slowly to the hilt, and the tightening pressure of her bare leg intoxicated him. Their lips met, and hers parted under his as her tongue delicately flicked his gums and teeth, encountering his tongue, whereupon a sudden maddening surge of passion galvanized him. He drew himself back to the brink, then plunged deeply to the hilt in a single ferocious lunge, and Eleanor gasped and wriggled onto her back, drawing him atop her, and they consummated their ecstatic passion in a furious crescendo.
Then it was over, and they lay smoking cigarettes, lazily looking at each other and smiling with that secret and delightful knowledge which two people have when they have shared the gamut of carnal passion, his left hand and her right clasped, the ringers tightly entwined, Eleanor murmured, "You know, darling, that while spanking is a very useful and functional educational and corrective process, it also has its own values as a sexual stimulant."
"I suppose that's true darling."
"Of course it is! Why, you naughty boy you, every time I talk about spanking Betty, you get stiff as a rock!"
At this, Arthur Hadley blushed, for it was quite true: he kept seeing in his mind's eye the golden haired adolescent, lying on the bed with her wrists bound, a pillow under her loins to prop "p her jouncy round naked bottom, and Eleanor standing beside the bed, her face grave and intense, lifting the spanking strap high in the air to bring it down over those luscious young hillocks. And invariably when he had this image before him, he felt a resurgence of his manhood.
"Just look at you blush," Eleanor teased. "Of course it's true. As a matter of fact, if you'd like, I've just found out that we can watch someone getting spanked in a very sexy way. Do you think you might like that, darling?"
"What do you mean, Eleanor?"
"Why, you know that I speak Spanish. I had two years of it in high school, and I've been brushing up, ever since you told me we might go to Mexico City. Well, this morning while you were out at the shop buying me that lovely basket, I was talking to Consuela, our very pretty maid. And she told me that she has a cousin who runs a very private little house just on the outskirts of Cuernavaca where people pay to watch naughty girls spanked and then made love to by their novios. And she says that if we like, she can get us there tonight."
"Why, that's incredible! It sounds like one of those pre-war French bordellos I used to read about."
"You see, Arthur Hadley! You're not quite so naive as you pretend to be. All right, if you'd like, I'll tell Consuelo. It won't cost much, and I think you'll find it very exciting."
Her words were prophetic indeed; this unexpected interlude on their honeymoon was to lead Arthur Hadley into a completely altered transformation of all her sexual ideas!
* * *
A cab driver took Arthur and Eleanor to the sound end of the city and stopped in front of a handsome estate enclosed behind a brick wall. The couple opened the iron gate which led to a paved walk circling a fountain and thence to the steps of a veranda. When Arthur rang the doorbell, it was opened by a lovely young Mexican girl in a maid's costume which suggested that she was from Paris rather than Cuernavaca; a lace cap atop her bobbed black curls, a shiny black satin dress whose very short skirt descended only to mid-thigh, sheer black opera-length hose of very elegant denier, and trim, gleaming black leather highheeled pumps. She curtsied prettily, inquired as to Arthur's name, and then smiled knowingly. "The Senora Rigal will be with you very soon, Senor Hadley. You and your lovely wife may wait here, and I shall bring you tequila."
Arthur and Eleanor seated themselves on a wide leather-padded couch, glancing around the salon which was elegantly furnished. The maid shortly reappeared with a tray on which two glasses and a bottle of tequila and a plate of sliced limes as well as a salt shaker were placed, and served them both, explaining how the national drink was partaken. The lime slices were salted, one could hold a slice in one's mouth while sipping the colorless liquid. Tequila, Arthur Hadley discovered, had a potent wallop later on, though it glided down smoothly without apparent reaction. After two drinks, he found himself on tenterhooks waiting the advent of the proprietress of this maison de luxe.
At last she appeared, and his eyes widened with appreciation at the sight of her voluptuous and opulent beauty. She was about five feet eight inches in height, perhaps forty, resplendent in an off-the-shoulder black faille gown which swung to the appetizing rondures of bosom and haunches. Her jet-black hair was pompadoured, and silver earrings dangled from the lobes of her dainty ears. Her face was oval, grave, and the unmistakable sign of a dominatress was evidenced in the thin, supercilious lips, the thick brows over piercing black eyes, and also in her tone of authority, gracious though it was to her guests.
Hesitatingly, Arthur mentioned that he had been recommended by Consuelo, and the woman nodded comprehendingly. "A very charming mu-chacha, that one. And she is muy simpatica to you, for she has telephoned me and told me that she likes you very much. You must understand, Senor Hadley, that not everyone is told about this casa. Now how can I be of service?"
Arthur Hadley blushed like a schoolboy, and looked foolishly at the handsome proprietress, who at that moment added, with an ingratiating smile, "You may call me Mercedes." But it was his wife Eleanor who came to the rescue and in reasonably fluent Spanish, explained that Consuela had suggested that they might see a girl chastised for being naughty and watch in private.
Mercedes Rigal smiled and nodded: "But of course you may. And for you, because you are both friends of my charming little muchacha -- who by the way in my niece--I shall make the fee extremely reasonable. Let us say, with refreshments and a private room for the two of you, six hundred and twenty-five pesos. I believe that will be fifty dollars in your money, Senor Hadley."
"That is very reasonable," Eleanor told him. "And we should like to leave Consuela a little gift so that she may buy herself something that she likes in the shop." Then she whispered to Arthur, "Give her about fifty-five dollars, darling. I've got a feeling this is going to be quite a show."
When the transaction had been effortlessly completed, Mercedes Rigal thanked them and added, not without a sly little wink, "I shall have my pretty maid Vera show you to the room, Senor and Senora Hadley. If you like, she will be at your disposal, you needn't worry that the tariff will be demanding. I find you both very gracious and intelligent, certainly much more enlightened than so many of the nortea-mericanos who try to come here. Adios, or perhaps I should say hasta la vista!"
With this she disappeared, and in a few moments the charming French-costumed little maid, who was about five feet four inches in height, with adorably girlish, long-legged figure and tantalizingly prominent, widely spaced pear-shaped titties, came out to escort them to the private room, which was on the second floor and at the back of the elegant house. The floor was thickly carpeted with red velvet, and it was evident that Mercedes Rigal was a woman of great means. Vera opened the door and deferentially inclined her head as Arthur and Eleanor entered this voyeuristic chamber. It too was thickly carpeted from wall to wall, and there was a huge double bed, quite low, the covers were already drawn most suggestively and invitingly. At the right-hand wall, were two armchairs. Between them was a wide and long rectangular brown wooden panel which, Vera at once demonstrated, could be slid to one side, thereby revealing an opaque glass through which they could see without being seen by those in the adjoining room. There was also a genuine French bidet and a washroom connecting to the left with this watching room--for such it was. Vera excused herself with a charming and coquettish look at Arthur--which made his pulses race inexplicably--and then went out, only to return a moment later with another tray on which a bottle of excellent champagne and two glasses were placed, as well as a plate of cheeses, nuts and crackers. "If the Senora and the Senor wish me, they have only to press the button in the wall beside the bed," she told them, and then again curtsied and left the room, closing the door behind her.
Eleanor turned to look at Arthur, her eyes twinkling: "Well, now, my darling husband, don't you feel risque and maybe about twenty years younger? It's so very much like Paris--of course, I've read about it, as I was never there. Do you think I'm being very wicked?"
"Whatever it is you're being, darling, I like it," he said thickly as he came to her and ran his hands down her back, pressing her buttocks avidly as he strained himself against her, their lips meeting in a long and passionately thrilling kiss.
"I can see, young man," she teased him, "that you aren't going to feel a stranger at all when you move in with me. And I'm afraid my poor little Betty is in for a very tender bottom in the not too distant future once you insist on taking a hand in the proceedings, as I'm sure you're going to."
"Eleanor, I told you I'm not going to rush things at all. And besides, it wouldn't be fair of me to spank Betty without seeing to it that my own daughter got exactly what she's been deserving for so long," was his gallant answer.
"I love you because you're so fair and equitable, darling, and very considerate. So, just let's pretend we aren't married but lovers on a secret rendezvous, and watch what they have in store for us. And by the way, I hope you didn't misunderstand Senora Rigal's little hint about Vera?"
"Er, what do you mean, Eleanor darling?" he gulped.
"Well, it's obvious that the charming little girl would be very happy to cater to any of your little whims--or to mine, for that matter--either during or after the performance we're about to see," Eleanor saucily retorted. And this made Arthur Hadley blush even more. He had never dreamed that marriage to a women could be so fascinatingly complex and excitingly new with each new day of their union. Now, as he uncorked the bottle of champagne and poured out two glasses, while Eleanor seated herself in one of the armchairs, he told himself that he was a very lucky man indeed.
As he sipped his champagne, he suddenly saw the door of the next room open and a well dressed gray-haired man, apparently in his early fifties, enter the room, his wrists held tightly by two swarthy Mexicans wearing sombreros. They dragged him over to a straight-backed chair, tied his wrists behind the back of the chair, made another cord secure around his waist and the back of the chair, and then squatted down and bound his ankles securely to the chair legs. Then one of the Mexicans took out a handkerchief while his colleague forced the man's mouth open, the gag was thrust in, and a second handkerchief was tied around the victim's mouth and knotted at the back of the neck.
The two Mexicans then left the room, and in three or four minutes returned dragging a struggling young woman with them. She wore a white summery frock which went down just to her knees, she had on charcoal-brown pantie-hose and sandals, and her light brown hair was fixed in a thick ponytail whose ends went below her shoulderblades. She had no makeup on, and her face looked young and defenseless, with slantingly set cheekbones, very wide and intensely dark brown eyes, a dainty little snub nose, and a small while mouth. She began to cry out--and Eleanor and Arthur discovered that they could hear every sound, thanks, no doubt, to a secretly placed public address system hooked up between the two rooms. When she saw the man in the chair, she tried to break free and cried out for them to let her go and to let her husband go, that they would pay any ransom the men wanted. The two Mexicans just laughed at her and contented themselves by holding tightly to her wrists, while she twisted and jerked herself in vain.
Arthur Hadley leaned forward, finding himself intensely stirred. It was true that he had read many erotic books in his time, but he had never actually seen either movies or any such "life" spectacle as was now before him. Moreover, the realization that he was witnessing this in Eleanor's presence and that he was also in a house of ill-fame seemed to have a profoundly lascivious effect on him, for already his prick was throbbing and swollen against his fly. He cast a guiltily nervous glance at his wife, but found that she was watching just as intently, her eyes glowing, her lips parted, her nostrils flaring and shrinking, and her magnificent bosom swelling voluminously.
It was strange, he told himself, that he hadn't asked her anything about her outlook on sex; but then, they'd come together to naturally just before she'd agreed to marry him, and they'd both had orgasms at the same time, which was rare between two so different personalities. Even now on this honeymoon, early as it was, he found that she could anticipate his desires, and with them the most imaginative nuances and yet without speech. There was a naturalness to her which excited and delighted him at the same time.
The two Mexicans were perhaps ten years apart in age, taller one being younger, wiry, with a scar on his left cheek, while the older man had receding hair, a fat, sensual face and was squat and short. "It is not ransom we want, Senora," the older man told the frightened woman, who Arthur Hadley guessed to be about twenty-five. "Juan and I, Esteban, have already taken what we want from your husband's wallet. No, it's not dinero, but you, Senora. You are so linda, that Juan and I desire to have some pleasure with you. Now if you will be a good muchacha and take off all your clothes, we will not hurt you."
"You must be out of your mind! Oh, Frank, for God's sake, they want to have me--help me, oh my poor husband, help me!" the young brownette cried as she tried again ineffectually to break free of the two Mexican's hold.
"I do not think this little one is going to do it willingly, Esteban," the taller, younger Mexican chuckled. "I'm afraid that we shall have to teach her a little lesson. Let us get her on the bed and tie her down, and then we shall see what we shall see. Come along, muchacha!"
"Oh no--for God's sake, oh Frank, they're going to do it to me--help me, oh please help me!" the young woman shrilled.
But the two Mexicans lifted her now and put her down on the wide double bed, while the older man at once tied one of her ankles to the bedpost and then made the other one secure so that her legs were hugely straddled and the material of her frock threatened to tear from the distension of her legs. The other Mexican quickly secured her wrists in the same way, so that the helpless young woman found herself spread-eagled on her back and entirely at their mercy.
The squat Mexican chuckled as he bent down over the young woman's writhing body. "Such lovely legs, eh, Juan? Let us see them all now, shall we?"
With this, he put his hands to the frock and ripped the garment up to the girl's belly, disclosing the gauzy pantie-hose. Arthur Hadley caught his breath, his eyes glittering, waves of desire surging through him. The young woman had pale milky flesh, but the gauzy sheath disclosed the prominent mount of her cunt, shielded with very thick dark brown tufts of love fur. She turned her face towards her gagged and bound husband in the chair near the door and shrieked, "Oh don't let them take my clothes off, Prank! Please help me! I don't want them to, oh please, I don't want them to!"
The fat Mexican put both pudgy hands on one of the young woman's calves and slowly caressed the shuddering and jerking leg all the way up to the crotch, while his companion imitated him with the other leg. As their fingers neared the sensitive apex of the captive's thighs, she arched and jerked and shrieked, turning her face this way and that, her face flushed and contorted and her eyes sparkled with tears.
"She had really a beautiful pair, Juan," the older, fat Mexican declared, "but now I want to see her tetas."
Under the white frock, the victim wore a thin chaste white satin slip, and this too was torn from her, leaving her in the ripped dress which gaped now up to her bosom, and a white nylon brassiere. Her breasts were surprisingly round and full, set very closely together, and in their agitated heaving, it was plain to see the dark coral, ripe buds of the nipples in their even darker, narrow aurolae. Each of the Mexicans reached out with thumb and forefinger pinched those voluptuous buds, while the frenzied girl continued to twist and jerk at her bonds, and to call upon her husband to save her. He by now was struggling in his chair, and his muffled groans came through the gag quite audibly to Eleanor and Arthur in the next room.
Now there was a wild shriek as Juan ripped away the brassiere, and then Esteban completed the girl's preparation for an inevitable fucking by completing the rending of the white frock and pulling it out from under her tethered body. Then he inserted his fingers in the waistband of the pantie-hose and began to jerk them down, while the frantic young woman ground her hips against the bed and tried to prevent this catastrophe, screaming for her husband to aid her.
Arthur Hadley's prick was gigantic by now, and he felt his teeth chattering with the waves of lust that swept through him. He hardly dared look at his beautiful wife, and he suddenly had the guilty desire of wanting to be in that room with the Mexicans so he could take part in this coercion.
Now, despite her struggles and pleas, the pan-tie-hose sheath was tugged down to about the middle of her thighs, and left there as a rumpled fetter. The squat Mexican now unbuckled his belt from his trousers and cracked it in the air ominously. "You are going to be nice now, mu-chacha," he told the sobbing, naked beauty. "And first you will start by telling us your name, querida."
Both men now avidly stared at the thick fleece of dark brown lovecurls which covered the gaping cunt, though it did not quite conceal the glimpse of the twitching pink lips of that enchanting vulva.
"You won't speak? Que lastima! I am afraid, Senora, that we are going to loosen your tongue a little. In this way!" And with this, he raised his right hand and then brought the belt down with a wicked crack across the young woman's milky waist. She started convulsively from the bed, her titties tautening with the maneuver, and her head fell back as she uttered a strident cry: "Oh Frank, they're whipping me, oh God, save me, save me, my poor darling husband, save me!"
A second blow of the black wide leather belt, which was about a quarter of an inch thick, smacked ferociously down over the young woman's naked belly. Her navel was wide and shallow, an exquisite oasis in that goblet of pale milky flesh. At the sound of the bite of leather on bare animal flesh, Arthur Hadley trembled and glanced quickly at his wife. Her eyes met his, and she reached out her hand, their fingers entwining. "Excited, dearest?" she whispered. And he could only nod his head and blush violently at this admission.
A third lash fell now, just above the victim's titties, and the young woman lifted her head, her eyes rolling in their sockets, as she uttered a piercing cry: "Eeeyeowww! Oh please, don't beat me, don't beat me, oh God, what do you want of me?"
"First Senora, your name!" the squat Mexican with the belt demanded.
"Oh, Frank, Frank, help me, help your Shirley!" the brown-haired young woman sobbed.
"Shirley. That is a very lovely name, Senora. And now the next thing we want, Juan and I, is that you ask us to fuck you. Each of us in turn, I first because I am the oldest, naturally. And what is your answer, linda Shirley?"
"Oh, you filthy beasts, I'd rather die! Oh, Frank, for God's sake, can't you get lose from that chair and help your poor wife? They want to do it to me, Frank, don't let them, oh I'd rather die than let them!" the naked beauty wailed.
"She is behaving like a naughty child, Esteban," the tall wiry Mexican commented. "Perhaps she should be treated like one. Let us turn her over and tie her back down but this time so that the belt can be given to her lovely bottom, no es verdad?"
"Juan, there are times when you have true inspiration. Let us do that by all means," the other Mexican avidly concurred. They swiftly untied the struggling naked captive, pulled off the pantie-hose and forced her back down on the bed, this time on her belly, spread-eagled, stark naked, the pale milky half-moons of her bottom upturned and contracting violently in her apprehension.
Each Mexican now ran his hands over that luscious posterior, squeezing the cheeks, patting and slapping, while the naked captive sobbed and groaned and again uselessly called on her helpless husband to come to her salvation. By now Eleanor Hadley had moved over to sit on her husband's lap, and to his great delight, had hoisted up her peasant skirt, a gay multicolored cotton garment under which he was dazzled to observe that she wore absolutely nothing. She reached down with one hand to zip open his fly, drew his stiff, turgid weapon out and whispered, "Put it into me very slowly, darling, and let's watch! Isn't it exciting!"
He felt her ease herself down on his ramrod, and the pulsations of her quim against the meatus just as he entered the sweet lobby of her cunt almost made him burst with furious delight. It took all his self-control to hold back his vital juices, while Eleanor adjusted herself and sank slowly down until at least half of his prong was furrowing her lovesheath.
His left hand was on her left tittie, and his right hand stroked her inner thigh and belly, as they both leaned forward to watch the absorbing scene.
Now the two Mexicans had moved back, and the fat one with the belt lifted it high, poised it in the air and then brought it down with a wicked Smack over the ripest curves of those two juicily rounded milky bottomglobes. Shirley's body started convulsively, and her face turned towards her assailant, her eyes enormous and drowned in tears: "Owww Ooooh! Oh please don't whip me like that, please!"
But Esteban did not reply. Instead he added a second lash almost exactly in the same place, the black leather band clinging to the resilient contours of the victim's behind, and again Shirley uttered a shriek of pain and jerked frantically at her wrists and ankles to free herself.
Now, very slowly and methodically, he began to whip her bottom, beginning at the base and applying horizontal strokes about half a minute apart until one could plainly see imprinted on that marvelously pale-milky canvas of living womanflesh the angrily growing stigmata of the belt leaping across both globes. By the time he had reached the top of Shirley's hips, she had received twenty lashes, and she was sobbing and begging them to stop, while at the same time looking back over her shoulder to implore her husband to come to her aid.
The man's face was flushed, his eyes bulging, and sweat beaded his forehead as he pulled against his bonds. Esteban noticed this and chuckled to his crony, "The Senor is getting excited too. Perhaps it would be only proper hospitality to let him have some pleasure, don't you think, compadre?"
"Si, si, to be sure, so that our visitors will not be able to say that the people of Mexico are not hospitable," Juan chuckled. With this, he went over to the chair and, squatting down, pulled down the zipper of the husband's trouser fly and then fumbled in the man's shorts. The Mexican with the belt uttered a boisterous laugh as he saw the helpless husband's penis jut out, angrily throbbing and swollen.
"So we have done that much for you, at least, Senor," he quipped. "And now it is Shirley's turn to be as hospitable to us. Are you ready yet, linda, to ask us to fuck you?" And to punctuate his words, the belt crashed down, but this time vertically, biting not only the middle of the young woman's left buttock, but also the small of her back and the top of her naked thigh.
"Eeeoowww! Oh Frank, they're killing me, I can't stand it any more, oh my poor darling, what am I going to do?" she screamed.
Crack! The belt visited the right buttock this time, then came down in another furious vertical descent, and again Shirley's naked body lunged and arched and twisted, while her pathetic, sobbing cry made Arthur Hadley groan. Eleanor too was excited, for he could feel the kissing and clipping of her cuntwalls against his imbedded phallus, as well as the stiffening of her nipple against his palm.
"This little muchacha is very shy, don't you think, Juan?" The Mexican with the belt tauntingly remarked. "Perhaps she is on her honeymoon, and so it is difficult for her to invite a strange man to enjoy her. So we must warm her thoroughly until she is convinced that we are as good as her husband, because after all he cannot help her and we can."
"You speak words of wisdom, Esteban," the tall wiry Mexican laughed.
The belt fell now, with three rapid strokes, diagonally from the young woman's right hip to the base of the left buttock. She jerked and twisted, screaming out at each, and now a fiery, lascivious pattern was imprinted on her swollen bottom, even more voluptuous in contrast with the untouched milky pallor of her thighs and back.
"Oh God, I can't stand it, haven't you any pity? Oh what must I do, oh Frank, tell me what to do!" she wailed.
"As soon as you are ready to have the whipping stop, linda Shirley, all you have to do is to ask us very nicely to fuck you, that is all," Esteban replied with mock politeness. Then his arm rose and fell twice more, this time visiting the base of the young woman's inflamed and tortured bottom with two vigorous horizontal cuts.
"Oh Frank, I can't help it, please forgive me --eeeeowwwouuu!!! Oh fuck me, then, fuck me, but for God's sake, stop whipping me!" the young woman now hysterically capitulated.
Then she pressed her face down against the sheets and began to sob with all her heart, while her hips still weaved and squirmed as if she were masturbating herself, in her ingenuous attempt to alleviate the burning fury of her well thrashed naked bottom.
Juan now took a pillow from the side of the bed and forced it under her belly, arching up her bottom and loins for better access. Then he gestured towards his fat, older crony: "You have won your turn, Esteban. But I pray you, por favor, do not keep me waiting too long, for my cojones are smoking hot with what I feel for this linda muchacha!"
"Do not worry, amigo, I will not keep you waiting, for we are good friends." The fat Mexican now opened the fly of his trousers, kicked off his shoes, and got onto the bed, kneeling between the young woman's straddled naked thighs. He dug his fingers into her groin, lifting her from the pillow, as he arched himself towards the gaping pink slit framed by the thick dark brown curls of pussyhair. "Oh Frank, he's going to do it to me--oh Frank, don't look, I beg of you, I'm so ashamed, I want to die--ohhhh-- aahhhh--oh my God, you're hurting me, you're too big--oh please, oh Frank, save me!" the naked woman wailed as she felt the Mexican's prong pry apart the twitching lips of her vulva and dig deep into her narrow cunt-canal. Her face was upturned, her eyes bulging and glassy with tears, and her fingers clawed the sheets as she tried to disengage her ravisher's weapon from her cleft. But with a grunt of triumph, Esteban thrust himself to the balls with a single violent shove, and then he began to fuck her with a furious rapidity, making her jerk and gasp with the vigor of his assault upon her.
When he had finished, he moved off to one side while the wiry Mexican replaced him. Juan took his handkerchief and mopped the young woman's pussy, and then without more ado, gripping her reddened, naked hips with his wiry fingers, he in turn forced his way into that quaking sheath and fucked her but with slower and more deliberate vigor till at last he burst his vital seed deep within her womb.
And just as he achieved his climax, Eleanor began to arch herself up and down on her husband's organ, whispering to him, "Oh hurry, come along with me, darling, oh God, I can't hold it back anymore, do it, do it all--oh Arthur, oh my darling!" as with a final shout of ecstasy, she reached her orgasm, her head falling back, her heart wildly beating against his pressing palm, while he felt himself shatter and explode within the grip of her tight moist hot love canal.
But this was not the finale of the scene they had just witnessed. For after the two Mexicans had satisfied their lust on the spread-eagled milky naked body of the sobbing young woman, they restored their clothing to proper order, and then untied the gagged husband's bounds and swiftly left the room, locking the door behind them.
The man called Frank totteringly rose from the chair, his eyes burning, his chest heaving, his stiff prick still violently out thrust and shaking with pentup rut.
"You dirty little bitch, you enjoyed it!" he accused in a hoarse, shuddering voice as he approached the bed.
"Of Frank, how can you say such a dreadful thing to me? You know they made me, they whipped me so terribly, I couldn't stand it! Oh I begged you to help me, darling, oh please, untie me, my wrists and ankles are so sore! I hurt everywhere, oh darling, have mercy on me, forgive me!" she sobbed.
But to the dazzled eyes of Arthur Hadley, the man in no way answered that heartrending petition. Instead, getting onto the bed and kneeling beside the naked young woman, he put his left palm on the small of her back and then, raising his right, began to spank her already inflamed and angrily reddened bottomcheeks until she shrieked and wept and jerked and twisted frantically, imploring him to stop, begging him to understand that he was punishing her when it hadn't been her fault.
When his hand was tired, after about some forty spanks, he got between her thighs, gripped the insides of her hips, and lifting her up, thrust home his spear deep into her cunt and then began to fuck her.
Eleanor had moved back to her chair now, smoothed out her dress, and she looked over at her husband with indulgent and amused eyes: "Would you like to ring for Vera, darling?" she whispered.
"You--you wouldn't mind, Eleanor?" he panted.
She smilingly shook her head. "Maybe I'd like her services too, when you've finished, Arthur darling."
"Oh Eleanor, you're the most wonderful wife any man could ever have," he gasped as she staggered from her chair and made his way over to the bell on the wall. A few moments later the door opened and the charming French-costumed lovely young Mexican maid entered.
"The Senor desires?" she murmured, in a husky, soft, sexy voice.
"Yes he does!" Arthur Hadley hoarsely gasped. "Come over here to me, young lady. Such bad service, here we were all this time and you didn't even come in to see if we needed more champagne. I'm going to spank you first."
"As the Senor wishes," the charming maid said, demurely lowering her eyes. She crossed over to him, as he seated himself on the chair, grasping her by the wrists, Arthur Hadley pulled her down over his lap, flipped up her short skirt, and uttered a gasp of delight when he saw that she wore no panties, only a garterbelt with very narrow tabs to hold up the sheer opera-length black mesh hose on her lissome legs.
His left palm in the small of her back, he began to spank her. It was the first time in his life he had ever done that, and as he did it, he was thinking of Hester, his willful, spoiled daughter who really deserved it most. The pretty maid submitted to a rather vigorous chastisement with gasps and little sobs, glancing back up at him from time to time, and sinuously wriggling her lithe body over his lap. Finally he stopped, out of breath and conscious of the frenzied swelling in his cock.
"Maybe that will teach you," he said thickly.
The pretty maid rose from his lap, keeping her skirt hoisted up with one hand while she rubbed her blazing bottom with the other. Then she wryly nodded and whispered, "I see that I made the Senor very uncomfortable. Does he wish me to do something about it?"
"I--" Arthur began, then looked helplessly at his wife. But Eleanor was smilingly nodding. "Yes," he panted.
And to his absolute consternation and unexpected joy, the pretty French-costumed maid knelt down, grasped his calves with her slim hands, and, putting her mouth to his swollen prong, began to suck and lick him till he felt himself explode.
When this was done, Eleanor then whispered into Vera's ear, and the girl giggled understandingly. "I'm going to leave you for a little while, darling," Eleanor murmured as she bent over the chair into which he had seated himself again, "But Vera tells me there will be another show in just a few minutes, so it will keep you from getting bored."
The husband and the young wife had now left the room, and in a few moments a couple entered, quite divergent in years and bodily traits indeed. The female was a sixteen-year-old Mexican girl, very prettily dressed, with a gray-haired man whom she addressed as her Tio Pepe." This elderly uncle scolded her for being a flirtatious little minx and having heard reports from the neighbors on how she let the boys kiss and maul her, and condemned her to a spanking. Despite her very ingenuous pleas, she was pulled across his lap, her skirts drawn up, her dainty white cotton panties lowered to her knees, and then given a vigorous handspanking, which made her kick and squeal, while her olivesheened bottom turned a fiery hue.
When the spanking was over, she got up tearfully, rubbed her bottom, and hesitantly thanked him for chastising her. Then, to Arthur's stupefaction, she knelt down between the elderly man's legs, opened his fly, took out his organ and began to suck him till he was almost at the point of orgasm. Then, nimbly, hoisting her skirts high, she seated herself upon his organ and impaled herself, just as Eleanor had done with Arthur himself.
About half an hour later, Eleanor returned, languid, her eyes and mouth soft with fulfillment. She didn't find her husband bored, but quite the contrary. And so she whispered to him. "Darling, let's wait till we get back to the hotel and just before we go to sleep, I'll do something about that insatiable third leg of yours."
And so indeed she did. Arthur Hadley had guessed that she and Vera had made love together, but he was much too tactful to allude to it.
And so when they returned to Claremont, Arthur Hadley had had the most liberal education conceivable for one so mature in years and yet untutored in the ways of voluptuous and domestic chastisement. And what he learned, as we shall see in future chapters, was to affect not only his own pampered daughter Hester, but also many of Eleanor's friends and their own lovely daughters.
CHAPTER EIGHT
By the last week of August, Arthur Hadley had made a swift and most efficient hiatus in moving to Claremont, opening his office in that pleasant little town's very modern mall, and arranging for Hester's entrance as a freshman into Claremont College for Girls. He had had some misgivings about moving his housekeeper along with him, but by fortunate circumstance she had just come to the point of giving him her notice because she had had an invitation to go live with her younger sister in Tacoma. Arthur Hadley had given her a month's wages and a glowing reference in the event that she decided to go back to work, and thanked her for all she had done for him and Hester. But on this last subject, she shook her head and tactfully replied, "Well, Mr. Hadley, sir, to tell the truth, I haven't felt that I've done very much with that young lady, begging your pardon. If you ask me, the best thing in the world you could have done was to get married so she'll have a mother who sets her straight. That girl needs a good talking too, and maybe something else, I'll be bound."
It was just as well for her piece of mind that Hester didn't hear this farewell conversation, for she had no inkling whatsoever that the days of the virginity of her bottom so far as chastisement was concerned were finitely numbered.
Hester was given a very spacious room across the hall from Betty's, which was actually bigger than her own room back in Pomona, but it didn't seem to please her. Busy with his preparations for making a success of his new venture on his own and adjusting himself to the placid routine of getting to know his new neighbors and at the same time, at night, enjoying Eleanor's passionate devotion, Arthur Hadley attributed Hester's diffidence to the understandable nostalgia which she would have for her past surroundings. At the same time, it was his fervent hope that, exposed as she would be to Betty's cheerful aura, his problematic daughter would be compelled to become more of an extrovert than in the past.
He and Eleanor had agreed that Betty would call him "Uncle Arthur" for a time until of her own accord the lovely golden-haired teenager preferred to give him the title of "Father," and Betty certainly showed no signs at all of any indifference to him. By contrast, indeed, her politeness and natural sweetness and exuberance delighted him, and with each new day he was more and more convinced that a kindly fate had taken pity on a lonely widower by introducing him to Eleanor Stanfield and her delightful daughter.
Eleanor, meanwhile, explained to him the status of the neighborhood children with whom Betty was on the friendliest terms and something about their parents. He had already heard about the Gilmores and their three offspring, Janet, Tony and Constance, and their buxom, very attractive, German maid, Hilda. Mabel Carruthers was an attractive auburn-haired woman in her early forties, svelte and quite personable, and her husband, Dave was forty-seven, a successful attorney who specialized in patent law. They had two daughters, brown-haired Verna, rather tomboyish, fourteen and a half years of age, and black-haired Barbara, not quite seventeen, bewitchingly attractive and beginning to discover the fascination of the opposite sex.
"They're both delightful girls, Arthur dear," Eleanor explained on their second evening back home as the two of them lay in bed, cuddling and kissing. Eleanor wore the black nylon nightie which he had bought for her in Mexico, and her voluptuous, ripe body had never been more alluring, with the gauzy black sheath accentuating the milkiness of her most intimate anatomy where the sun hadn't caressingly bronzed it. "Just like Louise, Mabel deals out the discipline at the Carruthers' house, though occasionally Dave will take a hand when the girls are especially naughty. Mabel doesn't like Barbara to have dates except on Friday nights, and she has to be back at ten-thirty. She stated that in June when Barbara did very well in her next to last term in high school. As for Verna, she's always getting into mischief but she's very goodhearted and generous and fair with her companions. I like her almost as much as Constance, though she perhaps is a little more nerve-wracking to have around. Just like Constance, she takes her punishments very stoically and the next moment they're forgotten. Barbara is beginning to feel that she's a little too old for spanking, but Mabel and Dave know how to bring her up to the mark when she gets adult notions about independence and that sort of thing, just like Janet Gilmore."
"You mentioned, darling, that Louise Gilmore keeps a demerit book."
"That's true. She lets the demerits accumulate over a week, but they must be cleared off within ten days, like it or not. That's because she's quite busy in social and charitable affairs in the community and doesn't always have time to deal with the offender at the moment. So she'll say, 'Janet, go put yourself down for fifteen spanks in the book,' and then by the tenth day, Janet must bring her the book for a reckoning. And since Janet is eighteen and will be starting Claremont College along with your daughter Hester, darling, she's beginning to get very unhappy about the humiliation of being spanked just like a little girl. So there are times when she lets the demerits pile up in the hope that perhaps Louise will remit them, which of course Louise won't ever do. So on occasion the poor darling has a rather lengthy and painful ordeal in store for her. As I've told her before, because sometimes she's let it slip to me that she's not entirely happy with not being treated like an adult--the best way to avoid that is not to earn demerits."
"It would seem to me that these two families have the problem of discipline pretty fairly worked out," Arthur Hadley mused.
"Yes, they do. And of course my dear friend Frieda Jamison and her husband Hank, though a very easygoing couple, have laid down the law to their two girls and even their twelve-year old son Bob. Frieda is about my age, rather tall and athletic, a decided brunette and Hank is your age, Arthur, and he's a commercial artist with his own studio here in Claremont. He's done a lot of work for children's magazines. Besides Bob, they've got Nancy, who is fourteen, and a real redhead who's going to be a real beauty someday soon, and Sally, who is seventeen, sandy-haired and quite maturely developed for her age. She too is beginning to feel her oats so far as boys are concerned, and Frieda and Hank have made it plain to her that she's to go out only with fellows she brings home to be introduced to them and then only on Friday or Saturday nights when there isn't any other family affair planned, and of course they have a curfew for her too just like all us parents. Both Frieda and Hank handle the spanking problems at the Jamison house. So you can see, lover, that when Betty starts introducing Hester to all her friends, your daughter is going to discover that nobody at all--except maybe Sally and Barbara and of course Janet--thinks that there's anything unusual about getting a spanking when they're naughty. The psychological effect should, if you'll pardon the pun, soften Hester up for the time when she faces the reality of crime and punishment. But understand me, darling, I am absolutely not going to undertake chastising her until you yourself give me the go-ahead sign. As I've already said, I think it would be a drastic mistake so very soon to let her think that she's hardly changed homes and acquired a new stepmother and stepsister and feel herself in a reformatory where punishments are meted out."
"I quite agree with you, Eleanor. But I want her to be treated just as fairly as you would your own daughter. If she does something wrong that offends you, I expect her to be old enough to understand her responsibilities in the matter and not to have immunity just because she happens to be my girl and not yours."
"Well, darling," Eleanor murmured as she slyly slid her hand along his thighs and grasped the tip of his stiffening cock, "That works both ways. The time is going to come when you will be vexed with my girl and want to take her across your lap for a sound walloping, so that's why I'm letting Betty know that she too can't exactly expect total immunity from you in the future."
"How grim you make it all sound," he chuckled thickly, for by now the caressing of her soft fingers had made him furiously randy. His lips nuzzled one of her nipples, and his right hand was on one of her spacious bottomcheeks while his left arm was passed under her armpit as they lay facing each other on their sides.
"But it isn't grim at all, darling. I can assure you that Betty doesn't have the slightest resentment for me. An hour or so after her spanking, she's just as cheerful as ever, and I think she loves me more. That's because everything is done out in the open, and she has acquired enough intelligence to see that I don't punish without a reason. A parent should never punish in anger at any time. Oh yes, I'll admit that some educators would argue with me about what would seem to be ritualism in the way I punish, just as they would with Louise Gilmore and her demerit book, but basically Louise and I both agree that teenagers are an impressionable lot and that it's quite one thing to turn a girl over her lap and give her a few hasty angry spanks and another to make her go to her room and meditate about her follies with the knowledge that in an hour or two her mother is going to enter her room and give her a sermon and then punish her according to her just desserts. And now, young man, I'm beginning to wonder about you. Everytime I talk about spanking, you get so stiff I can hardly hold you," she softly teased as she sinuously drew up her filmy nightie and, guiding his throbbing cock to the furry nest of her pussy, pressed it in between the twitching, moist lips of her ardent vulva. With a groan, Arthur Hadley closed his eyes and kissed her hard on the mouth, his left hand moving to grasp her right tittie, his right hand squeezing the jouncy, satiny naked globe of one luscious bare buttock. Slowly and deliberately, he began to fuck her, until soon he had reached her threshold of amorous sensitivity and she began to whimper and gasp and cling to him more tightly, furling her tongue between his lips and exhorting him to greater passion...
After their rapturous lovemaking had been concluded and they lay side by side with fingers entwined, sharing a cigarette between them, Arthur Hadley pursued the topic which had now become of such sensually rousing interest to him: "You've told me how you spank Betty, darling, and I was wondering how the other parents chastise their children when they're naughty."
"I see that I have made a convert who is getting impatient to enter the lists late in life, haven't I, darling?" the brown-haired matron teased him as she took a puff of the cigarette, blew out rings which rose towards the ceiling, and then caressingly ran her fingertips over his then handed it back to him and stroked his belly limpened cock. "Well, Louise uses a little rubber dogwhip on her maid Hilda, because Hilda is big and sturdy and of course, quite a mature woman, and so the punishment must take effect. Janet gets a dose of the little whip too, whenever she's marked down for more than a hundred spanks, which frequently happens."
"So many?" he marveled. "But that sounds like torture!"
"She is much more severe than I am, in some ways, I'll admit," Eleanor murmured as she pressed her bare hip against her husband's and continued to fondle his cock in the hope of restoring it to vigor for a second engagement in erotic ecstasy. "But the skin is never broken, and the whip stings rather than cuts. She's an expert with it, and even after a rather severe spanking with it, in a few days Janet's plump white bottom hardly shows any marks. At times she uses a ruler on Tony, because a loud smacking is humiliating for him, and the same with Constance, though Constance has had her share of the little rubber dogwhip too. However, just before Betty and I left for Malibu, Louise told me that she had added a leather sole to the arsenal, and that it has made a howling success, to coin a rather obvious phrase. None of her three offspring likes it at all, not so much because it smacks and stings quite vigorously, but because of the loud and most disconcertingly embarrassing noise it makes. You see, darling, humiliation is a part of corporal punishment, a most important one from the psychological viewpoint. A teenager with any common sense at all eventually makes up his or her mind that if something is unpleasant, he or she is going to avoid it at all costs, which eventually makes for better behavior and more serious thinking on the subject of good conduct all around."
"I see," he said, impressed. "What about Mabel and Dave Carruthers?"
"Mabel is a great adherent of the hairbrush, which most of the time is the instrument used on Verna and Barbara. Dave, on the other hand, uses his hand, which is quite heavy, from what his girls ruefully tell me, and also his belt when Verna and Barbara have been especially naughty. As for Frieda Jamison, she prefers a pingpong paddle for minor offenses, and she has a special spanking strap which is very much like an old Scotch tawse."
"What in the world is that?" he wanted to know.
"It's a leather strap about twenty inches long, darling, with an extra thick piece at one end to be used as a grip, and the last three or four inches are cut at the other end into three separate fingers. It stings very painfully, I can assure you, especially when it has been prefaced with a good handspanking. Hank has on occasion used the paddle on the girls, but he still spanks his son Bob by hand, which seems to humiliate the boy a lot, and I understand that the last few months Bob has tried hard to avoid getting into trouble. And that is my exact point about all this, dear, because you mustn't think that all of us parents who spank our children do so out of unadulterated hostility or any perverse cruelty towards them. Quite the contrary. We have simply come to the conclusion that it's much more effective than stopping allowance or forbidding our children to go out to a movie or denying them rewards which in the main their good conduct has earned. A spanking is painful and embarrassing at the time, it serves to remind the culprit that he or she has marred a good-conduct record by a very silly and easily avoidable fault, and so it serves its purpose admirably."
"Yes, it seems to," he agreed. "But all this talk about it, Eleanor, is having an effect on me, as well as what you're doing right now."
"I take it," she winked naughtily at him, "that you are rather more affected by the erotic side of it, aren't you, lover? The way you were when you saw that lovely young bride in the house at Cuernavaca. Well, Arthur, very frankly, there is that side to spanking, too. Adults practice it among themselves for sexual stimulation, as you may have guessed. Why, in Los Angeles, I've heard there's even a club that calls itself the 'Swap 'n Spank Society' in which the members go in for wifeswapping and a little playful spanking to stimulate them to lovemaking."
"I guess I'll have to confess, darling, that's opened a new world of speculation to me." Arthur Hadley pulled his beautiful brown-haired wife to him, his mouth coming down passionately on hers, and at once her nimble pink tongue darted between his lips and he felt her arms and legs lock round him to accept him. His prick was nuzzling along her velvety inner thighs, rasping against the curly darkbrown tufts of pussyhair, which titillated him into a new awareness of desire. When the kiss was over, he added, his voice unsteady, "But I imagine that kind of domestic chastisement is rather playful instead of punitive."
"Sometimes it's both, darling. And there's no denying that when a man has a pretty girl over his lap and her bare bottom is upturned and wriggling and growing red and he hears her crying, he has a sense of mastery and domination which is very much like that which the lord of a harem enjoy. Just the same, a parent must make a very careful demarcation between the loveplay which he exercises with his own wife--or in the case of the woman the husband of course --and his daughter, because otherwise that would be venturing into a forbidden field. However," Eleanor said archly, as she snuggled closer, and tightened her hold round his shoulders, feeling his prick slip slowly down deep into her chasm, "that's another excellent reason why I'm so glad I've got a husband now. Because I will admit, since it's between the two of us right now, lover, that spanking Betty's pretty bottom often does get me excited. And while I was a widow, there wasn't any proper way to have any assuagement of those urges, which now, thank goodness, you are so wonderfully able to satisfy in me. Oh darling, give it to me hard! Dig your nails into my bummy! Love me, give it to me, yes, Arthur, oh my goodness, you're so wonderful, I'm ever so glad that beachball missed its mark!"
CHAPTER NINE
Earlier that same evening, in the Gilmore house which was down at the end of the same block on which Eleanor lived, Hilda was undergoing the severe and yet solicitously maternal attentions of her mistress.
The entire family was at dinner, and Hilda had had the misfortune to slop over a tureen of soup which she had set down before Fred Gilmore, a pleasant-faced, stocky, well built man whose gray hair was thinning around his temples. He frowned at this, and Louise remarked rather tartly, 'Hilda, you really must be more careful, you know!"
"Yes, Mrs. Gilmore, I'm sorry. I'll clean it up right away, Mrs. Gilmore."
"Do that," Louise sternly declared. "And remind me after dinner that you've something coming for your sloppiness."
"Y-yes, Mrs. Gilmore," Hilda flushed and lowered her eyes, then meekly took a paper towel and blotted up the edges of the tureen and the platter under it, then departed for the kitchen.
Louise Gilmore was an imposing and extremely handsome woman, with an authoritative air.
Her face was rounded, the lips thin and incisive, the nose straight and small, with dark blue widely spaced eyes and thin penciled brows which she used most expressively to underline her comments to her children and her maid.
Janet, the oldest of the three Gilmore offspring, sat at her mother's right, and was really a most attractive young woman, promising to rival her mother's generous bodily development within a very few years. Louise's solid hips and plump bosom were more than suggested in Janet's deliriously curvaceous figure, with high-perched round young breasts set closely together, a slim waist that flared into broad, plump oval buttocks and somewhat short but mouth-wateringly rounded thighs and saucily rounded calves. She had an oval face, with a pert uptilted nose, a full sweet mouth, and eloquent dark brown eyes, was about five feet five and a half inches in height, and possessed an olivesheened complexion which many a mature woman would have envied. Her black hair was coifed in a modish upsweep with a wide curl to the right of her forehead. Janet fancied herself almost ready for marriage, and there were times when she was greatly distressed when she had to be humiliatingly prepared for what she considered outmoded juvenile discipline. Yet she respected as well as feared her mother and father and had come to the doleful conclusion that it was far better to submit than to argue and discuss and to run the risk extra spankings, which had occurred only last year at her seventeenth birthday when she had protested her mother's sentence of a spanking for having torn a new dress. That little argument had cost her a session over her father's lap after which she had believed that his hard hand had thoroughly chastened her, only to discover that her mother had a ruler spanking in store for her and a finale of a dozen stinging cuts with the little rubber dogwhip.
Constance, across from her sister, was a really lovely girl, and very much like Betty, though somewhat quieter and much more demure in the presence of her elders. Her face was heart-shaped, with adorably dimpled cheeks and chin, a dainty aquiline nose, gray-green eyes, and a generous mouth, and her fluffy light brown hair was styled in a thick pageboy. Her pale milky skin was very sensitive to spanking, and marked visibly at the very outset, yet in some ways she was more stoic than Janet when it came to receiving punishment. Her buttocks were two tightly spaced rotundities, somewhat heavier than was expected of her age, and indeed reminded her mother of Hilda's even more generous contours. Her thighs were long but well rounded, and her calves were highset and sleek. Tony, who sat next to his younger sister, was an ebullient black-haired, wiry young man who also seemed to have a rather solid bottom, which apparently was the Gilmore heritage. "Well, Louise," Fred Gilmore said as he cut into his roast beef which Hilda had just served with bated breath, "I see that Eleanor has got herself a new husband and daughter at the same time. Have you had a chance to meet the fellow yet?"
"No, Fred, but Eleanor is going to have us over for afternoon tea tomorrow, and I'll have a chance to meet Mr. Hadley then, and his daughter, Hester. From what Eleanor tells me, however, Hester is Janet's age and she's never been spanked in all her life."
"Lucky Hester," Janet murmured with a plaintive sigh.
"That will be just about enough of that, young lady," her mother flashed her a meaningful glance. "Would you like me to have you go enter about fifteen in your book for impertinence at the table?"
"Oh no, Mother, I'm sorry!" Janet gulped and went very red as she suddenly found what was on her plate infinitely more palatable than the subject under discussion.
"I understand," Louise went on, momentarily passing over Janet's impertinence, "that the poor man was a widower, which would account for the way Hester had missed parental discipline."
"Well, if I'm any judge, Louise dear," Fred Gilmore chuckled, "Eleanor will soon equalize matters, and I'm afraid that Hester may have to make up for lost time, as the saying goes. I shudder to think what these three hellions," here he glance affectionately at his brood, "would be like if you and I hadn't agreed at the very start to keep them on the straight and narrow. What are we having for dessert, Louise dear?"
"Strawberry cream pie, one of Hilda's specials," his handsome wife replied. "Janet and Constance, Betty's mother asked me to invite you both along with me tomorrow afternoon when you meet her new husband and Hester. I'm sure you'll both be on your best behavior."
"Oh yes, Mother," Constance demurely replied, and Jane contented herself with a nod, watching her mother's face anxiously for any signs which might mean a visit to the demerit book and a subsequent entry.
"I wonder," Fred Gilmore thoughtfully mused, "whether it wouldn't be a good idea for Hester to find out that all three of our kids get tanned whenever they need it, just the way Betty does." At this, Janet turned red as a beet and again stared down at her plate and forked some of the vegetables she hadn't yet consumed.
"As a matter of fact, Fred dear, that was something that Eleanor mentioned on the phone when she called me. She would like the girls to mention how they're punished if Betty brings the subject up. And I personally think it's an excellent idea." She permitted herself an amused little laugh. "It will serve an excellent purpose, too, in reminding Janet and Constance and Tony that their conduct is to be as exemplary here when we're all among ourselves as when it is away from home as guests. Well, Fred, here's the pie."
But unhappily, Hilda, who had been worrying about Louise Gilmore's meaningful order to her, set the pieplate down rather abruptly in the middle of the table, and some of the berry juices spilled over onto the tablecloth. She uttered a cry of horror, clapped her hand to her mouth, and then eyed Louise as if the end of the world had just come.
"Good heavens, Hilda, what's got into you this evening? I'm afraid your punishment won't wait until after dinner. Go get me your whip," the autocratic blonde matron demanded.
"Y--yes, Mrs. G-Gilmore. I-I'm awfully sorry. Please let me clean it up first."
"No, that tablecloth will have to be sent to the cleaner anyway. Hurry, Hilda, and don't make matters worse by arguing!" the steely tone of authority impressed the handsome German maid into nodding and quickly hurrying out of the dining room. When she returned, she carried a black rubber dogwhip and shamefacedly handed to her mistress. Janet and Constance and Tony stared wide-eyed, perhaps deriving secret solace from their own punishment sessions by realizing that this grown woman was about to be spanked by their own mother in front of them.
"What is this for, Hilda?" Louise Gilmore studiedly demanded.
"Please, Mrs. Gilmore, I'm sorry for spilling the s-soup and the p-pie, and I deserve to be punished. Please whip me well so that I can be pardoned for having been so careless," Hilda stammered. At twenty-eight, she was strikingly attractive, though her generous proportions were somewhat overblown. Of medium height, with straw-colored hair formed in a curly bob, she had a prettily rounded face, widely spaced light blue eyes, a small sensuous nose, and a ripe mouth which had already begun to quiver with apprehension.
"Draw up that straight-backed chair, Hilda, and kneel down on it," was the next order.
"Yes M-Ma'am," Hilda quavered. She went towards the door, picked up one of the straight-backed chairs in a row against the wall, and returned with it to the dining table, set it down and then slowly knelt over it. It was evident that this ritual was not at all new to her, for she promptly bent her head and shoulders over the top of the back of the chair, clasped her hands around the back and entwined her fingers tightly together as if holding tight for needed support.
Louise Gilmore rose from her chair, approached the quivering German maid,, and promptly trussed up Hilda's skirt and slip beyond the young woman's waist, taking a safety pin from the pocket of her dress and ascertaining that the culprit's garments would not fall back down over her condemned bottom.
Hilda's spacious bottomcheeks, juttingly rounded and extremely tempting in their thrust against the tight white pantie-girdle which shaped them out like a second skin, quivered visibly as Louise Gilmore now inserted her fingers under the waistband and carefully rolled the garment down to the young woman's stocking-tops. The plump hindquarters, contracting spasmodically as Hilda uttered a soft little gasp to find herself stripped bare before the children and Fred Gilmore, were endowed with a pale pink epidermis, glossy and satiny, and the skin seemed to gleam because of the moisture which the rubber sheath had imparted with its warmth as it clung to those generous contours.
Louise Gilmore had left the little rubber dog-whip on the edge of the table, and now turned to retrieve it. Planting herself at the victim's left, her left palm bearing down on the small of Hilda's naked back, she announced, "Twenty-five, Hilda. And remember to stay in position, if you please!"
"Yes--yes, M-Ma'am," the German maid quavered and bent her head down still lower, tightening her fingers together as she hugged the back of the chair. This kneeling posture accentuated the lascivious jut of her ripe bottom-globes, and one could see the shadowy groove which separated the cheeks, as well as the provocative dark blonde fleece which framed the pulpy fig of her cunthole.
Louise Gilmore slowly raised the dogwhip, and then descended it with a swift stroke which made the black rubber thong cling greedily to tops of Hilda's ample hips. One could hear Hilda suck in her breath, and her thighs twitched convulsively, but otherwise she did not move. A bright pink streak sprang up at once on the pale moist gleaming epidermis.
A past mistress of fustigation, Louise Gilmore whipped without haste and following a preconceived pattern. The first eight lashes were spaced about half a minute apart, curling horizontally and wickedly over the jutting bottom-cheeks. After a pause of about a minute, Louise then applied five vertical cuts to each succulent bottomcheek, and then there was a further pause of a minute while she lectured the now softly sobbing kneeling victim, who falteringly promised to mend her ways.
There then followed five lashes delivered diagonally over the now squirming, plump and vividly striped hindquarters, and then after a further pause of a minute during which Louise Gilmore again harangued the weeping victim, the final two cuts were applied with full force across the ripest curves of both huddling and squirming nether globes, drawing wails of pain and frantic squirmings from the sufferer.
At the conclusion of the whipping, Louise Gilmore herself pulled up the pantie-girdle, which obviously would add to Hilda's discomfort for a good while, for its tight cling and heat would retain the burning anguish of the lashing far beyond its normal duration. Then she unpinned Hilda's skirt and slip and drew the garments down and smoothed them into place, following which she took her seat and waited.
After a moment, Hilda gingerly got down from the straight-backed chair, and knelt down on the floor before her implacable mistress. Tearfully she kissed Louise Gilmore's hand, then the rubber dogwhip, while she faltered out a formula of thanks: "Th-thank you, M-Ma'am, for having punished me for being so sloppy. I promise I'll do better from now on, honest I will. I'm sorry if I spoiled your dinner." Then, turning towards Fred Gilmore, who had an amused expression on his face, she added, "I'm awfully sorry I annoyed you, Mr. Gilmore, I won't do it again, honest I won't."
"I hope not, Hilda," he chuckled. "Does it hurt very much?"
"Yes-yes, s-sir. If only I could take off that awful girdle--"
"But you know perfectly well you can't, Hilda. Not until tomorrow morning. And now continue with the rest of it, if you please, because we're eager for our coffee," Louise tartly interrupted.
"Yes--yes, M-Ma'am. Please do forgive me for having been so careless, M-Ma'am."
"All right, Hilda, you may put the whip back and go bring us our coffee. Because it's vacation time, the children may have a cup too, but half-filled with milk."
"Yes, Mrs. Gilmore, thank you, Mrs. Gilmore." Hilda rose with a surprising alacrity, considering the fiery state of her well striped bottom, then impulsively bent her head, took her mistress's hand and kissed it, and then disappeared.
Fred Gilmore took out his pipe and began to fill it from a well worn leather pouch. "I think," he remarked with a chuckle, "I'm hungrier than ever for that strawberry cream pie now. Want me to try my hand at slicing it out and serving it, honey?"
"No, dear, that's for Hilda to do," Louise Gilmore firmly countered. "How do you suppose she's ever going to improve on her mistakes if she isn't given a chance? That's the whole purpose of punishing her like this in front of everyone. Ah, here's our coffee, Hilda, please serve up the pie at once."
And thus in the Gilmore household, while their three youngsters watched with curious eves the handsome German maid humbly and swiftly obeyed the orders of her mistress and master, and she was even smiling with gratitude. For in this singular household, Hilda had learned already that once a punishment is experienced and the sin paid for, all was forgiven, and Louise Gilmore had been very generous to her in so many ways, and she only hoped that she hadn't spoiled things by needing to be punished tonight.
CHAPTER TEN
During the two weeks of her father's Mexican honeymoon with Betty's beautiful and mature mother, Hester Hadley found herself introduced to the golden-haired teenager's circle of young friends. She was not especially crazy about them, because all of them, with the exception of Janet Gilmore, were younger than herself. However, and again with a condescending air of one who is performing a disagreeable task solely as a necessity, she tried to be as cordial as possible to them all.
Jennie, Eleanor's jovial housekeeper, had already made her mind up about Hester the very first day they met when Hester had come into the kitchen to ask that some milk and sandwiches be served to her in her room. The portly Negress put her hands on her hips after Arthur's daughter had left the kitchen, shook her head and exclaimed, "My lands! Dat dere young gal gonna find out Miz' Eleanor ain't gonna stand sass nohow soon as she done come back from de honeymoon! Serve it up in her room, she says! Huh! I shonuff wonder what Miz' Eleanor would say if Betty came in and asked for service like that, I sho' does!"
Nevertheless, deciding that it was not her place to educate Hester as to the regimen practised in the Stanfield home, Jennie made the sandwiches and poured out a glass of milk and brought them up to the diffident auburnhaired teenager, who gave her a cool nod and accepted the service as if it was her due without so much as a "Thank you, Jennie." And this further lack of good manners made the Negress a much more staunch ally of Betty than ever before. She, of course, was fully aware that the golden-haired teenager was punished when she displeased her mother. Often, indeed Jennie had watched Betty being spanked right there in the kitchen. As a matter of fact only a week before Eleanor and Betty had gone to Malibu on the vacation that was to turn into romance for the mature brownette widow, Betty had forgotten to ask her mother's permission to have lunch with Sally Jamison and spend the afternoon playing with her. When she came back about four-thirty, Eleanor rebuked her daughter and irritatedly informed her that she had asked Jennie for Betty's whereabouts and had been unable to learn anything at all. Sentence was immediately pronounced and executed.
Much to her dismay and humiliation, Betty was obliged to hold up her skirt and nylon petticoat, and go across her mother's lap on a kitchen chair in full view of Jennie. Thereupon Eleanor requested a three-thonged leather martinet from the Negress, who got it from its hook in the pantry and presented it to her employer. Eleanor had acquired this martinet only a few months previously; today was the first time that Betty had been introduced to it and it was an experience the golden-haired teenager would gratefully have done without.
Calmly and dispassionately, Eleanor had applied forty stinging lashes, and with an admirable dexterity had applied about half of the strokes in such a way that the tapering brown leather thongs cracked sonorously over Betty's upturned pink sheened round bottomcheeks, while the other half she inflicted so that the tips of the thongs nipped the inflamed and squirming posterior. Betty's shame was intensified because, her panties slipped down around her knees, she couldn't help trying to kick and twist and wriggle under this highly unpleasant and painfully diversified chastisement, maneuvers which exposed to Jennie's eyes the most intimate parts of the young girl's virginal anatomy. After the punishment had been inflicted, there was the usual ceremonial of making up, and this Betty liked most of all when she had to be punished. Without being allowed to pull up her panties, she could sit on her mother's lap, cuddling her arms around Eleanor's neck, while Eleanor gently chided her for her naughtiness and made her promise not to repeat the offense. Then followed the kiss of peace, after which Betty was permitted to pull her panties up and lower her outer garments and then put the martinet back in place in the pantry.
During this period of the honeymoon, Betty remembered her mother's instructions on indoctrinating Hester into the mysteries and meaning of corporal punishment. She wasn't quite sure how to begin the topic, but as matters turned out, Hester herself unwittingly led the way by asking casually, as they were enroute to Frieda Jamison's house, "I hope you're feeling better, Betty, after that sick spell you had."
Mystified, the lovely golden-haired teenager regarded her new stepsister: "Sick spell? Whatever in the world are you talking about, Hester?"
"I mean that evening you were supposed to have dinner with your mother and my Dad and you didn't show up."
"Oh, that," Betty said flippantly. "I wasn't exactly sick. I just had to stay in my room, that's all."
"But why?" Hester pursued.
"Because Mother punished me, that's all. She had my supper sent up from the restaurant, though, so I didn't exactly starve."
"Punished you?" Hester echoed with growing curiosity. "But how and for what, Betty?"
"I just did something mother didn't like," the good-natured teenager casually replied, "so she sent me up to my room and then in a little while she came and gave me a spanking."
"You must be joking!" Hester's jaw dropped. "Nobody spanks girls your age anymore."
"Try telling that to Mother, and see how far you'd get," Betty merrily laughed. "But don't look so worried, Hester. I'm not, I can assure you."
"You mean--Betty, tell me the truth! You mean she really did spank you?" Hester gasped.
Betty nodded so that her golden curls danced in the air, and then giggled: "My gracious, Hester, from the way you talk, you'd think it was the end of the world! Lots of kids get spanked in Claremont. Fact is, all the kids I pal around with do, even the fellows."
"I can't believe it. You reason with a child, you don't use physical force," Hester declared. "And you're sixteen, and these other friends of yours are about that age, aren't they?"
"Yes, except Janet, she's eighteen, and Sally Jamison is seventeen, and so is Barbara Carruthers. But they get spanked just the way I do. Oh, I guess it's a little different, because every parent has their own way of doing it. But when we're naughty we can expect it I'll tell you that much, Hester."
"I never heard of such a dreadful thing!" Arthur Hadley's precocious, selfish daughter gasped, her cheeks coloring vividly. "Why, it's downright cruelty, that's what it is! Parents who beat their children--why, they ought to be in jail."
"Say, Hester, you sure get some goofy ideas," Betty shook her head reprovingly. "And you just better not talk like that when we're over in Mrs. Jamison's house. There isn't a kid I know who gets spanked who doesn't think the world of their father and mother, and that's no lie, Hester. Mother started spanking me when I was about ten, just after Daddy died. I can see now that I was a real problem to her. And if it hadn't been for those spankings and her constant showing me what I was doing wrong, I don't know how I would have turned out. I've still got a long way to go, but I never feel mad at Mother when she does have to spank me, because there's always a good reason for it, and she tells me so before she punishes me."
"Just the same, Betty, it sounds so cold and brutal," Hester exclaimed shaking her head incredulously. "It just doesn't seem possible, when a girl is your age, or like your friend Sally Jamison, to actually treat her like a little child-- it's terrible!"
"Now you listen here, Hester," Betty firmly avowed as she turned to face her friend just before they mounted the steps of the Jamison porch. "Until a kid is old enough to get married and to go out and earn her own living or get married, she still is a child in lots of ways. I know Mother has shown me that I am. All the girls I know feel that way. But I tell you, Hester, they don't resent it at all."
"They must be just sheep then," Hester sniffed.
"Well, I like that. I suppose you think I'm one too because I let Mother spank me!" Betty heatedly countered.
"I don't know what to think at this point," Hester confessed. "I just never dreamed that modern parents still did that. It's old-fashioned, and it's so, well, cruel, that's the only word I can think of for it. Does your mother--I mean, when she punishes you, does she spank you with her hand, Betty?"
"Not usually," the pert golden-haired youngster giggled. "I sometimes wish she would, because I can tell you that a strap and a hairbrush hurt a lot worse than just the hand."
"A strap? She beats you with a strap, Betty?" Hester was pale and wide-eyed now.
"Say, why do you have to keep repeating everything I say, Hester?" Betty wanted to know. That's what I said, a strap or a hairbrush. On the bare skin too, if you want to know something. And when it's over, sure, I'm crying and my heinie stings like anything, but then it's all over and I'm forgiven for having been naughty, and Mother takes me on her lap and I promise her I'll be a good girl, and we kiss and make up and everything is nice. And it's not just because we kiss and make up that I say that, either," she added loyally. "Mother does lots of wonderful things for me, gives me lots of unexpected treats and rewards when I'm good, without my going out of the way to earn them. So you see, it's not brutal or cruel at all, and I do hope you won't use words like that in front of my friends. They'd just laugh at you."
"Just the same, I think I'd die if anyone ever did that to me," Hester gasped, her cheeks coloring violently at the mere thought.
But the ice had been broken and now this mysterious subject had entered the precocious mind of Arthur Hadley's only child, at an age when, as his beautiful new bride had already agreed, it was almost too late to begin to make amends for Hester's earlier undisciplined upbringing.
However, the first seeds of awareness that life was not all untrammeled selfishness had just been sown in Hester's keenly impressionable mind, and a sprouting at the harvest to be derived from that would, as we shall see, achieve a most dramatic and exciting gleaning!
"Now I'm going to introduce you to Sally Jamison, who is my best friend next to Connie Gilmore," the goldenhaired teenager told her older stepsister. "And please, for gosh sakes, Hester, don't embarrass me by saying what you just did about parents who spank, because Sally happens to love her mother and father an awful lot. And yet she sometimes gets it a lot worse than I ever do from Mother." With this admonition, Betty rang the doorbell of the Jamison house, and a moment later, sandyhaired ripe-contoured Sally herself answered. She had a pretty rounded face, with an adorable dimple in each cheek and in the middle of her chin, with gray-blue eyes, a demure, straight little nose with rather pronouncedly flaring wings, and full, firm, generous mouth. She was about the same height as Betty, but, a year older, even more ripely developed, her breasts being highperched and closely spaced, surprisingly large for so young a girl. From her slim waist, there flared surprisingly ample hips, but her thighs and calves were beautifully proportioned by contrast. Her bottom was solid, the cheeks round and jouncy, and very tightly spaced. Her skin was freckled and milky, and she had a soft flurried voice and was evidently, of a highly excitable temperament, and very devotedly a friend of Betty's.
Mrs. Jamison herself came into the living room to welcome the two Hadley girls and to be introduced to Hester. Frieda Jamison at thirty-nine, wore her black hair closely cropped, almost in a mannish do. She was about five feet six and a half inches in height, slim and elegant of build and features. Her pleasant twinkling, widely spaced darkbrown eyes and her Roman nose and small firm mouth, as well as her high-set cheekbones gave her an air of sophistication. Her voice was cool, and a rich contralto, and she and her illustrator husband Hank had traveled a good deal at the outset of their marriage so that she spoke French fluently. She did not quite have the severity of Louise Gilmore, but from the way in which Sally quieted down as soon as she came into the room, it was evident that she possessed a good deal of authority over the family, which included twelve-year-old Bob and fourteen-year-old Nancy.
"Remember, Sally, I'd like you to go to the store for me before it closes," she remarked as she was turning to leave the living room. "That should give you girls about an hour to chat. I'll bring in some cookies and milk for all of you."
"Thanks, Mother," Sally called, "I won't forget. Do you have a list of what you want?"
"It's on the kitchen table, and the money's in a little coin-purse."
"Fine, Mother, I'll do it. And thanks a lot for the snack!"
"Not too many cookies for you, Sally," her mother smilingly retorted, "you're planning to lose enough pounds so your father can buy you that pretty skirt and suit combination you've had your eye on for the opening of school."
"I know, Mother. Isn't it awful?" Sally turned to Hester and Betty with a mock-tragic expression in her lovely eyes. "I do so love Mom's pies and cakes and stuff, but the minute I start eating, I just can't seem to shed any weight."
At this point, Frieda Jamison went down the hall and Betty now teasingly giggled, "The worst of it is, Sally, that the more weight you put on, it goes all to your heinie, and that makes lots more for your mother to spank when you're naughty!"
"Oh, you!" Sally blushed and laughed.
"Well, here's my new sister," Betty told her as the three of them made themselves comfortable in the living-room couch." She'll be going to college the end of next month. You and I will be going back to Claremont High. 'Course, you'll be a senior ahead of me."
"Sure, I'm a year older than you are, so why not?" Sally laughed.
"Well, how are things going this summer? Did you have your vacation yet? We went to Malibu, you know," Betty boasted.
"Daddy took his the first weeks in July. He had to, because all the work for fall and winter is piling up around now, and that was the only time he could really get away. We went to Lake Arrowhead, you know. It was peachy!"
"Gee, I'll bet it was. How's Nancy and Bob?"
"About the same. Nancy is over playing with Verna, and Bob and Tony are working on a model plane together. Bob's real smart about mechanical things, and Daddy thinks he's really going to be happy with that new woodshop course they're having in grade school next term," Sally Jamison proudly reported.
"That's great!" Betty beamed. "And your kid sister Nancy, is she keeping out of mischief?"
Sally shrugged, her luscious breasts jiggling against her cotton dress through which could be glimpsed the outline of a bra. "Just so-so, I guess. She really got a tanning when we were at Arrowhead. I never saw Daddy so mad as he was that time. And I'm sure glad it was Nancy instead of me."
"Why, what happened, Sally?" Betty casually asked, glancing at her stepsister who sat beside her. Hester's face was flushed, and her eyes very wide at this sudden and unexpected disclosure of parental wrath.
Sally giggled. "Well, they say that redheads are always stirring up a hornet's nest. Nancy thought it would be a great stunt to put a frog in Dad's fishing boots, but he didn't quite go for the idea. Especially when the frog jumped right into bed with Mom and nearly scared her out of a year's growth. Then Nancy tried to fib her way out of it by saying that the frog had just jumped in when she opened the door to look outside and see how the lake was, and of course she didn't get away with that one little bit."
"And I suppose you watched," Betty wanted to know.
"Sure, because I woke up when I heard all the commotion. Poor Nancy! I bet she was sorry she went on vacation with us, right about then. Of course Dad hadn't brought along the pingpong paddle or the split strap Mom uses here at home, but he pulled Nancy over his lap and gave her a bare-butt spanking with his hand that made her hind end red as a tomato. And when he got through with that, he told her she was going to get a little something extra for fibbing, and that it wouldn't have happened at all if she'd just owned up to pulling a practical joke like that and taking her medicine. He used Mom's big ivory comb which she'd packed and taken along on the trip, and Mom had to hold Nancy's wrists after the first couple of licks because it really must have stung her bare tail. Boy, was Dad mad!"
"All that terrible whipping for just a harmless little prank like that?" Hester couldn't help blurting out.
Sally looked at the auburnhaired daughter of Arthur Hadley, then back at Betty. "She's got to be kidding, Betty--" the sandyhaired teenager giggled.
"She's not," Betty shook her head with a very grave expression on her pretty face. "After all, Hester is eighteen and going to college, and she's never been spanked in all her life, have you, Hester?"
"No, of course I haven't," Hester went very red in the face and gave Betty an angry look. "And all I can say is that I just don't understand how the two of you can talk so calmly about something so dreadful and shameful and still not resent your parents for treating you that awful way!"
"Oh my," Sally shook her head again. "It s a good thing she isn't my sister, Bets, because she wouldn't be able to sit down for a week if Dad heard her give out with a spiel like that."
"If you don't mind, Betty," Hester drew herself up righteously, "I think I'd like to go back home. There are some books I want to unpack and get my room nice and ready when Father comes back home."
"Suit yourself, Hester. Do you mind if I stay and have a chin-fest with Sally, though?"
"I don't care what you do," Hester pointedly declared. She looked at Sally and then tersely remarked, "Glad to have met you," and then let herself out the front door.
"Well, look at her!" Sally exclaimed, making a circle with her finger at the side of her head, "Is she nuts?"
"No, Sally, but it's true what I said. She never in her life has had a hand laid on her. You see, her dad married my Mom. And Mom already told me that poor Hester has had her own way so long she's really going to have problems if somebody doesn't take a hand to her soon."
"I get it. And your mother is just the one who can do it, too."
"That's right. Now listen, Mom said I was to introduce Hester to our whole crowd. Try to pass the word to get the kids to talk about how they get spanked. That's what Mom wants Hester to hear, because Hester still doesn't believe that parents do it anymore."
"Well, all I can say is that in a way I wish she was right," Sally ruefully retorted, "Oh my gosh, I better get to the store before I forget. Now that we're back home and Mom has that split strap in her upstairs drawer, I'd just as soon not be reminded what it feels like on my bare heinie. See you around, Betty."
"You will indeed," the golden-haired teenager merrily retorted. "Just don't forget to tell Nancy and Bob that if they meet Hester it'd be a good idea just to mention about how they got spanked the last few times. Hester is really a nice girl, and I do like her, but she has such superior ways she isn't really going to make friends if she keeps it up."
"No she isn't," Sally agreed. "Well, it was swell seeing you, Bets. But I'll see you again tomorrow, huh?"
"Could be, Sally. Well, tell your Mom thanks for the milk and cookies. Next to my Mom, she makes the best cookies of anybody I know."
"I'll tell her that. Now I better hurry up to that store or I'll have something to tell your new sister that I'd just as soon not," Sally giggled.
As luck would have it Sally Jamison was destined to feel that split strap--her designation for the tawse her mother used for serious breaches of conduct--the very next afternoon. The day being excessively warm, Sally decided to take a swim in the little creek about half a mile to the north of the Jamison house. She biked out there and put her swimsuit in the bike basket. Then, believing that no one could see her from the clump of trees which framed the old creek, she hastily undressed and got into her suit. As luck would have it, Mrs. Nielby, an elderly and cantankerous widow who lived across the street from the Jamisons, was walking home from the convenient little shopping center about three blocks away from the creek, and happened to see Sally in the process of removing her suit, drying herself with the towel she had brought along, and then hastily dressing.
Scandalized, she promptly phoned Frieda Jamison, and when Sally walked into the house, the sophisticated brunette met her daughter at the door.
"What's this I hear about your putting on a peepshow, Sally?" she blandly asked.
"I--I don't know what you mean M--Mom," the pretty sandyhaired teenager stammered.
"Well, I don't recall that you asked my permission to go swimming in the creek, and particularly to do a striptease there where old Mrs. Nielby could see you, young lady."
"Darn her hide anyway, the old snitch!" Sally groaned.
But this justifiable protest didn't in the least soften Frieda Jamison's heart. "You know I've told you repeatedly, Sally, that you're a big girl now and there are some neighbors who just go out of their way to criticize. So it's best not to give them any room to do so. And it certainly wasn't proper for you to undress right there where you could be seen. I'm afraid I'm going to have to use the tawse. Go get it, please."
With a groan, Sally obeyed, and when she came down the stairs, to her mother's room carrying the strap with its ends split into three finger-like strips, she was biting her lips nervously. Her father would be home in another half-hour, and she hoped that her mother wouldn't tell him, because he might take it into his head to add a little extra dosage to the punishment.
"I'm going to give you fifteen, Sally, and I want you to count them one by one, and after each you're to say 'I won't ever undress by the creek again,' do you understand, Sally?"
"Y-yes, M--Mom," Sally was fighting the tears as she prepared herself. Something her mother had taught her to do over the years. Lifting up her skirt and slip, she knelt down on the couch, pressing her face against the cushion at one end, while her mother carefully folded the upturned garments high on her back so they wouldn't fall back down over her bottom. Next, Frieda Jamison tugged down the thin white cotton panties, and the sight of the twitching, milky, ripe bottomcheeks made her mother remark somewhat ironically, "I see you were in such a hurry you didn't completely dry yourself, Sally. Well, we'll see if the tawse can do that for you. Now get ready, and don't forget to count and to say what I told you to say."
Sally uttered another groan as she arched her hips and thrust out her shrinking, all too plump, bare buttocks to meet the kisses of the tawse. Slowly the leather strap fell, the finger-like strips stinging and whisking over the edges of the huddling naked nether globes. Sally took her whipping bravely, and managed to count each of the fifteen cuts and to utter the prescribed formula. Nevertheless, from the eleventh stroke on, she was crying softly. When it was over, her mother kept her kneeling there for a long minute, and then, lecturing her again, finally allowed her to get down off the couch, pull her panties back up and smooth down her clothes. Tearfully, Sally clung to her mother and kissed her, and thanked her for the whipping, as she promised not to repeat that outdoor undressing act ever again.
Her only consolation as she went slowly upstairs to her room, frantically rubbing her burning bottom now that her mother was out of the way and couldn't see, was that she would really have something to tell Hester Hadley the next time she saw her.
Indeed, Betty's mother's plan of "psychological warfare" against her new stepdaughter's immunity was beginning to be launched on all fronts.
