Peggy Sonsby was trying her best not to cry out as her mother's hand fell for the twentieth time on the already vividly crimsoned, plumply rounded cheeks of her naked bottom.
Miserably, the charming seventeen-year-old black-haired teenager realized that there was really no purpose in begging off at this point, since her mother had already sentenced her to a hand spanking which was to be followed by a liberal application of the hairbrush. Just the same, it seemed this particular Friday evening in late June, that either her bottom had become more tender than usual or her mother's hand had grown more calloused. At any rate, she scarcely looked forward to the inevitable two-minute reprieve which would ensue before the second phase of her punishment.
It also seemed to the black-haired culprit that ever since her father and mother had decided to call it quits about a year and a half ago, these humiliating and very painful spankings had been occurring with greater frequency than in the happier days when both of them were supervising her up-rearing. Though she probably didn't think of the pun, it certainly appeared these days that she was becoming more frequently up-reared over her mother's lap than at any other previous time in her adolescent life.
Dave Sonsby and his buxom brown-haired wife Martha had met and married in Chicago, and subsequently Dave had been transferred by his electronics manufacturer employer to head a new branch near the Ala Moana Shopping Center in Honolulu. That had taken place four years ago, and so Peggy had missed four bitter winters back in the Windy City and gone to Kamehameha High School, from which she had just been graduated a week ago with a sound B average. But Dave, always a pussy-hound at heart, had fallen madly in love with a cute little Tahitian girl named Mapauna, who worked as a cocktail hostess at the Merry Monarch on Kalakaua Avenue, the city's main drag, and finally Martha had told him that she just couldn't take any more "late nights at the office," and that it would be better and more honest for him to call their marriage off and marry his Mapauna. That was exactly what he had done.
To be sure, he had steered the new electronics branch into such an enviable financial position that he had been making a splendiferous salary, so his settlement on Martha Sonsby had been amply generous. Martha herself, being still quite attractive and not at all looking her thirty-seven years, had gone to work as a sales clerk at Liberty House in the book department, and was now supervisor of that section. Consequently, the financial needs of Martha and her daughter were scarcely a problem.
But for Peggy, being constantly under her mother's thumb and being regulated as to conduct, especially with boys, was very definitely a major problem, even to the point of crisis, as it certainly was this particular evening. Indeed, the charming olive skinned teenager was enduring her two-part spanking because gossipy old Mrs. Farnow who lived in the big rambling house next door had seen her smooching with Henry Kawagamo, a sun bronzed eighteen-year-old beach boy at the Reef Hotel. Peggy had told her mother she was going for a swim, and she had gone for one, but Henry, who had been a senior with her at the high school, had suggested they go body-surfing for about half an hour after that. One thing had led to another after that, what with the warm Hawaiian sun and the chemistry of young male and female together, and Peggy's rapid maturity in this tropical clime, so that before she knew it, Peggy was held in Henry's strong arms and her mouth very resoundingly and passionately kissed ... just at the time when Mrs. Farnow was walking out onto the beach with her parasol, trying to get a little tan on her sallow, wrinkled skin before having cocktails with a dear friend on the Terrace Lounge.
Mrs. Farnow had known that Martha Sonsby didn't get home until about five-thirty, and she had timed her phone call almost to the exact moment when Martha had walked in the door of the bungalow on Wilder Street, just beyond Waikiki. Martha had listened with growing annoyance, part of it toward her errant daughter, but the major part towards the nasty old gossip who never lost a chance to tell her when something didn't please her. She had curtly thanked Mrs. Farnow, and when Peggy had come home, she had coldly remarked, "This evening after supper, young lady, you'll report upstairs to my bedroom. You're going to get a double spanking, the usual way."
"The usual way" meant that first Peggy would pull up her miniskirt and lie across her mother's lap for about a dozen good stinging slaps. Then she would have to get up, lower her own pantyhose, and go back over Martha's lap for the rest of the hand spanking. Following that, she would lie over Martha's lap for two full minutes-which always seemed an eternity-while Martha Sonsby lectured her and explained exactly why she was being punished. Then would come the hairbrush.
Peggy, her fists clenched, her head bowed down, her eyes tightly screwed shut, lay unresistingly across Martha Sonsby's lap. Several extra doses in the past had taught her the futility of resistance, argument, or leaving position until her mother had quite finished with her voluptuous young ass. She tried to press her sandaled feet down hard against the rug, which sometimes slipped, and to keep her legs as tightly pressed together as she could, so as to hide the thick thatch of virginal pussy hair which grew so thickly at the apex of her round, beautifully muscled thighs. At the moment Peggy was wishing heartily that nature had not so plentifully endowed her on that portion of her anatomy that was now upturned and reddening and stinging almost to the point of drawing tears. Even as she thought that, her mother's hand descended again like a plummet onto Peggy's abundantly rounded young right ass-cheek, and Peggy could not help crying out "Oooooh, M-Mother, pl-please!"
"I'll please you, young lady," Martha tersely retorted as she tightened the grip of her slim arm around her daughter's slim waist, a waist as supple as to make the splendidly opulent young round bottom cheeks all the more sensually enticing by contrast. "It seems I have to learn everything you do and don't do from that nosy Mrs. Farnow. If I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times. You are not to have dates until you get to be eighteen, which is still a year away by about eleven months on the calendar, and you are certainly not to be seen in public kissing strange boys."
At this, Peggy turned her contorted, slightly tear stained face back over her shoulder to respond: "But, Mother," she protested, "Henry's not a strange boy. We were in the same class at Kamehameha, and you know it."
"Don't be impertinent, young lady, because the hairbrush is over there waiting for you, you know," was her mother's dire answer. "You know exactly what I mean. I can understand at seventeen you're feeling your oats. Well, so was I, back in happier days. In fact, your father and I were just about engaged when I was seventeen, though we didn't get married for another two years. It's too bad, in a way, that it happened, because otherwise we wouldn't be out here in a city with all the temptations for a girl like you and an absolutely horrible cost of living, and wages that don't quite make it. In fact, if it weren't for your father's settlement and the fact that I'm earning a pretty good salary at Liberty House, I might be having some thought about sending you off to work this summer instead of finding a private girls' college for you. But that's enough of that talk. This is just to teach you that you're not to go kissing on the beach where everybody and his brother can see you!" And with this, Martha Sonsby returned to her punitive maternal chore with a particularly stinging slap against the upper right cheek of Peggy's naked ass, drawing a doleful "Oooooh, I won't do it again-please, not so hard, Mother."
But such plaints were useless so far as Martha Sonsby was concerned. She had heard them much too often over the past eighteen months, during which time she had ruled Peggy with the proverbial iron hand. Perhaps all too aware of how susceptible she herself was to handsome, virile men (the proof was that she had tolerated Dave's philandering so long before the break with him), and seeing how Peggy was blossoming daily under the warm sun of Honolulu, she was determined to bring her daughter up on the straight and narrow path.
Her hand rose and fell repeatedly for about five minutes more, during which poor Peggy quite forgot her resolve to be stoic and not to ask for mercy. Her legs began to kick up and down, till finally both sandals flew off in the air, to thud against the floor. Her face turned back over her shoulder repeatedly, and finally she committed the unpardonable sin of plunging both hands back to cover up her flaming naked ass.
"You know better than that, Peggy Sonsby," her mother at once reproved. "Now take hold of the leg of the chair and don't let go. That's already earned you five extras with the hairbrush, young lady!"
"Oh please, Mother, please not anymore! You're killing me. It hurts-I didn't mean any harm-Henry just did it-"
"And don't try to elaborate on your naughtiness, either, Peggy, because you'll only make me angry and remind me all about Mrs. Farnow again," her mother interpolated. "Very well, I think you've had enough spanking by hand, and my hand is beginning to smart."
"So-so is my poor heinie," poor Peggy woefully moaned.
"Don't try to be cute, young lady. That's being impertinent, and you'll only add to your quota," was her mother's menacing warning, so Peggy surrendered, squirming uneasily over her mother's lap while her mother glanced at her wrist watch and allowed the full two minutes to elapse before reaching for the hairbrush which she had laid ready to hand on a little table near her chair.
As soon as Peggy saw her mother brandish the hairbrush in the air, she gave a groan, bowed her head way down again, desperately clung to the rung of the chair till her knuckles were white, and plunged her bare toes down against the rug as hard as she could to get a kind of fulcrum which would give her balance and security during the second part-the worst of all-of her punishment.
The hairbrush was pressed slowly and deliberately against the inflamed, swollen inner edges of the rounded ass cheeks. Instinctively, Peggy tightened her nether rotundities so as to diminish this crease, but of course mainly to minimize the all-too-vulnerable plump target which the black wooden hairbrush was to castigate.
The cleft itself was deep and broadening at the base, giving access to both tempting maiden orifices. Indeed, even as her mother now shifted her closer to her own body, tightening her left arm around the satiny-sheened waist of the culprit, she could see the soft pink cleft of Peggy's cunt and also, as the cheeks now relaxed momentarily before clenching again, the ambery shadowy groove which led to the temple of Sodom.
For what seemed an eternity, Martha Sonsby held the hairbrush pressed firmly down on the quivering globes of her daughter's opulent seat. Then it rose, and Peggy caught her breath quite audibly for she knew what that portended. The brush descended with a crisp Thwack against the upper right cheek of the already vividly discolored bottom, and Peggy kicked up one foot and wailed aloud: "Ahrrr! Oh, it hurts! Please take it easy, Mother-I won't ever do it again-I won't ever let Henry kiss me-please-"
Deaf to all such entreaties, knowing every one by heart, Martha Sonsby continued the spanking. She was an expert castigatress, having acquired this skill from long practice. It was an art which Peggy mournfully conceded that her mother excelled in, much to her own personal regret. In fact, she was sorry she had gone for that swim, as the second, then the third and fourth spanks fell, with about ten seconds between them, first on the right and then on the left cheek of her bare ass.
The hand spanking had tenderized the young brunette's behind sufficiently to make this supplement a serious ordeal. Try as she would, Peggy could not maintain her stoicism any longer, but crossed and re-crossed her slim ankles, more and more each time the hairbrush landed with its sonorous "Thwack!" She wriggled and squirmed constantly on her mother's lap, and several times it was necessary for Martha Sonsby to pull her sobbing, pleading daughter closer to her, to take a newer, firmer grip of the quivering bare waist, and to admonish Peggy not to try to escape unless she wanted extras.
Finally, after some thirty good hard spanks which left the brunette hysterically sobbing, her bottom weaving ceaselessly, her mother paused and demanded sternly, "Are you ever going to do that again?" Thwack!
"Oh no! Never! Oh please let me off any more, please, Mother, I just can't stand it!"
"Then you had better make sure that you don't ever see Henry again, and certainly not down by the beach where that nosy Mrs. Farnow can spy on you." Thwack! Whack!
"Oh yes, yes, I promise, only please let up, I'm dying!"
"Because you aren't going to date until you're eighteen, is that understood, young lady?" Thwack-whack!
"Aiiii! Eeeowwwouuuuu!! Oh yes, please, not any more, Mother, oh please!"
The five extras were duly inflicted, following maternal reminders of the conduct which Martha Sonsby expected from her voluptuous young daughter, until at the fifth and last Peggy virtually fell off her mother's lap and lay before her, sobbing. This time she was allowed to plunge her hands back to cover her swollen, scarlet bottom, to try to ease the burning hurt.
During that time she was compelled to listen to still another lecture on the conduct which her mother required, and it was certain, by that time, that Peggy felt more like a little child than a seventeen-year-old girl going on eighteen, who already had stirrings of desire deep in her cunt. Because there wasn't any doubt about it: when Henry had kissed her, she had felt his hard-on-yes, she knew the word!-and her own pussy had stirred and twitched in response. She didn't think she was going to be able to wait all those months until she got to be eighteen to have fun with boys. But she knew one thing. She was going to make sure that nosy old Mrs. Farnow never saw her again with Henry or any other boy she happened to pick out.
Chapter Two
Arthur Benedict stared greedily down at the tearful auburn-haired young woman who knelt between his widely spread knees, both her hands gripping them, preparing to French him.
He was a man of forty-two, six feet one inch tall, and his black hair was liberally streaked with iron-gray. His face was stern and lean and sun bronzed, for he owned a dude ranch near Tucson, Arizona. He was visiting New York and Chicago this month on a buying tour of furniture and other decor for the ranch as well as some new saddles and riding outfits. He had spent a very profitable ten days in the Windy City, been wined and dined at the finest restaurants by several sales managers whose products he purchased, and tonight, his next to last night, he was enjoying himself with Wilma Cathhart, an attractive twenty-four-year-old call girl whose services had been recommended to him by Dave Molten, the head of the wholesale furniture company whose steady customer he had been for a decade.
Dave had told him that Wilma had a little of the masochistic in her and would, for a fee and if she liked the customer, submit to corporal punishment. Corporal punishment happened to be Arthur Benedict's prime kick as a preface to fucking and other delightful variations on the theme. He had just administered a sound spanking with his belt to Wilma's tawny-sheened, jouncily rounded bottom, until she was sobbing very satisfactorily and, he knew from experience, not faking it at all. He'd given her forty good licks and then he had shoved her off his lap and watched her amusedly while she rubbed her bottom frantically, the tears coursing down her piquant, contorted face. Then, yanking down his zipper, spreading his legs, he had commanded, "Now, you pretty bitch, I want you to blow me, nice and easy. Use your lips and tongue and don't make me come too soon, or you'll go back over my lap for another dose. Understand, baby?"
"Y-yes, s-sir," Wilma had quavered. So, naked except for her garter belt and stockings, her bottom furiously striped from cheekbone to her upper thighs, she was now preparing to carry out his order.
Arthur Benedict was a highly successful bachelor, and after his college days at Boston College, he had planned to become an attorney and had even taken his pre-legal studies with an idea of passing the bar exams. His father and mother had been amicably divorced about four years prior to his college graduation, and he had gone to live with his Aunt Edna. Ross Benedict, his father's older brother, had purchased a large land site in Arizona and spent his summers developing the property. By the time Arthur had decided that he didn't really want to be a lawyer, his uncle had established a small dude ranch and was devoting full time to it. And when Ross Benedict offered his nephew a chance to work on it at a handsome stipend, Arthur Benedict knew this rugged outdoors life was for him. There would be many advantages in it that would have nothing to do with the paycheck. One of them would decidedly be the conquest of bored, lonely, attractive women who could be taught to service a man like a slave-bitch after a liberal application of the quirt, or a hairbrush, or the belt, or simply his spanking hand.
Even in college, Arthur Benedict had been an inveterate pussy-hound. He had first learned the joys of spanking when he had had a torrid love affair with Elaine Yerkes, whom every male on campus had coveted and who was known as a prick teaser from the word go. But Elaine loved to neck up to a point, and she got her kicks by going out with a fellow and working him up to a frazzle, then primly asking him what sort of girl he thought she was, just at the point when he was about to get into her panties, or so he hoped. With Arthur Benedict, Elaine had run into something quite different, a man who would brook no nonsense.
They had been driving out on the freeway when abruptly the motor had sputtered, then died. Elaine had accused him of doing that on purpose, and there had been an abandoned old shack nearby where he had taken her. Angered by her snide comments on the idea that he had done this deliberately, Arthur Benedict had pulled Elaine over his lap and given her a sound spanking over her dress. She had begun to curse him and threaten him, which only angered him the more. He then yanked up her skirt and petticoat and yanked down her panties and continued the spanking until finally she had melted in his arms. On the floor of that deserted shack, Elaine had yielded up her cherry, and had whimperingly confessed to him that he was a real man and that was what she had always wanted.
In the years that followed, Arthur Benedict cautiously essayed his penchant for spanking whenever he could and when, in his opinion, his would be sexual partner led him to believe that she could be dominated. He had rarely been in error. To be sure, when Dave had proposed the services of Wilma, Arthur had been a little bit reluctant. He didn't believe a man should pay for pussy, because it would be too mechanical, too contrived. But Wilma's decided beauty and submissive femininity did not give him the feeling at all that she was a professional and very expensive whore. The way she was rubbing her bottom just before she got between his knees, the way she looked up at him timidly, made him tremble with rut. Then, tremblingly, she began to execute his commands. Her soft, trembling, moist lips just nibbled at the tip of his big cock, and he groaned aloud with delight.
"Take it easy, now, baby, or back you go!" he warned.
Wilma had no desire for a second session over his lap with the black leather belt which lay ready over his lap now. She proved this by sending gusts of breath against the aching tip of his whang, and her fingers nervously moved back and forth over his knees, as she shifted uneasily on her stockinged knees, trying to ease the blazing heat in her inflamed plump ass. Now the tip of her tongue crept delicately out to rim the cirsumcisional groove of his cock, and Arthur Benedict closed his eyes and trembled with pleasure. It reminded him of last summer and Hortense Carruthers.
Hortense had been a divorcee who had just passed the milestone of her fortieth year but who looked at least a decade younger. Beauty salons, exercise and her own vanity had contributed to her keeping herself in superb condition. She had natural golden hair which needed no tinting, and she had worn it helmet style to make herself look younger. She had a magnificent body with big tits and ass and a soft carnation-tinted skin. She'd visited the ranch for two weeks, and the very first day she'd given him trouble because she just couldn't adjust her riding boots and wanted him to pull them on for her. So he'd done it, while one of the cowhands lounged nearby and sniggered. He'd been grateful to Pete Cannon for ignoring Hortense's temper tantrums. Indeed, he'd given the lanky cowhand a substantial bonus for failing to treat the customer properly this time, because it had led to about two weeks of the most exciting fucking and spanking adventures he'd ever had.
Then Hortense had insisted that he go out with her on the trail, since she didn't know the way, and he'd done that, too. He hadn't had much to say because he was sizing up Hortense. She mistook his silence for sullenness and angrily threatened to report him to his boss. Finally he had had about all he could take of her peevishness and insolence. He'd pulled her off her horse, tugged down her jodhpurs, and to her shocked astonishment yanked down her panty-girdle and given her a sound hand spanking right there on the desert, with the sun blazing down on her soon equally blazing ass. Finally she begged for mercy, and like a little girl had gone down on her knees and clasped her hands and asked him to please stop. He'd flung her down on her back, grinding her inflamed bottom against the dust of the trail, and fucked her brutally. She'd had three climaxes, and that night she'd urged him to come to her cabin for a return engagement. All through her stay she'd yielded to his every whim; he had loved making her kneel down and French him, a humbling act like the lowliest of slave girls. Wilma's act right now reminded him of this, and he felt his spunk rush to the lips of his prick so that it was only by supreme self-mastery that he was able to hold himself back.
"Take it easy, you bitch," he growled. "Don't make me come yet. I'm not ready."
Wilma dutifully obeyed. He reached out to cup her flushed, tear stained cheeks to guide her. Now he permitted her to suck in a part of his prong and to watch it bulge against one of her cheeks as she gradually took all she could. Grinding his teeth, he continued to hold himself back. At last he instructed her to rub her tongue along the shaft. It was maddening. The sound of her slurping and slushing, the sounds she made as she mouthed him, made his passions mount to an overweening zenith.
At last he gasped out, "All right-now-get every drop down, do you hear me, or you'll get the belt again!"
Plunging his fingers in her hair and twisting it, he arched himself, and suddenly felt himself explode. Choking and gasping, Wilma was nonetheless able to give him relief, and he sank back appeased, delicious visions of other slave-girls from the past dancing in his passion-fevered brain. He would be going back to the ranch in a day or so, but maybe, in view of Wilma's complacency and the pleasure she had given him, he might be able to prolong the stay another few nights. He bent down and whispered into her ear, and she nodded, trembling. The fee he had offered her for being his bed bitch for the next several nights exceeded what she could have earned in two weeks. Besides, she had to admit to herself, he was terribly virile and just by sucking he had made her come, which very few of her customers were able to do.
Peggy Sonsby and her mother had never met Arthur Benedict. Fate was going to arrange such a meeting, and it was going to alter the lives of both Peggy and Martha in a fascinating and sensual m�nage a trois.
Chapter Three
Leila Murray was sniffling in her room, looking very unhappy and nervously putting her hands behind her to touch her saucily rounded bottom. She glanced at the alarm clock on the mantelpiece and uttered a low "Oh gosh!" which thoroughly expressed her doleful state. It was exactly eight-thirty, which meant that in exactly one half-hour her stepfather was going to knock at the door of her bedroom, come in and give her a good sound spanking.
Leila Murray was in some ways even more enticing than her girl friend Peggy. She was five feet six inches in height, with light-brown hair, drawn into a thick plaited braid which descended almost to her waist. Her face was freckled, round, with lovely dimpled cheeks and a chin, gray-green eyes with very thick lashes, and a small petulant mouth. She was wearing white linen play shorts, loafers and bobby socks and a short sleeved red rayon blouse, underneath which was a matching set of white nylon bra and panty briefs. Leila's giddy mother, Frances, had remarried and the name of her new husband was Lester Murray. Just four months later she had died of an unexpected aneurism. Since then, lovely Leila had discovered that her stepfather intended to take not only overly vigilant charge of her upbringing but also to initiate her into being a kind of substitute for her mother.
Lester Murray was forty-six, tall and lean, with stern blue eyes and tight, thin mouth. He was the head accountant of a large industrial firm, earned a considerable salary with substantial bonuses, and since Frances Murray had found things tough going after her first husband's untimely death when a drunken high school junior in an uninsured jalopy had crashed into his Buick, she had been only too willing to consider giving Leila a new father. Even at twelve, Leila had had secret longings for affairs with the opposite sex, and indeed Frances herself had on more than one occasion taken Leila across her lap and spanked her pretty bottom while lecturing her on the dangers of sexual precocity in the very young. She had kept a tight rein on Leila until her untimely death last February, by which time Leila already had a secret boyfriend, Jimmy Dalby, seventeen, two-headed, and a senior in high school as well as star left tackle on the school team. Although Frances had forbidden her daughter to date, that hadn't stopped Leila from riding around in Jimmy's jalopy and stopping occasionally for a heavy petting session. But all of that had changed with her mother's death.
Shortly after Frances Murray's funeral, Lester Murray had taken his delectable stepdaughter aside and lectured her sternly. There would be no dates, no makeup, no short dresses. He also expected better scholastic grades from the flighty teenager, and this was difficult in itself, for Leila had never much cared for her studies, especially geometry and history, in which she unfailingly got poor grades. Now, just a week after she had been told what was to be expected of her, she had occasion to bring home a mid-semester report card. As could have been expected and predicted, her geometry and history grades had not improved. To her consternation and shame, she had been told to go up to her bedroom and to wait there until nine o'clock, when her stepfather would come to see her.
When nine o'clock struck, the door opened and her stepfather came in. He had on a bathrobe and pajamas, and he was carrying a formidable-looking black wooden hairbrush. Leila had started to cry and tried to beg off such an ignominious punishment, saying that she was all of sixteen. It hadn't worked. He had ordered her to take off her dress and slip, then lie across his lap clad only in her bra and panties, bobby socks and loafers. As he put his left arm around her waist, he laid his right palm on the temptingly jouncy cheeks of her behind and, to her intense humiliation, began to caress them lingeringly, as if appraising her virginal ass flesh.
Then had followed a brief but very painfully stinging hand-spanking which reduced Leila to tears, kicking and squirming on her stepfather's lap. But if she had envisioned this as being the entirety of her punishment, she had been in for a violent shock. Lester Murray had thereupon yanked down her little panties to expose her very mature bottom globes and give her fully forty spanks with the back of the hairbrush, until she lay weeping and helpless across his lap, indifferent to the fact that she was showing him everything she had.
Then, to complete her utter misery and degradation, he advised her to kneel down, clasp her hands together as in an attitude of prayer, and thank him for chastising her. All the while, he had sat there looking down at her and she knew he was staring at her pussy, which she knew for her age was extremely hairy, covered with thick dark-brown pussy curls.
Finally, when he was satisfied with her degree of humility, he allowed her to get to her feet, but he didn't allow her to pull up her panties. Instead, he said he would do it for her. His hands had lingered caressingly on her bare thighs, roaming around to touch her inflamed, throbbing ass cheeks, and at last, having reluctantly pulled her panties up over her bare bottom, had continued to press one palm against her burning seat, while his other hand wandered over her crotch and thighs, forcing her to stand there with her hands still clasped in an attitude of complete submission.
That had been the first spanking, and Leila Murray thought at the time that she would do just about anything to avoid a recurrence. But then, she hadn't reckoned with her stepfather's sensuality and severity.
Exactly a week later she was in trouble again, this time because, just as with lovely Peggy Sonsby, a neighbor had seen her and Jimmy Dalby walking hand in hand, their bodies so close together that their hips rubbed and their eyes seemed to be riveted together in a look of exchanged desire and adolescent passion. Indeed, Jimmy had been trying to talk Leila into spending a weekend at his place, ostensibly with his parents there to chaperon and with a group of other young people present, but if even that took place, they would be able to "knock off a quickie." Leila was already overwhelmed with curiosity as to the way between a man and a maid, and nothing would have pleased her more. But when she got home from school that day, about forty minutes later than usual, Lester Murray confronted her with a stern look and the order to get up to her room at once and wait until he "came to see you." Gradually that euphemistic phrase would come to represent not only a spanking, but the most shameful and degrading of humiliations for luscious Leila Murray.
She had waited in her room for fully an hour until she was practically on the verge of tears and nervous hysteria from the suspense of it all. When he finally opened the door, she almost cried out in relief, anxious to have it over with. This time, her stepfather advanced slowly towards her, after having carefully bolted and locked the door, and she saw that he was once again clad in pajamas and bathrobe, though it was still not five o'clock in the afternoon. In his hand was the hairbrush, and when she saw it, she sank down on her knees and began to beg him please to forgive her.
"It appears that you want to grow up too quickly, Leila," had been his answer. "Mrs. Dorman happened to see you and that tow-headed boy practically making a public scandal of yourselves on the street."
"That's not so, Mr. Murray!" Leila had quavered.
"And that's another thing, young lady. You're going to call me Daddy from now on, do you understand? No more of this Mister Murray. I've already taken steps to adopt you legally so you will be my daughter and obliged to conform to all my orders. Now then, take off your dress and panties again, and this time you can take off your panties all by yourself."
In vain Leila Murray had implored him not to punish her so hard this time and promising never to see Jimmy again, a promise, to be sure, that she had no intention of keeping. He had remained adamant, until finally, seeing that he was only getting angrier by the minute, Leila had succumbed and stood before him clad only in her bra and panties, bobby socks and loafers. Then, under his direct glare, she had hooked her fingers inside the waistband of the panties, slowly tugged them down and stepped out of them, knowing that his eyes were feasting on the thick curls of her virgin cunt all the while.
She was about to place herself over his lap in a desperate hope that by showing her quickness and obedience, the spanking would be less harsh. But again her hopes were dashed. He compelled her to kneel down, acknowledge that she had been a naughty girl, then ask him for a good sound spanking on her bare behind-using those very words. Finally she had been allowed to go over his lap, and his left hand had palmed her belly as his arm curved around her supple, satiny waist. She shivered and groaned as she felt the flat back of the hairbrush pressed against her naked ass, glidingly lingeringly all over it until she was in a dither of anguished apprehension.
Then he had told her to count out fifty, and she burst into tears and hysterically implored him not to spank her so hard, making all sorts of promises of future good conduct.
Finally he said, "Very well, young lady. This is an object lesson in humility and submission, and so if you promise in advance to carry out all my orders, I will remit fifteen spanks from the fifty."
The thought of lessening the quota from that stinging hairbrush against her tender seat had led Leila Murray to agree with almost feverish haste. She had been obliged to count out the thirty-five, and then when it was over and she lay sobbing in his lap, he ordered her to kneel down before him.
When she had done so, he had unbelted the robe and then commanded, "Look at me now, Leila. What do you see?"
Her tear-blurred eyes beheld the protuberance of his fully erect penis pressing against the fly of his pajamas pants. She had gasped aloud at the shame of it, but he had persisted: "I want an answer from you, young lady, or back over my lap you go."
So she had blurted out, "I see your-your thing, D-Daddy!"
"Exactly. And I suppose, although no doubt you're still a virgin, you and this boy you were seen with this afternoon have had some ideas about playing grownup games. Am I right, Leila?"
"Yes-y-yes, s-sir," she had sniffled.
"In that case, I daresay you know a great deal more about sex than you'd care to let on. So you must know what you're looking at. Don't you, my girl?"
And when she had hesitated, her cheeks turning red with humiliation and shame, he had snapped, "I want an answer, and I want it right now. Or it will be the hairbrush again, and this time it will be with the bristled side, Leila!"
"Oh yes, yes, sir," she had blurted, tears running down her cheeks.
"Very well. Now pull down my pajamas pants and take my cock out. That's what it is, Leila, my cock or my prick. Do it at once!"
"Oh pl-please, Daddy, don't make me do that!" she begged.
"Would you like to go back over my lap for another thirty-five?" he asked.
Decidedly Leila Murray hadn't wanted that at all, so her trembling fingers had found their way to the buttons of his pajamas pants and fumblingly unfastened them, to draw out his stiff, bony-looking prick. She had had to clasp it in her palms, then he had commanded, "Now bend your head down and kiss the very tip of it and promise me you're going to be a very good girl from now on, Leila. You'd better be quick about it if you don't want a really hard whipping, my girl."
So Leila had bent over and kissed his prick, and the singular thing about it was that she trembled and blushed and kept her eyes tightly shut so as not to see what she was doing and be conscious of it, Leila Murray had felt a tingling, itching, moistening sensation in her virgin quim, just as she had with Jimmy Dalby. And when he had at last allowed her to rise, after pulling up her panties, he had given her a long lecture again, stressing that she was not ever to date without his permission and that he expected better grades and more humble conduct from her in the future.
That had been the beginning. Since then, Leila Murray had had no fewer than seven more spankings, and this evening would mark the eighth in three months. And each of them-just as she resignedly knew tonight would be the case-had followed the same pattern of humiliation and punishment, then supreme subjugation. For her third spanking, which she had gotten because she had dropped an expensive plate while washing and drying the dishes, Lester Murray had made her take off everything, then kneel down and humbly ask for a good sound spanking on her bare behind. After she had gone over his lap and felt his left hand palm her belly as his arm made its way around her naked waist, she felt his right hand press the hairbrush against her quivering seat, to intimate to her what it was going to be like. She had had to count out forty that time, and by the twentieth, when she had genuinely believed she couldn't stand another spank, she pleaded that she would do just anything if he would only let her off just this one time.
So he had let her off, at the cost of her having to kneel down, take his cock in her mouth and draw off his spunk completely and swallow it all. She had gagged and retched, and he had given her a good hand spanking for putting up such a fuss. And in all subsequent spankings, she had been required to French him almost before the last spank had fallen on her reddened, burning, virgin ass.
In the midst of her gloomy thoughts, the door suddenly opened and Arthur stood there. This time, he was wearing only pajamas and his slippers, and this time, instead of the hairbrush, he had a thick leather strap, slit at one end into three fingerlike thongs, his own adaptation of a Scotch tawse.
"Ohh-D-Daddy!" she had gulped, getting up from her chair at the writing desk by the window, as she clasped her hands before her and bent her head in the attitude of resigned submission which she knew he demanded of her.
"I'm very displeased with you this evening, Leila. You were seen with Jimmy Dalby again today, in spite of my orders, weren't you?"
"Y-yes, Daddy," Leila Murray groaned. Tears started to well into her lovely gray-green eyes.
"Either you are obstinate, and I don't believe the latter. Or else it's possible that even at sixteen you're somewhat oversexed, young lady," was his dry retort. "I want the truth from you now to this question: Have you and Jimmy Dalby done anything you shouldn't? You know what I mean."
"Oh no, Daddy. No, we haven't, honest!"
"You had better be telling the truth. But I want to find out for myself. Take off your play-shorts now, and go kneel on the couch. Spread your legs well apart, and your hands should be clasped behind your back. Kneel facing me," was his next command.
She was scarlet to her ear lobes and throat as she began to unbutton her play shorts, slip them down and step out of them, and then did the same with her brief white nylon panties. Miserably conscious that her half-nakedness was even more shameful than total nudity, with her blouse and bra and her bobby socks and loafers still on, Leila walked over to the couch, knowing that her stepfather's eyes were feasting on her undulating round ass, and took her position on the couch. She turned to face him, her knees spread nearly a yard apart, her hands clasped behind her back. She closed her eyes and bowed her head, shivering as she felt gusts of air from the air-conditioner lave the inner thighs and the soft lips of her twitching cunt. Her bobbies agitatedly rose and fell now, as she felt him approach her.
"Now, hold still," he commanded sternly.
"Yes-s, s-sir-I mean, D-daddy," she stammered.
"Now hold very still," he repeated.
"Pl-please, Daddy, wh-what are you doing to me?" she squealed.
He had laid the strap down beside her on the couch, taken hold of the scruff of her neck in his left hand and laid his right hand on her belly. Slowly his forefinger had descended, moving down the growing pathway of the brown pussy-curls which grew so luxuriantly on her lower abdomen till it reached her cunt, then slipping inside the lips of her cunt, he had delved in it until he felt it come up against a barrier which proclaimed her maidenhood. She squirmed and squealed again as he delved once more, assuring himself that her cherry was still intact.
"You were telling the truth, and it's a good thing, young lady," he told her. "I have a feeling that you're eager to get rid of that little obstruction to pleasure, aren't you?"
"Oh Daddy!" Leila gasped, so overwhelmed by shame and confusion that she could hardly collect her thoughts.
"We'll let that pass for the moment, young lady. Now, you deserve a very good spanking, don't you?"
"Yes, D-Daddy. Only not too hard, please," she sobbed softly, tears running down, her flushed cheeks.
"You may turn around now, bend over the back of the couch and lower yourself as far over the edge as you can, with your bottom well up and out and your knees still as far apart as you can get them. Do you understand?" he instructed.
"Y-yes, Daddy," the half-naked teenager gulped as she took the shameful pose he described, the muscles of her bottom twitching and flexing as she became aware of her helpless vulnerability. "Oh please, please, not too hard, please!"
"You may count forty, Leila."
"Oh Daddy, for Lordy's sake, not so many! I promise I won't ever go out with him again, only please not so many! I'll do anything you want, Daddy. Please!"
"I wonder if you will, young lady. Get ready to count. Now then." The strap rose, then smacked wickedly as it leaped across the ripest curves of her tender young ass.
She screamed with pain, wriggling and squirming frantically as she lowered her bottom almost to her heels.
"Get that bottom of yours up, young lady. Now stay in position and count loud enough so I can hear you."
Again the strap descended, lashing her exactly in the same place, deepening the hurt as well as the bright stigmata on her flesh.
"Aiii! Oh-please, I'll be good-it hurts so, Daddy," she wailed.
By the time he had reached twenty, Leila was weeping hysterically, desperately moving this way and that on her knees, being sternly remained almost each time to raise her bruised, discolored bottom as she weaved and jerked in her effort to evade the biting kisses of the three-fingered strap.
"Now," he said sententiously, "I think you need a few good cuts up inside your legs to teach you not to be a young hussy."
"Ooooh, no, no, not there, not on my spot, please Daddy, you're killing me! Please, please not there!" she shrieked as with a dexterous movement he sent the strap flicking up between the yawning columns of her milky thighs, attacking the margins of her virgin cunt. She twisted and wriggled, reaching back to rub her bottom, then reaching downward to soothe the burning of her maiden slit.
"Take your hands away at once! That's going to cost you five extra," he declared.
"Oh please, please don't! I'll do anything in the world, Daddy, only please don't hit me again there on my spot, please don't," she begged.
"Are you sure you will?"
"Oh yes, yes, anything in the world! Please, no more-please, please," she supplicated.
"Very well. Perhaps after all it's time for your education to be completed. At least this way I'll know you're not going to get into mischief with some inconsiderate, selfish male animal." His voice was hoarse and shaking. Then she felt herself being lifted up and being carried to her bed, then she felt herself laid upon it, with her bruised bottom rubbing against the sheets. She saw her stepfather take off his pajamas and stand there lean and naked, in all his virility. Her eyes bulged to see the monstrous potency of his prick as he knelt down between her legs. Then, gripping her knees and forcing them well apart, he bowed his head and began to gamahuch her.
Leila Murray's sobs and gasps and groans of terror and pain were soon altered into a passion-throbbing symphony of ecstasy and bliss-torment. Her body arched and jerked under his deft oral and manual manipulations, and finally when she thought she was about to faint, she vaguely felt him looming over her, then settling down upon her with all his weight. Only vaguely again did she feel the momentary twinge of his prick stabbing against the membrane of her hymen, rending it asunder. And then, her cunt was filled and distended by the hard, rutting weapon of his ramrod.
Her arms and legs went around him, her mouth fused to his, and thus it was, conditioned and attuned by this sensual chastisement, that lovely young brown haired Leila Murray became her stepfather's bed slave.
Chapter Four
It was the first week of July when Arthur Benedict got back to his dude ranch in Tucson. He had prolonged his stay in Chicago to spend an extra night or two with Wilma Cathhart, the auburn-haired call girl who had been touted to him by his friend Dave Molten. Indeed, just before taking the plane to Tucson, he had phoned Dave at the wholesale furniture company and thanked him for the recommendation. He had also obtained Wilma's private and unlisted phone number as well as her address, having told her that very likely when he got back home, he would get in touch with her and make her an offer that she might find quite interesting.
He didn't have any noble moral ideas about redeeming Wilma from the oldest profession in the world. Marriage was certainly the farthest thought away from his mind. He had expected that a professional would give him expert service but that it would be impersonal and absolutely mechanical, merely a means of relieving the cosmic tension which had built up over the past few weeks of his travels to the East Coast and to Chicago to look up some of his best customers and give them a sales pitch about coming back to the ranch this summer or this fall, to buy certain supplies and equipment for the ranch, and in general to have himself a little vacation. No, what he had in mind for Wilma was taking her on a trip to Honolulu, which he was proposing to make the end of his mouth, because he had a second cousin in that exotic city in several years and also because he had never before been to the Islands of Paradise.
Arthur Benedict figured that a vacation wasn't really a vacation unless there was pussy along to top off a wonderful night after a day of deep-sea fishing, swimming, relaxing on the beach at Waikiki and then a fine dinner at one of the great restaurants he had been reading about, like maybe, Michel's or Arthur's. Since he didn't know anyone except his second cousin in Honolulu, it would be smart to bring along his own source of pussy, and he had Wilma in mind. She was extremely lovely, she didn't at all look like a whore, and when she was dressed up, she was really devastating. Besides, she was just masochist enough to satisfy his secret penchant for starting a fuck with the old-fashioned spanking prelude, as she had already proved so memorably back in Chicago.
She was a girl he could readily take out to some of these fine restaurants and nightclubs without having anybody worry that he was slumming. She was also young enough to make him feel like a father to her, and that gave him the incestuous fillip which always added spice to the proceedings. The more he thought about it on the plane going back to the dude ranch, the more he liked the idea. And he was also quite certain that Wilma would jump at the opportunity to take a vacation like this, especially when she was going to be paid more than she could possibly earn even if she lay on her back every night of the month back in Chicago and took on a stud for pay.
No, he would have any hesitation about turning the operation of the ranch over to lanky Peter Cannon. The cowhand had pleased him ever since he had ignored Hortense Carruthers and made her turn to him to demand service, even though she hadn't expected the service she actually got! Just before he had left for his trip east, he had called Pete into his office and told him, "From now on until you give me reason to take the job away from you, boy, you're going to be working manager of this ranch. Just keep an eye on the expenses, make sure that our Chinese cook doesn't try to cut the corners by buying cheap meat, tell all the chow hands, and especially Jakson Brandon, to polish up on their manners and treat the little ladies nice and sweet, get me? I'm going to raise your pay to a grand a month during the season, and there'll be a nice little bonus once I go over the books in October."
Now that he was back in Tucson, he could see that Pete had taken the job seriously. Already, his first day back, he had at least a dozen compliments from some of the delighted man-crazy women customers who always came hoping for romance, even if it meant going out on the lone prairie and getting screwed by the cow pokes. From the satisfied smirks which Pete had been wearing when he had greeted him, Arthur Bendict knew perfectly well that Pete had been getting his share of pussy.
He thought he would lounge around a couple of weeks and then call a travel agent in Tucson and work out his Honolulu vacation. Also, he'd send off a letter to Lester Murray, his second cousin. He'd sort of lost track of Lester in the past few years, but he knew that Lester was a pretty good accountant and probably had a terrific job out there in the islands. He didn't know that Lester had married a handsome woman who had died only a few months after the wedding night, and still less did he know that Lester Murray had "inherited" the woman's delicious daughter Leila and already made a "wife" out of her to take her mother's place. But his sudden decision to take the first real vacation he had had in the past six or seven years was going to change the lives of a great many people, including that of Leila herself and also that of tempting Martha Sonsby and her daughter Peggy ...
Leila Murray and Peggy Sonsby had met on the street near the Ala Moana Center about a week after both girls had received sound spankings. Leila would have cheerfully died at the stake before admitting to her best girl friend what had happened after the spanking and what her stepfather was obliging her to do in order to lessen the severity of her punishments. The singular thing about it was, Leila blushingly had to admit to herself, that even though the thought of facing her stepfather and showing her naked body to him made her blush and want to sink to the floor, she nevertheless was beginning to experience a secret excitement when she was lying over his lap with her panties down and her bottom burning and twitching and throbbing under his hand or the hairbrush. And then that night when he had first got into bed with her and put his mouth against her pussy, she had thought she was going to die of shame letting him do a thing like that to her. Only it had been so wonderful, so thrilling, that her whole body had quaked and shuddered and so she had been powerless to stop him from putting his cock into her moist and palpitating love-slit and fucking her.
Even though she was still crazy about Jimmy Dalby, she understood that her stepfather, being much older and experienced, would certainly know how to make love to a girl with much more expertise than Jimmy ever could. Lester Murray hadn't told her in so many words to keep her mouth shut about what the two of them had done together, but she knew perfectly well she wasn't ever going to say a word about this, and certainly not to Peggy. Peggy would go right home and blab to her mother, and then it would be all over the town, and her stepfather would really thrash her raw if that happened, she was sure.
Peggy, on the other hand, was wondering just how she could arrange to see handsome Henry Kawagamo, on whose account she had just received her last spanking. Yes, of course she knew all about the difference in races, but even if Henry was part Hawaiian, he was still a terrific hunk of man, he spoke terrific English, and he went for her in a big way. Besides, he wouldn't always be a beach boy at the Reef Hotel. Why, this summer, he was going to night school and studying business management so maybe he could get a job as an assistant desk clerk at one of the smaller Waikiki Hotels.
The two attractive teenagers squealed as they recognized each other, and hurried towards each other, hugging each other with that particular intensity which modern teenagers seem to have when they meet their friends. Perhaps there was a little more urgency to their reunion than usual, if only because each was brooding about having been humiliated through a bare-bottom spanking when she considered herself practically grown-up.
"Hi, Peggy, gee, it's good to see you!" Leila cooed.
"Likewise," Peggy giggled, looking at her friend with critical eyes. Leila was wearing a longer skirt than usual, she noticed, and really snazzy smoke-colored nylons. Or maybe they were even pantyhose. Her own mother had told her that pantyhose were not for her, and just let her be caught wearing a pair. Well, she thought they were real sophisticated and grown-up, and it was just too bad that Mother took such a dim view of what a girl wore these days. She was just dying to ask Leila if they were stockings or pantyhose, but she waited politely for Leila to pass on her news first.
"What's in store for you this summer, Peggy? Do you have to go to school or a job, or anything like that?" Leila finally asked as they moved towards the shopping center, hand in hand, heedless of the many admiring glances sent their way by males, both young and old.
"I don't think, so," Peggy confided. "Mom did say she had thought about making me work this summer or even sending me to a special school, but she decided against it at the last minute. And am I ever glad! I can go swimming and body surfing and everything. It's going to be a wonderful summer!"
"It sure is. Well, I have to get something for my stepfather at the tobacco shop. Want to walk there with me? Maybe I'll treat you to a soda at the Wiki Wiki."
"Thanks, that's real nice. My allowance is sort of down this week, if you know what I mean." Peggy explained as they walked along the main level of the three-level shopping center, the largest in the world, with its fountain, sculptuary and magnificent shops and restaurants as well as parking spaces for nearly ten thousand cars.
Once Leila had finished her errand, they turned into the sweet shop and sat down in a booth. A pretty Japanese waitress took their order for double chocolate sodas, and then Leila leaned forward, clasping her hands, and whispered, "Did your mother find out about Henry?"
"She sure did, doggone it. Please don't remind me." Peggy made a wry face. "It still hurts my heinie to think about it. And it's all because of that snoopy old drip Mrs. Farnow. I wish I could boil her in oil!"
"I've got a neighbor problem too, just like you have," Leila sighed, shaking her head. "Only her name is Mrs. Dorman. She has a wen on her nose, and she's got white hair and her voice sounds like tin cans falling down the chute, if you know what I mean."
"Mrs. Farnow isn't much better," Peggy declared as she sucked the last of her soda through the straw. "Well, I guess I'd better get home. How are you and your stepfather getting along, anyway, Leila? I'll bet you still miss your mother lots. I know I would mine if anything happened to her-I don't even want to think about it."
"Why, everything's fine," Leila said after a momentary hesitation. Her cheeks reddened a little as she looked down at the table and her soda glass. "He's really nice, once you get to know him. Gosh, I wonder why your mother doesn't remarry. She's really lovely, and I'm sure she could find a nice guy."
"She hasn't ever said anything about that. And I don't really want to think about Daddy either. He ran off with that sexpot, you know, and he hasn't once come to see me or even phoned. I guess she's keeping him awful busy."
"I guess so," Leila agreed. She glanced down at her folded hands, then put them into her lap. "I wonder why men always look for other girls when they have wives."
"Because they want variety, I suppose," Peggy said, with the wisdom of a teenager who had grown up a little too fast of late. "Just the same, I sort of hope you get your wish about my mom, I mean. I'd sure like to see her married again and have a nice steady guy. Dad was fine, except the last few years he was so busy chasing around, he didn't have time for Mom or me."
"I guess so. I won't say any more about it, Peggy, I know it still bothers you. And anyhow, if it'll make you feel any better, I got a spanking too from my stepfather. All because of Jimmy. Just like you got yours because of Henry."
"How does he spank you, Leila, on the bare, the way Mom does me? Does he use a hairbrush or his hand?" inquisitive Peggy wanted to know.
Now Leila Murray's cheeks were really flaming, and she kept her eyes averted from her friend's. "Uh," she agreed noncommittally hardly caring to go into any details.
"You poor kid!" Peggy said sympathetically. "Of course, I guess it's worse for me, 'cause I'm seventeen and you're just sixteen. Just the same, if you ask me, I think it's awful that girls our age have to be spanked at all. Wouldn't you think that grownups could reason with us or scold us or something or maybe stop our allowance instead of always wanting to smack our heinies."
"I sure wish they would," Leila fervently agreed, shifting a little uneasily in the booth. The conversation was just a little too painful, and it reminded her of what her stepfather had done to her after the last spanking. In a way she wanted to tell Peggy, but she just didn't dare. She was a woman now, she didn't have a cherry any more, and her stepfather had taken it. Even if she was a year younger than Peggy, she knew that Peggy hadn't gone the limit with a fellow yet. So maybe she was really older when she got right down to it.
"Well, I guess we'd better get on home before we get into more trouble," Peggy finally suggested as she rose and picked up the two checks which the waitress had left on the table of the booth.
"Thanks a lot for the soda," Leila murmured. "Only I wanted it to be my treat this time."
"You can do it the next time, honey." Peggy moved towards the cashier's cage, opened her purse and laid down the money, then walked out into the mall with her friend. "If you get a chance, Leila, do drop over. Maybe we could go swimming together. If we were both out with each other, then our nosy neighbors wouldn't have a chance to call our folks up and tell them we were misbehaving."
Chapter Five
Arthur Benedict was on the phone long distance to Chicago. It was exactly eight days since he had arrived at the dude ranch just outside Tucson, and he had altered his plans once again. He had had such a pleasant time with Wilma that he had decided to go on to Honolulu about two weeks earlier than planned, look up his second cousin Lester Murray, and spend about a month. Maybe he would visit the islands, introduce Wilma to the costly luxury of the Mauna Kea Hotel on the Big Island, then go over to Kauai and then Maui before returning to the ranch.
"Wilma? This is Arthur. Yes, I'm back at the ranch. You see, I told you I'd call you just as soon as I had time to get organized. Well, I've done it, and I'm glad I caught you in. Oh, you have got a friend there with you-I understand. So I'll make it short, Wilma. What would you think if I invited you to spend about a month with me in Hawaii, all expenses paid, and maybe a couple of thousand dollars in your purse and of course dresses and a little jewelry and naturally the finest meals at the best restaurants? You would? Great! Tell you what. Take care of your friend, and when you're free, call me at this number and call collect. That's my girl. Hear from you soon, then? Right."
He hung up the phone with a smirk of satisfaction. He was in the office in the main building, and across the way was the bunk house where the cowboys had their quarters. To the west, there were many cabins, but scenically arranged so they didn't look like just another motel or the way they had them at the Dells. He had imported a landscaping artist from Los Angeles, and it had cost him practically six months' profit, but now he was convinced he had the finest dude ranch in the country. And the way the reservations were pouring in, he was booked solidly all the way through mid-October. There wasn't any reason in the world why he couldn't enjoy a month away from the ranch at its peak time, and he knew that the bonus he had promised Pete Cannon had been just the incentive that talented if somewhat lackadaisical young man had needed to take over the reins.
He was grateful to his uncle for cutting him into this business. Now his uncle was dead and he owned it outright. It netted him about sixty grand a year, after all the expenses were paid, the salaries, the operational costs, the advertising and everything else that went into a dude ranch payoff year after year. It could almost run itself by now. And the best thing about it was that he didn't have to work too hard and he could take off, just as he was planning to do right now, and have all the fun and pussy he wanted.
The weather was warm but dry. A man could stand a lot of that kind of desert heat without humidity, and it was healthy. He was already beginning to get suntanned and he'd only been back a little over a week. He stood up, unbuttoned the top of his khaki shirt, glanced down at his slacks, and then stared at his dusty black leather boots which rose to the knees. He really ought to have worn riding breeches, but he hadn't wanted to get on a horse just yet. The only saddle he wanted to ride in at the moment belonged to a skittish, juicy mare named Wilma Cathhart.
He emptied the humidor, took out a cigar, bit off the end and spat it out onto the floor, then lit it and drew till it was working properly. The redolent aroma of the strong Havana tobacco pleased him. It was nine o'clock, which meant that it was about seven back in Chicago. Undoubtedly Wilma was with a John, a trick, so probably it would be another couple of hours before she could call him back. But the excited gasp she'd given when he'd made his proposition to her had told him what he wanted to know; she'd come along for the ride, and boy, would she be ridden! He was going to make her a grass skirt of green leaves, and maybe a shell necklace and nothing else, and make her dance a hula for him while he lounged in an armchair, the phonograph playing Hawaiian music, with a rum drink in one hand and a switch in the other. It was going to be a very pleasant vacation.
He wondered how Lester was getting along. Let's see now, Lester was a little older than he was, give or take some five years. Maybe Lester was married by now, maybe even had a couple of kids. He was never much of a very good correspondent, and his letters were one or two paragraphs long at most. But then, with the mind of an accountant, Lester didn't believe in wasted motion. Well, he didn't either. The moon was full tonight, and .Arthur Benedict felt like pussy. Trouble was, you just didn't go barging in on the cabins of these customers of yours, not unless you looked at the register first and found out who was who. Idly, he wondered if Hortense Carruthers had come back this summer. It had been quite a time with that bitch last year. That had been the year that Pete Cannon for the first time had really shown a little gumption and practically told Hortense to go to hell, and if it hadn't been for that, he'd never would have had a chance to fuck that sweet big-bottomed, big-tittied piece of cunt.
He walked over to the office and almost bumped into someone who was coming in from the dark outdoors and let out a squeal: "Ohh, my goodness, you startled me!"
"I'm sorry-what the hell, Hortense-don't tell me you came back this summer?"
"Of course I did, you naughty man!" Talk about ESP, here was really one for the books! Let's see now, she was forty-one this year, wasn't she? And she still looked ten years younger. There was that golden hair of hers, but this time it was styled in a fluffy bob which made her almost look like a teenager. But there wasn't anything teenagerish about those big round closely placed tits of hers and that plump behind. She had on a shocking-pink silk blouse, practically transparent, and she had on a very skimpy white nylon bra under it, now that she had come into the office where there was plenty of light. And she was wearing a pair of tailored slacks, of all things, and how it clung to the cheeks of her ass and those full womanly thighs of her! Already his prick was starting to stand up and take notice.
"Come in and sit down, Hortense. What a pleasant surprise this is! But when did you get back here?" he asked.
"Yesterday, you dear man!" she gurgled as she reached out and patted his cheek with her bejeweled hand. Her lips were full and red and she had put on plenty of fresh lipstick. She still had that soft carnation-tinted skin which was like a young girl's. "Didn't you know I'd be back, after what you did to me last summer? You wicked, wicked man you!" Now she shook a warning finger in his face, but her playful smile indicated that she was far from being irate over what he had really done.
"I'm flattered that you would still remember me. I got in about a week ago, took a business trip back East. Fact is, I was thinking about taking off for Honolulu in about another week or so."
"Oh, haven't you ever been there before, Arthur-you don't mind if I call you that do you? After all," here she giggled affectatiously, "after what you did to me last summer I think you have the right to call me by my first name and I by yours, wouldn't you say?"
"Granted," he chuckled, taking a puff at his cigar. Then he put it down on the copper ashtray on the edge of his desk, moved back to her and, putting his hands on her behind, kissed her boldly on the mouth. He pressed his crotch against hers, and Hortense Carruthers with a whimpering little sigh, merged herself fluidly against him, surrendering her all. There wasn't any doubt that she had come back to the dude ranch just to see him again and get more of the same. And more of the same would mean a good spanking of that big pink-skinned bottom and then a good hard rogering till she kicked her heels in the air and yelled for mercy-and even more.
"I'm mad, though," she pouted, making no move to release herself, and letting him press himself tightly against her.
"Why is that, Hortense?"
"Because. First of all, I had to come looking for you, when Pete Cannon said you were back. You didn't even come to see me."
"That was neglect on my part and I'm sorry, Hortense honey. I've been making plans for this place, and trying to get all the paperwork done so I can get away to Hawaii, as I told you."
"And that makes me mad too. Do you know, darling, I'm booked here until the second week of August, and here I expected to spend all that lovely time with you, and now you're going to go away and leave me in a week, and leave me all by myself." Her full red lips made a petulant moue.
"Again I'm flattered."
"Stop saying things like that. Do something to show you're glad to see me, at least. You can kiss a girl, can't you? After what you did to my poor bottom last summer, I imagine that a kiss wouldn't offend my modesty at all."
Now he grinned. She had certainly straightened out since last summer, he had to hand it to her. She had been uppity, demanding all sorts of unheard-of service, though she wasn't any better than the other customers who paid even more for their cabins in choicer locations. She'd ordered all the cowhands around until just about all of them were ready to fantail her big ass with a quirt or else give notice and quite en masse. And now she was sweet and humble and provocative as hell, swinging those big firm bobbies of hers right up against his chest and teasing him with her mouth which was inches from his and tightening the muscles of her ass as his fingers gripped it just as if she knew what made him hard and hot.
"That I can do, and a lot more. But give me time. Here you burst in on me like a golden-haired vision of paradise, and I was just about ready to settle for a cigar and a walk in the moonlight," he chuckled thickly. She had a nice new perfume, and he liked it. He put his mouth to hers, and Hortense, with a little groan, locked her arms round his shoulders and hugged him to her until he could feel her titties mash against his chest. They still were marvelously firm for her age, and he was getting randy now, eager to peel her down and see if they were just as springy and jouncy as ever, and if her nipples hardened like flint when he put his lips to them. But most of all, now that his fingers were learning once again the contours of that big full round ass of hers, he was longing to peel that down too and give her such a fantailing that would make her wriggle and burn with passion. For the time being, he could forget Wilma, who was busy with somebody else far away in Chicago anyhow. Wilma would keep. Hortense was here now and his prick wanted everything she had to offer and then some.
"That was a lot better," she whispered vibrantly as he at last released her. But she still kept her arms around his shoulders, and her mouth was ready for more kisses, and her eyes were humid and wide now. "Do you like my new hairdo?"
"In a way, yes. Though I will say I liked that helmet style you had last year."
"You darling, you! Then you did remember me a little!" Effusively, she again pressed her mouth to his, and this time her hand slipped down his back, made its way round his waist and down his thighs till it had located his fly. She yanked down the zipper, thrust her hand boldly inside, unbuttoned his shorts, and took out his prick. "Oh my goodness, he remembers too, doesn't he?" she breathed.
"We better go to my cabin, baby, things might get a little tough," he said huskily.
"You can lock the door, can't you, silly? Anyway, I'm here with my husband."
"You're-what?" he gasped, stepping back and letting go of her, his prick still standing at attention, but his jaw dropping. "Are you playing games or something, baby?"
"Uhuh. Oh, you big silly, I got married about six months ago. He's a darling, but he's really not much in bed. Anyhow, he's fifty-three, his name is Nelson Corwin, and he owns a big shoe factory in Galesburg. We met in East St. Louis, that's where I come from, you know. He was lonely, he'd just lost his first wife after about thirty years of marriage, and we had dinner together and saw a movie, and were sort of simpatico, you know. So anyhow, we got married, and I told him that we ought to come out here because it would be good for his health. He's got a little touch of asthma, and he could stand putting on some weight. But as for bed, all he really does is play with my titties and my pussy a little. Sometimes I let him gam me if he's been a good boy. But he can't get it up, lover. That's why I came here. I'm just dying to be fucked!"
"But he's waiting for you in a cabin-"
"No, pet, he's asleep. I gave him some cocoa and put a sleeping pill in it. He's sleeping like a baby, and he won't even dream. And now are you going to close that goddamned door or do I have to do all the work around here?"
Arthur Benedict chuckled, and broke out into a roar of laughter and slapped his thigh. What a woman! He strode over to the door, locked it, and at the same time which illuminated an electric sign on the outside of the door that read "Do Not Disturb."
Then he began to take off his shirt, sat down at his desk to yank off his boots, pulled off the slacks and grimaced to see that they were wrinkled-next time he'd have better sense and put on breeches-and then shoved down his shorts and was naked in socks. Wiry and lean and sinewy, his prick massive, he took up his cigar and relit it, while Hortense hastily began to pull off her blouse and then to zip down her slacks and wriggle her luscious hips out of them till they fell at her feet. He squatted down, lifted each leg in turn, pulled them off. Then he had a reason to gasp again, because she didn't have anything on under the slacks. All she had on was her bra and sandals. The thick dark-golden curls of her cunt hair covered the soft pink fig of her twat, and the deep and yet quite wide navel-niche dimpled into her suavely rounded belly made him grab her by the hips and thrust his tongue against it and rub it around.
"Ohhh, that's lovely, nobody ever did that before! Oh I like that, lover, oh my! Oh Arthur, you don't know how I need it, you just don't!"
"You need something else first, though, baby."
"What-what do you mean, honey?"
"You come in here unannounced, you start getting me on the make, and then you calmly announce you're married. You've been a bad girl, Hortense honey, and that big behind of yours needs a walloping. Come over here to the couch and get yourself ready for it," he said hoarsely, taking her by the wrist, his prick bobbing every step of the way as he led her towards the leather-padded couch.
Her mouth formed a rosy letter O of mock anguish: "Ohhh, don't spank too hard, please don't! Remember, Nelson might see it in the morning. He likes to have me serve him breakfast in the altogether."
"He what?" Arthur Benedict had seated himself, was about to pull Hortense down over his lap when this last calm statement hit him with the force of a bullet. He stared up at her dazedly, his eyes questioning and very wide. "Now just what the hell do you mean by that? I thought you said he was no good in bed."
"Oh he isn't, lover. You don't have to worry on that score. But of course he's got ideas, and the poor darling has had problems with his cock the last couple of years. He's been to psychiatrists and everything, but it still doesn't help. Could you imagine it, he asked me if I would mind it if he went away for one of those artificial cocks so he could put it on and give me some satisfaction. Isn't that thoughtful?"
"Very," he gritted between his teeth. "Did you get it for him yet?"
"Don't be nasty. I ordered it, but it hasn't come yet, if that's what you want to know. Now if you're going to spank me, for heaven's sake, please do it, but not too hard. Don't leave too many marks. I'll make it up to you in other ways, I promise, word of honor, lover."
"All right. Get that big beautiful ass of yours up over my lap and let's take a look at it. I'll bet nobody's spanked it since I did last summer."
"You'd win the bet, dearest." She uttered a contented sigh as she snuggled onto the couch and over his lap. Pillowing her head in her arms, she closed her eyes and waited, making the muscles of her voluptuous pink-sheened ass twitch and tighten, relax and contract, a veritable choreography of Callipygian enticement.
He could feel his prick getting gigantic now, prodding against her belly, just from watching that wonderful ass of hers. His left arm fitted around her waist, he ran his right palm over the smooth satiny globes, and she caught her breath as she waited. His hand rose slowly, fell sonorously, first on the right cheek then on the left. Two bright pink splotches outlined the mark of his palm. It was highly satisfactory. So too, were Hortense's squeals and the flurried kicks of her sandaled feet.
She looked sexy as hell wearing just the bra and sandals. The thin narrow band of the bra was the only line that marred the smooth pink symmetry from neck to heels. Decidedly, she certainly didn't look a year older, and that smooth pink fresh skin of hers would have made a girl of fifteen envious. There weren't any wrinkles or flaccidity. Even that wonderful ass of hers was just as springy and elastic as ever. To prove that, he gave her four or five more stinging smacks all over her plump ass and she squealed and wriggled a little, shifting herself ever closer to his body till he could feel the tangled curls of her cunt rub against his prickhead.
"Don't make it too hard, darling, it's not that I don't want you to, but I'm a little scared at what poor dear Nelson might think tomorrow morning." she turned her flushed face back to him, her lips trembling a little and her nostrils flaring and shrinking.
"Oh yes, that reminds me. Now what's this about your giving him breakfast in the raw?"
"Well, he sort of made a confession to me when we got engaged. He said he wasn't-well you know, up to taking care of a girl regularly. He hoped that maybe I'd be the cure. Of course he's got oodles and oodles of money, but he's a little suspicious of younger women because he thinks they're all gold diggers. Why, the poor darling even went to a couple of prostitutes, and I told him to do it, anything to get his thing up for him. He's just dying to put it into me, and I've coaxed it and done everything including Frenching him, but he just can't hold it for long. And when he does get sort of a half-hard-on, then he goes off. He's almost ready to cry, the poor darling."
"Go on," he said grimly. "Just remember, your ass is up for grabs right now, baby, so make it good or I really will leave marks!"
"You wicked darling you! Well anyhow, when we started on this honeymoon, he said that maybe if I'd pretend to be a slave girl like in the olden days, and walk around in the morning naked except maybe for high heeled pumps and maybe a bracelet or anklet or something like that, it might work him up. But it hasn't, so far. Still and all, he's so generous, and after all he is my husband, I don't mind doing what I can for him."
He chuckled then. The hilarity of the situation amused him. Hortense looked pathetic. "That's a fine thing to do!" she reproached him.
"Don't mind me, baby. I wasn't ridiculing you, it just struck me as funny, that's all. But maybe it would help poor Nelson if he could horn in on the scene, I mean watch. Has he ever tried being a voyeur?"
"Why no, he hasn't! Say now, that's marvelous-"
"Wait a minute," he interrupted roughly, "that doesn't mean I'm offering to let him watch the two of us fuck. It was just a thought."
"But it's a wonderful thought, darling, and you don't know how grateful he would be if you could help him get his manliness back for him. He says he just wants to fuck me once real good and feel his juice all inside of me and know that he's made me come, and he'll be happy and know that there was a reason to marry me. And I think he might spend some money on the ranch. I mean, couldn't you use a swimming pool or an extra corral or something like that?"
"Come to think of it, I could," he said thoughtfully. "All right, I'll think about it. Before I leave for Hawaii, I'll let you and him know. But now, kiss that ass of yours good-bye. I'm really going to spank you for this, baby. Now don't worry, I won't leave too many marks. We can always put a cold towel and a little cold cream on later. And I mean really later!"
"Oh dear," she said with pretended apprehension as again she bowed her face over her folded arms and settled herself, "I was afraid of this."
She crossed her lovely legs, and he saw the full muscles of her thighs ripple and flex. He raised his hand and resumed the spanking. The sharp crisp characteristic smack-smack-smack rang out, punctuated by Hortense's squeals and frantic wrigglings and kickings.
By the time he had reached fifty, her bottom was a flaming red standing out from the lusciously pink-sheened warm soft thighs and calves and back, and she was sobbing in earnest.
"I'm letting you off easily tonight. Now do what you said you were going to do for me to earn your reprieve, baby," he said thickly.
Without a word, Hortense squirmed down to her knees on the hard wooden floor. He understood, promptly moved forward on the edge of the couch, spreading his legs. She put her hands on his knees, bowing her head forward, and took his prickhead between her lips and began to slush her tongue all over it. He groaned, closing his eyes, and reached out to entwine his fingers in her fluffy bobbed curls. "Slow and easy, baby, save some of the juice for that tight cunt of yours," he panted.
"I told you we had all night, dummy," she whispered with an insinuating little smile as she let go of his prick and looked up at him. He yanked at her hair, pretending anger, and with a frightened little squeal she took as much of his cock as she could inside her mouth, till her cheeks bulged with it. Then she began to suck noisily, and he groaned and set his teeth to hold himself back all he could.
A little while later, Hortense was crouching on all fours, her face pressed down against the pillow he had put for her at the head of the couch. He, kneeling behind her, reaching out to squeeze those dangling round big titties of hers, was slowly teasing her with the tip of his prick just rubbing the rims of her gaping pink cunt-hole.
"Aww-ohh-oh darling, d-d-darling, oh please, put it in, you're driving me crazy- you're a brute, I ought never to have come here again-oh darling, fuck me, oh my God, I'm dying for it, I haven't had a real fucking since that time out in the desert with you, oh please, lover!" she supplicated.
Suddenly, he drew himself back and then lunged till he was hilted in her to the balls. Hortense nearly collapsed, with a wild cry of ecstasy. He lay flat over her now, forcing her down flat also. His prick was sandwiched inside of her, and he could feel her spanking-warmed bare bottom rub against his belly.
Now she bit the pillow as she arched herself a little to retain the clutch her cunt walls had on his rigid ramrod. Gradually, he eased himself back and forth with tiny little maneuvers, till he could feel her tension grow.
He was dying to burst, and it was all he could do to hold himself back.
Suddenly, as she uttered a sobbing groan and twisted herself a little, he couldn't last any longer. With a savage thrust, he impaled her to the hilt. Then he felt himself explode inside of her.
Hortense kicked and writhed under him, sobbing out her bliss.
It was indeed a welcome homecoming, and it was only the beginning of a very torrid night. So long as Nelson had had his cocoa and the sleeping pill, there would be room for seconds and thirds and maybe even fourths. At any rate, at least until Wilma Cathhart returned his call.
It took all of two hours for her to do it, and by then Hortense was lying on her back, contentedly smoking a cigarette, a dreamy expression on her face, and the bra was off. He reached out with his left hand and squeezed one of those lovely titties, while he held the phone in his other hand and balanced the earpiece between his shoulder and his ear.
"I meant what I said, Wilma. That's right. Tell you what, why don't you fly out here in about ten days and meet me in Tucson, at the airport. Wire me in advance what plane you're taking and I'll be there to meet you. Then we'll take off for Hawaii. That's my girl. See you, baby." He hung up the phone with a chuckle.
"You dirty dog," Hortense brooded. Then she held out her arms to him: "I'm going to have some stiff competition, I can see that. So you better take care of me good till then. I'm going to see that Nelson gets his cocoa every night till that other girl comes here."
Laughingly, he turned back to her, and a moment later they were fucking again.
Chapter Six
Wilma Cathhart had taken the fastest plane from O'Hare to reach Tucson. And she was there in the late afternoon of the tenth day since she had phoned him back from Chicago. This time Arthur Benedict didn't take any chances with having one of his opportunistic cowhands pick Wilma up at the Tucson Airport, for he drove there himself in a Buick station wagon. When he saw her come down the ramp, his prick started to ache and throb all over again, just as it had the very first time he had met her. True that had been on a commercial pay-for-play basis, but she had been so sincere in her reactions from the spanking and then getting down on her knees and blowing him that he had sort of fallen in lust to be with her. Anyway, she would make a magnificent companion for the trip to Hawaii.
Last night, he and Hortense Carruthers had fucked as if it were the last time for them-of course, blonde Hortense didn't know it, but it really was. From now on, when he needed pussy, Arthur Benedict was going to rely on little Wilma to provide it. And in Hawaii once he looked up his second cousin Lester Murray, there undoubtedly would be many more candidates for bed warming once he took the time to look. Besides, if he liked Wilma, he might even make it a more or less permanent proposition.
Not marriage, of course. You didn't marry a call girl, but you could pretend she was your mistress and if she had brains as well as beauty and youth the way Wilma did, she would be the sort of companion you could take around without being ashamed of her.
Last night with Hortense had been rather memorable. Nelson had had his cocoa and sleeping pill, and then Hortense had come to Arthur Benedict's office, just as she had the other nights, but this time he had told her that he wanted to start her off back on the right track for marriage, while at the same time giving her something to remember him by.
He had made her bend herself across the desk and hold on tight, with a pillow under her belly to prop up that gorgeous big ass of hers.
Then, callously, he had sat astride the small of her back on the desk, facing that luscious up-reared behind of hers. She had wailed and pleaded with him that he was breaking her back, but he had just grinned and told her that it only seemed that way. And then he had started in spanking the luscious, satiny hemispheres. Sometimes with just one hand, sometimes with the other hand, sometimes with both, so that she never knew what to prepare herself for. And when her ass was a flaming red and she was lying there limp and sobbing and gasping, he leaped down to the floor, turned to face that blazing hind end of hers, spat on his prick, rubbed it in with his hand, then grabbed both her ass cheeks and opened them wide apart and pressed himself into her tender, crinkly anus. Hortense hadn't guessed what he was about to do, and when she did, it was far too late. He worked himself halfway in before she really tried to struggle, gasping out and sobbing that it was too big, that she couldn't take it, that she wanted to be fucked instead.
"You will be, baby, but I want to take the maidenhead of this sweet ass of yours so we'll both have something to remember," he had told her. He had slowly and luxuriously hilted inside her, then worked himself back and forth and finally slipped his left hand between her thighs and groped with his forefinger till he had found her clit, working it back and forth, he at last brought her to the very brink of pussy-passion, and finally she had gone off into hysterics from the sheer rapture of this novel way of being reamed. After a shower, he'd come back to her, and this time he'd obliged her the regular way. Only it hadn't been exactly regular. He'd made her lie down on the couch, pushed her knees back up against her big round titties, and then knelt before her, tantalizing her as he rubbed his cock head all around the rims of her big pink cunt. He had her begging and in tears to be fucked before he finally began to push it in just an inch or two at a time, then take it out and wait a minute, till she was half crazy with lusting for him. And when he had finally dug to the balls inside her, again Hortense had exploded, and she had acted more like a sixteen-year-old nymph than a divorcee who had just got married at the age of forty.
And so at last Arthur Benedict and the auburn haired young call girl Wilma said goodbye to the dude ranch and took a plane to San Francisco. There they spent the night at the St. Francis Hotel, had dinner at the Blue Fox. It was a memorable dinner, with scampi in cheese sauce, squab with wild rice, a Caesar salad, and crepes Grande Marnier, with a bottle of superb White Burgundy with the entree. Then Wilma and Arthur went back to the hotel after that feast. Wilma hugged him the moment he had closed and locked the door, and whispered into his ear, "Oh lover, am I ever glad your friend introduced us! Just think, I can't believe it, little me going to Hawaii, with such a wonderful guy who can give her what she needs!"
"You haven't earned your trip yet, baby. Now suppose you give me a first installment," he chuckled as he began to undress.
Wilma blushed very demurely as she removed her blue rayon dress and the clinging, sheer white nylon slip under it. He gasped as he saw that all she was wearing was a bra, and a garter belt which held up her smoke-colored nylons. There weren't any panties, and the thick dark-red fleece marked her cunthole at once.
"You mean you went to dinner like that in a place like that, baby?" he chuckled, his prick already savagely rampant.
"I did. Are you going to spank me for it, Daddy?" Wilma whispered as she sank down on her knees and cupped his prick and balls in her soft hands and looked beguilingly up at him.
"That's the least I'm going to do to you tonight, baby. But it's got to be a rather short night, because we've got to be out at the airport at noon to take the plane for Honolulu," he warned. "Now suppose you get on the bed on all fours, pull that pillow over, bow that pretty face down to it, and stick up that lovely behind. I'm going to spank you for being so shameless."
"Can I wear a muumuu when we get to Hawaii, Daddy?" she glanced back over her shoulder, having already quickly taken the position he had commanded. To see the sight of her upturned, quivering bare behind, the sinuous crack between the cheeks, and then below, the exquisite pink fig of her cunt, was to make his blood bubble in his veins like molten lava.
"We'll see," he promised hoarsely as he came towards the bed. Kneeling down beside her and at her left, he circled her waist with his left arm, and then began to give her a quick and stinging hand spanking with his right palm, till he had turned both jouncilly contoured cheeks into vividly crimson hemispheres and Wilma was squirming and squealing deliciously.
He stopped, holding himself back purposely to enjoy the visual delights of her wanton almost-nakedness. He had let her keep on the bra, her garter belt and hose and nothing else. Yet she looked more tantalizingly fuckable this way than if she had been Eve-naked. The smooth, tawny-sheened skin of her back and upper thighs contrasted vividly with the flaming globes of her well spanked ass, and the twitching and palpitating tremors that he could see fleeting over the still upturned and proffered cheeks made his cock throb with answering response.
"When we get to Hawaii, baby," he said in a rasping voice, "You and I are going to try a few tricks. I've always wanted to fuck a girl in a boat, with her under me, and we're going to do that among other things. I'll charter a boat and go deep sea fishing, and all you'll wear is a skipper's cap, a blouse, and men's dungarees and work shoes. You'll look like a boy, so it'll be sort of perverse. And then I'm going to take you up into the mountains near the Nuuanu Pali and tie you to a tree and switch you and corn-hole you good and hard, baby."
"Oooh, Daddy," she fell exactly into the mood he liked best, that of a scared little girl, "please don't hurt me too much, I'll be awfully good, I'll do just everything you want, Daddy Arthur!"
"That's my girl. You and I can have a great time there, and maybe, if you behave yourself, when we get back to Tucson, you and I might work something out on a more or less permanent basis. But that's a little premature to talk about yet, so suppose you reach back and open up those sweet ass cheeks of yours."
"Oh my-you mean you want to b-b-brown me?" she quavered.
"You're catching on fast, Wilma. That's exactly what I mean. Now do it, before I make those cheeks of yours redder than they are now," he warned.
With a sniffle, her face buried in the pillow, her knees spread well apart, her bottom still upturned and blazing from the spanking, the lovely call girl reached back, sank her slim fingers into the crimsoned cheeks of her behind and yawned them apart to expose the furtive, shrinking fissure of her asshole.
She was really beautifully made, and she didn't have the face of a whore, either. Big hazel eyes, fringed with thick lashes, thin brows, a small straight nose with widely flaring, thin wings, and a soft, ripe and somewhat tremulous mouth. Her chin was rounded and dimpled, her cheeks were just a bit slantingly set, just enough to give her an exotic look. And the rest of her body, plus that wonderful ass of hers, was really splendidly made: high-perched, up-tiltingly thrusting, dark-tipped gourds, spaced closely together, bobbies you could squeeze to your heart's content. A slim waist, nice long and delightfully rounded thighs and saucily high set calves. She had dainty toes, too, and he liked that in a woman. Some of them had the most ungainly feet, and he just couldn't stand a girl with bunions or calluses or corns or bad toenails. Besides, Wilma had a sweet breath, and he liked her perfume. And there was no doubt about it, she had a very talented, tight cunt, and she could make the walls contract around his prick and hold him snugly when he was inside her to the balls.
He'd already made provisions for buggering her, and he wasn't sadistic enough to want to do it dry, because she was pleasing him enormously. So he had put a tube of vaseline at the foot of the bed, and now he took it, anointed his cock with it and then rubbed a little over the shrinking lips of her bung hole.
"Ohhh, please take it easy, Daddy," she moaned, squirming her hips this way and that, but not letting go of the pried-apart cheeks of her bottom. He could see everything she had now, the lips of her goose hole quaking and shrinking in justifiable apprehension, and below, the plump, pink, moist lips of her quim framed by the thick tufts of dark-red pussy hair.
"It won't hurt as much as you think. Besides, you'll get an extra gift for this. I'll get you a shell necklace when we get to Honolulu, and there will be a few little garnets threaded in with the shells. You'll like it. Also, I'm going to get you the sexiest, sheerest black nylon nightie I can find. And some other things, too. But now, get yourself ready, here comes the bull!"
With this, getting behind her, reaching out to squeeze her titties, Arthur Benedict aimed his cock tip at the fissure of her bung hole, while her slim fingers continued to hold the cheeks apart to give him access.
He brushed the crinkly, warm, twitching orifice, and Wilma squealed. Her thighs shook, tried to clench, and then bravely widened again. "Please be gentle," she gasped. "I haven't ever gone this route!"
"You mean you're virgin there, baby?"
"Uh huh. I sure am, Daddy Arthur."
"That really deserves a bonus! You darling! Now hold them open till I'm well inside, and then you can do whatever you want except, of course, make me pull out," he chuckled.
Again and again he touched the sensitive, puckering cleft, and each time Wilma squealed and squirmed, rubbing her asshole against his cock head till he was almost mad with rut. Finally, he pushed gently, just prying the lips apart, entering into the ring of muscles at the sphincter.
"Aaahhh-oh my, oh Daddy, I can feel it, oh please take it easy," she moaned, mashing her face down hard into the crumpled pillow.
"Relax, darling, it'll go easier that way," he advised. Now, tensing his fingers against her bobbies, feeling them heave and shudder, he pressed forward very gently but firmly. He felt the muscles fight against his entry, and then he was past them, at least two inches deep into her brown hole.
"Ohhhhouuu!! Oh I can feel it, oh my Lord, what are you doing to me, Daddy?" she panted.
He released one of her titties, and put his forefinger to her mount. Delicately and tantalizingly, he rimmed it with just the fingertip, while she began to gasp and whimper. He kept himself immobile inside her asshole, till he could feel the walls of her bumhole clenching and gripping, just the way a cunt would. Now his finger found the clit, and the moment he did, Wilma Cathhart uttered a poignant, shrill "Aiiiieeeeouuuu!!! Oh that's heaven, oh don't stop, frig me there, frig me hard there, Daddy, make me cream!"
"I will, you sweet bitch," he gasped thickly. Then he crammed further into her bung hole, quickening the pressure of his finger against her turgifying lodestone.
Wilma Cathhart began to bite the pillow again, the way she had done back in Chicago when she had met him for the first time. He was drawing her to indescribable heights of passion. She could feel her asshole being distended, and the sensation was something she just couldn't describe. It was heavenly, it hurt a little and yet it was just marvelous.
And his frigging of her clit was making her feel waves of hot pussy-passion seething deep inside of her, till all of her was just cunt and asshole, and he was all prick and finger.
Her moans and sobs were almost inarticulate now, as he slowly and inexorably felt himself hilt into her tight asshole sheath, till his belly ground against the velvety spanking-warm cheeks of her voluptuous young ass.
He paused there, feeling all of her clench him to herself, feeling his finger rub slowly back and forth against the now swollen button of her clit.
Wilma was sobbing and groaning, twisting and squirming, and now her hands had let go of her bottom and they were clawing the sheets.
Slowly he drew halfway out, then thrust back home, flattening her tickler at the same time with the tip of his finger. She nearly exploded. She let out a wild, prolonged scream, fell flat on her belly on the bed and he upon her buried in her.
He could feel himself burst, and everything went blissfully black. It was a wonderful omen for the trip ahead ...
Luscious Leila Murray was in trouble again with her stepfather. As a matter of fact, it was the very same night that his second cousin was fucking Wilma in the San Francisco hotel.
Lester Murray had sent Leila that afternoon to the Ala Moana Shopping Center to buy him some socks, some pipe tobacco, and had told her to get herself a pretty muumuu. She had got the socks and the tobacco, true enough, but she had decided out of a girlish whim not to buy the muumuu and instead to buy a pair of hot-pants that she had been secretly coveting ever since she had seen Delores Jacanda, a gorgeous seventeen-year-old Portuguese classmate, wearing almost exactly the same pair. But then, Dolores lived with a widowed mother and an aunt, and Dolores was engaged to Ito Watanabe, a scholarly but extremely virile twenty-six-year-old Japanese who happened to work as a teahouse guide and took parties of tourists out there in Manoa Valley and explained the customer of tea, the arrangement of flowers, the kabuki dancing and many other colorful things which his countrymen had inaugurated centuries ago as part of their rich culture. Ito made good money, and according to Dolores, he was just a terrific lover, even if he looked like a fellow who would be happier off in a bank poring over sheets of figures. He liked to pore over hers, Dolores had gigglingly confided the last week of school. How Leila had envied Dolores! How she had wished that she could have a nice boy do all the things to her which her stepfather was making her do now.
And yet, strangely enough, though she was dreading what was going to happen now as she waited in her bedroom wringing her hands and wearing the offending hot pants and a pair of sandals and a pink cotton bra and nothing else - all this at her stepfather's orders - she had to admit that the mere thought of him coming in and spanking her good and then making her do sex things with him gave her the funniest feeling between her legs. Tentatively, she put her finger down and pressed it against the crotch of the hot pants, which were very snug and which shaped out every delectable curve of her voluptuous young ass and loins. They almost left the fig of her pussy shamelessly delineated.
It was ten o'clock, and Leila had been waiting exactly thirty-six minutes for her stepfather to "come in to see you, young lady," which was his favorite way of telling her that she was in for a bare-bottom spanking and then a good deal more to come.
He had taken her to a doctor friend of his, a gray haired, mustachioed man in his late fifties, Dr. Karl Blumer. He had explained that Leila was going to get married one of these days, and that she was extremely passionate and that it would be a safe and wise precaution to fit her with a diaphragm. His friend hadn't wanted any further explanation, had made poor Leila strip naked and get on the examining table which was made of cold black leather, and then he had pried around between her legs until she was almost dying of shame, while her stepfather watched with an amused little smile on his thin lips and his blue eyes hard and narrowed.
Then the doctor had made some measurements or something, written out a prescription, and her stepfather had taken it to a medical-supply house and now, for the past four days, she had been wearing it every night at Lester Murray's order. Of course, as he explained to her, it would prevent her from getting pregnant, and it would also be that she could service him whenever he wished it and without his having to take any precautions himself which he much preferred.
She knew it was just wicked and awful and sinful, but she didn't know what she could do. She didn't have anybody else in the world except him, and the funny thing was even now, as she was just praying for the door to open and him to come in and start her spanking so it could be over quickly, she was almost looking forward to what he was going to do tonight!
She blushed violently when this thought came to her mind, and just at that moment the door opened. He hadn't even bothered to knock. He was wearing just his bathrobe and slippers, and he had that terrible tawse in his right hand. It had a strap on the end split into three "fingers" and she had already tasted it once. That was the night he had made her love him up for the first time. She would do just about anything if he wouldn't use that on her, especially when he flicked it up between her bare legs and stung her pussy.
"Ohhhh, D-Daddy!" she gasped nervously, her eyes welling with tears.
"I hope," he said sententiously. "that you're happy in your new hot pants? You certainly didn't think I'd let you go out into the street wearing something like that? Every boy in the neighborhood would be after you like a dog with its tongue hanging out. And you're still just a bit young for showing off everything you've got in public, Leila. Don't you agree?"
"Y-yes, D-Daddy, only, Dolores-" she began.
"I'm not interested in what your girl friends or classmates do, I'm just interested in how you behave and how you obey me. I told you to get a muumuu, didn't I?"
Tears blinding her, she nodded disconsolately.
"And you disobeyed. All right, suppose you slip the hot pants down now to your ankles, kneel down on that straight backed chair, bend well over the edge and hold onto the back."
"Oh Daddy, please, don't use that awful strap on my bottom, please! I couldn't help it-they looked so nice, and I've got lots of muumuus, and I thought you might like them-I-I bought them for your sake!" she managed in a piteous, shaking voice as she looked fearfully back at him. She had, before she began this appeal, had the good sense to comply with his order and shove them down and get onto the chair in position. She had learned by now to her sorrow that to argue with him after he had given her an order always meant extras, very painful supplements she would just as soon do without.
"That's very flattering," he said with an ironic tone and mocking smile as he approached, studying her naked, shrinking behind. "But if I want something like that I'll buy it for you myself, Leila. Now let's see. Disobedience, of course, is a very serious sin. However, you've been a reasonably good girl this last week, so I won't give you forty. I'll just give you twenty-five."
"Oh please, please, give me double with your hand, or even the hairbrush, but not with that awful strap, it cuts so, Daddy! I-I'll be specially good tonight, I promise I will!" she sobbingly implored.
"You will? That's encouraging. You're learning humility, and that's a very good trait in a female, Leila. I'm going to find you a husband one of these days, and you'll be broken in properly for him. Well, we'll settle on fifteen. Now bend well over and don't let go of the back of the chair and count them out."
"Yes-yes, Daddy," as she closed her eyes and shiveringly reached down. The maneuver arched up her naked ass in the most tantalizingly way imaginable. The pink cleft of her cunt peeped out at him between her shaking thighs.
He drew back the tawse and let it leap over the tops of her naked hips with a sinister Thwack.
"Oww, one, Daddy-oh how it stings, it cuts so, oh, Daddy, I'll be so good, please let me off so many!" she implored.
He stopped after ten and he had already painted a vivid pattern of bright red stripes on his stepdaughter's once milky-sheened ass-cheeks.
She had desperately forced herself to stay in position, and it had taken every bit of courage she had as the wicked strap with its three fingers at the end whisked and cracked all over her bare behind.
"I'm going to give you a chance now to redeem yourself by showing even greater humility tonight," he finally said in a thick voice, "You may get down from the chair now, thank me for the whipping, and then proceed to show me how grateful you are that I'm sparing you any more-that is, depending upon your obedience."
"Oh yes, D-Daddy! Th-thank you, Daddy-oh, Daddy, I-I'll do my b-best t-to-to please you," she panted.
Painfully getting down from the chair, she sank down on her knees, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes. Again she mumbled the formula of thanks, and then, taking a deep breath, undid the belt of his bathrobe and gaped it apart. Without further ado, she grasped his cock, put it to her mouth and began to suck.
Lester Murray chuckled softly, Leila was learning very quickly. It was amazing what a good strapping could do to a sexy young girl in training her to be a perfect bed bitch. Yes indeed, he would find her a husband very soon. She was going to need one!
Chapter Seven
"By God, Lester, you look fine for yourself!" Arthur Benedict enthusiastically exclaimed as he shook hands vigorously with his second cousin at the Honolulu International Airport. The latter hadn't brought his stepdaughter along, because he wasn't quite certain how his relative would react to the sight of a very gorgeous but extremely meek girl who was undergoing penance.
The night before, after he had given Leila the tawse, she had begged him off and promised to surpass herself if he would only spare her the full count of lashes he had originally set. So he had let her go down on her knees and thank him first for the whipping, and then ordered her to show how ingenious she was if left to her own resources.
She'd unbelted his bathrobe, taken his cock in her hands, and then bowed her head forward and taken the tip of his prick inside her mouth and slushed her tongue all around the head and down the gnarled shaft. He had let her bring him almost to pitch, then shoved her away and ordered in a rough voice, "Now what have you got in mind, my girl? Show me. Show me!"
So Leila had looked up, tears glistening in her widened gray-green eyes, and stammered, "D-Daddy, please won't you go to bed with me now and love me and not spank me anymore? I'll be awful good, honest I will."
"Let's see how good you can be, then," he had snapped. So then his lovely stepdaughter had reached down behind to unhook her bra, let it fall to the floor, and then, stark-naked, had scrambled over to her bed and got into it, spreading her thighs as widely as she could and holding her arms out to him. He had flung off the bathrobe and come to her, then knelt between her legs and fondled the closely spaced, firm round globes of her titties. She had areola, of a rather dusky coral tint, and in their centers there were pert, crinkly pink buds which got very firm when he kissed or tongued or tweaked them. She had a shallow belly button, and her fine milky skin really excited him. Her arms were suntanned from the warm Hawaiian sun, and so were her calves and knees, so that the contrast of her more private parts was really prick hardening.
He had got into her at once, because whipping her on that chair had excited him a great deal, especially the way she wriggled her lovely behind with all the nice red stripes standing out on the fine white skin. He also loved the sound of her crying, because she lost her breath and had a lot of flurried sobs and when she tried to speak, the words were choked up and made him feel more of a master than ever.
She was an extremely passionate girl, and he understood her very well, better than she thought he did. Leila submitted out of fear, but just the same, he knew that the sweet little bitch really had a kind of eager desire to be fucked after a spanking.
But last night, she had disappointed him a great deal. He had started fucking, then slipped his hands down to squeeze her warm ass, feeling the heat left by the strap. His mouth had come down on hers and he had begun a slow and rhythmic poking of her tight young cunt. Then all of a sudden she had twisted her face away and begun to sob, "Ohhh, Daddy, I don't think we ought to do this, it's just awful, I feel so ashamed, oh please, Daddy, don't make me do it anymore!"
She had just about made his cock go limp with that moral sermonizing. He was furious with her, and he told her that she was going to be in penance all day long. She could fix her own lunch, she would be allowed to go out and swim at the beach as she loved to do, and she would just have to wait until he came home with his second cousin Arthur Benedict. Her whipping would be postponed for a while until after his second cousin had left, but she could look forward to a good one. He would teach her to promise all sorts of things and then act so squeamish, when he knew perfectly well that she really loved to be sexed up.
But what Lester Murray had not expected was to see his second cousin standing beside a perfectly mouthwatering piece of cunt with auburn hair, and a bright blue cotton dress and sheer gunmetal-gray nylons and trim blue suede pumps. Arthur Benedict had introduced her as "my secretary Wilma Cathway," and Wilma had flashed him a look of understanding. She knew that her pro-tem lover had lied about her name so as not to endanger her reputation, and she was grateful to him. She was also very happy she had come along and left Chicago behind. It was so beautiful here, so tropical, with all those big palm trees and coconut trees, and the blue ocean, and the wonderful sky. And the city of Honolulu spread out like a glistening jewel before her, with the mountains way in the distance, and the tall buildings clustered all around Waikiki Beach.
"It's great to see you, Les," Arthur Benedict chuckled. "You and I were never good correspondents. But anyway, we're here now and that's what counts. Are you going to let me take you to dinner tonight and stand treat?"
"That would be fine, old man. Er-but I forgot, I have to be home and fix things for my stepdaughter."
"Why, you old son of a gun, so you did get married after all. The last time you wrote me, you were just a stuffy old bachelor-or at least on your way to being one," Arthur Benedict nudged Lester Murray in the ribs.
"Well," Lester Murray's face shadowed, "it happened quite suddenly. But I'm afraid that my poor wife died only about four months after we got married."
"Oh hell, man, that's a damned shame! I'm sorry as hell, Les," his second cousin said sympathetically. "So you have a stepdaughter to take care of? How old is she anyhow?"
"Just a little past sixteen. She's quite a young woman, and the fact is I'm going to have to find a husband for her one of these days."
"Oh? Why so, Les?"
"Well," Lester Murray shrugged, "the fact is, she's extremely well developed for her age and she has all of grownup ideas. Her poor mother let her date boys, and I'm afraid that Leila-that's her name, you see-already knows what petting and necking are all about."
"That's nothing," Wilma giggled, putting in her say without being asked, "when I was that age, I was doing just about the same thing."
Arthur Benedict turned to his "secretary" with a little smile, but there wasn't any humor in it. In fact, Wilma put her hand to her mouth and then turned scarlet, because the look in his eyes meant that spanking time wasn't too far off. He nodded, as if to confirm her fears, and then turned back to his second cousin: "I would like very much to meet her, Les. Why don't you bring her along tonight and we'll have dinner at some fancy restaurant, say, like Michel's or maybe La Ronde, that revolving restaurant right by the big shopping center?"
"Well, I guess maybe that could be arranged," Lester Murray said doubtfully. He was thinking of Leila's penance. "How long are you going to be in town, old man?"
"Let's quit calling each other old man," Arthur Benedict laughed. "I know that you're about four years older than I am, and I'm only about forty-two. Working on that dude ranch out in Arizona makes me feel young and healthy- and I think Miss Cathway here can testify to that."
"Oh yes, sir," Wilma hastened to agree, trying not to look too sly lest the other man suspect that she was just a little more than a secretary to Lester Benedict.
"Where are you going to stay this trip and how long?" Lester Murray pursued, because he was anxious to find out just how long he was going to have to squire his second cousin around Honolulu. It would put a crimp in his training of luscious young Leila, just when she was getting to be really nice in bed. There was something thrilling about a shy young virgin who was discovering even from the start how exciting it was to be fucked by a mature man, especially after her bottom had been nicely heated by a good sound spanking. In a way, he wished he could have lived back in the days when a man could own a lot of girl slaves, and he would keep them all in filmy pantaloons and little jackets, while he lay on a couch and have some of them feed him tidbits and ply him with wine. Then, at a moment's notice, he would order one or another to strip bare-ass-naked, and then come lie beside him and French him. And if she didn't do a good job, he would strike a gong and his big Nubian eunuch would come in and take the naked sobbing girl to the marble column right in front of his couch. The girl would be tied up with her arms embracing the column, blindfolded, and then given a good sound whipping on the bare ass and thighs until she promised faithfully to do very much better the next time. Then after the whipping, she would have to kiss the eunuch's feet and the whip, crawl over to the couch and thank him for having spared her any more, and then come back and try it all over again. And woe betide her if she didn't do a good blow job then!
His mind was full of these exciting fantasies, and that was all the more reason he wanted to be all along to himself and Leila go on with her good training. Now that she had her diaphragm, he could fuck hell out of her without any problems, until he finally got tired of her and looked around and found a plausible husband for the sweet little bitch. He couldn't expect to go on screwing Leila for years, because probably it might get out to the neighbors and then he would be in jail in Oahu Prison, a hell of a place to be when you were in the middle of paradise.
Arthur Benedict lit a cigar as he walked over to the baggage claim area, Wilma Cathhart walking very primly beside him and trying not to show that they had gone to bed together. This older man who was his second cousin, this Mister Murray, she was just a little scared of. He had cold eyes and a thin mouth, and he was awfully nosy. She would have to tell Arthur to be very careful, and she didn't think she wanted to be alone with him. He looked mean, the kind who would really give it to a girl when he got angry. Now when dear Arthur spanked her, it was sexy and fun, even if it stung a little, and it did get her randy as hell. She was glad she was a call girl because she could pick and choose her clients, and that way when she really wanted to enjoy a good creaming, she could fuck like hell with a customer she liked and not worry about going all the way. A whore, of course, had to take a lot of customers a night, and she just didn't dare have climax with them, or she would be worn out. But it was so nice being with Arthur, especially here in Hawaii.
"Well, I made reservations at the Ilikai, and I figure we might stay three-four weeks," Arthur Benedict said affably, glancing at Wilma. His eyes narrowed, reminding her of the story he had told her to tell his second cousin just to allay any suspicions. Not that he expected Lester to be taken in, because Lester was no fool. The old goat had probably sampled a lot of pussy in Hawaii before settling down with that poor woman who had died so soon after marrying him. But the idea of having a cute stepdaughter -now there was something you read about in books. Idly, he wondered if Lester was fooling around any with a sixteen-year-old piece of quiff. It would be worth a try, and he himself wouldn't mind taking on a teenager and teaching her how to fuck like a mink. All the young girls these days knew the score, even if they didn't have the experience, and all they needed was a little guidance. Of course, you had to take it in small doses, because when you got to be in your forties, you couldn't keep up with a sixteen-year-old every night. Even Wilma, who was twenty-four, kept him humping.
Wilma took her cue quite well and smoothly intervened, "You see, Mr. Murray, my boss has to draw up an advertising campaign for the dude ranch, and go over the expenses for the end of this half of the fiscal year. And he hasn't had a vacation in a long time, and I'm used to his work, so he brought me along so he can have plenty of free time for swimming and fishing and stuff like that."
Arthur Benedict beamed at her. She was a good little bitch. He would buy her a good dinner tonight, maybe buy her a piece of jewelry at the big shopping center tomorrow. He turned back to his second cousin: "I like to balance work and play, Les. Now seriously, why don't you come to La Ronde with us tonight, and bring this little stepdaughter of yours, what's her name, Leila?"
"All right," Lester Murray decided. "I'll come along with you in the cab, drop you off at the hotel, then go on back home. Let's see now. It's four o'clock, so why don't Leila and I meet you about six in the lobby of the Ilikai, and then we'll go right over to La Ronde? I'll phone the restaurant and make reservations for four."
"Great! Well, here comes our baggage. Not too much, just three suitcases between us. I figure I can always buy some aloha shirts and slacks here. The weather is even warmer than in Tucson, and of course a lot more humid. But it's gorgeous out here!" Arthur Benedict enthused ...
Lester Murray was in his stepdaughter's bedroom, and Leila was kneeling on the floor, looking up at him with big, wondering eyes. Her hands were clasped in front of her, in an attitude of complete submission. She had fully expected a sound spanking, and she had started to stammer an apology for having turned away from him last night. He had had an overnight wire which his second cousin had sent from Frisco to advise him what flight he was coming in on. That was actually the only thing that had saved Leila's lovely behind. He stared down at her rather coldly: "I don't want to hear any excuses, and I understand that sometimes a girl isn't in the mood. But after you had promised to be such a sweet little bitch and to love me up, then to turn away like that when you knew you were starting to enjoy it-you've really got a sound thrashing coming, my girl, but I'm going to let you off tonight. Now you behave yourself, understand? This is my second cousin, and I don't want him to get any ideas about us. Know what I mean?"
"Yes, D-Daddy," Leila said in a very small faint voice. She was wearing just bra and panties and sandals, and his eyes devoured the sweet thrust of her bobbies and the straining cheeks of her ass against the tight panties, the fine milky skin of her thighs and of her shoulders and throat and the soft valley between those firm young bobbies of hers. If Arthur Benedict was going to stay around a month, he probably would have to spend a good deal of time with him. However, he could arrange to take his vacation at a moment's notice, and he had a good three weeks coming, He was thinking about opening his own accounting firm, anyway, and maybe this would be a great time to start. He had a lot of clients on the side, and it wouldn't cost much to open an office and to hang out his own shingle and take all the profits instead of letting his boss make hay from his hard work. He had earned this by now. And working his own hours at his own convenience would give him more time with sweet little Leila here. His thin lips curved in a smile, and Leila uttered a sigh of relief. When he smiled, it usually meant that he was going to let her off. Her bottom was already tingling in anticipation.
"All right, young lady," he concluded. "I'm going to give you just a little spanking now, just as a sort of reminder to be a good girl in the future. Then I'll let you go down on your knees and take care of me-you know what I mean."
"Why-yes, s-sir," she gasped, her face turning very red and looking straight down at the floor in her confusion.
He chuckled softly. He loved the way she acted like a shy virgin who hadn't been broken in yet. It was going to be a pity to lose her to some fellow who would marry her, but he knew that he couldn't go on like this forever. Maybe it was time he thought about marrying again, but it wouldn't be fair to Leila to saddle her with a stepmother, because then she wouldn't have any real parents at all. No, the girl needed somebody who could love her and discipline her but be young at the same time. He thought he had somebody in mind, but that could wait. Right now, he had to see exactly what his second cousin wanted from him and how much time he was going to have to spend with Arthur Benedict showing him around Honolulu.
Swiftly he took off his clothes and was naked except for his shorts. Then he seated himself on the edge of Leila's bed, and beckoned to her. She rose without a murmur, swiftly reached behind her to take off the bra, and shove down the panties, stepped out of them. In her sandals only, head bowed, she studiedly moved to him, got onto the bed and stretched herself out over his lap. She fitted herself closely to him, till he could feel her tummy rubbing against his rigid prick. He told her to put her hands together behind her, and he grasped her wrists with his left hand. It gave him a feeling of power, and it made the pose of classical spanking seem even more that of a slave undergoing correction. She was his slave, and it was a wonderful sensation. His right hand caressed her shrinking ass, which had regained its milky-satiny texture. That was the beauty of spanking and not leaving too many permanent marks. You had a fresh and virginal bottom all over again the next day, and yet the results from spanking each separate time were always thrilling. He could never get enough of hearing Leila cry and sob and plead with him and promise to be a good girl.
Slowly he caressed the shrinking, huddling bottom cheeks. Leila sighed deeply wanting it to be over, and yet feeling strangely stirred. Her stepfather's second cousin was rather good looking, in a way, and he did look a little younger. She wondered if that nice auburn-haired girl who was his secretary slept with him. She rather thought she did. Then suddenly she emitted a little squeal, because her stepfather's hand had just landed with a sonorous Smack on the upper right cheek of her naked behind, and she knew that even if it were going to be a moderate spanking, she was still going to feel it very much.
About ten minutes and fifty spanks later, Lester Murray stopped to get his breath. His right palm was caressing the now vividly reddened, twitching and squirming ass cheeks of his lovely young stepdaughter. Leila was sobbing as if her heart would break, and she had tried once or twice to jerk her wrists away when an especially hard and stinging slap had visited her tender bottom. Her face was twisted to one side, and it was stained with tears. She twisted her sandaled feet to and fro, and was very restless throughout the spanking. As she squirmed, she could feel his prick getting harder and harder, and she knew what she was going to have to do next.
"All right, I think that will do it. Now get down on your knees and take care of me," he commanded.
Leila slowly slipped down to the floor, both hands frantically rubbing her blazing behind. Meanwhile, her stepfather shifted himself to the edge of the bed, spread his legs, put his hands on his hips and stared coldly at her.
Leila got down on her knees, took hold of his legs, moved closer, lifted her face and opened her mouth. His prick had slipped right between her lips, and she closed her eyes and began industriously to suck. This time, he told himself, he was going to let her go all the way, learn to swallow every drop of his spunk. If she didn't, it would mean another spanking the next time. It was always good to hold one extra spanking over a girl's head just to keep her in line, he knew.
But Leila was most industrious this time. She sucked tirelessly, keeping her eyes closed, though she couldn't stop the blushes in her cheeks from the shame she felt in the confusion of having to do this to a grownup man who had a right to spank her bare bottom till she cried and then make her do things like this and sex her up.
Suddenly he gripped her by the hair, twisting his fingers in it, and gasped, "Get ready!" A moment later, he felt himself burst into her.
Leila choked and gasped and gagged, but heroically managed to swallow it all. He leaned back, satiated. "That was very good," he said thickly. "I'll let you off your penance. Now put on your prettiest dress and really look like a grownup young lady tonight. We're going to a very fancy place for dinner, and I want my second cousin to be quite impressed by you, my dear."
Leila rose. Now her eyes were shining. "You-you called me dear," she whispered. She was unconscious of the fact that her pussy-fur was quite visible and that everything she had to offer a man was there displayed nakedly before him.
"So I did. You are dear to me, Leila. Maybe I seem stern and cruel to you, but a little later on you'll understand why. You've got a very ardent nature, and it needs channeling. I'm going to get you a husband, don't worry. A girl like you can't very well be left alone without a man, but I don't think you want to be, either. Now you may kiss me if you like."
"Yes, Daddy," she murmured. She flung her arms around his shoulders, leaned to him and gave him a passionate kiss. He felt his prick re-surge with energy. That sweet little bitch! If she kept things up like this, it might be quite a long while before he found her a husband.
"Now go take a shower and get dressed and be your prettiest tonight," he said with a soft chuckle, giving her a light slap on her reddened bottom. Leila giggled, blew him a kiss, and hurried to the bathroom.
Chapter Eight
The dinner had been a huge success. And Arthur Benedict had been tremendously excited when he had met his second cousin's stepdaughter Leila. This time, Leila had re-styled her hair. Instead of the single thick braided plait which fell nearly to her waist, she had managed to wind it round her head in a thick coronet which made her look like an eloquent young queen. It was all he could do to keep from staring at her greedily all through the dinner. Her clear sweet voice excited him, too. He had mental images of what it would be like taking her over his lap and spanking her lovely white bottom until she cried, and then undoing that braid and dragging her by her hair off to bed to be fucked or buttered. She had worn a red sateen dress with a modest hem falling just below her knees, and gunmetal-gray nylon stockings and very cute red leather pumps with Rhinestone buckles. She had blushed a little when she had been introduced to him, and he had taken her hand and then kissed it, somewhat to his own surprise. Lester Murray had given him an odd look, but hadn't said anything.
Leila had behaved like a perfect little lady at the table. Her stepfather had asked her what she wanted, and she had given the waiter her order without fussing or changing her mind, as a lot of women do. Lester Murray had called for Wilma and Arthur in his car, and driven them to La Ronde, and after dinner, they had gone for a drive out to the Punchbowl where the thousands of heroic war dead were buried, among them being the great foreign correspondent Ernie Pyle.
It had been midnight when Lester had dropped them off at the Ilikai, and then gone on back home to the house on Wilder Street not too far away from beautiful Paradise Park, where they had a natural aviary and you could feed the macaws and cockatoos sunflower seeds while they perched on your head and shoulder.
Just before Arthur and Lester had said good night, Lester had mentioned that he was starting his vacation and maybe Wilma and Arthur would like to go swimming or even surfing the next afternoon. Wilma had been crazy about the idea, and so they had made a date for after lunch.
Back up in their luxurious suite in the Ilikai, Wilma and Arthur were talking about the pleasant evening they had had. Wilma was down to her bra and panties, had left on her garter-belt and charcoal-brown nylons, and was standing out on the lanai looking out towards the ocean and the wonderful cumulus clouds extended far over the horizon. Arthur Benedict, wearing only his bathrobe, smoking a cigar, had walked out to join her and to enjoy the wonderful balmy trade winds. His arm was around her waist, and he was feeling particularly contented. It had been a great idea to take off from dry, hot Tucson and enjoy himself a real vacation with a sweet piece of ass like Wilma. She went out of her way to please a man, and every minute he was with her, he forgot more and more that she had been a call girl ... still was, for that matter.
"Like it, baby?" he muttered gruffly, feeling his prick surge mightily. The wonderful thing about fucking was that the man always felt brand-new the very next time, and if the girl had any imagination at all, she made him feel as if it were the first time with him, too. Wilma had the knack, which was one reason he appreciated her talents. They seemed to be so spontaneous.
"Mmmmn Hmmmm!" she agreed with a happy sigh as she turned to look up at him. "It was awfully nice of you to bring me out here, darling. I don't want you to think that I was thinking about the money, but frankly I've always wanted to come out to Hawaii and I didn't think I ever could. Thank you so much."
"You're a good kid, baby. I suppose I oughtn't ask the next question, how did a nice girl like you get into this business?"
She frowned, hung her head. "Please don't spoil things, darling. I'll tell you just a little bit of the truth, because it really isn't any of your business. I'd like to forget it, if I could. I was born in South Bend, and I loved my folks a lot. Then Dad got killed in an accident at the steel plant, and Mom picked the foreman to take Dad's place. I was about fourteen then, and Mom was hitting the bottle a little more than she should have, so she didn't watch out after me too much. So this bastard figured that he had a built-in harem with me and Mom, and when Mom got too much liquor in her, and she would pass out, then the son of a bitch would make a bee line for my bedroom and smack me around and tell me to keep my little mouth shut or he'd fix me good. You can guess that he broke me in. Well, that went on for two years till I ran away from home. Then I was a waitress for a while, and I used to peddle a little just to help out with the rent. The rest, well, it doesn't matter. Only I decided that I wasn't going to be a cheap lay just for every man."
"Thanks for telling me, honey. You mean, your stepfather took your cherry?"
"Yes. And you know what I was thinking about tonight?"
"What, you teasing little devil?" His left hand was slyly feeling her jouncy ass through the thin panties.
Wilma Cathhart put her right arm around his waist and pressed herself tightly up against him. "I was thinking that your cousin, that nice Mr. Murray, probably has a lot of trouble keeping his mind off Leila. Is she ever a knockout!"
"You can say that again," he heartily agreed. "But you're even more so, and besides, you're of age. Now let's go to bed."
"I want to thank you specially for bringing me here, lover," Wilma murmured huskily once they left the balcony and came inside. She sank down on her knees, slipping her panties down to her knees at the same time, and then unbelted his robe. Her hands went round to massage his ass, and then she bobbed her head and began to brush the tip of his already stiff prick with her soft red lips. This evening Wilma had styled her hair in a pony tail, and now he reached out and grabbed with both hands, guiding her so she wouldn't pull away as he pressed more and more of his cock into her mouth till her eyes widened and her cheeks bulged. He could feel her tongue rubbing all over his shaft and the taut head, and he felt on fire. He closed his eyes and he was thinking of Leila doing this to him, and all of a sudden he wouldn't hold back anymore and he shot it out, "I'm coming, drink it all, you lovely bitch, now!"
* * *
Back in the house on Wilder, Leila was taking off her clothes while her stepfather looked on with approval. When she was naked except for garter belt and stockings, he stopped her: "That's just fine, baby. You were a good girl tonight, I was proud of you. Now let's see you undo that nice braid on the top of your head and let it fall down to your waist. I like it that way. You're very cute."
"Th-thank you, D-Daddy," the pretty light-brown haired girl stammered, her cheeks flushing hotly. She lifted her lovely milky arms, showing him the soft tufts of darker brown hair which grew in the lovely scented niches, and he felt his prick stir with longing. He was down to shorts and undershirt and socks, but this time she was in his bedroom, not in hers.
"Are you really mad at me, Leila baby?" he suddenly and unexpectedly asked.
"Ohh-I-I don't-know, D-Daddy," she stammered, taken aback and turning to stare at him with questioning eyes. He felt his prick savagely throb with longing for her. Come to think of it, there wasn't any reason why he couldn't marry this sweet little piece of cunt when she came of age. It had been done before. There wasn't any blood relation, Leila had been born to his wife's first husband. His eyes widened and he slapped his thigh. What a helluva good idea that was! He was training her to be a wife, so why shouldn't she be his? Why waste all that training on an unappreciative young man? And at her age of sixteen, she would be good for a good thirty years of fucking, with that sweet white skin and that nice firm figure and that sweet soft voice of hers that never failed to rouse him as it was doing right now.
He walked over to his armchair and sat down, beckoning to her. "Come here and sit down on my lap, honey," he said in a husky voice.
A little startled, not familiar with the tenderness which he was suddenly showing her, Leila moved slowly toward him, her eyes meekly lowered, twisting her fingers about nervously. She slowly seated herself, and he put his left arm around her waist, while his right hand began to stroke one of her lovely thighs. His eyes feasted on the swiftly rising and falling turrets of her titties, and the thick dark brown patch of pussy hair which marked the apex of her young womanhood, and noticed how her round firm thighs were quivering and trying to clench so as to diminish the most intimate part of her anatomy from his view. He put his right hand to one of her titties, fondling and cupping it, then kissed her on the mouth. "What would you say, baby, if I told you that I'd like to marry you myself?" he suddenly asked.
"D-Daddy! You're joking-"
"No I'm not. It's legal. Of course, we'd have to wait till you're at the age of consent, which is eighteen, but you see, you're not my girl by blood, and so that makes it legal just about anywhere in the country. What would you think of the idea?"
She blushed a fiery red and lowered her eyes again. Her slim hands were clasped, and he saw that she had pressed them over her pussy. She bit her lips, thinking. Finally she stammered, "I-I guess-I don't think-I mean, I guess it would be all right. That is, if you really wanted me to."
"Well, you'd have something to say about that, baby. You'd have to go to the marriage license bureau and say yes, you know. And I wouldn't force you into it. I know I've been a little strict with you, but you've got me carried away, you're such a lovely piece. Anyway, then you wouldn't have to feel so naughty about- well, about what we've been doing lately. And I could take care of you the rest of my life. I've got plenty of money in the bank, Leila, and I'm going to open my own business and do even better. You'd keep me young, because you're such a pretty thing, and you're sweet and you've learned to be obedient."
"Oh, Daddy, I-I didn't think you liked me, not really-you mean you'd really-you'd marry me just the way you did Mother?"
"Exactly like that. It broke my heart when your poor mother left us, baby. I never figured it would happen so soon. Anyway, just think it over. And if you want to go to bed tonight by yourself, go right ahead. I was proud of you tonight at the restaurant."
Leila Murray drew a deep breath. Then she raised her crimson face to her stepfather, put her arms around his neck, and gave him a long hard kiss on the mouth. "I-I sort of like you a lot, you know something? I guess maybe I ought to tell you, I was awful scared when you first started spanking me. I thought you were mean and hateful and cruel and everything, and I wanted to run away. But even when you did it-well, it's funny, but I guess-well, maybe it got me a little excited too. I mean, to see how hot you got for me after you spanked me-and it made me hot too. So, if you want to-you know-I'd want you to, Daddy!
"You sweet little bitch!" he panted. His hands were squeezing both her titties now, and he returned her kiss with interest. His tongue dug deeply between her lips and Leila shivered and sobbed as she felt him press against him. Now his hands rubbed her bobbies to roam down her back and to find the jouncy globes of her voluptuous young bottom. She whimpered at the intensity of his kiss, and now her tongue began to merge with his.
A fiery current of passion was ignited in both of them now. With a gasp of desire, Lester Murray stood up, carrying Leila in his arms, and marched over to his bed. He laid her down tenderly, then husked off his shorts and undershirt, and joined her. Instantly she opened her arms and thighs to receive him, and as he sank between her lovely legs and his prick had found the sweet portals of her pussy, she whimpered, "Mmmmm, Daddy, Oh Daddy, I do want you, I want you to have me, I want you to do everything to me!"
He sank deeply to the hilt inside of her, and then her lovely stockinged legs wrapped around his wiry thighs, her arms hugged him to her, mashing down her panting titties, and Leila Murray gave herself up to the exquisite pleasure of being love-fucked instead of just spanked-fucked this memorable night of nights.
Chapter Nine
A week had passed since Arthur Benedict and Wilma Cathhart had come to Honolulu for the former's vacation. It was mid-afternoon, and Wilma had complained of a slight headache-she had been out too much in the sun on the beach, and she was getting a lovely tan, but she had overdone it. So Arthur decided to go sightseeing on his own. He had met Lester Murray last night, and his cousin and Leila had dinner with Wilma and him, this time at Michel's out by the Colony Surf. This time, he was pretty sure that old Les was boffing that cute light-brown haired chick Leila. Because this time, the way she had sat next to his second cousin and glanced up adoringly at him from time to time, and once leaned over to ask him for the salt and rested her hand on his thigh for just a fraction of a second, but long enough to give him a pretty good idea of what was going on between them- why, it was as plain as the nose on your face. Well, it was legal, now that the mother was dead. After all, the sweet little bitch hadn't been sired by old Les, so he could marry her, fuck her or do whatever he pleased. Just the same, Arthur Benedict thought to himself, he would certainly like to get a little bit of that nice young nookie. And the thought occurred to him that maybe Les, who had been giving Wilma the eye all night long, might even be in the mood for a swap. Well, there was time enough left of his vacation to work that out if it could be done. And he had to go slow, because he wasn't yet sure how his second cousin thought about life in general and fucking in particular.
But on this particular afternoon, Leila had been given permission to go visit her friend Peggy Sonsby, the seventeen-year-old black-haired daughter of luscious divorcee Martha. And as luck would have it also, Martha had decided to go to Pearl City to have lunch with a dear old friend from her high-school days who had just come to Honolulu for a month's vacation and who was staying at friends out near the Naval Barracks near Pearl Harbor. She had told Peggy that she might not even be back for supper and she had given the girl some money to go out and treat herself. Since that last spanking, Peggy had been particularly demure and well behaved. She hadn't even made any attempt to see Henry Kawagamo again. And just so she wouldn't, Martha had left the bungalow with a last word of advice: "I'm putting you on your honor, Peggy. Just don't let me hear from Mrs. Farnow next door that you've been out with Henry or any other boy, for that matter. I think you remember that last spanking, and it'll be twice as hard the next time-if there has to be one. Just be a good girl, and I ought to be home about nine or ten."
It had been her mother's day off from Liberty House, and so Peggy had looked forward to an afternoon and evening all by herself. Her mother had given her five dollars for a meal, and she was thinking of going over to the Waikiki Beef 'n Grog where they had good steaks and roast beef and beef teriyaki at reasonable prices, and a jazz combo. Anyway, after that, she could walk down Kalakaua, visit the International Marketplace, and watch the tourists. They were always so funny, dressing up in aloha shirts, and making all sorts of comments that were ever so silly. Still in all, she sort of envied them, because she loved Hawaii, and now that she was here, she didn't want to ever think of going back to the mainland. If only Mother would find a husband or something, so she wouldn't be so irritable. It would be nice to settle down, and if there were a father, Peggy was pretty sure that her spanking days would be over. My goodness, she was seventeen going on eighteen now, and it was high time Mother stopped thinking about hairbrushes and all that sort of stuff.
Peggy had put on a very scanty pair of white nylon panties and a matching bra, and just put a short slip and her best muumuu over it. She didn't wear any stockings, just sandals, and she was particularly tempting in that summary attire. When the doorbell rang, she jumped up from the couch where she had been reading a movie magazine, opened the door and then squealed joyously, "Leila, my goodness, I was just thinking about you, come in!"
The lovely light-brown haired younger girl, still wearing her coronet braid, entered, blushed deliciously as she saw her friend's eyes fix on her. Leila was wearing her pretty blue cotton dress, which her stepfather had bought for her just the other day. It was almost as nice as the one she had worn to the restaurant but that was for formal occasions. This one ended just at her dimpled knees, and she was wearing smoke-colored nylon hose, panties and bra and a petticoat. The dress was sleeveless, and her beautifully tanned bare arms glowed with the warm brown of the Hawaiian sun.
"Gosh, that's a pretty new dress, Leila!" Peggy greeted her friend. "You look super!"
"Thanks, Peggy. My D-I mean, my stepfather, he picked it out for me," Leila stammered.
"Hey now, that's something new. Last I heard, you were just about ready to run away from home. Is he still mean to you-you know, spankings and such?"
Leila blushed furiously. "We-we're getting along all right, Peggy. I guess I just have to learn to understand him, and he has to do the same thing about me. Things are fine. Anyway, what's new with you?"
"Wouldn't you know it? Here Mom goes out and won't be back till late tonight, she's over at Pearl, and I've got the afternoon and evening off and even money for a good dinner, but I don't dare see Henry. If I were only eighteen, I could go out with anybody I pleased."
"It's not so far off, and anyway, there are nicer boys than Henry."
"Now don't be a snob, Leila. Just because he happens to be almost pure-blooded Hawaiian, that's no reason for you to look down your pretty nose at him."
"I'm not. Only he's a beach boy. Once of these days you'll be thinking about getting married, and you'll want a reliable fellow who has a good job. You know how much it costs to live out here."
"Oh gosh, you begin to sound like Mom when you talk that way, Leila. Can it, for heaven's sake!" Peggy testily declared. "Come into my bedroom, I want to show you a cute pair of pajamas Mom bought for me at Liberty House. They're all sorts of colors, like real aloha. They're real snazzy." Then her face fell and she pouted: "Gosh, don't I wish Henry could see me wear them right now."
"Peggy Sonsby! You're just awful," Leila giggled as she followed her friend into the latter's bedroom.
Peggy opened her drawer, took out the pajamas, which were multi-colored and indeed very pretty. Leila asked her to model them, and so Peggy rather self-consciously began to undress. After she put on the pajamas, she pranced around, exhibiting herself, posing with her hands on her hips like a fashion model. Leila giggled again, and gave her a playful spank on the behind. This led to a tussle on the bed, and the next thing that happened, both girls lay entwined, staring at each other as if they were seeing each other for the first time. Leila's dress was hiked up above her waist, so was her petticoat, and she was lying right on top of Peggy, pinning Peggy by the elbows and staring triumphantly down to her flushed face. "Give up?" she wanted to know.
"I will not! You let go of me and don't you dare tear these pajamas, or maybe I'll tell your stepfather to give you a good hard spanking," Peggy teased.
"You shut up," Leila giggled again. Then her voice grew very husky as she murmured, "You're awful cute, Peggy. Anybody ever tell you that, besides boys?"
There was a chemistry building between them. Suddenly, without warning and totally on impulse, Leila Murray kissed Peggy on the mouth.
Peggy uttered a stifled gasp, hugged Leila with both arms and pulled her down on top of her. Then the two young girls began to kiss and fondle each other, and it wasn't long before Peggy's pajamas pants were down and so were Leila's panties, and both girls were rubbing pussy together, exchanging French kisses.
There was a shattering climax for each of them, and when it was all over, Peggy gasped, her face scarlet, "Oh my gosh, Leila, we were awful naughty! But I guess we couldn't help it. I guess maybe if Mom wasn't so strict about boys, I'd be letting Henry do this to me. What about you?"
"You hush up now. We won't talk about it. Tell you what, honey, let's take a shower, and then let's go on down to the beach. There's safety in numbers, and if I'm with you, you can talk to Henry but you can't spoon with him. Okay?"
"Sure, that's a terrif idea!"
Soon both pretty girls had left the bungalow and were on their way to Waikiki beach. Fate was directing Arthur Benedict to walking the beach by himself at about the same time his second cousin's stepdaughter and her best girl friend would be there. And soon there would be another kind of chemistry to attract sophisticated Arthur Benedict.
Chapter Ten
Arthur Benedict sighed with pleasure. He was wearing open sandals, white linen socks and an aloha shirt, and he had never felt more comfortable in all his life. He had started down on the beach on Fort DeRussy, and was coming towards the beach in front of the Reef Hotel. His eyes took in the entire kaleidoscopic pattern, from fat hairy men in just bathing trunks struggling with a beach mat to slinky, brown-skinned young women wearing sunglasses and the briefest of bikinis. He had never seen so many naked thighs, midriffs, vallies of tempting titties and even the lower curves of the bases of excitingly contoured bottoms at one time in all his life before. It was a fleshly carnival, and he was enjoying every moment of it.
There were two girls over by the wire fence talking to a handsome, sturdy, tall brown-skinned beach boy. They had their backs to him, and he couldn't help admiring the prick hardening shapes of their bottoms. One girl was in a red Jantzen, the other had on an electric-blue. Both suits hugged the cheeks of their bottoms, shaped out the creases, were deeply cut at the back to about the waist, and had the thinnest possible straps over the shoulders. One was a girl with black hair, the other had light-brown and the latter one had her hair styled in a coronet braid. He stopped dead in his tracks, lit a cigar, and waited. He was certain that it must be Leila Murray.
Now she glanced around to make sure that no one was watching her girl friend Peggy Sonsby talking to Henry (the very same boy who had got Peggy's bottom a good tanning not too long ago) and in the process she recognized Arthur Benedict and waved to him.
"Hello there, Leila honey," he affably greeted her as he walked slowly towards the trio.
"Oh, hello, Mr. Benedict. Peggy, this is Mr. Benedict, he knows my Daddy."
"We are second cousins, that's what. Glad to know you, Peggy," Arthur Benedict smiled. His eyes were sizing up the black-haired, olive-skinned cutie who had been talking so earnestly to the Hawaiian beach boy. Boy, was she stuff! Such sweet legs, what gorgeous titties! "I was just strolling along, and I happened to recognize you, Leila. Your girl friend is very lovely if I may be impertinent enough to say so."
Peggy blushed at this flattery, while the beach boy looked surly and gave Arthur Benedict a glare. Then he mumbled, "Guess I better get back to work. That's what the hotel pays me for. See you wahines later, huh?"
Arthur Benedict was just as glad that he had left the scene. Now that he had a chance to study both girls and admire their charms, he was somewhat drawn to Peggy even rather more than Leila, even though Leila did have nice white skin and a lovely shape. There was something piquant about Peggy Sonsby, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it-but he would like to do more than that. She was probably San Quentin quail, in any case.
"Suppose I treat you and your friend Peggy to some ice cream or something?" he suggested.
"That would be super!" Peggy piped up with a dazzling smile. She had small but perfect white teeth, and she had dancing dark brown eyes that were very limpid and expressive. She also, he had observed already with a great deal of erotic interest, had an even more tempting ass than Leila; it was mature and ripe and round and it was one of the most spankable asses he had seen in many a year.
"Great! Tell you what, why don't we walk over to the Rainbow Lanai at the Hilton Hawaiian Village? They've got a great cafeteria there, and all sorts of sodas and ice cream and stuff," he proposed.
So a few minutes later they were out at a table overlooking the beautiful grounds that Henry Kaiser had originally built and then sold to Conrad Hilton. The Village easily had the best beach along the entire span of Waikiki and there wasn't any coral you could cut your feet on when you went bathing or swimming. The cute little Chinese waitress had suggested a scooped-out pineapple with macadamia nut ice cream, and all three of them were enjoying it. Peggy glanced at Arthur Benedict between spoonsful of the tasty treat, and thought he was most handsome. "Now there was a fellow who would be just right for Mom," she thought to herself.
And then, just at that moment, an elderly woman with sparse gray hair and horn-rimmed glasses, with a parasol and a reticule, stopped in front of their table, wagged her forefinger at Peggy and cackled, "I saw you with that beach boy, young lady, and I'm going to tell your mother tonight when she gets home. And now you're out with a man you don't even know."
"Oh, Lordie, it's Mrs. Farnow!" Peggy groaned. "Now you look here now, Mrs. Farnow, I'm not doing anything wrong at all, this is my girl friend Leila, and this man is Mr. Benedict who is Leila's father's second cousin. You just go ahead and tell my mother, for all I care.
"The very idea!" the elderly woman gasped. "And rude, too! In my day, young lady, we were spanked with a slipper over our bloomers if we dared talk to our elders like that!"
"Just a minute, Mrs. Farnow," Arthur Benedict rose and inclined his head politely, "I invited these young ladies here, and as for talking to that beach boy, there is such a thing as democracy, you know. I happened to be watching at the time, that's how I recognized Leila here, and I can assure you that Peggy, wasn't doing a single thing wrong. I would be glad to tell her mother so if you insist upon relaying your malicious gossip!"
The elderly snoop who lived next door to Martha and her daughter Peggy uttered a horrified gasp and backed away, "Well I never!" she exclaimed, her face turning livid with anger and humiliation. "All right, Peggy, you just go your own way, but one day there is going to be a reckoning."
"Whatever reckoning there is, Mrs. Farnow, won't come from you. I'd appreciate if you'd leave us alone." Arthur Benedict said crisply.
"Golly, you were great, Mr. Benedict!" Peggy said gratefully after the elderly woman had hurried away. "I know what would have happened if she'd called Mom tonight and told her about my talking to Henry. But honest, I really wasn't flirting with Henry. I got one spanking-oh my, there I went and spilled the beans, didn't I?"
She turned a very becoming red, and Arthur Benedict felt his prick swell and throb. The thought of seeing delicious black-haired Peggy Sonsby over her mother's lap with her upturned naked ass reddening and bouncing and squirming around under the repeated blows of a hairbrush or even the mother's hand, made a picture that was as stirring as an overdose of Spanish fly to his erogenous system. He tried to sound tactful as he retorted, "Well, just so there won't be any misunderstanding, Peggy, I'd like very much to meet your mother and tell her that the two of you acted like perfectly well brought up young ladies."
"You would, gee, you really would, Mr. Benedict?" Peggy excitedly gasped. "My gosh, that would be wonderful! Mom is nice to me, you understand, but we're all alone, and sometimes she gets a little huffy when she hears that I've been talking to a boy. You know, I'm not supposed to date until I'm eighteen, and that's a year from now. I guess maybe if I had a father, why, he wouldn't be so strict. But Mom works a lot, so she lays down all sorts of laws. And I sure wouldn't want to get another spanking, not after the one I had just for talking to Henry. And he kissed me, which made it worse, and then that awful woman came along and saw us, and didn't she go and tell Mom right off!"
"Well, then, that's settled," he genially chuckled. "I'm not doing anything this evening, and maybe you girls would like to have supper with me."
"I couldn't, Mr. Benedict, but thanks anyway," Leila said hastily. Lester Murray had just told her she could have the afternoon off, but to be home by six or at the worst six-thirty. And now that things were going so nicely for them, she found herself wanting to obey him. After what he had said about maybe even marrying her in a few years, she felt all sort of curious, sexy feelings about him. She almost wanted to hurry home now and get into her slinkiest bra and panty outfit just for him to see. Yes, even if it did mean a little spanking. She wasn't afraid of spankings anymore, because she wasn't afraid of him.
"Well, how about you, Peggy?" he pursued.
"I guess it would be fine. Mom won't be back from Pearl City till round nine or ten, and she gave me money to have dinner-"
"You'll be my guest," he firmly interposed.
* * *
At seven that evening, Peggy, who had hurried back to the bungalow, and Arthur Benedict and Wilma were eating at the Blue Dolphin in the Outrigger Hotel. It was a very pleasant little room, quiet and intimate, and they would have a trio singing Hawaiian songs in about an hour. The food was exceptionally good and quite reasonable, as Arthur Benedict had discovered when he had ordered a Chicken Kiev and found it to be one of the tastiest versions he had ever experienced.
Wilma looked stunning in a brown tapacloth dress she had gone out and bought herself at the shopping center a day or two before. She watched Arthur Benedict with a certain wry smile of amusement on her red lips, because she was wondering what her lover was doing with this cute teenager. Peggy looked especially attractive in a white cotton dress with puffed sleeves, charcoal-brown pantyhose, and sandals. Arthur Benedict had introduced Wilma to Peggy as his secretary.
After dessert, Arthur excused himself and walked over to the cashier, then made a sign to Wilma to come join him for a minute. Once out of range he whispered, "Honey, this is the girl friend of that nice Leila. We met the other evening. I took her and Leila over for a treat earlier this afternoon, and some nasty old gossip who lives next to Peggy saw us and said she was going to tell Peggy's mother and get Peggy a good sound spanking. So if you don't mind and I'll certainly make it up to you, I'd like to take Peggy home and then tell her mother what really happened when her mother gets back, which ought to be about ten."
"You're a nice guy, Arthur. Of course you can go along with her. Only she's quite a cute trick, and don't you get any naughty ideas. I'll bet you've got them already, you wicked old man, you!" Wilma teased.
"That's going to cost your bottom a little extra tonight when I get back home, baby," he chuckled softly. "Now why don't you excuse yourself and say you've got an errand or something, and then I'll see you in the suite late tonight?"
"You better had, because otherwise I'm going to go out and get myself a nice handsome beach boy. My pussy needs a little consoling. You've been neglecting me, Arthur Benedict, ever since you met your second cousin. I don't mind at all, because after all you're paying my way out here, and I hate to bring up such commercial matters in such a lovely place, but I want to see a nice guy like you get his money's worth."
"Don't you worry about that, baby. I'm going to make you yell uncle tonight, see if I don't," he promised.
And so in a few moments Wilma returned to the table, after having told Peggy originally that she had had to go to the rest room, excused herself and said that she had a slight headache and wanted to get back to the hotel. This left Arthur Benedict alone with Peggy, and in about twenty minutes, the two of them walked out onto Kalakaua Avenue and Arthur Benedict hailed a cab.
They got home about nine-fifteen, and Martha Sonsby hadn't come home yet. She did in about ten minutes, however, and there was fire in her eyes. She was about to denounce Peggy soundly, because Mrs. Farnow had intercepted her on the way home, and she came out of her house and started telling Martha all about what she had seen on the beach this afternoon. But when she saw Arthur Benedict rise from the couch and nod pleasantly, her eyes widened: "Peggy, what's this I hear about you and that boy again? And who is this man?"
"Excuse me, Mrs. Sonsby, I know I seem like an intruder, but I came here to help Peggy out," Arthur Benedict suavely interposed. "You see, Peggy happens to be the girl friend of Leila Murray, and Lester Murray is my second cousin. We hadn't seen each other for years till I came here to Honolulu nearly two weeks ago. Well, I met Leila and Peggy out on the beach, and I invited Peggy to have dinner with me and then I told her I'd bring her home and wait till you got here so I could tell you all about that Mrs. Farnow. It seems that your nosy neighbor came over to our table this afternoon at the Rainbow Lanai and started giving poor Peggy the dickens for something she didn't do at all. I was there all the time, and she and Leila were both talking to Henry-I guess that's the beach boy in question-and they were perfectly proper, as well-bred young ladies always are."
"Well, I must say, it was awfully nice and thoughtful of you to do this. And it's a good thing for you, young lady, he's here." Martha Sonsby said, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling. She was really smitten with Arthur Benedict, and Peggy sent him a look of eternal gratitude. She had just saved her tender bottom from another application of that wicked old hairbrush, she knew. More than that, looking at things practically, she had saved every bit of the five dollars her mother had given her for her evening meal, since of course her protector had paid the tab at the Blue Dolphin as well as for the treat earlier in the afternoon.
"Well, I'm glad that I got Peggy out of trouble," he chuckled.
"Yes, you did, Mr. Benedict. You see, Peggy doesn't have a father any more, and I work at Liberty House, and Peggy's at an age where she could get into mischief. So maybe I'm a little stricter with her than I ought to be, and I realize it, but it's for her own good." Martha Sonsby explained, while her daughter blushed vividly and lowered her eyes.
"I can understand your concern for Peggy. She's a beautiful young woman, and a great credit to you. I also can see where she inherited her beauty," Arthur Benedict gallantly proffered.
Now it was Martha's turn to blush, and she hadn't blushed so deeply since her wedding night. "That's-that's very kind of you, Mr. Benedict."
"I'm sorry about your husband, Mrs. Sonsby. Did he die recently?"
"Oh, he isn't dead. We just decided to live apart, that's all."
"Oh, I see. I'm sorry if I brought up unpleasant memories."
"Well, not really. But anyhow, Mr. Benedict, can I get you some refreshment?"
"No, thanks. I was just going. I stayed only because I wanted to make sure that Peggy was clear of those nasty accusations. I don't like your next door neighbor very much myself, if you want to know something."
"I'll tell you a little secret, Mr. Benedict, neither do I." Martha Sonsby giggled. They stood there facing each other, and she felt a curious feeling up and down her thighs. Sometimes a woman has ESP, and when she meets a stranger, something inside of her tells her that this man is going to be the one who fucks her, who pries the tender pink lips of her cunt and thrusts his cock deep into her soft citadel, who has the right to squeeze her bobbies and her bottom and make her feel that she was born to service a vigorous stud and thus fulfill her destiny. Because that was exactly the feeling Martha Sonsby was getting now in that soft and rather neglected pussy of hers.
"I'd like to call on you again, if I may, Mrs. Sonsby. I happen to be a bachelor."
"Oh? That-that would be very nice. I-I'd like that very much, Mr. Benedict."
"Call me Arthur." He told himself that he was going to get her to use even more intimate pet names when he finally got her stripped down for action. He liked girls buxom, and Martha was a sweet piece of ass, no two ways about it. She had a marvelous bottom on her, too, and he was picturing it upturned over his lap wriggling around as his hand descended rapidly and stingingly. He was seeing her on the floor kneeling, cupping his balls, her pink tongue furling out to lick his prick, and he was also adding another nuance which made the whole picture even more exciting: pert Peggy was watching, and she was kneeling there too, ready to take over when her mother left off. That would really make it a harem!
Chapter Eleven
Arthur Benedict was quite thoughtful by the time he got back to the Ilikai and took the elevator up to the suite where auburn-haired Wilma was waiting for him. Meeting cute Peggy Sonsby and her ripely endowed mother Martha had made a profound impression on him. Maybe it was time he thought of settling down and getting married. The ranch was running itself very nicely, and if he gave Pete Cannon a vice-presidency and a hike in salary contingent upon getting more customers every season, it might just keep that young man with his nose to the grindstone. Pete was the kind of guy who had the girls crazy for him just because he was so indifferent. That would keep them coming back hoping they could win his fancy.
Besides, there was a lot to be said in starting with a readymade family. His Cousin Lester had done just that, and now look what Lester had for himself: a very sexy stepdaughter who, unless he was way off base, was going to bed with him, the old son of a gun! He himself wouldn't mind getting into Peggy's panties, but the way to that was first getting into Martha's.
Needless to say, all this thinking had made him horny as hell, and the minute he got inside the suite and locked the door, he knew he was ready for action. So was Wilma. She had got herself a sheer black nylon nightie, and she was wearing red high heeled leather pumps and standing out in the lanai, her back to him, staring out over the serene ocean and inhaling the soft sweet air of the trade winds.
The light of the room and the darkness of the lanai did just what they were supposed to do; they made her nightie transparent enough for him to see the shapely curves of her ass and thighs, and he at once jerked down his fly and came towards her.
Wilma had heard him come in, turned to see him, and then her eyes went very wide. "Oh my goodness," she gasped, "you really have it bad, Arthur darling! Let Mama take care of it for you, hmmm?"
"That was the general idea when I came into the room, baby. That's a terrific nightie, and you'd give a man on his deathbed a hard-on wearing it. Come here to Daddy!"
With a giggle, the attractive young call girl stooped, hoisted up the nightie to her belly, exposing the thick dark-red fleece of her pussy-curls, and seductively moved towards him. He grabbed her by the ass, with a groan of delight as he felt his fingers sink into the elastic, warm, tawny-sheened flesh, and then his aching cock-head was prodding against her slit.
"Let me help, lover," she whispered. Her soft fingers took hold of his shaft, and the fingers of her other hand opened the gates to paradise. Then she introduced him inside of her, and hugged him round the waist as she put her mouth to his. With a groan, Arthur Benedict felt himself sink slowly into her till their bellies ground together, and he could feel the contractions of the spasmodic flexions of her wonderful ass muscles. Her lips parted, and now her tongue besieged him, and his own tongue rubbed to hers, creating new galvanizing friction.
"You must really have got excited, honey. Was it that sweet little bitch Peggy or was it Leila?" she teased, nibbling at his ear lobe.
"It was Peggy and her mother, if you want to know something, Wilma baby," he said huskily. "Now shut up and just let's fuck. After that, you've got a little spanking coming for being such a catty little snoop."
"I'm sorry, Daddy," she pouted contritely. But her eyes were dancing, and they were very humid and very wide. And her nostrils were flickering, and from the way her cunt walls gripped and clipped and nipped his prick, he knew she was just as randy as he was.
So they stood there, swaying with the force of their furious rut, because Wilma was just as excited as he was. He drew himself slowly back to the brink of her cunt, and she moaned and dug her fingernails into his back to make him put it right back into her all the way. It wasn't long before they both had their climax, and then at last he pulled out and shook his head and exclaimed, "Whew! You're just what the doctor needed, baby. Now let me take a shower and then we'll go to bed."
A few minutes later, both of them naked, lying on their sides facing each other, Arthur Benedict was fondling his mistress' titties with one hand while he puffed at a cigarette and then handed it to Wilma for a few puffs for herself.
She was caressing his hips with one hand, and her other hand was busy stroking his inner thighs and his limpened cock. "So you fell for Peggy's mother, did you?" she wanted to know.
"Sure looks that way, baby. No offense meant, you know. First of all, I don't even know if she'd consider going back to Arizona with me. That's one thing. And also I don't know if she's got another guy on the string or maybe she's even given up fucking for the duration, that's possible too. Lots of women are true to their first husbands or first lovers, and they never want anybody else to take their place."
"You mean, you've met this woman just once and you're already thinking of marrying her, lover?"
"It just came over me like a flash. Now understand, baby, you're a lot younger and prettier, but there's just something-damn it all, I don't know how to explain it to you."
"I do, honey," she said sympathetically as she began to slip down so that her head was near his loins. "You're reaching middle age, and you feel a little insecure, and you think a wife and kid will help. It just might. But don't forget, you brought me here, and I'm your little slave girl, and as long as my time is yours, I get a little jealous when I think of you screwing some other woman."
Before he could answer, Wilma had approached her soft mouth to his prick, taken the head inside her lips and begun to nuzzle it and rub it with her tongue and to blow gusts of breath against it. It didn't take long before Arthur Benedict was hard as a rock again. Then, to requite her, he had her lie with her head on the pillow, pulled her legs up, then thrust her knees back against her bobbies, and crouched before her. Gripping her by the knee hollows, he put his tongue to her pink cunt and began to lick it lingeringly, not forgetting the impudent little lodestone of her clit which peeped out at him. Moreover, his tongue poached on even more daring premises, flicking down towards the furtive groove of her asshole and at last rimming the dainty pink, shrinking lips. Wilma squealed and kicked her heels wildly about, as she panted, "Ohh, that's just heaven, darling-oh you really are something-now you know why I get jealous, thinking about some other girl getting all these goodies! Oh, I can't stand it anymore, put that great big hard prick of yours in where it belongs, fuck me, oh Arthur, fuck me hard!"
Arthur Benedict chuckled triumphantly. Maintaining his grip on her knees, he crammed himself with a single lunge almost to the balls, and then began to work in and out very vigorously while Wilma weaved and twisted and arched her squirming ass to absorb all of his cock and to taste the difference in friction at this or that angle till at last, hysterically, she uttered a shriek of ecstasy and tremblingly gave up to the urge of orgasm ...
Peggy Sonsby couldn't sleep. She was thinking of the fun she and Leila Murray had had that afternoon, fun which would certainly have earned them a good sound bare-bottom thrashing had either Peggy's mother or Leila's stepfather found out about their naughty little Sapphic games. For that matter, her mother couldn't sleep either. She was tossing and burning on her pillow, but all she could see in front of her was Arthur Benedict's face. If she had made an impression on him, he had certainly made just as potent a one on her. For the first time in a long while, she realized that being a single lonely divorcee wasn't any fun at all on a dark night when a girl needed a little fooling around. Her soft forefinger began to tickle her pussy, and she had her own nightie pulled up above her waist when suddenly Peggy walked into the bedroom without so much as a by-your-leave. Peggy wore her pajamas, but no slippers. The room was dark, so she couldn't quite make out what her mother was doing at first, but she heard some suspicious gasps and sighs. "Mother?" she anxiously called out.
Martha Sonsby uttered a squeal of shame and consternation, frantically tugged down her nightie, and then rolled over onto her side and reached for the switch of the night lamp, flicking it on. "Peggy, for heaven's sake! What are you doing up at this ungodly hour?"
"I-I just couldn't sleep, Mummy."
Martha's dark-brown eyes softened. Peggy only called her that intimate name when she was feeling very much like a lonely little girl and wanted consolation or attention. "Come crawl into bed, precious," she suggested, "and let's talk it over."
Peggy obeyed at once, turned to her mother and hugged her and exchanged a long and not quite so mother-daughterish kiss. Martha was trembling, because she had almost been at the brink of climax when her daughter had unexpectedly entered the bedroom.
Martha's hair was something of a chestnut hue, and she wore it in a very thick and attractive pageboy. She had a heart shaped face, and her very expressive dark-brown eyes were widely set apart between the bridge of a dainty little Grecian nose. She had an almost wantonly full, ripe red mouth, and a tiny little mole at the left cheekbone. Her skin was warm and creamy, and even at her mature age, there wasn't anything about her skin tone or her figure to indicate her age. Her bobbies, set closely together and quite large, almost like small cantaloupes, were still firm and could go without a bra if need be. The areola were wide, brownish-coral, with very succulent nipples that were quite sensitive and were already firm and hard from Martha's own self-administered finger-frigging.
Her bottom was even more opulent and alluring than Peggy's. The cheeks were upstandingly rounded, quite spacious and yet wonderfully firm. The sinuous crease between them broadened as it neared the base, so that if anyone ever bent Martha Sonsby over a desk, he would have access to both her holes without too much difficulty, and indeed he would have difficulty only in making up his mind as to which he preferred at the time.
"Well, honey," Martha murmured as she cuddled her black-haired daughter, each turning on her side to the other. "Did you have a good time today?"
"Oh yes, Mummy," Peggy whispered, snuggling closer. "Mr. Benedict is awfully nice. And you know something Mummy? I think he likes you a lot."
"Peggy! Why, he just met me for the first time and we only had a few minutes together," Martha couldn't help emitting a rather juvenile giggle, and she blushed deliciously.
"I know, but just the same, he certainly had it bad about you."
"Now, Peggy Sonsby, you stop that silly talk this minute, or I'll spank your bottom!" her mother warned. Just the same, the topic was certainly titillating to the brown-haired matron, judging from the way she gave Peggy a convulsive squeeze and hug. "But you know, dear, I've been doing some thinking. I didn't pick the right fellow the first time, and even though he had lots of nice habits, right now you're without a father and I don't have a husband. What would you think, Peggy, if I were to marry again? Would it make you angry with me?"
"My gosh, Mother," Peggy gasped, "of course it wouldn't! I'd just love to see you happy with somebody who would take care of you, and Mr. Benedict is an awfully nice fellow."
"Now listen, young lady, I didn't say it was going to be Mr. Benedict. The very idea, trying to match me up with a man I've just met for the first time! Would you like another spanking, maybe?"
"If you want to spank me, uh-huh," Peggy confided in a husky little voice as she pressed very tightly up against her voluptuous mother. "But if I had a daddy, he could do the spanking, and that would be more fun."
"Whatever has got into you lately, Peggy?" her mother queried. "I do declare, those necking sessions with that beach boy seemed to have got your mind on a subject that's still a little too far off for you, considering your age."
"I didn't neck with Henry, and you know I didn't! It's only that old Mrs. Farnow who said I did. We just kissed once, and she happened to come along and see it-"
"Drop the subject, young lady. It's dangerous territory. You've already been spanked good and hard for that, and maybe I did get too strict with you that time. It's only that I don't want you throwing yourself away on just the first boy you like. And there'll be lots of nice boys like Henry, and they'll be better able to offer you the security of marriage when the right time comes. But to go back to myself for a minute. Then you really wouldn't mind if I thought of marriage again?"
"It would be wonderful for you, Mummy," Peggy said with a sibilant whisper as she gave her mother an enthusiastic kiss on the cheek. "And anyhow, by next year you said I could date boys, and I might just get married myself. I know the facts of life, Mother, because that's all the girls talk about in school. Only I know enough not to get into trouble and be silly over a boy. But I guess I need lots of loving and affection just the way you do."
"Peggy, I don't know what I'm going to do with you if you keep talking like that!" her mother reached round and gave Peggy's pajama-sheathed bottom an affectionate slap. "Now let's try to get some sleep for a change, and please try not to dream about matching me up with Mr. Benedict. Why, I don't even know that he cares about me in that way, and it's certainly too early for me to feel anything about him."
Peggy only giggled, gave her mother another kiss, and then the two fell asleep. But that didn't stop Peggy Sonsby from having a very naughty dream in which she was lying over her new daddy's lap, her pajamas pants pulled down and her olive-skinned bottom squirming and reddening under her new daddy's spanking hand while her mother stood in the skimpiest of nighties, eagerly watching and waiting for her new daddy to take care of her after he had finished the spanking.
Chapter Twelve
Leila Murray was sitting on her stepfather's lap, an arm around his neck, shyly confessing what had happened this Sunday afternoon when she had gone swimming over at the beach at Kapiolani Park. Jimmy Dalby had been out there with a couple of friends of his, and he had hurried up to her and asked her for a date and even tried to smooch her right in front of God and everybody. And she'd told him huffily that she didn't want to see him again, because she had somebody else who meant a lot more to her.
"That was you, Daddy," she shyly confided, her cheeks flaming with exquisitely demure blushes.
She was wearing play shorts and a short-sleeved blouse, a matching white cotton bra and panty set, and her feet were shod with sandals. They were actually the Japanese zori-type, held on with a strap between the big and next toes. Lester Murray was in his bathrobe and pajamas, and he had taken a luxurious nap most of the afternoon, thinking over his good fortune.
He had written his boss a letter formally resigning his job as accountant, and he had also sent off about a dozen other letters to people he had met and occasionally done odd jobs for, seeing if he couldn't get them to be clients of his in his new accounting agency. He knew Buzz Hardin, the building manager of the Pacific Waikiki Building, and Buzz had told him in a phone conversation just the other day that there was a small office available and that he would give him a break on the rent for the first year. So maybe by Labor Day, if all went well, he'd be able to open up his own office. Meanwhile he could do some work here at home. He was comfortably set, there was plenty in the bank, and now this sweet little devil of a stepdaughter had just about floored him by admitting that she didn't hate him, but on the contrary had a yen for the discipline he had been dishing out and also the sex which followed.
Of course it was going to be a little difficult to handle Leila for the next two years until they could actually go before the license bureau and get a permit to do it legally in bed. He would have to make sure that Leila didn't get close to too many people of her own age during the next two years, just in case she might innocently blab what had been going on between them. But then, he smiled to himself, there was always the hairbrush or the strap to remind her that until they did get married, she was still his ward and hence subject to his discipline. And now the nicest thing about spanking her lovely ass would be the reconciliation that came afterwards.
"I'm proud of you, darling," he told her. "Jimmy is undoubtedly a very nice boy, but he's still much too young for you. It would be a long time before he would have any future to offer you as a husband. Of course, it's true, I'm more than old enough to be your father, but when I'm with you, I certainly don't feel that way or act that way, do I?"
"N-no, D-Daddy," she shyly murmured, averting her lovely face which was crimsoning hotly.
His hand gently reached out and cupped her swelling titties, and Leila gave a little gasp and then hugged him passionately, giving him an intensely furious kiss. The soft warm moist mouth, the sweet pertness of her tongue, intoxicated him. His hands began to fondle her bobbies, and he could feel his prick strain at the fly of his own pajamas. Now his tongue entered her mouth, and Leila gasped and widened her mouth to receive it, and then he could feel the wonderful friction between their tongues as a kind of prelude to the screwing he was going to give this lovely, hot pussied little bitch. What a wife she was going to make! By that time, she would be well broken in as a mistress, and she would be more exciting that way than if she were just marrying him without ever having gone to bed with him before. She would be used to all his ways, she would learn imagination, and her own ardent nature-which was burgeoning right now-would suggest many new methods of pleasing him. Yes, it was going to be something wonderful to look forward to!
"How do you like my Cousin Arthur, baby?" he huskily asked, his hands still squeezing and caressing the glorious turrets of his stepdaughter's titties.
"He's awfully nice! Peggy likes him too, and you know, Daddy, Peggy's mother is really lonesome. You know what an awful time they had with her father, and how he cheated on her and went off with some dancer. Well, Peggy's mother doesn't say very much, but what she really needs is a nice fellow to take care of her. And he would be just great for her, and for Peggy too," Leila answered with the candor of the young.
"That might not be a bad idea for old Art, baby. One thing's sure, though, he's not going to take you away from me. You've been a very good girl this week, Leila, and I'm more and more fond of you every day. If you keep this up, I might never have to spank you again."
Leila blushed furiously. She pressed her scarlet face against his chest, to hide it from him. Then she murmured, "I-I wouldn't mind if you-that is, if you really wanted to spank me, Daddy. I know it sort of gets you all sexy."
"Why, you little devil you! So you found that out already, have you?"
"Uh-huh. It gets me sexy too. You know that yourself, you practically told me so."
"So I did, baby. You're really practically a woman right now. Only you know, after that little chat we had the other time, we're going to have to be very careful with each other. I mean, we can't go letting everybody find out what's been going on between the two of us. Not for about two years till you're old enough for me to take you down to City Hall and marry you properly as I'm certainly going to do."
"I know. It'll sort of be living in sin until then, and that'll make it awfully exciting," she giggled, still keeping her face averted from him.
"Yes it will, baby. You know something, Leila?"
"What, Daddy?"
"Can you feel my cock getting nice and hard up against that sweet bummy of yours right now?"
"Uh-huh. I sure can, Daddy. Want me to do something about it?"
"You mean you're wearing that thing my friend the doctor gave you?"
"Uh-huh. Of course I am. Just using it makes me think about being your girl all the time, Daddy," she confessed with a soft, slurred voice that made his prick nearly burst with desire.
"All right, you can do something about it. But first I want to spank that sweet behind of yours. Let your pajamas pants down, and get over my lap. This isn't a punishment spanking, it's a love spanking, Leila baby," he explained.
Leila squirmed off his lap, and then unfastened her pajamas pants and shoved them down to her knees. For a moment she stood there, her face scarlet and yet with an enchantingly seductive smile on her lovely face. His eyes roamed over her thighs and belly, the thick bush of pussy hair which framed the soft pink pouting lips of her tight, delicious quim. He sighed longingly, and she promptly draped herself over his lap, putting her palms on the floor and bowing her head down, wriggling forward a little so that her behind would be up-reared at the ideal angle for his spanks.
His left arm tucked round her waist, and she gasped softly at this intimation of the sweet stinging heat soon to be inflicted on the satiny globes of her voluptuous young ass. She tightened and then relaxed her bottom muscles, so that he might admire the resilience and vibrancy of her enticing flesh, knowing secretly and being thrilled with the idea that he was studying her intently and that he was desiring her as a man does a woman. She had never felt so grown up before in all her life, and she was ever so happy that things had turned out this way. Because now she knew that a good spanking wasn't in punishment all the time, but it would act like a kind of drug and make a girl really randy to be loved up good and hard.
His right palm was caressing the satiny globes of her ass, his forefinger delicately touching the intimate and sensitive crease between the cheeks, making her gasp and sob with frantic anticipation. She crossed one leg, and then uncrossed it and crossed the other over it, then kept them straight down and thrust her toes against the rug to arch herself up even more lasciviously, wanting him to have all of her.
Then abruptly his right hand rose and fell with a sharp smack on the right summit of her upturned bottom, and, after a very short pause, on the left cheek at the same place. Lovely Leila Murray lifted her flushed face, her eyes wide, sucking in her breath sibilantly, her nostrils flaring. She pressed down hard with her palms and dug the tips of her fingers into the floor to steady herself. She made her muscles tighten, then relaxed them, wanting him to admire the interplay of that sensitive muscularity which accentuated all the lovely contours of her ass and legs. Inflamed by this choreography, Lester Murray quickened the cadence of the spanking, but giving her light glancing smacks with the flat of his hand and not trying to bruise or punish. Soon, after about forty such slaps, Leila's delicious bottom was a vivid pink, and she was sighing and squirming, again crossing and uncrossing her legs, the pajamas pants now twisted round her ankles. Her eyes were suspiciously bright, and her nostrils were dilating and clenching even more sporadically.
"There, baby, I think that'll do for now! Did it hurt too much?"
"Oh no, Daddy, it was lovely! Can I play with you now, please?" she entreated.
"Go right ahead, you darling!"
She slipped off his knees, sank down on her own, and then began to open the fly of his pajamas pants to draw out his bulging prick. She cuddled it between her palms, then her fingertips tickled the balls lingeringly, while it was his turn to suck in his breath and to groan delightedly.
Then suddenly she reached behind her, yanked off the tangled pajamas pants and was naked but for sandals and the tops of her pajamas. These she now unbuttoned, so that he might see the naked panting globes of her voluptuous young bobbies, the nipples stiff and dark with longing. And then once again she resumed the manipulations of his prick. Slowly her head bowed over it, like a reverent acolyte performing a devotional to the high priest of passion. He could feel gusts of breath from her sweet mouth fanning the puckering lips of his prickhead, and he groaned and dug his fingernails into the arms of the chair. Now her lips just nibbled the tip of his whang, and suddenly her teeth grazed the taut spearhead. He let out a groan of ecstatic delight: "Aahhh, you sweet little bitch, yes, yes, oh that's wonderful, Leila!"
Now, her tongue began its imaginative work. Rubbing slowly down from the lips of his prickhead to his very balls, and back up again, Leila Murray rasped the pink sensitizing membrane over his agonized shaft, till he could bear it no longer. "That's enough now, oh God, you sweet devil, I want you," he panted.
"Can we do it this way, Daddy?" she ingenuously asked as she rose to her feet and straddled over his thighs facing him.
"Of course we can, baby. And the reverse position too, with your back to me. I'll show you that next," he delightedly enthused. His hands rose up to fondle her naked titties, as she slowly sank down, adjusting herself, seizing his prick with her left hand, parting the lips of her already gaping pink slit with right thumb and forefinger. Then she engaged him, pressing herself down even more, and her head tilted back and her eyes shone and widened with a sweet lubricity: "Aahhh, oooh, oh Daddy, oh Daddy, it feels so good this way, it rubs so nice, mmmm, is it ever good!" she breathed.
Before the night was over, lovely Leila Murray had tried the other pose, her back to him, his hands massaging her sweet bobbies, and this time her pajamas tops were off and his lips and tongue adored the satiny symmetry of her back and sides. He could feel the sweet jouncy, elastic globes of her ass coming down against his upper thighs, rubbing against his lower belly, as his prick was swallowed up in the soft tight maw of her young ardent cunt. Two years of "living in sin" with his lovely ward wouldn't be hard to take at all, and it would be still nicer when he could openly tell everybody that she was his new wife.
Chapter Thirteen
It was on the following Thursday afternoon that Arthur Benedict telephoned Martha Sonsby at Liberty House where she worked, and after her startled surprise at getting a personal phone call, she was almost girlishly shy when she discovered that what he wanted was a date that very night. "Oh my, Arthur, you oughtn't to have called me at work, they don't like it. But the answer is yes. Do you want to call for me or shall I meet you somewhere?"
"I'll call for you, Martha. Wear your prettiest finery tonight. I'm taking you out to Arthur's for a superb French dinner. And bring Peggy along too," he told her.
He was in his suite at the Ilikai, naked except for sandals, and his lovely call girl companion, Wilma Cathart, was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him, her soft hand fondling his stiff prick, while she smiled rather sadly at him. She knew what was going through his mind. He was hot for Peggy's mother, and maybe even for a little piece of Peggy later on. He was quite a guy, Arthur Benedict was, she told herself. It was just too bad she couldn't get him to make it legal with her, because she would do just about anything for a guy like him. He treated her wonderfully, and this was a vacation she would never forget. In fact, it was going to be awfully hard to go back to all those Johns in Chicago after this.
After he had hung up, she began to tickle his balls, while, perching her chin on his shoulder, she huskily murmured, "I suppose I'm going to be a sort of widow again tonight, aren't I?"
"I'm afraid you are, Wilma baby. I might as well level with you. Maybe it was coming over here and seeing how easygoing and relaxed and friendly everybody was, but all of a sudden I've come to the conclusion that it's high time I settled down and got myself a wife. And I'll have a readymade daughter along with her, too."
"I know. Peggy's adorable. She's also a temptation to a man like you, with a prick like this, darling."
"Wilma Cathart! That would certainly be illegal, and you know it."
"I know it, but do you, lover?" she giggled.
"I wouldn't blame you if you tried to get into her panties. Or at least, once you become her father, you'll have the right to give her a good sound spanking on the bare, and I'll bet even if you don't fuck her you'll have a terrific hard-on when you do get her over your lap."
"In that case," he guipped, turning to cup her titties and shove her back on the bed, his mouth just inches from hers, "I can always take it out on her mother, can't I? Meanwhile, you gorgeous bitch, I'm going to take it out on you."
"Good. And maybe if you do try to make love to that woman tonight, you won't be able to shine so much. I'm going to drain you dry, Arthur Benedict, see if I don't," she promised.
She was angling with her legs down to the floor, her heels planted hard against the floor. Her thighs were spread, her arms lifted up to enfold him, as he crouched over her. It was the position of extreme flextion, highly recommended by Dr. Theo van de Velde in his book "Ideal Marriage." In a position like this, a big-cocked man could reach bottom and scrape the sides, and really send a girl flying through outer space. From the very first moment, when he thrust deep to the balls inside of her, Wilma Cathart knew that she was going to hit the ceiling. Her eyes rolled, her mouth gaped, and a sobbing groan escaped her. "Oh my God, that's just wonderful, oh darling, screw me, fuck me, I want to take very drop you've got so she can't have it, give it to me hard!" she implored.
Planting his elbows on either side of her, his face twisted and flushed with lust, Arthur Benedict began to fuck. He felt Wilma under him, responding. Her body arched each time he withdrew, and her tight cunt walls gripped and kissed him, trying to draw him back into their hungry embrace. He worked over her even longer than he thought he could, grinding his teeth to hold back the spunk, until finally he could stand no more. With a savage cry, he lunged to the balls inside of her, and then exploded. At the same moment, Wilma, reaching her own peak, flung her legs up in the air and locked them over his ass, and together they rolled and twisted on the bed, while his sobbing groans indicated the intensity of his lust and appeasement.
"Oh baby," he moaned when it was over, "you're the most!"
"Then why don't you marry me instead of her?" she sulked.
"Because you know yourself you wouldn't be happy married. I guess I might even go chasing, even when I marry Martha Sonsby-though she doesn't know it yet. Anyhow, what I will do is try to find you a husband."
"Do you mean that? Because I'll tell you something truthful, honey, ever since I came here, I've sort of hated the idea of going back to Chicago and earning my living on my back again. I never felt we were commercial-you know what I mean?"
"Of course I do. That's very flattering, too. But between myself and Cousin Les, we'll find you a guy with money and a good hard prick and an appreciation of what you've got to offer, Wilma, and that's my promise. Now give me a nice kiss, then go clean up. I'm going to give you some money and you go and treat yourself to the Monarch Room, a good dinner, wine and a show. I'll let you know tonight when I get back how things worked out."
"You just better," she playfully threatened as she reached over and pinched his behind. He quickly grabbed her by the wrists before she could run away, and flung her back down on the bed, this time on her face. Then, kneeling astride her back, facing her bottom, he gave her a playful but stinging spanking which had her kicking and squealing frantically.
Once again his prick was hard, but Wilma decided to continue her campaign of depleting him all she could, because it was her only weapon against a rival she just couldn't buck. She slithered away from him, then got down on her knees, put her hands against his behind, and began to suck and lick his prick. He was going to stop her, but the sensation was too exciting. Helplessly, his eyes closed, panting hard, he felt himself drawn towards the abyss once more, and then he shot his wad into her mouth and she swallowed it all.
"Now you can go off on your date and I won't be so worried," she teased.
* * *
"Oh my, Mr. Benedict, that was one of the richest, most wonderful dinners I ever had in my life," Martha Sonsby exclaimed as she finished her last sip of coffee and leaned back with a sigh of repletion.
"It was my pleasure, Martha-and please, won't you call me Arthur instead of Mr. Benedict. It makes me look so old and feel so old, too," he protested.
"But you're not old at all, Uncle Arthur," Peggy piped up, irrepressible as always.
Her mother blushed even as she gave her a warning glance, then stammered, "Of course you're not old, and if you like, I will call you Arthur. It was very good of you to bring Peggy along too."
"Why not? She's a very beautiful young woman, just like you," he flattered.
"Arthur, you're just too much! Let's get out of here before we both say things we don't mean," the flustered buxom brown-haired divorcee giggled.
About fifteen minutes later, the cab deposited all three at the curb in front of Martha's bungalow. As she, Peggy and Arthur Benedict walked up the stairs, she suddenly stopped dead and gasped, "The nerve of that awful woman! It's Mrs. Farnow, peering through her curtains. I suppose now that she sees you, Arthur, she suspects the very worst!"
"Good! Then I'm glad I told her off that afternoon," he retorted. He turned, put both thumbs to his ears, and waggled his fingers derisively in the direction of the old gossip. He was rewarded by seeing the curtains suddenly pulled to, and he burst into uproarious laughter. "That'll fix her, the old goat! Now let's go inside where we can be more private," he proposed.
Martha Sonsby was looking really delicious in a pink rayon dress whose hem just let him see the glimpse of adorably dimpled, round knees sheathed in beige nylons. Peggy herself was enchanting in a red cotton dress quite as modestly cut, with charcoal-brown pantyhose and sandals. She had even worn, though not without some giggling protest, a blue ribbon to her black pony tail.
"You've a lovely place, Martha. I can see the feminine touch everywhere," he praised the blushing divorcee.
"Well, I do try my best. Of course, it's a little difficult to manage sometimes, what with working a job days and having to look after this unruly girl of mine," Martha Sonsby laughed softly.
"Mother!" Peggy exclaimed, and in her turn blushing vividly. "I'm not unruly, and you know it!"
"Don't press your luck too far, young lady," Martha Sonsby playfully warned, "because I'm sure you wouldn't like to see Uncle Arthur, as you call him, watch you get a spanking. You know, Arthur, one of the reasons that Peggy is as nice as she is is because I've kept her toeing the mark all the time. I don't hesitate to spank her when she needs it, and on the bare, too!"
"Oh Mother!" Peggy wailed, twisting her fingers nervously and turning the color of a Hawaiian sunset. She didn't dare look at Arthur Benedict, who was secretly staring at her with covert desire. What a juicy piece of virgin pussy she was, the little black-haired quim! What he wouldn't give to be able to turn her over his lap, pull up and pull down and spank! And then, satisfy himself with the mother who would be forced to watch her daughter getting it on the bare. He'd even give it to Martha if she didn't come across properly, once she was his wife. All sorts of delightful husbandly images filled his mind. And suddenly he thought to himself, with wry humor, that his last name, Benedict, stood for a married man as against bachelor. It was a very fitting omen for tonight!
"I won't tell anybody, Peggy, so don't be so embarrassed," he chuckled. "But I do wonder if I could ask a favor of you, dear. I'd like to talk to your mother in private for a moment. My I?"
"Sure, Uncle Arthur." Peggy sprang up from the couch, hurried over to him, put her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Pop the question, please, Uncle Arthur. I'd just love to have you for a daddy!"
"Peggy Sonsby! Now you get to your room this minute, and maybe I'll come in and see you later on! The idea, saying a thing like that to Mr. Benedict!" her mother gasped, consternated and now, as Peggy hastily left the room, knowing when she was well off, not a little ill at ease.
He rose from his chair and walked over to her, sat down beside her on the couch. "I know it's ridiculous to talk about love at first sight, and I know the arguments you're going to put up, Martha. You've only met me once or twice, but that's enough for me. I can give you a pretty good financial accounting. I own a dude ranch in Arizona, and it's bringing in a net of about fifty grand a year, with every prospect for more earnings in the future. I won't have to be there all the time to run it, I've got capable help, and I've got a clientele that comes back for more. Also, I was even thinking of opening some little business here in Honolulu, so I could spend at least six or seven months of the year-probably between October and April-right here in Paradise. And if you'd be with me, it really would be Paradise."
"My gracious me! Are you-are you proposing to me, by any chance, Arthur?"
"I certainly am, Martha. If I'm brash, put it down to that famous song which Walter Houston made so immortal, September Song. You remember the lines, 'I haven't got time for the waiting game.' It's not that I'm that old, I'm only about forty-two, but still I never have been married and I realize now how much I've been missing. And then there's something else, too. I'd have a daughter right in the family. And I couldn't ask for a nicer girl than Peggy, who takes after her mother."
"Well, in some ways I hope not, Arthur!" she gasped, her cheeks flaming. "That girl has the most unmitigated gall of anyone I know, coming out and saying a thing like that! She's trying to make a match between us, you know."
"I think she's got a wonderfully lot of common sense, and I think she likes me. That's a good start, isn't it? Of course the main issue is, do you like me, Martha?"
Martha Sonsby averted her face, then slowly nodded, "I do, very much. But-well, I was married before, as you know, and I thought he was wonderful, but he was cheating on me-"
"I'm a man like anybody else, Martha," he interrupted, "but at forty-two, I think I've had my fling. I've had plenty of women, and I know how to be considerate of them and not selfish just for my own pleasure. And besides, now that you've got a wonderful daughter like Peggy, it would give me a double incentive, to work harder to provide for both of you. Would you like to give me a chance and see if I can't do that?"He took both her hands in his, brought them to his lips and kissed them.
Martha Sonsby Sonsby shivered. "Oh Arthur, I wish I could believe you, I really do! I-it has been lonely, I admit it has. But having a man isn't the only solution to everything, you know."
"It helps a lot, especially on a cold winter's night. And you'd spend some of those winters back in Arizona or maybe even Chicago once in a while, or New York," he chuckled as he drew her to him.
Martha's face was flaming as his mouth came down on hers. For a moment, she pushed against his chest, trying to extricate herself. Then with a sigh, she locked her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with gusto. His hands moved slowly down her dimpled, rounded shoulders, grazing the curved at the sides of her wonderful full bobbies. When she felt that, she gasped and squirmed against him, all her senses rekindled, as if she were a virgin bride on her wedding night. Oh it had been a long time since Martha Sonsby had been fucked, and now her pussy was twitching and getting moist in her thin panties.
"Stop kissing me, I have to get my breath and I have to think, Arthur darling," she breathlessly murmured a moment later, arranging her rumpled dress which had hiked up halfway along her plump, milky thighs.
"I'll give you all the time in the world you want, just about fifteen minutes to decide whether it's yes or no, honey."
"Oh you! There are a few serious things we have to talk about. For instance, we have to decide whether Peggy should go on to college or else maybe get a job.
"That's easy. I think six months at work would give her some wonderful ideas about how to make her own money, be independent, and fall back on her own resources in case anything should ever happen to us. I'm all for that. She's still young enough so that waiting until she's eighteen for college won't hurt her, Martha."
"That makes sense. You do seem to think about us both, don't you?"
"You'll never know how much," he said, crossing her fingers behind his back. He didn't want to tell Martha Sonsby that one of the reasons he wanted to marry her was to be able to have this luscious black-haired teenaged girl around, sometimes perhaps prancing in her nightie or her undies once he was her father, and maybe being permitted to spank her lovely virgin ass all bare and see the warm olive skin turn red, and hear her squeals and watch her kick and perhaps show him a glimpse of that virgin quim of hers. But his prick was starting to grow hard, even though Wilma Carthhart had already taken two offerings of boiling lava from it not many hours ago.
"Well, as they might say in the books, this is so sudden, Arthur. But I think-yes I really do, I think we could make a go of it. Only of course I'd want to know more about you."
"That's easy. I can get you that prospectus on my ranch, my financial statement from my bank in Tuscon, and a couple of letters of reference as to my moral character and sterling qualities, darling. I'll have those here next week. Then maybe you'll set a date?"
"We'll see. Now you mustn't rush me, dear. Besides, it's too early to tell yet whether you're really in love with me. Maybe this is just infatuation, because you're lonely."
"Do you want me to show you how really much I care for you?"
"Now wait a minute-no-what are you doing-stop it-oh you awful man-no, don't you dare-I told you not to-oh my-you've gone and pulled up my dress and slip-oh no, not my panties too, oh please, Arthur, oh darling, you're not going to spank me? I'm too big for that-oh Arthur, stop it! I'll scream, Peggy'll hear!"
"Let her. Then she'll come down and watch, and maybe you'd like that?" he chuckled.
Arthur Benedict had pulled Martha Sonsby directly over his lap on the couch. He had hoisted up skirt and petticoat, and then started to roll down her panties while she kicked and struggled, trying to put her hands behind her to fend off his audacious assault. But as he saw the plump curves of the milky bottom emerge as the panties descended, his lust rose, and soon the panties were whisked down to her knee hollows. Then, gripping both her wrists with his left hand, and pinning them at the small of her back, he caressed her naked ass while Martha Sonsby kicked her legs and tried frantically to wriggle off the couch, tearfully protesting his brash and unheard-of actions.
"You awful man, this is wrong and you know it-now you pull my clothes back up-stop it -don't you dare-oh take your hand away-oh you're just horrible-no I won't marry you, no-owww! That hurts, stop it, Arthur, oh please stop, ahrrrowwww!! You're hurting me, oooh, please, please, you're hurting me terribly-stop it, stop it, you make me want to die of shame this way-you haven't any right to do a thing like this to me-oh my-ouch-oh please-stop it, ahrrrrowwww!"
Quickly mastering her revolt, shifting her legs over onto the floor and quickly clamping his right leg over her calves, maintaining his grip on her wrists with his left hand, Arthur Benedict began to spank her energetically. Her big plump bottom was wonderfully satiny and elastic, and to feel his hand flatten against the voluptuously ripe curves of each cheek intoxicated him. As the flesh sprang up, he could see the bright pink turn a brighter red, and the sounds of her cries and the sight of her struggling and tear stained face totally overwhelmed his cautious moral reason. Now he had only one thing in view, to force her to capitulation and then to beg him for a fucking. That would finally cement their union!
She twisted back her congested, tear stained face to him, her mouth a red, trembling 0 of anguish and mingled sensuality: "Owwweeeouuu!! Oh please stop, oh darling, Arthur, I'll be good, stop spanking me, oh this is awful, I haven't ever been spanked like this in all my life-oh how you hurt my poor bottom-please, darling, no more!"
"That's up to you, baby." His hand remained lofted over her flaming ass. "Now say what I want you to say and mean it!" he commanded.
"I don't know what you mean-owww, ahrrr, oh please, no more, I'll say it, I'll say it, yes, I'll marry you, oh Arthur, I do love you, oh you're so masterful, and you hurt my poor bottom so much, you wicked man, I'll marry you, but please don't spank me anymore now, please!" she wailed.
"That's better. And we'll set the date-wait a minute, how long does it take to get a marriage license here?"
"A few days, and the b-b-blood test too-oh Arthur, are you sure you want to?"
"You silly, after looking at that gorgeous bottom of yours, of course I'm going to marry you. I want full rights over you, young lady, and if you don't accord them to me, you can just imagine what I'm going to do to your bottom again-like this!" Suiting action to word, he brought his hand down in a crisp smack but drew a wail from the wriggling, buxom brown-haired divorcee: "Eeeyeoww! You can do anything you want, if you'll only stop spanking me now, darling!"
"That's what I like to hear. Nice and submissive, the way a well-trained wife is going to learn to be," he chuckled. "All right, get up now, but don't pull your clothes back down. You could step out of your panties, if you'd like."
"The very idea! And what do you want that for? You make me feel so ashamed-oh no, don't turn me back over your lap-I'll do it-I'll do it, only please stop!" As he pretended to seize her again, Martha frantically scrambled to her feet, rubbing her skirt and slip way up, and rubbing one leg against the other until the twisted panties were finally off her charming feet, and the thick bush of her dark-brown cunt-hair was plainly visible at the apex of her milky plump thighs. Her face was flaming now, and she stared transfixed as she watched him calmly yank down his zipper and bare his bulging prick. "Ohhhh-oh no, oh Arthur darling-oh no, not now, for heaven's sake, what if Peggy should come in?"
"Then she'll find out that her new father is quite a man, baby, and so will you!" was his answer. He seized her by the elbows, flung her down on the couch on her back, and got over her before she could fight him off. A moment later, Martha Sonsby wasn't trying to fight anything except the urge to coalesce with him just as hard as she could. Her stockinged legs were wrapped around his thighs, her mouth was glued to his, tears of joy were running down her congested cheeks, and her fingernails were gouging his neck and shoulders as she arched and squirmed, panting, "Oh my God, oh it's so good, oh harder, darling, oh give it to me, you made me so hot with that spanking, I just have to have it-oh my darling, what a wonderful husband you're going to make for me!"
They were so engrossed in each other that they didn't hear Peggy tiptoe down the stairway. She had come back to find out what was going on, and she stopped dead in her tracks, put her hand to her mouth, and tried her best to hold back her giggles. But her eyes didn't miss a single facet of the incredible spectacle there on the couch beyond her. Finally, as she saw them both collapse in the spasm of climax, she hurried quietly back up to her room. Then, locking the door, she slipped off all her clothes except her bra and panties, plunged her right forefinger under the leg of her panties and found her pussy and began to frig herself. "Oh my goodness," she whispered half-loud, half to herself, "I'm so happy for Mummy. And it's going to be just wonderful having a man in the house, especially when I need spanking. I can hardly wait to be bad so he can pull my panties down and spank my bottom. I thought I heard him spanking Mummy, and I guess that's why she gave in. Maybe he'll do the same to me too, because I've got a pretty bottom once I get a chance to show it to him."
EPILOGUE
It was just ten days later after the fateful events in the Sonsby bungalow. Wilma Cathhart had presided as a bridesmaid at the little church near the Bishop Museum, and Leila and her step-father Lester Murray had been in attendance, Lester being Arthur Benedict's best man as he stood beside the blushing, adoring-looking Martha Sonsby in pink organdy and veil. She had whispered to him just before the ceremony started, "I couldn't wear white, darling, because you know I'm not a virgin. But I wish I were, just for tonight, for you."
"I'll bet you still have some virginity left, baby, and I'll show you what I mean much later on," was his whispered answer, one which made Martha Sonsby turn red to the tips of her dainty ears and give him a shocked, then giggling look which quickly sobered as the minister stepped before them ...
After the bridal dinner at the Captain's Galley in the old Moana Hotel, one of the first three built on Waikiki Beach, the happy wedding party broke up, Arthur to take his new bride back to the bungalow along with black-haired Peggy, while Leila Murray and her stepfather, hand in hand, went to another cab to go back to their place. Wilma Cathhart was left standing at the curb waiting for a third cab, with a tall, black haired young man of twenty-eight named Cal Evander at her side. Cal was one of the assistant bookkeepers in the firm for which Lester Murray had worked for so many prosperous years, and it had been Lester Murray's idea to invite Cal along to the wedding for the sole purpose of meeting luscious auburn-haired Wilma, after Arthur Benedict had taken him aside and talked very candidly and earnestly about Wilma's potential as a future bride.
Cal Evander was a bachelor, and he was also a rather shy young man but one who had many fantasies about pussy. His circumspect morality, forced upon him by an overzealous governess and a father and mother who had separated and each of whom had initially told him that sex was lustful and wicked, needed a thorough catharsis, and Lester was of the opinion that Wilma was exactly the catalytic agent who could affect the transformation of this sober but very handsome and virile male into a prime cocksmith.
Wilma also had been briefed, and she had been told that Cal had one little Achilles heel; it was simply that he didn't like to be teased by a girl, because when he was sixteen, he had had a crush on a girl of his own age who had twitted him and who had made him so mad that he had taken her over his lap and spanked her. For that, he had almost been expelled from school and his governess had herself given him a spanking, big though he was.
"Where would you like to go, Miss Cathhart?" he used her correct name, for that was how he had been introduced to Wilma, who now saw no reason for proclaiming herself "Wilma Cathway," or pretending that she was Arthur Benedict's secretary. Lester Murray knew the secret, but of course Martha Sonsby-or Benedict, to give her her proper name now-didn't.
"Wherever you like, Cal. What a wonderful moonlit night it is! I'd like to go walking on the beach."
"That can be arranged. Mr. Murray says you're from Chicago. You-you're certainly as lovely as any of the girls I've ever seen here in Hawaii," he blurted self-consciously, his face reddening.
"Why, thank you, Cal."
Cal Evander told the driver to go around Diamond Head and then stop at the little beach just before they got to the Kahala Hilton. There was a public phone on the highway, from which they could call another cab when they were finished. He paid the driver, and then helped Wilma down to the beach along the white sand. The lapping of the blue Pacific was beyond them, gentle as the waves softly washed ashore. It was low tide, and the moon was out playing its golden glimmering upon the waters. Here and there, fire in the sky, the red and green lights of a plane on its way to the other islands decorated the sky. "Oh it's just so wonderful out here, Cal!" Wilma murmured.
"It sure is. I came from New Jersey myself, but I would never go back. Of course it does get a little warm here in the summer, but there's so much else that's beautiful around here. Like you, M'am."
"Why, how sweet!" Wilma giggled. "But I'll bet you say that to all the girls."
His face reddened. "No I don't, Miss Cathway."
"First it's Miss Cathway and then it's M'am, and then once you called me Wilma. Don't you know what to call a girl, Cal?" she deliberately goaded him.
"Now just a minute," he said angrily, "there's no call to go and make a joke about it. I just haven't been out with many girls."
"That's evident. You act like a country bumpkin, if you want to know something," she sniffed. Then she turned her back on him and flounced away. Cal Evander glared at her, clenching his fists, then he decided. He ran after her, seized her by the shoulders, twisted her around, and snarled, "You're not going to try that stunt, young lady! I can see that just because you're from the mainland, you think you can ride roughshod over people. Well, not out here you don't. I'm going to give you something to remember me by!"
"Stop it-what are you doing-ouch-oh no-don't you dare pull up my clothes-Cal, Cal Evander, you stop that-ouch-ohhhh-owww, you pull my panties back up-owww, it hurts, oh stop it, stop it, oh darling, stop it, oh please, I want you to, I'll be good, I'll do anything you want, honest, oh please, Cal, you're hurting my poor bottom, I'll be a good girl, just let up a minute, let me talk to you!"
He had sat down on a heavy piece of driftwood cast up by the ocean, pulled her down across his lap, yanked up her dress and slip, tugged down her panties, and begun to spank her tawny-sheened, impudently rounded naked ass. Wilma kicked her lovely legs and struggled frantically, but to no avail. Finally she gave up. She had accomplished her purpose.
He was breathing hard, and his eyes were fixed on the reddening cheeks of her voluptuous ass. Suddenly he felt contrition. "Gosh, I didn't mean-"
"Oh you darling fool, I wanted you to do that! Oh Cal, love me now, make it up to me for the pain you gave me, please," she panted. Wriggling around, she turned over on his lap, put her arms around his neck and drew his face down to her. The next moment, he was dazzled by the most thrilling kiss he'd ever had, especially when her tongue jabbed between his lips and rubbed against his own. Instinctively he put out his hand, only to find that it was on her belly. Moving it down, he encountered the thick fleece of her cunt. And then with a groan of delight, Cal Evander promptly forgot all his inhibitions and became a man out there on the beach under the moonlight.
Wilma Cathhart somehow knew that she wasn't going back to Chicago, at least not for a long, long while. And what a cocksmith he had turned out to be! She had climaxed twice before he came, and he was still hard as a rock even when he had spent inside of her. "Oh my darling," she breathed, "I'll be anything you want me to be, I'll be your slave, I'll love you up, oh you darling!"
"You stop naughty talk like that, Wilma," he chided. "I'm going to marry you, not right away, but after you've learned to become a lady and not tease fellows like that. But right now, I guess I'm going to give it to you again."
"There's nobody around to stop you, and I can't scream that loud anyway," she whispered happily as she settled herself for another good hard screwing. . ..
Leila and Lester Murray were naked in bed together, and Leila was on top. Her eyes were dancing, as she locked her hands behind her stepfather's neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. His hands were fondling her titties, and then roamed over her bottom, beginning to squeeze the luxuriantly satiny cheeks. Slyly she rubbed her pussy lips against his stiff cock-head, tantalizing him until finally he grabbed her by the ass and skewered her to the very balls. Then they began to fuck, her mouth glued to his, as whimperingly Leila Murray tasted the forbidden joys which, a short and not quite two years from now, would be hers legally to enjoy to the very fullest ...
Arthur Benedict and his new wife had enjoyed two ferocious fucks, and Martha Sonsby was asleep. It was two in the morning, and Arthur Benedict yawned, tiptoed out of bed and walked to the kitchen. What was his surprise to find Peggy there in a very sheer nightie, a shortie nightie at that, and slippers. She was raiding the refrigerator.
"Why can't you sleep, Peggy?"
"Because," she said, looking at him boldly, "I was thinking about what you and Mom were doing."
"Peggy, that's going just a bit too far, if you don't mind my saying so."
"But I do. Just because you married Mom, doesn't give you any right to say what I can do," she boldly defied him.
He stared at her for a moment, incredulously. Then he chuckled. "You little minx, I know what you want, and I'm going to accommodate you."
He sat down on a chair, pulled Peggy over his lap, rucked up her shortie nightgown, and a few minutes later, her beautiful olive skinned ass was bounding and squirming around on his lap, while the cries and squeals and protests she was emitting were not at all feigned. After he had finished, a not too hard spanking, his hand began to stroke her palpitating, warm, reddened virgin ass. "One of these nights, baby," he promised huskily, "you're going to lead a man on just a little too far. And if your mother doesn't happen to be around, you might find that you've bitten off more than you can chew."
"I wouldn't ever bite it off, Uncle Arthur," was her daringly brazen reply as she turned back her tear stained face to giggle and to wink at him, "I want you to save some for me, whatever Mom can't take."
It looked very much indeed as if Arthur Benedict had found not only a wife, but also a spanking sweetheart!
