Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 FOX AND HOUNDS PT 1

   "Drat!" said Cindy as she flipped through her mail.  Bills, bills, and
more bills.  And the money was running out.  Where was Rudy, her damn
agent? Not a call in 3 weeks.  Every time she called him it was allways
"things will open up soon; or, there is a new show starting and I know the
producer".  But nothing ever came of it.  Cindy knew in her heart she was a
first class dancer and a good actress.  She kept up with her study at the
Midtown dance studio and worked out religiously.  It showed.  Cindy was a
honey-haired blonde, 5' 5" , her 120 lbs distributed in all the right
places.  She had well sculpted dancer's legs and smallish but well formed
breasts, creamy skin and a pert heart-shaped ass that wiggled deliciously
in the short skirts and tight slacks that she favored.

   She knew she had to find something soon or she would have to slink home
to Texas and admit defeat.  They would all say "I told you so", like she
wasn't tough enough for the Big Apple.  Well she would show them!  Even if
it took dancing as a stripper in some sleazy club, she would survive.  She
was tough enough, dammit!

   She was still building up a nice head of steam about small town minds
when she noticed the blinking message light on the phone.  She hit the play
button.  Like a gift from the gods, Rudy Bannerman's thick Brooklynese
emanated from the message machine!

   "Sorry its been a while, kid, but hey ,I may have something for ya. 
It's only a weekend gig but it pays well.  I don't know much about it,
myself, but do yourself a favor and call a Mr Arcado at 456-9008.  He's the
one with all the details.  Good luck!"

   Great!  Finally, a possible job.  She wasted no time and dialed the
number.  A gentleman answered.  He sounded cultured, and spoke formal and
correct English with a European accent.  She couldn't place it.  Spanish
perhaps?

   "Uh, Mr Arcado?  This is Cindy Morgan.  My agent, Mr Bannerman gave me
your number."

   "Ahh...yes, Ms Morgan.  I am so glad you called.  Rudy spoke very highly
of you.  Yes, we may have need of your talents.  Let me explain briefly and
then if you are interested we can meet and I will describe this situation
in more detail."

   "Yes..er..that would be fine".

   "Good.  I represent a company called Fantasies Unlimited.  We own resort
property all over the world, and we have a resort in the Carolinas.  It's a
hotel situated on a 2000 acre preserve.  We would like to fly you to our
resort for a weekend to have you participate in a game, an athletic contest
of sorts, a fantasy that we have prepared for some very wealthy patrons of
ours."

   A game?  What was this?

   "What sort of game, Mr Arcado?  I'm a dancer and an actress, not an
athlete."

   "But you are an athlete, Ms Morgan.  You are a dancer in tip top
condition.  You work out and run regularly, and you played varsity tennis
in high school."

   How did he know all that, thought Cindy?

   "You seem to know a lot about me, Mr Arcado."

   "We have done our homework, Ms Morgan.  Let me be blunt.  We would like
to engage you, and we are prepared to pay you 10000 dollars for one weekend
of work."

   Whaaaat?  Thought Cindy, $10000??  That was more than she would see in 3
months!

   "Are you serious?" Cindy blurted, still not believing.

   "I am very serious Ms Morgan.  If you wish to know more about this
opportunity, I would like for you meet me in the lounge of the
Ritz-Carlton, tonight.  I apologize but our time frame is rather short."

   "Yes...yes...I am very interested.  What time?"

   "Meet me at 9:00.  I'll have a table."

   "How will I know you?"

   "I'll know you, Ms Morgan."

   ********************* Cindy entered the lounge of the Ritz-Carlton at 9.
She did not want to be late.  She wore a cocktail dress, having decided to
go for understated elegance.  It was a short little black dress that
displayed her lithe body to perfection.  As she walked in and looked
around, she saw a tall distinguished looking man in an expensive suit rise
from his table and approach her, smiling.  He was tanned and had a thin
moustache, his hair graying at the temples.  He looked to be in his late
40's.

   "Ms Morgan, it's a pleasure," he said, extending his hand, "Thank you
for coming.  I'm Alex Arcado.  Please sit down."

   "Thank you, Mr Arcado," said Cindy, smiling as he pulled out a chair for
her to sit.

   "What will you have to drink?"

   "Thank you, I think a white wine, Mr Arcado."

   They chatted pleasantly, killing time until the drinks arrived.  Arcado
was an international traveller, Cindy learned, and a charming host.  He
asked her about her career and seemed genuinely interested in her
experiences in the New York theatre scene.  She had started in on her
recent difficulty finding work when Arcado interjected.

   "That's where we may be of some service, Ms Morgan.  As I mentioned,
this job pays $10000 for one weekend."

   "It sounds so mysterious, Mr Arcado.  Why me and what do I have to do?"

   "Let me explain.  Fantasies Unlimited is in the business of setting up
and facilitating fantasy adventures.  We cater to a select and extremely
wealthy clientele.  The resort property in the Carolinas used to be a game
preserve for hunters.  We have turned it into a game preserve of a
different sort.  We use it to play a very sophisticated game of fox and
hounds, or if you prefer, hide-and-go-seek.  When we set up a weekend
adventure like this, about 100 guests arrive on a Friday, along with the
"foxes" who will be hunted.  On Saturday the game begins.  Six young women
such as yourself are the foxes, the guests are the hounds.  You are
transported to remote areas of the estate and are given an hour head start.
The "hounds" if you will, wait one hour and then set out to find and
capture you.  If you evade capture until 4pm when the siren sounds, you
have won.  If you are captured, well, you are captured."

   Wow!  How bizzarre!  I guess it's true, she thought, the rich are not
like the rest of us.

   "It sounds so simple.  A game of chase in the woods.  And you will pay
me $10,000 to play?  What's the catch?"

   "These are very wealthy and sophisticated individuals, Ms Morgan. 
Thrill seekers I may say, and in order to make things more exciting for
all, the game has been, well...  spiced up a bit.  You see, if you are
captured there is a forfeit to be paid.  Whether you are captured or not
you still get the $10,000, but the possibility of the forfeit keeps you on
your toes.  It adds extra incentive for you to evade capture.  After all,
the easiest way to earn the $10,000 would be to simply sit down under a
tree and wait to be found.  We wouldn't want that.  It would be boring and
pointless."

   "So what is this forfeit?  Do I have to push a peanut across the floor
with my nose or something?" giggled Cindy.  "Like some sorority initiation
stunt?"

   "Not exactly, Ms Morgan, but it is embarrassing and a bit painful."
Arcado's eyes bored into hers.  " You see, Ms Morgan, if you are captured
you will be....spanked by the man or woman who captures you, then,
later,...whipped,...  quite publicly, that evening, after supper....for the
entertainment of all the guests."

   Cindy jerked upright.  " Spanked?...Whipped?  In public?  Are you
serious?" Now she understood the reason for the large amount of money for a
seemingly innocent bit of fun.

   "Yes, if you get caught, your capturer, as a reward, gets to administer
a somewhat humiliating but mild spanking in front of the others.  Then
later that evening you will be led into the ballroom, stripped naked, tied
to a post or other device and whipped.  I can tell you that it is a
somewhat painful experience, but it is not a brutal punishment.  Specially
made implements are used that do not damage the skin.  In a week there will
be no sign that it ever happened.  We have a doctor on duty who will
dispense special healing salve afterwards to alleviate the momentary
discomfort."

   Cindy thought carefully.  The possibilty of being whipped...  naked in
front of strangers!  Not to mention a childish spanking!  But it was
$10,000, guaranteed!  It would pay the rent for quite awhile.  As she
pondered, Arcado added,

   "If you do evade capture, you will attend the evening banquet as a
guest, with the other guests.  But because you escaped, someone else must
take your place at the whipping post or the frame.  Please understand,
these are thrill seekers and risk takers.  So they have elected to put
themselves on the line as well.  For each "fox" that escapes, two names are
drawn by lot, and each of those pair will be chastised in your place.  Each
one will have to disrobe before the assembly and assume the position you
would have taken and accept your forfeit.  So you see, the stakes have been
raised to make the game interesting, and quite a bit more exciting.  Any
one of the hounds could find him or herself bound to the post awaiting the
lash.  And, incidently, since the paying guests put themselves in the same
jeopardy as the paid "foxes" you know the lashing is only moderately
severe, not overly so."

   "Who..who actually does the...  er whipping?"

   "Experts on contract, specially trained and brought in for this event.
You see, you will not be flogged everywhere on your person.  The lashes,
like the spanking, are to be administered only on the backside, primarily
to your naked, er...  bottom where there is the most ah...  padding, if you
will.  Tell me, were you spanked as a child?  Do you know what that feels
like?  Perhaps you were caned at school, or, I suppose here in the states I
should say, paddled?"

   Her blush answered his question.

   She most certainly had been paddled.  She flashed back to an incident
that had occurred when she was in high school.  She had been 17, a senior
on the cheerleading squad.  Like all new seniors they started out the year
thinking they could get away with anything.  After the afternoon away game
at East High she and Betsy and Linda had hitched a ride with some cute boys
instead of going back on the bus like they were supposed to.  Much later,
after a few stops, they arrived back at school to find a very angry
assistant principal, Mrs Ramsey, waiting for them.  A tall powerfully built
woman in her 40's, "Ragin' Ramsey", as she was known, was a formidable
disciplinarian.

   She was too angry to deal with them then and told them to report to her
office after school on Monday.  THey were stunned when, on Monday, a stern
visaged Mrs Ramsey presented them with permission slips...  for a paddling!
A six swat paddling, no less--the maximum permitted.  But the school could
not administer a paddling without parental permission.  Since none of them
wanted their parents to know what they had done, they could not show their
parents the permission slips.  And so they agonized and plotted over what
to do.  The alternative was suspension for a week, and the cat would be out
of the bag if that happened as well.  They decided to take the paddling,
but in order to cover up the incident, they had to forge their parents'
signatures on the permission slips.

   It had taken place on Wednesday afternoon after cheerleading practice.
They went to Mrs Ramsey's office and all three handed her the permission
slips.  She perused the slips for a moment.  They had looked nervously at
each other.  Apparantly satisfied, she called in her secretary to witness
punishment, and pulled a solid looking wooden paddle from a drawer and
tapped it against her palm.  They had all gulped in fear at the sight of
the paddle.  It was made of some hardwood, maple or someting, 18" long and
4" wide and 1/2" thick.  There were two rows of holes down the length of
it.

   One at a time they bent over the desk, elbows flat, buttocks presented
for punishment.  Mrs Ramsey had flipped up each short cheerleader skirt,
rubbed the paddle across the green satin panties they wore underneath and
had drawn back her arm.  Then, crack!  and a band of fire was felt across a
wobbling schoolgirl fanny.  Each lick with that awful paddle had sounded a
loud SPLAT!  in that little room.  Each one had stung like blazes!  She had
given just one lick, then the next miscreant would have to assume the
humiliating position.  The painful procedure had been repeated: flip the
skirt up, press the paddle against a firm cheerleader posterior, then
SPLAT! Another stinging swat.  No one could stay in position.  With each
hard swat each girl would yowl and shoot straight up clutching her tender
fanny.  After three they were dancing and blubbering and crying, but Mrs
Ramsey had been unmoved.  She would merely point with the awful paddle and
say, "Next".  The paddle line went around all six times.  Six painful times
to bend across that desk with only thin panties for protection from that
blistering paddle.  Cindy recalled that as she had regarded her backside in
the mirror that night, her bottom had been red and swollen.

   And that had not been the end.  The forgeries were eventually
discovered, which led to the discovery of the whole incident.  Her mother
had been angry about the deceit as much as the joyride with the boys.  She
even told Cindy that, ironically, she would have let her do the suspension
since she did not believe in turning the corporal punishment chores over to
the high school.  No, she had said, if there was any spanking to be done,
she would darn well do it.  Then it had been off to the basement rec room
where a tearful Cindy spent a painful next five minutes across her mom's
knee while she energetically wielded a ping pong paddle on Cindy's jiggling
nude behind.

   It could have been worse.  Betsy got a licking from her father with his
belt.  She had had to lay across some pillows on the bed, pull down her
jammie bottoms and howl her way through 40 hard licks.  Linda's mom
sentenced her to 100 spanks with a hard wooden hairbrush, but she wouldn't
give them to her all at once.  So every Friday night for the next 4 weeks,
just before the football game where she was to lead cheers, she had to
bring her mom the brush and go over the maternal lap for 25 hard licks. 
Once she even had to remind her mom that it was time for the next
installment.  She had to lift her skirts and lay across her mom's lap while
her mother sat on the bed.  Her mom would slip down the little satin
cheerleader panties to her knees and deliver a stinging spanking to her
naked bottom with the hairbrush.  The 25 crisp smacks were delivered
evenly, slowly and hard.  Linda said later that she felt like her butt was
glowing red through those panties and hoped no one would notice while she
did her twirls and jumps.

   These thoughts came rushing back to Cindy as she contemplated Mr
Arcado's offer.  But wasn't the possibility of a stinging backside worth
$10,000?  She could take it if it came to that.  She was tough, dammit!

   "If you decide to accept our offer, I am prepared to present you with a
contract.  If you sign it, a deposit of $5000 will be made to your account
immediately.  The other $5000 will be placed in your account when you are
on board our corporate jet and on your way to the resort."

   When it's too late to turn back, thought Cindy.

   "If you need time to consider..."

   "I'll do it."

   "....our offer...you'll do it?" asked Arcado.

   "I'll do it.  Where do I sign?"

   *****************

   So it was that three days later Cindy found herself on Fantasies'
private jet winging her way toward North Carolina.  It was a luxurious
craft and she was treated like royalty.  An attendant saw to her every
need. A girl could get used to this, she thought.  The only reminder of her
possible fate that weekend came when she remarked to the cute hostess about
how much more comfortable the seats were as compared with commercial
flights.  "Yes," she had said, "And we have extra soft pillows too", and
added with a wide grin".....for the ride home."

   Another thought had occured to her.  Would there be rich single men
attending as "hounds"?  It stood to reason that there would be.  This thing
did not sound like woman's sport.  Indeed would such a man be intrigued by
a beautiful woman willing to bare all and suffer the indignity of the lash
for some sport?  Possibly.  So she had packed some of her most attractive
(and provacative) outfits.

   Her reverie brought to mind another encounter in which a playful
spanking had played a role.  It was after graduation.  She was 18 then and
had a summer job at a lake resort for tourists.  Steve was one of those
summer romances.  He had been staying with some friends in one of the
lakefront cabins.  They met and there was a mutual attraction, in fact,
Cindy really liked Steve a lot.  They went out a few times, but Steve was
the perfect gentleman, never making a move.

   This began to irritate Cindy and she decided to see if that gentlmanly
demeanor could be cracked.  One Saturday they went on a picnic.  They had
layed out the lunch by a stream and Cindy, feeling mischevious,
surrepititiously filled a water gun in the stream.  She had stripped down
to a daring bikini, declaring that she wanted to take a swim before lunch.
Steve demurred, since it was well after noon and he was hungry.  She didn't
miss the look in his eyes when he beheld her in the skimpy bikini.  Now
we're getting somewhere, she thought.

   She took the toy watergun and started squirting Steve with it who
laughed at first but then protested that she was getting the food wet. 
Cindy didn't care.  She wanted to provoke something.  She laughed and
teased, squirting the gun at Steve who tried to catch her to wrestle it
from her grasp.  Steve finally told her that she'd better stop or he would
"paddle her little caboose".  In the time honored tradition of teases
everywhere, she taunted him with a "you wouldn't dare", and, putting a tree
between her and Steve, squirted him right in the face.

   That did it.  She tried to run but Steve caught her around the waist. 
Lifting her up he carried her over to a fallen log.  She was held under his
arm, kicking and squealing.  He seated himself and laid her across his
muscular thighs.  Telling her that he had warned her, he raised his hand
and brought it down squarely across the crest of both bottomcheeks, barely
contained in the brief bikini bottoms.  She had screeched and demanded to
be put down.  Steve had just laughed and told her she had it coming.  He
then proceeded to give her a very sound spanking while she wiggled and
squirmed across his lap.  He spanked her steadily for 2 or 3 minutes then
put his fingers in the waistband of the tiny bikini bottoms.  She had
squealed even louder at this new indignity, but Steve had just chuckled and
yanked them down, baring her curvy fanny.  Then he resumed with loud crisp
smacks that echoed through the remote glade.  She had wriggled and kicked
while he had spanked her bare fanny with gusto.  He smacked from cheek to
cheek, building a fire in Cindy's curvy hiney.  Finally he stopped and
Cindy felt him rubbing and kneading her inflamed buttocks.The sting of the
spanking became a hot glow in her buns.

   Then she felt another fire building, this time in her pussy.  And she
could feel Steve's hard penis through the rough jeans as she sprawled over
his lap.  He let her up then kissed her passionately, rubbing her bottom,
then his fingers seeking the spot between her legs.  He laid her on her
back on the picnic blanket and proceeded to take his own clothes off. 
Kneeling down he had pulled her to him and plunged his hard manhood between
the wet lips of her quim.  They had made love all afternoon.  Him on top,
her on top, from behind, every way they could think of.  Later she would
reflect that the spanking had been a catalyst.  He had manhandled her
gently, but in a way that left no doubt of his dominance.  Being pulled
over his knees and spanked had turned her on like nothing she had felt
before.  The gentlemanly facade had been cracked.  Sadly, he had left not
long after, and she had gone off to school.

   Her thoughts drifted back to Arcado and their meeting.

   There was, said Arcado, to be a Friday night cocktail party and dinner
to be attended by "hounds" and "foxes" alike.  The next morning the
participants would be fed breakfast separately.  The "foxes" would be
transported by jeep to remote areas of the property and given an hour to
hide before the "hounds" were loosed.  At 4:00pm sharp the all clear would
sound and the game would be over.  If captured before then, a fox would be
taken back to the hotel to await her fate.  Arcado was less than
forthcoming on the details of capture and custody and even less so on the
"ceremonies" later that evening.  He did say, however that the captured
would dine in their quarters before the events that night.  Sunday morning
she would be returned via private jet to NYC.

   Cindy's thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of descent of the
plane.  She asked the hostess about it.

   "We are landing in DC to pick up a passenger," she said, "We'll be
underway again shortly."

   The plane touched down and Cindy a woman standing just outside the
private hanger to which the plane had taxied.  When the plane stopped, the
woman strode briskly to the jet.  Cindy could see that she was a blonde in
her mid to late 30's, tall, with well muscled legs in a short skirted
business suit.  Her blonde hair was pulled back into a woven plait that
fell to well below the middle of her back.  Her bags were carried by a male
attendant, all except a long thin case, flat, about three feet long.  An
odd piece of luggage, Cindy thought.

   The woman entered the cabin and smiled at Cindy.  She had a generous
sparkling smile and deep blue eyes, with a presence about her that
suggested a powerful personality.  A corporate executive, perhaps?

   "Hi", she said, taking a seat across from Cindy and extending her hand,
"I'm Julia Marsden."

   "I'm Cindy Morgan.  Pleased to meet you."

   Cindy found Julia a pleasant and charming travelling companion.  As the
jet climbed through the cloud cover at National, they chatted about the
good fortune of being able to travel in such luxurious surroundings.  Cindy
learned that Julia frequently did work for Fantasies Unlimited, but she
basically had her own company.  Julia wanted to hear all about the
tribulations of a struggling actress in NY.  She was a good listener and
Cindy felt curiously drawn to Julia's warm personality, as if she were a
big sister.  At a lull in the conversation, Julia asked Cindy if she was
going to the Carolina Resort.  Cindy acknowleged that she was.

   "As a guest or...." ventured Julia.

   "No.  I am a "fox" as they call it," admitted Cindy.

   Julia eyed Cindy reflectively and nodded.

   "So why are you going?" said Cindy, now very curious.

   "You might say I'm one of the..ah..facilitators for the weekend."

   "Oh really!  What is it that you do?"

   "Well...oh dear, I suppose I must tell you," Julia said with a rueful
smile, "You might call me the 'company's disciplinarian' or maybe 'bosun's
mate', might be more appropo."

   Cindy's eyes widened and her jaw dropped.  "You don't mean..."

   "'Fraid so, dear.  I dish out the, ah, forfeits on Saturday night."

   Cindy now understood the reason for the strangely shaped case.  "And
that case you brought on board....?"

   "The tools of my trade."

   Cindy was quiet for a moment.  Could it really be?  This warm, engaging,
big sisterly woman with whom she was sharing girl talk would be the one to
wield the whip on her naked bottom if she were caught?

   "Whew!  I...I...don't know what to say," stammered Cindy, "It's so
bizzare, I mean here we are talking like just normal people and you are the
one who might have to...to..."

   "Whip your cute fanny on Saturday night?" queried Julia with a light
smile.  "I know", she sighed, "But, listen it won't be so bad, you'll get
through it.  Lots of girls have.  Some, no, many have even come back to
play again."

   "You're kidding!" said a wide-eyed Cindy.  "Why?"

   "One reason is that they find it sexy and exciting.  They come back for
the thrill; and, of course, the money.  And last but not least, there are
some unattached men at these events, you know, and, they are very wealthy.
I can see you don't believe me," said Julia, regarding Cindy, who seemed
flabbergasted.

   "It's true.  The whip can be very sensual.  The spectacle is exciting.
Whipping actually releases endorphins and amplifies the tactile senses,
especially in the erogenous zones; and, there is something about a woman
under the lash that inflames hot passions both in herself and her partner.
Also there is the thrill of not knowing.  Who will get it?  If a fox
escapes, which of her pursuers will find herself or himself conscripted for
sacrifice?  It has the allure of some pagan ritual.  All of this is an
adrenaline rush."

   "But doesn't it hurt?" asked Cindy.  Even as she said it, she remembered
the intense arousal that had resulted from the episode with Steve.

   "Yes, it does...but let me show you something," said Julia, rising and
fetching the case.  Julia opened the case to display several implements of
fustigation.  There was a long handled whip with a single 4' thong, a thing
like a cat-o-nine-tails only it had 6 long lashes, a bundle of what looked
like green switches only Cindy couldn't tell if they were real or
synthetic, and a familiar-looking wooden paddle, only thinner than what she
remembered.  There was also a thin cane, a large oval-shaped hairbrush, an
18" ruler, and a wide leather strap attached to a handle.

   "These are my basic tools," said Julia.  "I have others, too, but I
won't need them for this weekend".  Cindy just gaped at the fearsome
looking collection.

   "They look intimidating, don't they?" Cindy nodded.  "But let me explain
how each one works and how I use it."

   "This bundle of green switches is called a birch.  It looks real but
actually these 1/8" switches are artificial, made from a special resilient
plastic.  Unlike a real birch these switches won't fray or break.  I
typically give 3 dozen strokes with this.  They produce at first, a light
surface sting that builds and builds to quite an exquisite burning
sensation.  Real birches like this were used as late as the 19th century in
homes, schools and reformatories.  They were favored by lady's whipping
clubs for their ability to impart a healthy red flush to the seat that
aroused the libido."

   "There were ladies' whipping clubs?" asked an astonished Cindy.

   "Indeed there were--wealthy, bored society wives with much time on their
hands and not much to do, they would meet and and draw lots or play
games--the losers were birched.  If you "lost" it was skirts up and drawers
down for a good stinging session with one of these while you bent over an
footstool.  Later the next week the ladies would gossip about the
passionate sex with their husbands afterwards.  Poor men never knew what
hit them, but they probably weren't complaining.

   "The multi-stranded whip is a modified cat-o-nine-tails.  You can see it
has a foot long handle and 6 long strands of smooth leather.  No knots or
braiding like Captain Bligh's.  This gives a more solid sting with each
lash."

   "Er, how many...?"

   "20 lashes is the normal dose.  It's designed to have the same overall
intensity as the 36 with the birch, but there is a longer delay between
strokes.  The sensation of each separate lash must be...appreciated before
the next one is given."

   "The last one I'll be using Saturday is this single thong lash.  As you
can feel, here...  hold it, it is a smooth single thong.  It's braided
snakeskin, in a tight braid, very smooth.  This one is yet more intense
than the 'cat' so its only a bakers dozen for the lucky lads and lassies
who get this.  The lashes are spaced even farther apart."

   The whip felt positively alive in her hands thought Cindy, and she
flicked the end against her palm.  Ouch!  it hurt!

   " I'm using the ones I showed you because the guests attending wanted it
that way.  They requested a "17th century" experience, simulating something
much like the punishments that were actually given in those days.  At least
they want the same ambiance.

   "I don't want you to worry Cindy, I know exactly how hard to use these,
and my aim is true.  The stripes will go exactly where I want them to,
which will be mostly across the cheeks of the bottom."

   Cindy felt the cheeks of her own bottom involuntarly clench at this
news. This would surely be more painful than the school paddle!  Or the
playful spanking from Steve!

   "But how did you get into....?...I mean how did you learn all this
stuff?"

   "It's a very long story, but you should know that I have a degree in
psychology from Temple University, and that I am a liscensed clinical
psychologist in several states."

   Wow!  Thought Cindy, this was too much.  She couldn't believe that this
smart and articulate woman with a psych degree was moonlighting as some
kind of whipmistress.

   Shaking her head, Cindy asked," What are the rest of these for?"

   "Well, they're not for this particular event but I do tend to use them
at one time or another.  For example, Fantasies Unlimited has a "Little Red
Schoolhouse" in Nebraska.  Sometimes I play the schoolmarm for a group who
want to play at a "return to schooldays" fantasy.  The paddle, cane and
ruler figure more prominently there.  And incidently", she chuckled, "I do
have an appointment with rather naughty lad who attended the last
"Schoolhouse" weekend I did.  Seems he has been remiss at doing the follow
up 'homework' I gave him.  He will be here this weekend for a make-up
'tutoring session' Friday evening after dinner."

   "At least he won't have to eat dinner off the mantlepiece," laughed
Cindy, "And if I hear smacks and squeals that night, I'll know why."

   Both women laughed.  "Yes, I'll tell you," whispered Julia
conspiratorially, "He's going to spend some quality time over my knee
getting reacquainted with my ruler."

   They laughed again, then Julia's expression turned more serious.

   "Cindy, I want you to know, I think you're a lovely girl, but I've been
given a job to do.  I hope you understand.  The Arabs have a saying,'Flog
her gently, but make it sting'.  That's my approach to this too.  I hope we
can still be friends...even after Saturday night."

   Cindy could only nod.  And somehow the thought that it would be Julia
doing the whipping made the thought easier to bear.

   ************************

   In another jet winding its way across the country sat Kath O'Leary,
another fox recruited by Mr Arcado.  With her was Margo Ruger, also an
Arcado find.  Kath was fiery Irish collen with long curly red hair to match
her temperament.  She was something of an adventurer.  Whether it be sky
diving, hang gliding or bungee jumping, Kath was game.  She consumed life
rather than lived it.  There was no dare, no bet, no experience that she
would turn down, and woe betide any would be admirers who could not keep
up. And there were plenty of those.  Kath was a slender 5' 7" with ample
breasts, a slim waist, and boyishly slim hips with a pair of
teardrop-shaped bottom cheeks that jutted deliciously from the deep hollow
at the small of her back.  Arcado's offer had challenged her.  It was a
dare that she could not resist.  Even the thought of the forfeit had sent
her blood racing, for she was adventurous in sexual matters as well, and
there was no doubt that the evening described by Arcado would likely end in
sexual excess.

   Margo Ruger was an altogether different sort of woman.  Also an
adventurer, Margo was very much her own woman.  She was a journalist who
had spent time in any number of global hot spots: Bosnia, Honduras,
Afganistan, Lebanon.  To handle the rigors of her job, she trained.  She
did triathlons and swam.  She had learned techniques of survival in hostile
environments.  She was a black belt in judo.  And she needed $10,000 in a
hurry.  Gambling was her weakness and she owed some unsavory people a bit
of money.  Margo was tall, 5' 9" with jet black hair that fell in ringlets
to the sides of her classically sculpted face.  And she had a figure to
boot.  Her curvacious body had caused heads to turn all over the world. 
The prospect of the forfeits had not fazed Margo.  She had been in plenty
of tight places.  Besides, she didn't figure on getting caught.

   End of pt 1