Shadow Lane Volume 6: Put to the Blush A Novel of Spanking, Sex and Love. Eve Howard
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the man replied, smiling at Hazel hopefully, even though she was clad in a linen dress and jacket rather than fetish attire. Hazel flushed at the desire in the big man’s eyes as he appraised her tailored outfit. “Are you available?” he asked her. “I just want to do a light bondage session.”
“Me?” Hazel shook her head with a smile. “Oh, no!”
“That’s too bad, you’d be perfect,” the client commented regretfully.
“What’s your fantasy?” Hazel impulsively asked.
“You’re a job applicant,” the client eagerly explained, “and during the interview I overpower you, tie you to a chair and unbutton your blouse.”
“That’s it?”
“If you’d permit it, I’d pull up your skirt to expose your stocking top.”
“No spanking?”
“Oh, I’d never strike a woman.”
“But I’m into spanking,” she teased him, eyeing the magnificent thighs straining against his levis.
The sudden entrance of Robert into the room precluded further discourse between Hazel and the broad shouldered client, who looked wistfully after her as Robert took her by the hand and led her upstairs.
“What were you doing talking to that man?” Robert demanded as soon as he shut the door behind them in the blue room known as “Willie,” because of the Sweet Gwendolyn drawings, which hung, matted and framed on the walls.
“He wanted to do a session with me,” she reported, wandering about the room and examining the various pieces of equipment.
“I hope you undeceived him as to your reason for being here.”
“Actually, we made a date for later.”
“Don’t get smart with me, young lady.”
“Why shouldn’t I? I’m going to be punished anyway.”
“You’re damned right you’re getting punished. Now go out in the hall and pick a paddle off the wall,” Robert instructed while removing his jacket.
Hazel exited the room and returned to the large bank of corporal punishment equipment and restraints she had passed on the way in. Coming up the stairs at the same time were Cherry and the client who had wanted to tie Hazel to a chair.
Suddenly possessed by an imp of misguided mischief, Hazel boldly confronted the pair.
“Oh!” said she, “it’s that handsome man from the parlor with the fascinating fantasy. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to trade partners with me?” This last remark was addressed directly to Cherry.
“Huh?” said the girl.
“Mr. C. is just a spanking session,” said Hazel, then added with sudden inspiration, “and a very good tipper.” She had no idea whether the girls ever received tips at the club, but had noted Robert’s generosity to their waitress at The Ivy and assumed that his spanking surrogates would also benefit from his largess. “And, I’ve never been tied up in all my life,” she aimed this provocative comment at the client, who was, of course, in favor of Hazel from the start, not only because of her beauty, but because of the outfit she wore.
“Are you sure it’s okay with your master?” Cherry queried cautiously.
“Oh, he’s not my master,” Hazel laughed.
“Let’s do it!” the client suddenly said, grabbing Hazel by the hand and pulling her into the red dungeon known as “Munchausen” because of the Edvard Munch vampire reproductions on the walls.
Hazel’s heart was pounding violently as the client closed the door – on which there was no lock – behind them and explained what he wanted.
Hazel was extremely shocked that the door did not burst open one, two or three minutes later to reveal a highly irritated Robert, but Hazel and her mock rapist were left alone to play undisturbed.
The session was easy and instructive. First Hazel demanded to examine the contents of the gym bag he’d brought into the dungeon. It held only some neatly coiled white nylon rope. Then the man began to interview her, as though she were a job applicant. She had no trouble adapting to this role. Then suddenly, as she was framing an answer to his second or third bland question, he sprang at her and simply pushed her shoulders back against the chair.
Hazel looked at him in great surprise and tried to seem frightened, though the big teddy bear of a man inspired anything but apprehension in her bosom.
He pulled four equal lengths of white nylon rope out of his bag and quickly tied her wrists to the chair frame behind her and her ankles to its legs. Her a-line skirt allowed her legs to be spread. The man made no motion to gag her, and she began to make token protests against the assault. The man said nothing, but breathed heavily as he unbuttoned the three chunky buttons, which topped her dress and exposed the upper portion of her bosom in its lacy bra. He barely touched her breasts, but seemed to admire them greatly as his large cock came out of his pants and into his hand.
Presently the man exposed the tops of Hazel’s gartered stockings, by pulling her skirt up as promised. Still he tugged on his thickening penis, mesmerized by her beauty as she wriggled and strained in the chair without disturbing her bonds in the slightest.
“I insist you release me at once! These ropes are very tight!” Hazel cried, seventeen minutes into the session and completely caught up in her captor’s passion. Her phrasing gave the rope man joy and the organ in his grip began to gush a liquid tribute to her charms.
She waited patiently to be untied, which was accomplished in a moment. The client then fell to his knees beside her and respectfully kissed the back of her hand.
“You’re adorable, wonderful!” he told her, pressing forty dollars into her hand. In less than two minutes Hazel was downstairs in the main parlor looking for Robert.
Hildegarde, the young mistress of the house, was there with Cherry and both appeared full of concern for their creative new guest. Hildegarde was a strapping auburn-haired Valkyrie of 25, flush with beauty, warmth and wit.
“Okay, gorgeous, here’s the story,” said Hildegarde, putting her arms around Hazel’s shoulders, “he’s left and he’s mad.”
“Left? But didn’t he play with Cherry?” Hazel had expected anything but being abandoned at the house.
“Actually, he declined that pleasure,” said Hildegarde wryly, comparing the proud carriage and elegant demeanor of her guest with the squeezable cuteness of her employee. “Though he did provide her with allowance to assuage her disappointment at missing a session with “Ken the Rapist”.”
“I guess this belongs to you too,” said Hazel, proffering the forty dollars Ken had given her.
“No, sweetheart, that’s your tip. And here’s $30 from the house,” Hildegarde said, handing Hazel the additional allowance.
“But I didn’t do it for the money,” Hazel protested.
“You’re going to need cab fare,” Hildegarde reminded her. Just then the phone rang and Cherry ran for it. She looked at them immediately with excitement and covering the receiver said, “It’s Robert. He’s calling from his car. He wants to know if she’s still here.”
Hazel ran for the phone with a painfully throbbing heart.
“Robert?”
There was a tangible silence. She repeated his name and he finally spoke.
“I’ve been driving around trying to figure out whether you’re crazy, stupid or the most recklessly promiscuous girl I’ve ever met.”
“Stupid is the correct answer,” she replied in all humility. “I was just being cute. I never thought you’d let me go through with it. Then once it started, it didn’t