Shadow Lane Volume 9: The History of Hugo Sands and other Stories of Spanking and Love. Eve Howard
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report me!” Garda snapped, feeling her face redden and her heart begin to pound.
“If I did you’d be fined, you know. And reprimanded.”
“So report me,” she repeated, though a bit less enthusiastically now. “Fined how much?”
“Obviously, the extra $30,000.”
“Great! Thanks a lot,” she replied, getting up to flee her persecutor. He pulled her back down.
“Not so fast, young lady.”
“Why not?”
“Why don’t you try to persuade me to be nice?”
“And how might I do that?”
“Why don’t you offer to take the reprimand from me personally. It would go a long way to wiping out the debt. In my mind, anyway.”
“What in the world are you suggesting, Jeffrey?”
“Take the reprimand from me.”
“Okay, what would that entail?”
“Allow me to spank you. Right now. Right here!” Jeffrey enclosed both of Garda’s hands in his own large ones. She looked up at him.
“What?” she stammered.
“Let me spank you and I’ll forget about the over billing. You’ll save thirty thousand dollars. Just like that.”
“But why do you want to?” she wondered, not believing her ears. Was it possible the Barking Crewcut had been looking at her? Thinking about her?
“Why do I want to spank you? I only think about it every time I see you totter down the hall in those tight skirts and high heels. You often run. It’s very cute. Only I’d like to see you in even higher heels. Heels so high you’d be perfectly helpless without me to carry you around in them. Are you ready?”
“I can’t take this in,” Garda protested, springing up and away from Jeffrey. “You have to give me a few minutes to - to rethink you!”
“Why? What do you mean by that?” Jeffrey barked, flipping open a black cigarette case and extracting a cigarette. He let her light it for him, holding her shaky wrist while she did, then pulled her down again beside him and after taking a drag handed her the cigarette.
“I haven’t been accustomed to thinking of you in these terms,” she unsteadily admitted.
“Oh? And how have you been accustomed to thinking of me?”
“I’m sorry Jeffrey, but to me you’ve always been just The Barking Crewcut,” Garda admitted, quite deliberately.
“Well, to me you’ve always just been The Arrogant Slut, but meeting you here, somehow I feel it all fits,” said Jeffrey, taking the cigarette out of her hand, putting it out and then swiftly and ably, pulling her over his lap. “You weigh nothing,” Jeffrey said, arranging her on his football player’s thighs. “Just relax, Garda. This will be over before you know it,” he assured her, gently but firmly capturing one of her slender wrists again and pinning it back to her waist.
Garda was bereft of speech and powerless to move, awed by the deftness of Jeffrey’s attack, how solid his lap felt and how securely he held her to it. It was beyond belief that the hateful Jeffrey Jardine, who was always so trying under the office lights, should be suddenly so enchanting in moonlight.
The spanking was as promised: brief and to the point. Or maybe Garda only perceived it that way. For in reality, it was fully sixty swats of Jeffrey’s big, hard hand.
“You should wear satin at all times,” Jeffrey told her, rubbing the sting away after each volley of spanks. “With your curves, it’s irresistible.”
“Jeffrey,” she turned her head, “this is a very different side of you than I’ve seen.”
Jeffrey continued spanking her firmly, alternating smacks on her slim, oval globes, now so glowingly encased in ivory satin for a little while longer. As she received the smacks with little pants of surprise but otherwise complete docility, he wasn’t quite sure whether Garda was in shock from the summary treatment or off in a female submissive dream world. So presently he let her up.
“Since you’re here with someone else, I won’t make a pest of myself for the rest of the night,” he promised, taking her hand and lightly kissing the back of her ivory satin glove. “But next time I have you over my knee, young lady, you won’t get off so easily!”
“But, I still don’t understand,” she murmured, setting her clothes to rights. Jeffrey knelt to straighten the elaborate gold tasseled fringes on the folds of her form fitting, late-Victorian flavored evening gown and when Augie Rose rejoined them, he assumed that Garda had merely put the impertinent lawyer in his place, at her feet.
“Augie, can we go?” Garda asked, linking arms with her date and mincing away on her high heeled, brocade evening shoes, conscious of Jeffrey’s eyes focused on her swaying, corseted form. The entire outfit was assembled in one shopping spree on Melrose. Even as she was spending the twelve hundred dollars on the dress, shoes and corset that afternoon, she had thought, this will be an investment in my wardrobe. Now she had learned that that some investments pay off immediately.
All the way home Garda was distracted. She liked Augie Rose. But she also liked what the Barking Crewcut had done to her and how he had done it. But by her calculations, Jeffrey was seven to ten years her junior! (Perhaps he’d realize that in the light of day.) Augie was the proper age for her. But now she felt she’d already been unfaithful to Augie, by letting Jeffrey spank her.
“Did you play with anyone?” she asked casually as Augie Rose pulled into her driveway. “Oh, and do come in!” Garda was never loath to entertain friends in her small but tastefully managed quarters. She had cats, trees, wine glasses from Florence, comfy poufs, in short, everything a sensualist needs to enjoy a modern, modest and slightly artistic lifestyle.
“Would you open that bottle of wine on the table, Augie? I want to change my dress.”
Garda kept the beautiful, ivory corset on and over it threw a matching dressing gown, which, when it feel open, created the perfect frame to display the exquisite, hip length, waist cinch corset.
“Augie?” Garda called from the bedroom. Augie joined her with two glasses of white wine. “Please, do loosen my stays before I expire!” she cried, dropping the robe from her shoulders to show him how tightly she had laced herself.
Augie untied the central laces at Garda’s waist, then paused, confounded by the intricate crisscrossing network of laces that ran from the middle of her back to below her waist. “You know, I don’t have much experience with foundations,” Augie admitted. “Isn’t there a way to get it off fast?”
“Well, of course, it could be unhooked in front, but then it would be off entirely.”
“Don’t you think that would be a good idea? You could still wrap up in that dressing gown, couldn’t you, dear?”
“All right. It’s a good idea. I’ll take it off,” she conceded. “You wait out there. I have to undo all the garters and take off the stockings that are attached. I’ll be out in a minute.”
Finally taking off the corset felt like its own sort of orgasm. The stockings also went away and her slim, pretty feet went into ivory satin slippers with high vamps. “Oh, he’s smart,” thought Garda of her guest and went out to him feeling deliriously relaxed.
They lay on the hearth rug together in front of the fire, she with her back to him, but pressed against him, he with his arm around her, her waist under his hand, talking for several hours, then kissing and finally petting, which suddenly led to spanking. She was easily pulled across his lap and so accessible in the satin robe, with only her scrap of panties between his hand and her smooth, white bottom.
“I knew you’d have a beautiful bottom,” Augie said, caressing her