Shadow Lane Volume 9: The History of Hugo Sands and other Stories of Spanking and Love. Eve Howard
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“Right here? Right now?”
“It will only take a few minutes,” he promised, patting her shapely bottom through her denim shorts and anchoring her waist to his lap with his free hand.
“Why don’t we go back to my place?” she asked, leaning up.
“We can later,” he pushed her back down and smacked her right cheek, then her left, somewhat sharply. “Now you need to be spanked.”
Veronica squirmed on Doug’s lap as the few dozen swats rained down on her upturned seat. “But, in public!” she cried, straining to get free.
“It was good enough for your sister. She courted the attention,” he replied, ending the impromptu spanking with ten hard swats and setting her back on her feet.
“Oh!” she cried, flushed to the roots and humiliated to the depths when a young couple passed by smiling at them. “How could you do that in public?” she complained furiously, folding her arms and turning away from him.
“If you pout I’ll do it again,” he threatened. She began to walk away, her hands buried in her pockets. He caught up with her, picked her up and arranged her over one shoulder.
“Doug, put me down!”
“I’d rather carry you home,” he replied cheerfully.
“If you want to be invited to sleep over you’ll stop being horrid this instant!” she cried imperiously. Doug immediately put her down.
They walked along quietly for a few moments.
“You have a very hard hand,” she said at last.
“You didn’t like it, did you?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I spanked your sister a lot harder than that!”
“Well, I’m not used to it.”
“You could get used to it.”
“What would be the incentive?”
“This time let me spank you just before we have sex. Then I bet you will come.”
“I bet I will too,” she agreed.
“Can we be sure your sister won’t walk in?”
“Let’s go back and see if she calls. She may decide to spend the night away.”
The phone rang just a few minutes after they reentered the apartment. It was Virginia calling Veronica to let her sister know that she’d be spending the night with friends. Thus the gods continued to smile on their warrior.
“Obviously, it’s no coincidence I picked you up,” Veronica said, lighting her new lover’s cigarette as they shared a brandy nightcap on the roof. “My sister came home this afternoon and told me about what happened in the street. Naturally, I was intrigued and when she told me you were kind of cute, I couldn’t resist checking you out myself.”
“Jesus, you must really be into it,” Doug commented, noticing the stars were even closer now.
“I am. I always have been.”
“Me too!” he agreed, astonished to be saying this out loud.
“So, how many women have you spanked?”
“Let’s just say I’ve seized any opportunity presented.”
“How about prostitutes? Have you spanked a lot of prostitutes?”
“No, of course not.”
“Why not?”
“They wouldn’t understand.”
“Not even those cute Asian ones?”
“Maybe a couple of swats, but nothing to write home about.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t push that angle, into it as you seem. I mean, you just grabbed my sister, didn’t you?”
“She was pushing my buttons. And she was warned.”
“So when are you getting out?”
“This year, actually. How did you know?”
“You look old enough to be put out to pasture.”
“You’re really fresh, you know that? I’m not as old as I look.”
“Really? How old are you?”
“Thirty eight.”
“Wow, I thought you were at least forty two!”
“But you came looking for me anyway.”
“That’s right. I want a daddy to boss me around,” she said, impulsively kissing him. “So what do you plan to do when you get out?”
“Well, I’m tired of talking orders. I’ll probably start my own business.”
“Really? What kind?”
“Maybe a little fixit shop.”
“How exciting,” she grinned.
“God, you’re a brat. Well, what do you suggest?”
“How about a neighborhood photography studio? It’s nice work, not too strenuous. And you could develop artistic photography as a side line.”
Doug stared at her. “That’s a good idea!”
“I thought you’d like that.”
“Maybe I should hire you as my assistant. Then I could spank you every day.”
“I have all the necessary skills.”
“There’s not much you don’t have, including nerve,” said Veronica’s new admirer.
In a few minutes he took her back inside and stopped in the kitchen to pull out a straight-backed chair.
“You’re a managing little female, aren’t you?” He sat down and took her by the arm. “I’m not sure I like that!” He pulled her down across his lap in one motion. “Oh no, are these still on you?” he smacked the seat of her glove tight denim shorts a few times with disapproval. “Take them off. Take everything off. Right now!” He lifted her back off his lap and folded his arms to watch her undress for him. She unzipped and dropped her shorts slowly, then deliberately held his gaze while stepping out of them. Then she lazily pulled her stretch halter top up over her head revealing her small, firm, round, peach shaped bosom, rose nipples pointing insolently upward, skin like taut cream satin, with a torso tapering downward to an exquisite waist. Now she stood before him in a tiny pair of French cut blue panties and lacing cloth shoes.
“I’d like to photograph you for artistic photos,” he said, pulling her back over his lap before she had a chance to remove her panties.
“Oh, that’s been done. It’s what gave me the idea for you,” she revealed, turning to him.
“Are you telling me you’ve posed for nude photos?”
“Yes.”
“You little slut!” he declared with mock indignation, liking her more every moment they were together. Then a strange and frightening thought came into his head. What if none of this was real and he was simply hallucinating off the brownies she had allowed him to eat?
He had only just identified the unusual euphoria he’d been experiencing for the past hour as drug induced. It suddenly all added up: the hippie sister, the classic medium of delivery, the subsequent sensations of wild elation counterbalanced by a tendency to over analyze every thought that occurred to him, the uninhibited sex and spontaneous confessions and most of all, his complete lack of concern about any of this. “You are a little slut, aren’t you?” he demanded suspiciously.
“I’m a free spirit,” she casually corrected him over one