The Paddle Club: A Fun, Romantic and Erotic Spanking Novel. Susan Kohler
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was a covered porch that ran the whole length of the front of the building. It was also painted a gleaming white. There were several wrought iron chairs and wooden swings on the porch, and a well-manicured lawn surrounding the long, curving driveway. The gardens in front of the porch were planted with colorful flowers, mainly roses, and there was a trim hedge around the property. The limo let Suzanne and Michael out before it pulled right into a large, enclosed garage.
Several club members came out of the clubhouse to greet the new couple. Suzanne noticed immediately that they were a very diverse group. She saw people of all ages, from early twenties to late sixties, and all sizes from thin to fat, mixed racially between White and Hispanic. Were there any members of the other races, Blacks or Asians, she wondered vaguely in a corner of her consciousness, or does a club like this practice racial discrimination?
Suzanne relaxed a little as she realized that the members all seemed to be very friendly and normal, even ordinary. Most of them acted very cheerful and welcoming. Secretly she was glad to see that none of the members present were wearing any weird black leather outfits, with shiny silver studs or carrying whips.
A stranger seeing the group would think they were gathered for an elegant ball since they were all dressed formally in lovely evening gowns and well-tailored tuxedos complete with white tie and in some cases, even tails. As the group moved into the clubhouse, several women were chatting so cheerfully with Suzanne that she almost forgot what was going to happen inside the brick building. Almost but not quite.
Chapter Two A Painful Initiation
Suzanne and Michael were ushered into a large room. It was lavishly furnished in an expensive manner and with great attention to the tiniest detail. The room seemed to be leftover from another period. It should have looked tacky but instead, it had grace and charm. The walls had dark mahogany wainscoting, with plush red and gold velvet flocked wallpaper. There was deep, plush, chocolate carpet on most of the floor, with a large expanse of gleaming hardwood. Three large crystal chandeliers and crystal and brass wall sconces lined the walls of the room. At one end of the long room there was a raised platform, and at the other was a gleaming mahogany bar with brass trim. The bar was complete with bartender, a slender young man with a mustache who was wearing a white shirt and red suspenders with red garters on his shirtsleeves.
Suzanne later learned that the door beside the platform led to a professional, modern kitchen capable of serving large formal banquets, and a laundry room complete with linen closet. There were about two dozen soft, padded and comfortable chairs with deep velvet cushions.
The chairs were a far step up from the ones Suzanne usually found at clubs or symposiums. These chairs were definitely not the usual tacky, metal folding chairs she was used to finding at lectures, club functions or even the stackable chairs favored by some of the better hotels in their banquet rooms.
Seeing her appraisal of the chairs, Jerry, the chauffeur, came over to stand beside her. “We like to have very comfortable chairs. All our surroundings are very nice, of course, but we need the comfortable chairs because our bottoms are usually a little, umm, tender before the evening’s over.” He grinned at her discomfiture as he walked away.
On the platform at the front of the room there was a microphone and three plush armchairs for the host, James, and for Michael and Suzanne. Off to one side there was what could only be described as a whipping bench. Suzanne shuttered as she looked at it, chills running down her spine. The bench was about four feet long and almost waist high. It was thickly padded with plush, red velvet and furnished with several velvet straps.
A tall, gleaming brass bucket next to the bench held several assorted canes. The canes did not look very harsh. They were just lengths of slender bamboo, of varying thickness, from very thin to as broad as her thumb. Some had a crooked handle and some were just straight. How Victorian, Suzanne thought with another shiver, remembering the books she’d read at James’ suggestion.
There were two more padded benches in the room; they were both lower and narrower than the bench on the dais. Those two benches were on the main floor, between the platform and the first row of the chairs facing it.
Off to one side of the dais there was a Victorian love seat. All three benches and the love seat were padded and upholstered in the same red velvet. Along one side of the room there was a hallway with several doors that, according to Michael, led to small, private bedrooms. A staircase led to still more bedrooms upstairs, and downstairs to a play dungeon and a storage area.
“Boy! I can hardly wait to drag you into one of those bedrooms and fuck you with your bottom red and on fire!” Michael was wildly enthusiastic. “I can just imagine your pain as I pound your burning ass into the mattress.”
At Jerry’s suggestion, Suzanne and Michael were seated in the special place of prominence on the raised platform, facing the group of about thirty club members. Just then James, the host for the evening, came in and introduced himself.
“Hello, I’m James. You must be Suzanne.” He held out his hand and when she reached out her hand, he didn’t shake hands with her but instead held her hand in a long warm grasp. “I’m sorry to be so late, it’s really inexcusable I know, but I got tied up at work.” He winked, “Unfortunately that wasn’t literally, it was only a metaphor.”
Suzanne was pleased that the man she had spoken to on the phone turned out to be as warm in person. He was also a very good looking man about thirty years old, with short, curly blond hair. He was tall, with a slender yet athletic build and the most amazingly soft, friendly blue eyes.
Giving Suzanne a cheerful smile, he revealed a dimple in his left cheek before stepping up to the microphone. He started the meeting with an announcement that besides bringing such a lovely, prospective member for the club – he turned and gave Suzanne a warm look – Michael had been kind enough to volunteer to whip some of the regular members. He would do it now, before Suzanne’s initiation.
Several club members, mainly women, lined up next to one of the padded benches. There was a tall brass bucket, like the one on the platform, filled with canes. A small, ornate table off to one side held several paddles and straps.
The large middle-aged woman at the front of the line laid herself over the bench, and the ones in line behind her pinned up her long, peach silk dress. She wore no underwear. Michael reached into the bucket, pulled out a long, thin cane and gave her a sound whipping. It turned her full, firm butt bright red. He kept up the whipping until she pulled up and said, “ENOUGH!” Michael hesitated visibly before he gave the next person in line, which happened to be a slender young man, the same treatment. Michael continued, topping the members. Some members asked Michael to use a strap or a paddle instead of a cane, and he did as he was asked. It went on until there were no more club members waiting in line. There was a pause for a round of drinks and some socializing.
James made another announcement and it was one that startled Suzanne, but it would not be her only surprise at the meeting. She was to be the one to administer the next round of whippings. Hearing this announcement Michael was clearly shocked. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak before he caught himself.
“Don’t let the fact that they are going to whip you next prevent you from laying it on really hard, that would only make them mad!” James leaned over and whispered in her ear.
“But I’ve never done this before.” Suzanne was almost pleading, “What if I hurt someone?”
“Then that someone will just thank you and move away.” James grinned. “Unlike you, they’ve all been here before. They expect it to hurt. They even want it to hurt, just remember to stop when they ask you to.”
Suzanne had her hands full. Many more members lined up to be whipped by her than lined up for Michael. The first person in line was her new friend, Jerry, the limo driver. She took a long, deep breath, looked at the pale, fleshy buttocks in front of her, raised the paddle he’d requested, and began to paddle him.
She felt strange as she slashed the paddles, whips