Happy Tears
by Claire Willows
(GP-133)


CHAPTER ONE 

Arthur Hadley was wishing that he'd taken his vacation by himself this 
summer. Not that he didn't like the seashore and particularly the scenic 
beauties of Malibu Beach. But there was a kind of loneliness to it, even 
though his eighteen-year-old daughter Hester was accompanying him this 
summer. And perhaps Hester herself was cause for some of his problems which 
were besetting the handsome young widower. 

At least, he liked to think of himself as still being young, although he was 
forty-three. Still in all, as he glanced down at his still very pale body in 
the natty bathing trunks he had bought just before coming on this trip, he 
told himself that he didn't have a paunch or the middle-aged spread typical 
of office workers who had reached his maturity. He still had most of his 
brown hair with hardly a touch of gray, and his appetite and general health 
were quite excellent. Just the same, he reflected, he wished that Sonya 
could have been along this summer. She had died a year ago this March after 
a sudden attack of virus which had reached epidemic proportions in the 
college town of Pomona where they had been living while he was doing a job 
for his management counselor firm. Perhaps, too, the fact that his job had 
necessitated several moves to small towns along the Southern California 
coastal region had hampered him in bringing up Hester the way he and Sonya 
had planned. But Sonya had always tended to spoil their only 
child--unfortunately, after Hester's birth, the doctors had told Sonya that 
it would be dangerous for her to risk another pregnancy--and so Hester had 
gone her own way, which was almost anti-social. 

She was in her room right now reading a book, of all things, when she ought 
to be out here on the sand, lazing in the sun. Her sallow complexion and a 
touch of acne certainly would be improved by it, he felt. 

Of course, there was no gainsaying the fact that Hester was an extremely 
brilliant girl in school. Scholastically, she had never given Sonya or him 
the slightest concern. It was only that, left so much to her own resources, 
she was often self-centered with company, awkward and ill at ease in the 
presence of others, and tended to dominate the entire conversation, which 
she invariably tried to change to the topic of her own making. Sonya and he 
had often gently remonstrated with her, but to very little avail. Now, on 
the eve of her first year at college, there was every indication that she 
was going to be a loner there too just as she was back at home in Pomona. 

It was the second week of July, the third day of Arthur Hadley's vacation, 
which had another two and a half weeks to go, and he had come to Malibu 
Beach with the express intention of enjoying himself and forgetting if he 
could gloomy and distraught feelings he had had lately because he was 
beginning to miss Sonya a great deal more than he had believed would happen. 
She had been a gentle woman, very lovely in a quiet, rather dreamy way, 
perhaps Hester had inherited some of her mother's introspective 
tendencies--and they had been happily married. There had been very few rifts 
on their horizon, and as for their physical life together, he had really no 
complaints. Sonya had always been dutiful, though always shy about sex. 
Still and all, a man couldn't expect his wife to be an accomplished houri. 
And they had had about eighteen happy years. To be ungrateful would be to 
defy the wrath of the gods of fate and circumstance. 

All the same, as he reached for a pack of cigarettes and lit one, looking 
out towards the ocean where people were frolicking, he wished that there 
were a companion along to drive away this blue mood of his. He had always 
been very virile, and with Sonya he had had to quell much of his innate 
sexual vigor. He had been very gentle with her, understanding and 
sympathetic, and of course that was what a proper husband should be. But 
now, more than a year after her death, and still virile and healthy, Arthur 
Hadley was beginning to feel the pangs of continence. 

The thought of remarrying hadn't occurred to him. To begin with, he didn't 
think that Hester would like the idea. She had been extremely devoted to her 
mother, and that was understandable too. 

He took another puff of his cigarette and looked around him. At that moment, 
a large beachball bumped against his side. Startled, he looked around, and 
saw an enchantingly lovely golden-haired young girl running towards him, 
wearing a blue bathing suit and sandals. 

"I'm terribly sorry!" the girl gasped, "I hope we didn't hurt you. Mother 
and I were playing ball. I guess we shouldn't have, and we just got carried 
away." 

"Quite all right," Arthur Hadley said gallantly as he rose to his feet. "I 
was beginning to think that maybe a little exercise wouldn't hurt me either. 
No harm done at all, young lady." 

"Gee, thanks," the girl giggled as she retrieved the ball. 

At that moment, a stunningly handsome brown-haired woman approached them. 
She was about five feet seven inches in height, her light brown hair very 
modishly short-bobbed and hidden under a bathing cap. Her face was oval, 
somewhat imperious, with large, widely spaced gray-green eyes, a delicate 
aquiline nose with thin and flaring wings, and a firm, incisive mouth. The 
figure shaped out by the neat and very chic and at the same time quite 
modest black Jantzen was so exciting that Arthur Hadley almost forgot his 
manners. She had high-perched, round, closely spaced breasts, a delightfully 
slender waist from which ripe, ample, yet solid hips flared. Her thighs were 
long but beautifully and fully rounded, and her calves were sleek, 
upstandingly rounded and quite mobile, which the rippling play of 
fascinating muscles along her sunbronzed skin delightfully evidenced. 

"I do hope you weren't inconvenienced," she said in a pleasant, rich 
contralto voice. "Betty was keeping up with me and perhaps threw just a 
little too wildly that time. I hope you'll excuse us both." 

"But there's nothing to excuse, I assure you. In fact, I hope you won't 
think it impertinent of me if I invited myself to share your game. As I told 
your daughter, I was just hoping for a chance to get a little exercise." 

"Why, that's very gracious of you. My name's Eleanor Stanfield, and this is 
my daughter, Betty," the handsome brunette matron smilingly made the 
introductions. 

"And I'm Arthur Hadley, and I have a daughter too, but she's in the hotel at 
the moment," was his rejoinder. 

"Come along then, and we'll find a stretch of unoccupied beach and have a 
little game. I can see you haven't been here too long, seeing that you don't 
have a suntan yet," Eleanor Stanfield gaily remarked. 

"No, it's only my third day. I really haven't had a vacation in about two 
years, and the last time my wife was with me. I'm a widower now, you see," 
he explained. Somehow, curiously, he felt the need to explain himself to 
this beautiful, mature woman who seemed so poised and who also seemed to 
have her daughter so well in control. 

He observed, however, a few singular marks on the girls legs. Betty, who 
could not have been much more than sixteen, was about five feet five, with a 
heartshaped face, gentian-blue eyes, a dainty little snub nose, a sweet rosy 
mouth, round, dimpled chin, and an absolutely breathtaking body. Her skin 
was a baby-pink, her thighs were magnificently rounded as were her calves, 
but her buttocks were shaped out so snugly in the blue suit as to indicate 
the magnificent resilience and rondure of their contours. Yet on her upper 
thighs, as they marched along now in search of their unoccupied little 
playground, Arthur Hadley could see a few faint bluish blotches on both 
legs, just where the hems of the bathing suit left off. Apparently, Betty 
was extremely athletic. Her golden hair would have been the envy of many 
women twice her age, and far more worldly. It was a thick pageboy, with the 
curls turned under, and it was unencumbered by any bathing cap. 

"I'm sorry about your wife, Mr. Hadley," Eleanor Stanfield sympathetically 
replied. "In a way, we're sort of in the same boat." 

"How do you mean?" 

"Why, I'm a widow myself," was the unexpected rejoinder. "My husband passed 
away six years ago." 

"I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Stanfield." 

"Please do call me Eleanor. The other is so formal. And I'll call you 
Arthur, if I may. It would never do to play ball and to say 'please throw me 
the ball, Mr. Hadley!', now would it?" 

"Not at all," he laughed heartily. Arthur Hadley felt a great weight lifted 
from his heart. It had been Providence itself in the personage of that 
deliciously pretty golden-haired girl who had roused him from his lethargy 
and from feeling sorry for himself. 

CHAPTER TWO 

Arthur Hadley couldn't help being grateful to golden-haired young Betty for 
having misjudged her throw of the beachball. After what had started out to 
be a dreary and lonely vacation, in which even the sunlight and the scenic 
beauty hadn't stopped him from thinking about how much he missed Sonya, he 
now found himself part of a laughing, carefree trio tossing the ball to 
mother and then daughter, calling upon his own somewhat out-out-practice 
athletic ability to catch it and throw it within range of his two partners. 
It was certainly exhilarating, and after about half an hour when Eleanor 
Stanfield laughingly called a halt on the grounds that she and her daughter 
had best go back to their rooms and dress for dinner, he felt genuinely 
sorry that so pleasant an interlude should come to such an abrupt end. 

During the game, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off either Eleanor or 
her daughter, and the latter had certainly come from good stock and 
inherited a fine legacy of tempting, healthy young physique. Still, the 
marks on Betty's upper thighs puzzled him again, and when she bent to catch 
a low throw from her mother, the hems of her bathing suit crept up just 
enough to indicate that there were quite a few of these inexplicable marks. 

But what entranced him most of all was the voluptuous figure of Eleanor 
Stanfield herself. Even though he had been a faithfully married husband 
during the eighteen years with Sonya, Arthur Hadley had always had an eye 
for an attractive woman. In fact, he had had to do a good deal of 
sublimation, for he had occasionally procured stag films and erotic books 
and magazines during the course of his travels, many of them foisted on him 
by well meaning business associates which had stirred unholy desires in his 
body. Since his firm was a highly ethical and quite famous one, he didn't 
dare risk any scandal that could be traced back either to his employers or 
himself, and he knew that Sonya would certainly never forgive him if he 
cheated on her in a way that brought notoriety. This wasn't to say that he 
hadn't many times lusted for a different girl in bed with him, especially 
when he was on one of his trips, but he invariably had had to close his 
eyes, pretend that such a girl was beside him, and then sublimate by 
relieving himself with the age-old way that Onan had discovered. 

In fact, so delicious did Eleanor Stanfield's body appear to him that Arthur 
Hadley several times had to admonish himself for thinking lustful thoughts, 
which certainly wasn't in keeping with the period of mourning he had been 
observing since Sonya's tragically unexpected demise. Her flesh wasn't at 
all flabby or fat, and when she ran after a ball or flung it, the 
magnificent jiggling of her bottom and titties and highs began to make him 
experience an agonizing itch in his loins. 

As Eleanor and Betty picked up their robes and started back to the hotel, he 
felt himself tongue tied and at the same time desperate at the notion that 
this delightful and enjoyable experience might not be repeated. "I-I want to 
thank you for letting me share your fun, Eleanor," he blurted. 

"How very nice of you, Arthur! I enjoyed it too, and I'm sure Betty did. 
Didn't you, darling?" 

"Oh yes! And I hope Mr. Hadley isn't mad at me because I hit him with the 
ball," the charming golden-haired teenager pertly retorted. 

"Isn't angry with you, dear, not mad at you," her mother gently but firmly 
corrected. "I'm sure he's forgiven you by now." 

"The fact is," Arthur Hadley plunged, "I'm really glad she did hit me. If 
she hadn't, I wouldn't have had the pleasure of meeting both of you." 

"Why, what a nice compliment!" Eleanor Stanfield smilingly acknowledged his 
words with a cordial little nod. 

"I was wondering, if it isn't too presumptuous of me, if perhaps we might 
have a drink or even dinner together at your convenience." 

Eleanor Stanfield seemed to frown as if pondering the advisability of 
accepting an invitation after so short an acquaintanceship. Then she looked 
at him and smiled. "Why, as a matter of fact, I do think I'd like a cocktail 
before dinner. Betty, dear, suppose you run along and change. Then you can 
meet me down in the lobby by quarter of six, and we'll go into dinner." 

"All right, Mother. Glad to have met you, Mr. Hadley," Betty said in her 
clear sweet voice. Then she turned and hurried away. 

"Don't run, dear," her mother called after her, and Betty immediately 
slackened to a moderate jog. 

Arthur Hadley looked after the lovely young girl, and he was thinking about 
his own recalcitrant and moody daughter Hester. "She really minds you, 
doesn't she, Eleanor? In this day and age, I think it's amazing. And it does 
you a great deal of credit," he remarked. 

"You're much too flattering, Arthur. Besides, I can't take all the credit at 
all. I'd rather give it to the method I use. But we'll discuss that over 
cocktails. Let's see--give me about fifteen min-cuts, and I'll meet you down 
in the lobby." 

"Say, that's right," he chuckled, flushing hotly, "I forgot I was wearing my 
bathing suit. I guess it would never do to go in there for a drink. I'll 
meet you there in the lobby, then. And-and thanks for being so nice, 
Eleanor." 

* * * 

When he came down to the lobby in the new white linen suit he'd bought for 
the vacation to Malibu, his eyes widened with pleasure to see Eleanor 
Stanfield seated in a thickly upholstered armchair wearing a perfectly 
ravishing blue rayon frock which hugged her luscious curves almost like a 
second skin. The hemline was classic, neither too short nor too long, just 
to the tops of her knees. And since she had crossed them, he could observe 
the flawless symmetry of her magnificently rounded, beautifully muscled 
calves sheathed in beige nylons, and her dainty feet shod in trim black 
leather pumps with three-inch heels. He approached smilingly, and somehow, 
ridiculously, he felt like a schoolboy on his first date as he greeted her: 
"You're certainly punctual, Eleanor! That's another admirable thing about 
you." 

"My, Arthur, I've never met a man who's as full of compliments as you are at 
first meeting. Shall we have our cocktail now?" 

"Nothing would suit me better. But what about dinner this evening?' 

"Oh, I am sorry. I'd promised Mrs. Thompson --she's a friend I met on my 
first day here and the invitation is of two days' standing. Otherwise, I'd 
certainly say yes." 

"Well, perhaps tomorrow night, then? I'd like it very much if you'd bring 
Betty, too. I think she's a wonderful girl." 

"You know, Arthur," she said archly as she rose with a sinuous elegance from 
the chair that left him tingling with excitement and the awareness that he 
was being sensually roused as he hadn't been in years, "you know all the 
right things to say to a woman. Now complimenting me is fine, but my weak 
spot is Betty, because I'm very proud of her. And it hasn't been easy, being 
a widow bringing up a little girl and trying to teach her how to behave 
properly and eventually assume her role in the world. Not when you think of 
all the delinquents and the vandalism and the wrong influences that are 
being aimed at kids these days." 

The attractive cocktail room hostess seated Arthur Hadley and Eleanor 
Stanfield at a quiet little table in a corner, for which he was extremely 
grateful. He ordered sherry after learning that Betty's mother preferred gin 
and tonic. He was bursting with questions, but he knew that it would be a 
tactless mistake to hurry this relationship. Psychologically, he would be on 
the defensive if he tried to press and to go too quickly. It was only, he 
told himself, that he was so starved for affection since Sonya's death and 
because he found this mature and beautiful woman so fascinating, so 
sympathetic. So he wisely waited till the drinks had been served, and then 
he lifted his sherry and proposed a toast, "To our getting to know each 
other better and my thanks for making this vacation memorable." 

"That's very sweet, Arthur." Eleanor Stanfield raised her glass and clinked 
it with his. "You're really a very gracious man. And you know, I'll bet 
you're thinking that I'm thinking that you're trying to pick me up." 

Arthur Hadley's face went red and he shifted nervously in his seat, looked 
down at his glass. "Well, I certainly didn't want you to get that 
impression," he finally stammered. 

"It's perfectly all right. As soon as you told me you had a daughter and 
were a widower, I realized that you were bound to be lonely. And then of 
course when I noticed that your daughter wasn't with you--and isn't with you 
now--, I was convinced of it. No, Arthur, I'm not afraid that you're just a 
masher. I can see the signs of good domestic training in a man, and you 
evidently loved your wife very much." 

"That's very true, Eleanor. And perhaps because I did, I find myself now at 
loose ends after all this time and my vacation was really going to be rather 
boring. Hester doesn't much care for swimming, though she does play a little 
tennis and will on occasion go horseback riding. I guess I came to Malibu 
because Sonya and I used to come here so often when she was alive." 

"I understand." Eleanor Stanfield gave him a gentle smile and put out her 
hand to touch his. It was only a brief contact, but it sent a shiver through 
him and he quickly took a sip of his drink to calm his exacerbated nerves. 
"Tell me about your daughter, Arthur," she went on. 

"Well, she's eighteen, and of course an only child. This fall she's going to 
start at Pomona College this September, and I brought her down here because 
I'd hoped she'd get outdoors and take some interest in something else 
besides her books." 

"Then she doesn't have too many friends of her own age, I take it?" 

He shook his head. "No, and it's worrying me. Oh, her grades are fine, she's 
always been in the upper third of her class throughout high school. That's 
not what I'm worried about. Of course, she was that way even when Sonya was 
alive, but she was my wife's pet and--" 

"And you respected your wife and therefore you didn't try to maintain any 
discipline with your daughter," Eleanor Stanfield finished for him. 

"That's just about it. That's why I suppose I admired your daughter so very 
much this afternoon when I saw how obedient and polite and just naturally 
sweet she was. She doesn't seem to have a worry in the world." 

"Yes, she was a happy child almost from birth, it's true, Arthur," she told 
him. "But I can assure you that what you see now took some trying and not a 
little unpleasantness for Betty herself before it was achieved. And she 
still is by no means perfect. No sixteen-year-old girl could be, after all." 

"I suppose not. Just the same, although I've only known her for a little 
while, I can go so far as to say that I wish Hester had some of her 
qualities." 

"Thank you. But as I said, Arthur, Betty, just like any other young girl, 
was self willed, selfish and thoughtless when we started out together. By 
that, I mean after my husband died. She was ten years old then, and she was 
the apple of her father's eye, to use a trite phrase. What you see today is 
the result of six years of methodical and, I hope, judicious discipline." 

"You mean you've taught her to acquire the politeness and the sweetness that 
she has?" 

"Yes, you might say that. But not by talking entirely, believe me. No, 
Arthur, it was done by means of the elementary laws of cause and effect." 

"I don't quite understand you, Eleanor." 

"Very well, let me put it this way," she leaned back and smiled at him. "As 
I told you, Betty's father idolized her and of course he spoiled her. She 
was used to having her own way, she interrupted, she wanted things to 
revolve around her entirely, and she was certainly very sloppy when it came 
to taking care of her room and her own things. She also had the habit of 
fibbing, nothing ever very serious, but there were tendencies which 
indicated that if she wasn't curbed, she might well develop into a very 
cunning little liar. At first, when my husband died, Arthur, I felt just as 
helpless as I'm sure you felt when your Sonya passed away. Fortunately, so 
far as economics were concerned, my husband had a great deal of insurance 
and had purchased our house and left no debts, so that I didn't have to 
worry about the future. That meant I could devote myself entirely to 
bringing Betty up as I believed she should be. And so, to make a long story 
short, it wasn't long before I had the full authority of her supervision 
that I employed discipline with her. And I don't mean talking. In a word, 
Arthur, when she was naughty, I spanked her." 

"You spanked her?" he echoed. "I didn't think that any modern mother 
resorted to that these days, not with all the books I've read by Dr. Spock." 

"Yes, I know. The business that Junior will have a trauma, if his parents 
say no to him or hold him back from his natural instincts. I consider that 
hogwash, pure and simple. Forgive me for speaking so plainly, but it's a 
subject on which I'm quite opinionated, Arthur. So you see, at the very 
outset, Betty, who had never had so much as a slap, suddenly found that with 
me as her only parent, she would be punished each time she did something 
that I believed to be out of line with good behavior. And at first, I can 
assure you, I sometimes felt that I was being much too severe. But gradually 
it bore fruit. Which is not to say, to be sure, that I have given up this 
discipline even at her age today. Yes," she paused a moment and regarded him 
levelly, "whenever Betty disobeys me or does something that I consider 
entirely out of character, she is punished for it. And by punishment I mean 
a spanking." 

Arthur Hadley stared at the beautiful mature widow across the table from 
him. The most singular emotions were beginning to take subtle possession of 
him. In his mind's eye, he saw that delicious golden-haired young girl, 
smiling and carefree, her lovely blue eyes shining with happiness, lying 
across this handsome woman's lap, her bottom upturned, being spanked. It was 
a picture which was unique to him and also singularly disturbing. A kind of 
sensual titillation had begun to permeate his mind, aroused entirely by the 
eloquent and direct speech his lovely companion had just made. 

CHAPTER THREE 

It had made such an effect, indeed, that before Eleanor Stanfield took her 
leave of him to keep her dinner engagement with the woman friend she had 
previously mentioned, Arthur Hadley eagerly exacted a promise that she and 
Betty would be his guests for dinner in the hotel dining room the following 
evening. 

He ate by himself that evening, for Hester was in one of her blue funks and 
had complained of a headache. Accordingly, he had room service send a tray 
of dinner to her room. So he was lonelier than ever, and he ate without much 
appetite. Fortunately for the sake of distraction, there was a movie in the 
little assembly hall to which all the guests were invited, and Arthur Hadley 
took advantage of the opportunity to relax and, while he watched the frothy 
comedy which was being enacted on the silver screen, ponder over the almost 
incredible new direction his thoughts were taking. 

He was reasonably sure that Hester really didn't have a headache and was 
just indulging in one of her little spiteful tantrums to show her 
disapproval of their vacation spot. He remembered that she really hadn't 
wanted to come to Malibu after all, and he was piqued to remember, now that 
he was in a faultfinding state of mind, so many of her little "stunts" over 
the past few years. If Hester could be as well trained, as docile and as 
charmingly and refreshingly gregarious as Betty Stanfield, he thought to 
himself, he would be a much happier man. 

But most of all he found it difficult to credence that a big grown girl like 
lovely golden-haired Betty should be so humiliatingly and childishly 
chastised. He found himself examining with a great deal of curiosity the 
possible ways in which this voluptuous and handsome widow would administer 
such discipline to that lovely girl. And when he went to bed that night, he 
tossed and turned, his drowsy mind haunted by the most singular 
phantasmagoria in which he saw the ripely curved adolescent not only across 
her mother's lap, kicking her legs and turning back a tearstained face to 
implore mercy, but also standing on tiptoe with her hands tied high above 
her head and tethered to an antique whipping post. 

Until now, Arthur Hadley's erotic dreams had been perfectly unimaginative, 
though very definitely frequent, even while he had been enjoying harmonious 
and pleasant--if not thrilling exciting--sexual relations with his beloved 
Sonya. But now it was as if he were reborn and aware for the first time of 
the curious vagaries of physical desire. And before he finally fell asleep, 
he told himself that he must learn all he could about the methods which this 
fascinating woman employed to produce such praiseworthy results in so 
delightfully charming a daughter... 

The following afternoon he put on his bathing trunks and went out to the 
beach again. Hester's headache had vanished, apparently, and she decided 
that she would take a long walk. Since this was outdoor exercise of a sort, 
he couldn't very well sermonize her about her lack of cooperation, for he 
would have really enjoyed her companionship. Perhaps he might have intimated 
to her, had they been together, how far she was from the standards he had 
set for her and how it would be beneficial to them both if she tried to be 
more companionable and tolerant of others. 

His heart bounded as he saw Eleanor Stanfield seated on her blanket and with 
a beach umbrella above her, browsing through a book and looking up every now 
and then out towards the sandy shore of the beach. Following her gaze, he 
recognized golden-haired Betty tossing a beach-ball back and forth to three 
youths of about her own age. There was no doubt about it, she had one of the 
loveliest figures he had ever seen, and in a few years she would certainly 
be as desirable and delectable as her mature mother. The moment he thought 
this, he guiltily rebuked himself for having carnal desires toward Eleanor 
Stanfield--but he knew perfectly well that was the case. Sonya had been dead 
now for sixteen months, and if he wanted to keep thinking of himself as 
young and vital, he would have to return to the living world of reality, and 
that in turn would mean thinking about remarriage. Why not? A man wasn't a 
monk, and Sonya herself would have wanted him to be happy. Besides, it was 
more evident than ever, judging from Hester's behavior, that the steadying 
influence of a wise and understanding mother was more important than ever 
now, particularly as she was approaching college and the test of mingling 
with others of her own age who would undoubtedly have had better training in 
the amenities of polite society. It was true that he was going too fast, but 
then he had never before met a woman as stimulating and desirable as Eleanor 
Stanfield. 

There was almost a kind of magnetic response between them, he joyously told 
himself, for now the comely widow turned and saw him, then waved to him in a 
gesture which suggested that he join her. He didn't wait for a second 
invitation, but quickened his step and moved towards the red and yellow 
beach umbrella which marked her sunbathing vantage point. 

"Good afternoon, Arthur," she said cordially with a dazzling smile. "Sit 
down and keep me company. How are you today, and how is Hester?" 

"I'm fine. Hester's out for a walk," he replied. 

"I do hope I'll have a chance to meet her soon, Arthur." 

"I was thinking that perhaps this evening at dinner--that is if our date 
still holds--I might bring her along?" 

"Do you know, I was about to suggest that myself! Oh, now, just look at that 
girl of mine!" 

He turned to look in the direction of the shore. Betty had abandoned her 
beachball and was now playing gymnastics with the boys. One of them had 
hoisted her to his shoulders, and she was trying to balance herself on them 
like an acrobat. 

"Betty!" Eleanor Stanfield rose to her feet and, cupping her hands to her 
mouth, called out. "Come here, if you please!" 

Betty very nearly toppled from her precarious post, but the two boys 
standing around their crony hurried up behind him to catch her and then 
lower her to her feet. She extricated herself, and then hurried towards her 
mother and Arthur Hadley. "Hi, Mom! Did you want something?" she gaily 
asked. "Oh, hello, Mr. Hadley." 

"Hello, Betty," he answered. But his eyes were on Betty's mother, whose face 
was stem and grave. 

"You know perfectly well, young lady, that I don't like you making a 
spectacle of yourself being part of that muscle bunch." 

Immediately Betty's dazzling smile vanished and a look of contrition 
appeared on her lovely heart-shaped face. "I-I'm sorry, Mother," she 
murmured placatingly. 

"Not half as sorry as you're going to be in a little while, my dear," was 
the brisk retort. "Let me see, it's three-thirty now. You may go to your 
room and prepare. I'll be there at four." 

"Yes, Mother. I-I'm sorry. Goodbye, Mr. Hadley," Betty flushed, lowered her 
eyes, and then meekly trudged off towards the hotel. 

Eleanor Stanfield turned to the bemused widower: "I'm dreadfully sorry, 
Arthur. But I'm afraid that Betty won't be able to accept your very gracious 
invitation to dinner this evening. I trust you will forgive her this once?" 

"Certainly, Eleanor." 

"But I want you to be sure to bring Hester, because I'm quite anxious to 
meet her," Betty's lovely mother continued, glancing at her wrist-watch. 
"And I'm also afraid that in a little while I'm going to have to leave you, 
Arthur, till I meet you for dinner this evening." 

"You-you're going to-to punish Betty for what she just did?" Although his 
face was impassive, he couldn't quite hide the unsteady tone of his voice. 
And once again the lewd, startlingly intimate image leaped into his febrile 
mind, of seeing that delicious pinkskinned adolescent draped across Eleanor 
Stanfield's voluptuous lap, her round, succulent young buttocks upthrust to 
maternal chastisement. 

"Decidedly I am, Arthur. And you tell me that you've never punished Hester, 
and that your wife didn't either?" 

"That's true. But you see, while it might have been possible when she was 
just a child, she's all of eighteen now." 

"But she's still under your direct supervision and she lives at home and is 
supposed to obey you, isn't she, Arthur?" 

"Yes, I suppose that's so." 

"Of course it is. But then, my dear man, I don't expect you to change over 
night your educational methods. You see, it took me quite some months after 
my husband's death to discover that the method I am now using is the only 
practical and sensible one. And you can see for yourself that Betty doesn't 
look at all abused or starved or unhappy, does she?" 

"No, I'd certainly never say that of her," he admitted. 

"Well, we shall talk about these things later, Arthur. I look forward to 
meeting your daughter, and again, all my thanks for being so attentive. I'm 
very glad we came here on our vacation." 

"Likewise," he said and then blushed like a schoolboy. She flashed him a 
deliciously coquettish smile, and then rose and smoothed the sand off her 
magnificent thighs. As he looked up, his heart nearly stopped beating with 
desire as he caught the glimpse of the valley between her full round 
titties, and he observed that although her skin was beautifully tanned from 
the sun, the tender soft skin between those luscious love-globes of hers was 
breathtakingly milky-white. 

"I-I'll see you at dinner, then, Eleanor," his voice quavered as he rose to 
his feet. And he was hugely embarrassed to discover that his cock felt hard 
and throbbing, though fortunately it wasn't in sufficient erection to be 
discernible... 

It was as well for Arthur Hadley's peace of mind that he couldn't look into 
the bedroom which Betty occupied at the hotel at this particular moment. A 
strange scene was being enacted. After the reproof by her mother, the 
golden-haired teenager had gone directly to her room, taken off her bathing 
suit and then put on her bra and panties. Next, she had pulled open the 
second drawer of the dresser, and taken out two straps, one with a buckle at 
one end, and the other without one. Next she had taken a pillow from the bed 
and placed it in the middle. Then she glanced around nervously to make sure 
that her clothes were tidily hung in the closet and that there was nothing 
on top of the dresser. Then, as if satisfied, she stooped and removed her 
panties and placed them neatly over the back of a straight-backed chair 
beside the bed, and then clambered onto the bed and carefully laid herself 
down so that her stomach was directly over the pillow. Then, folding her 
arms, she laid her head on them and waited. 

In the adjoining room, she could hear the footsteps of her mother entering, 
and she shivered a little, turned her face to the other side, and closed her 
eyes and continued to wait. The naked skin of her buttocks twitched 
spasmodically, but other than that she exhibited no signs of apprehension or 
distress. She acted throughout, indeed, as if this were an exercise which 
she had practiced many times--and so indeed she had. She knew, for example, 
that her mother would leisurely remove her bathing suit, put on a slip and 
robe and not come back into her room until the exact moment announced out at 
the beach. 

It was usually anywhere from fifteen minutes to half an hour, and the longer 
prolongation was used when the offense had been extremely serious, as it 
apparently was this time, for the wait became almost interminable, and one 
could see the contraction of Betty's thigh and bottom muscles becoming more 
and more frequent as she lay there waiting. The pillow proffered up her 
naked bottom in the most enticing way imaginable; it tautened the smooth 
satiny skin and defined the voluptuous and already quite mature contours. 

Then the door opened and her mother entered the room. Betty looked up and 
said in a soft, faint voice, "I'm sorry, Mother." 

"I am too, my dear, because I'm afraid you won't be able to accept Mr. 
Hadley's very kind invitation to dinner this evening. I'll have a tray sent 
up to your room. Now you know perfectly well why you're being punished, 
don't you?" 

"Yes, Mother." 

"Suppose you tell me, then." 

"For-for playing rough games with those fellows down at the shore." 

"And I told you about such things before, haven't I, dear?" 

"Yes, you have, Mother. I'm sorry. I won't do it again." 

"I certainly hope not. Very well, give me the buckling strap." 

Now the fatal moment had come, and Betty was seen to shiver throughout her 
entire almost naked pink-sheened body. She reached out to her left which was 
near the edge of the bed, and took up the buckling strap, which was of brown 
soft leather. Eleanor Stanfield took it, and Betty dutifully clasped her 
hands together and extended her lovely bare arms out in front of her while 
her mother proceeded to wind the strap tightly around the slim wrists and to 
draw up the buckle as tightly as she could. The other strap was black and 
polished, about two feet long, of double thickness along the last three 
inches at one end, and about a quarter of an inch thick throughout its major 
length. At the applying end, it was rounded off in a kind of semi-circle, to 
create a kind of extra-stinging slap. 

"Get ready, dear," Eleanor Stanfield said as she took her stance by the edge 
of the bed, the strap in her right hand. Betty quickly squirmed till she was 
exactly over the center of the pillow, her stomach and loins pressing down 
upon it, and pressed her thighs together, then laid her left cheek against 
the surface of the bed and waited. 

Her bottomcheeks were splendidly ample, up-standingly rounded and quite 
plump and firm at the summits. The groove between them was gradually 
sinuous, broadening at the base. There was an adorable dimple in the exact 
center of each buttock, and both seemed to come and go as the girl's bare 
skin twitched and shrank in understandable anticipation of what was to 
follow. She pressed her bare dainty little toes down hard into the covers, 
to give herself support, but this maneuver served to project and tauten the 
target of the black leather strap which now slowly rose in the air. 

Crack! The strap flashed down and leaped across the tops of both 
delightfully rounded naked hips. Betty caught her breath and closed her 
eyes, convulsively tightening her clasped fingers ahead of her, but she made 
no sound or movement other than that. As the strap lifted, one could see the 
bright pink tracery imposing its vivid hue over the baby-pink satiny 
epidermis of the teenager's naked behind. 

The strap rose again slowly, hovered in the air, then again flashed down 
with a sonorous impact, visiting the girl's naked upper buttocks, perhaps 
half an inch below the mark of the first stroke. Betty's calves flexed and 
her toes scrabbled at the covers, while she lifted her head slightly, and 
then laid it back down in exactly the same place as at the outset of the 
punishment. 

Eleanor Stanfield continued with a deliberate cadence, allowing perhaps ten 
seconds between strokes. After twenty-five, she paused to contemplate her 
handiwork. Betty was sniffling now, squirming uncomfortably, but she had not 
left the limited boundaries of the pillow. Her face was now pressed down on 
the other cheek, so that it seemed turned towards her beautiful, relentless 
executioner. Her eyes were still closed, but there were tears glistening at 
the ends of the long thick curly lashes, and her face was flushed. Her arms 
were still thrust out ahead of her, the fingers tightly clasped together, 
and her thighs had begun a nervous kind of rubbing together, and shifting 
just prior to the infliction of each new biting kiss of the black leather 
strap. 

The marvelous smooth pale pinkness of the young girl's naked body, with the 
lovely back adorably hollowed by the spinal column and the pronounced vista 
of the chinkbone, and then the soft sheen of the bare thighs and calves, was 
emphasized all the more by the now vividly crimson-striped pattern designed 
on the girl's round, voluptuous young bottom. From the tops of her hips to 
the base of her buttocks, the strap had visited with an impartial vigor, and 
Betty's netherglobes seemed to tense and then relax with a sporadic motion 
she seemed unable to control. 

After this brief pause, the handsome brown-haired widow once again lifted 
the strap, and Betty, who had opened her eyes at this moment, uttered a 
gasp, "Oh, Mother!" and quickly closed them again while at the same time she 
seemed to press herself down tightly against the pillow in an attempt to 
steel herself for the resumption of punishment. 

Thwack! This stroke encircled the base of both quivering nether globes, and 
Betty's hips squirmed convulsively under the stinging impact. A stifled sob 
escaped her, and she turned her face to the other side now, pressing her 
left cheek down against the covers, while she stretched her arms out ahead 
of her with a kind of supreme gesture. If it had not been that she lay on 
her stomach, one could have seen the beautiful young titties arch and jut 
with that maneuver which tautened them. 

Again the strap fell, this time slightly higher up, and now the spanking 
resumed with the same methodical regularity as during the first portion. 
With brisk horizontal cuts, the black leather band wedded to both globes at 
the same time, ascending the inflamed and twitching posterior to the tops of 
the hips, covering every cranny of tender young flesh with the chalorous 
embrace of leather. Now "Ohhhs" and "Ahhs" began to be heard at virtually 
every stroke, and from time to time it was seen that Betty's bare hips 
convulsively swerved to this side and then to that. But never once did she 
leave the confines of the pillow, nor did she make any outcry for mercy or 
reprieve. 

Again after twenty-five, making a total of fifty, Eleanor Stanfield stopped 
and lowered the strap. Her face was flushed, her eyes sparkling, her lips 
moist, and her magnificent bubbies rose and fell majestically under the thin 
bathrobe which covered the even sheerer black nylon slip. Betty was crying 
softly now, and rubbing herself nervously back and forth over the pillow, as 
she attempted to find a less irksome pose in which to endure the finale of 
her punishment. During the last three or four spanks, she had kicked up 
first one leg and then the other, but never once throughout this already 
prolonged and quite painful whipping had she attempted to roll to one side 
to escape any of the punitive, biting descents of that black leather strap. 

During this pause, the golden-haired culprit turned her face again so that 
her right cheek rested on the covers, and her tear-filled eyes fixed on her 
mother's beautiful, absorbed features. This time she crossed her ankles, 
tightening her leg muscles as she prepared for the resumption of correction. 

Eleanor Stanfield slowly raised the strap, and Betty uttered a "Ohh, 
Mother!" as she hurriedly closed her eyes. She seemed to press herself down 
tightly against the pillow in an effort to diminish the much too vulnerable 
plumpness of her now vividly streaked hindquarters. The strap descended with 
an ominous "Crack!" and this time fell vertically, dividing the left buttock 
exactly in half as it merged its black polished leather end along the 
luscious netherhillock. 

"Ouch, ohh!" Betty sobbed, she shifted her bound wrists nervously, lifted 
her head, and then closed her eyes and pressed her chin down firmly against 
the covers, her entire body rippling with tremors. The strap rose slowly 
again, paused in the air an excruciating moment, then fell vigorously down 
the right buttock, attacking it from the base to the small of the girl's 
bare back. Betty's body jerked convulsively under the stinging lash, her 
hips swerved frantically from left to right, then from right to left again, 
and she pressed herself down frantically against the pillow as once more she 
tried to diminish the prominence of the inescapable target of that 
punishing, burning strap. 

Eleanor Stanfield concluded the whipping with a dozen more lashes down each 
bare bottomcheek, and then a final cut, delivered horizontally, across the 
plumpest curve of both naked globes. Betty was sobbing aloud now, and almost 
each stroke had brought fervent "I'm sorry, Mother!" and "Aaahhh, I'll be a 
good girl from now on, honest, Mother!" 

The whipping had been reasonably severe. It had comprised fifty horizontal 
strokes, twenty-six vertically applied lashes, and a final "finisher-upper" 
delivered with full strength across both flaming naked bottomglobes. 

Eleanor Stanfield folded the strap and laid it down on the edge of the bed 
near Betty's bare feet. Then she went through the door connecting their 
rooms back into her own, and left her daughter there for at least ten 
minutes. The goldenhaired culprit, her face wet with tears, was thus 
compelled to remain with her wrists bound, unable to soothe the burning 
anguish of her well thrashed bottom, which was exactly one of the nuances of 
discipline which her mother had imposed during this ritualistic 
chastisement. Left to herself, Betty cried softly, squirming back and forth 
over the pillow, lifting first one leg and then the other, sometimes rubbing 
her bare calves together, in ingenuous though understandable attempts to 
alleviate the fiery pangs in her voluptuous young naked seat. Finally 
Eleanor Stanfield reappeared and, leaning over the still softly sobbing 
girl, deftly unbuckled the wrist strap. At once Betty plunged her soft 
little hands to her flaming behind and rubbed it feverishly, while her 
mother moved over to an armchair, seated herself and then beckoned to the 
girl. 

Sniffling and trying to control her crying, the almost naked young culprit 
got down gingerly from the bed, wincing and gasping as the movement 
aggravated the seemingly intolerable heat in her posterior, and approached 
her mother, head hanging, in a total attitude of abject contrition. She was 
breathtakingly lovely in this punishment attire which consisted of only a 
pink nylon brassiere; the lovely round globes of her titties rose and fell 
agitatedly, and through the nylon one could make out the narrow, light coral 
aurolae and the pouting, saucy buds of her nipples. Her bellybutton was wide 
and shallow, and there was already a surprisingly thick fleece of silky dark 
blonde curls over the plump mound of her virgin Venus. 

Eleanor Stanfield patted her lap, and the goldenhaired penitent cautiously 
seated herself on her mother's lap. Eleanor Stanfield's left arm curved 
around the girl's naked waist, and she cupped Betty's chin with her right 
hand and murmured gently, "I'm sorry I had to punish you, darling. But you 
know that my heart was in my mouth when I saw you playing with those boys." 

"I-I know, Mummy." After a spanking, Betty invariably seemed to use the 
childish title rather than the more formal one of "Mother." Then she added, 
"I-I know I shouldn't have. I'm awfully sorry." 

"And I'm sorry I had to whip you so hard, precious. But most of all, because 
you won't be able to have dinner with Mr. Hadley and me. He's a very nice 
man, and he has a girl who's two years older than you are, Betty. I'm afraid 
she isn't nearly as lady-like and well bred as you are, though. I'll have a 
chance to meet her. Now then, you go to the bathroom and take a shower, and 
then put on your pajamas. I'll send up a nice dinner for you. But don't you 
ever do that again, young lady, because you know how I worry about you." 

"I promise I won't, Mummy. Thank you--thank you for punishing me because I 
was naughty," Betty quavered. Then, impulsively, her beautiful pink round 
satiny arms clung around her mother's neck as she exchanged a fervent "kiss 
of peace" with the voluptuous and mature brown-haired widow. When she rose, 
a brave little smile was trembling on her moist red lips, and Eleanor 
Stanfield playfully patted the flaming naked seat as she said cheerfully, 
"That's a good girl, Betty. Now take a nice cool shower and you'll feel lots 
better, I'll tell you all about what Mr. Hadley's daughter is like when I 
come to see you and wish you good night, darling." 

CHAPTER FOUR 

Arthur Hadley had never been so conscious of his daughter's faults as on 
this particular evening, and he was the more annoyed because secretly he had 
hoped that Hester would offer one of her moody excuses for not wanting to 
accompany him to dinner so that he could be alone with the fascinating 
Eleanor Stanfield. Regrettably for his romantic aspirations, Hester 
listlessly agreed to go. But so far as cordiality and charm was concerned, 
all she contributed was her presence. 

She was five feet six inches in height, with a rather oval-shaped face, 
slantingly set cheekbones, large, widely spaced blue eyes, very thick brows, 
a straight nose, and a small ripe mouth whose upper lip was petulantly 
curved and full, indicative at once of her egoistic nature. A few tiny red 
spots of acne decorated her chin and cheeks, as well as the top of her 
forehead. Her auburn hair was drawn away from the forehead and fixed into a 
thick rather ungainly bun at the back of her head. Her skin was tawny but 
rather sallow, for she rarely indulged in outdoor sports and she had thus 
far during the first week of this vacation been hardly out at all. When she 
did her studies, she wore harlequin glasses, which gave her a rather piquant 
air; but without them, she gave the impression of being overbearing and 
quite unconcerned with what went on around her. 

Nonetheless, she had an elegant figure and had she taken more pains with 
herself, it would have been really stunning. Highset, pear-shaped breasts 
set rather widely apart, a slim waist which gave way to lithe and supple 
hips, and a pair of ample oval-shaped buttocks with a broadening crease, 
long nervously chiseled thighs and calves. Her voice was midway between 
contralto and soprano, and it too gave the impression to a first-time 
observer that she was most pretentious. However, if one listened to her 
speech at any length, it was evident that she was perhaps scholastically 
intelligent but vastly immature as regards emotions and a knowledge of how 
to deal with people. 

She monopolized the conversation from the start during the dinner, and 
though Eleanor Stanfield was sweetly polite and even encouraged her with an 
occasional phrase, Arthur Hadley at once discerned that the voluptuous 
brown-haired widow found her irritating at times. 

After dinner, Hester delighted him by casually remarking, "If that's all, 
Father, I think I'll go for a walk. Nice to have met you, Mrs. Stanfield." 

"And to have met you, Hester," Eleanor Stanfield graciously remarked. "I 
hope we shall see each other again some time soon." 

Hester gave a kind of shrug of her shoulders for which her father could 
cheerfully have slapped her, and then flounced off as her father and Eleanor 
Stanfield emerged into the lobby of the hotel. She turned to him with a 
knowing smile: "Perhaps, Arthur, you'd like to take a walk too... in the 
other direction?" 

"You must have been reading my mind, Eleanor. Let's!" he eagerly rejoined. 

They directed their footsteps towards the attractive landscaped little park, 
where there were tennis courts for the guests, and after a long silence, 
Eleanor turned to him and commented, "I can see that you do have a problem, 
Arthur, and that you've been thinking about it recently." 

"Yes I have. Let me apologize for Hester. She was really bad-mannered 
tonight, as I've never seen her before." 

"No, my dear man. It's only that you haven't exposed her to very much social 
life since your wife's death, and it's only because you did tonight that she 
shows up badly." 

"But--" he began. 

"Let me finish, Arthur. She's quite intelligent, alert, with a keen mental 
grasp of her studies and of things that interest her. That's excellent. But 
that's as far as it goes. She's ill at ease and, I think, a little on the 
defensive." 

"On the defensive, Hester?" he echoed incredulously. 

"Believe me, before I got married, I was a teacher for about a year in a 
junior high school. I was very young then, just about twenty-one, but I had 
my certificate just the same and I was all set to have a career when I met 
John. But that's beside the point. What I'm getting at, Arthur, is that I 
can recognize Hester because I had a girl by the name of Janice in my first 
class and I'll never forget her. She was a product of a broken home, and she 
was constantly getting into trouble, picking quarrels, arguing with me 
before all the other pupils. Then I found out that she was really lonesome 
and unhappy, and she was just striking out. I think Hester's going a little 
bit through that process, if you don't mind my saying so. And it's no 
reflection on you at all." 

"You may be right. I do wish I could spend more time with her, but my job 
keeps me traveling quite a bit throughout the state. But-but that's not what 
I wanted to talk to you about, Eleanor." 

"Oh?" 

"I-I was wondering about Betty." 

"I see." Eleanor Stanfield looked at him intently for a moment, and then 
smiled, and linked her arm with his. "And what did you want to know about my 
daughter, Arthur?" 

"Well, she's such a lovely girl, and at dinner tonight I could see the 
comparison between the two. And yet, I couldn't help thinking that she was 
the one who was being punished and Hester wasn't. Did you--I mean--that 
is--did you really punish her?" 

"Let's sit down here on this nice bench and look at the moonlight. That's 
fine. To answer your question, Arthur, yes I did." 

"You mean--you--you spanked her?" 

"You might call it that, yes." 

"And she didn't resist?" 

"Good heavens, Arthur, you make it sound so melodramatic!" Eleanor Stanfield 
uttered a charming little laugh. "Let me tell you what I had started to tell 
you this afternoon. When John died, I was first crushed by my loss, and then 
I reflected that financially I didn't have to worry, so my main 
responsibility and my really only concern was that of bringing up my 
daughter properly. But Betty had already developed some nasty little habits, 
though she was only ten. At first I tried reasoning with her. That didn't 
work at all. And then one day, in exasperation, I decided to spank her. 
Well, it seemed to work for a little while, and then she reverted back to 
her bad habits again. I realized also that it would be a great mistake ever 
to punish her in anger, to inflict more punishment than the offense called 
for simply because I had lost my own temper." 

"That's a most interesting theory." 

"It's more than a theory, Arthur, it's an axiom with me. And you see, by 
explaining to Betty very calmly and very logically why she was being 
punished and then proceeding to inflict just that punishment on her, she 
began to understand the law of cause and effect which I've already 
mentioned. Oh, I don't mind telling you it took some time. And gradually I 
got her to the point, when she was about thirteen, I'd say, that she 
accepted and understood her own responsibility in this relationship of ours. 
She knows also that once a punishment is over, it's forgotten--unless of 
course she makes the mistake of repeating the offense. She tries very hard, 
she's a good-natured and cheerful girl at heart, so you mustn't think that 
I'm an ogress. In fact, she has learned that when I tell her to go to her 
room, she's to prepare herself until I come to her. That too, I may tell 
you, took many lessons and occasionally repeated punishments until I 
achieved the degree of understanding submission which a girl her age has to 
have." 

"Then how--" 

"I'll tell you exactly what happened. When I went up to my room this 
afternoon, Betty had already taken her shower, put on her bra and probably 
her panties too while she prepared herself. By that I mean, Arthur, she took 
a buckling strap from the drawer which I use to put around her wrists so 
that she won't try to cover up when I'm spanking her, and then she took out 
the strap I use to spank her when she's done a very wrong thing, such as 
playing rough-house with those boys." 

"You mean, she did all that without your telling her?" 

"Exactly. It was all done by the time I entered her room. Oh, I came in a 
little bit after her, and I purposely waited. First of all, when a 
punishment is announced, the suspense that is created by having to wait for 
it lets the girl know exactly how serious her offense has been and makes her 
reflect considerably upon her wrongdoing. Hence when its time for the actual 
chastisement, Arthur, she's in a quite impressed mood, I assure you. Well 
now, to continue. When I entered the room, Betty was lying on her stomach 
over a pillow which she had taken from the top of the bed and placed in the 
middle. The buckling strap and the spanking strap were beside her and ready. 
I told her briefly why I was going to punish her and I asked her if she 
agreed with me. She said she did and that she was sorry. I then strapped her 
wrists in front of her, I told her to get ready, and then I used the 
spanking strap on her bare bottom. She's quite brave and her endurance is 
quite good. However, I strapped her thoroughly, and she was crying quite 
satisfactorily by the time I stopped. Then I went back to my room for a few 
minutes while I let her lie there and think things over. That's the hardest 
part for Betty, in many ways, Arthur." 

"And why is that?' 

"Well, because her first instinct is to rub her burning bottom, and she 
can't. She must stay in position until I am ready to release her. And when 
I've done this, then we talk things over. Then she's my little girl again, 
and she comes to sit in my lap and to give me a kiss to show me that she 
bears me no ill will." 

"It's simply amazing!" he shook his head and uttered a sigh. "I can just see 
myself doing something like that to Hester. She'd throw a book at me." 

"No, you can't take her by surprise after all this time, Arthur. It's going 
to be a more difficult process to discipline Hester because you've let her 
go so long. And yet she's still not too old for it, you can see that 
yourself." 

"I agree with you. But then," he sighed again, "there is the problem of 
moving about on my job and not being home all the time. I've got an elderly 
housekeeper back in Pomona, but then after all I assume that at eighteen 
Hester is old enough to take care of herself." 

"In everything except the secret of learning how to get along with people. 
And that's the most important of all." 

"And Betty--is everything all right?" 

"Her bottom is quite red, if that's what you mean," Eleanor Stanfield 
laughed gaily as again she linked her arm with his. "I imagine that she's 
had a very good dinner which I sent up on a tray, taken a cold shower this 
time, no doubt, got into her pajamas and is busy reading. Or perhaps not, 
since it's just about her bedtime now. Which reminds me that I'd best go 
back and give her a good night kiss. And I can assure you that we get along 
beautifully together. There are rewards as well as punishments. I often do 
unexpected little things for Betty when I'm very pleased with her. As I say, 
by and large, she's a very good girl. And now I really had better go. Thank 
you for a lovely evening, Arthur." 

As they rose together, he faced her, and in the moonlight she looked 
infinitely more desirable than ever. He felt himself trembling. "Eleanor-- 
I-I know it's awfully soon--I mean, we've only just met--but--well, darn it 
all, I just have to say this--I-I like you alot." 

"Thank you, Arthur. I like you too, very much." 

He uttered a gasp of joy, and put his arms around her, and before he knew it 
was kissing her on the mouth. The feel of her full breasts against his 
chest, and the exquisite sensation of having her arms circle him, made him 
feel reborn. They stood there for a long and magical moment, until he felt 
his cock aching violently. And then he blushed at the thought that perhaps 
she would be aware of his erotic arousal. But it was Eleanor Stanfield who 
first broke off the embrace by giving him a quick kiss on the cheek and then 
whispering, "Now definitely I've got to go back, darling. I'll see you 
tomorrow on the beach, shall I?" 

"Please do. And bring Betty. I'll try to get Hester." 

"Fine. Till tomorrow, then." She held out her hand to him, he squeezed it, 
and then impulsively swept her into his arms again and kissed her on the 
mouth. God, how warm and moist and quiveringly exquisite her mouth was! 

"Whew! You're a very impetuous fellow, Arthur. I really had better get back 
now before I get into trouble. And you know something?" 

"What, you beautiful, fascinating, adorable woman?" he breathed. 

Eleanor Stanfield gave him a sly little wink. "You know, I'm rather glad 
myself that Betty's aim of that beachball was so inaccurate. Good night, 
Arthur dear." 

CHAPTER FIVE 

By the end of his second week at Malibu Beach, Arthur Hadley knew that he 
was in love with Eleanor Stanfield and that he was going to ask her to marry 
him. He had two problems, to would accept him; the second, assuming that she 
be sure: the paramount one was whether she did, was how Hester would react 
to the idea of having a step-mother at this most impressionable and 
supposedly mature stage in her young life. 

On two occasions during those idyllic days, he had had dinner dates with the 
fascinating brown-haired widow and each time Hester had accompanied him. 
Each time, too, he had been embarrassed by her diffidence and her invariable 
manner of turning the conversation around to herself, sometimes even rudely 
interrupting when she wished to make a point. This tactless-ness convinced 
him that he had been entirely wrong in her upbringing and that it was high 
time to take drastic measures. But he foresaw also the difficulty of such a 
procedure unless he could have the cooperation of this magnificently 
beautiful and mature women who had already given proof of her maternal 
authority by turning golden-haired Betty into an absolutely adorable girl... 
a perfect step-sister for arrogant Hester and one who could show his own 
daughter by her own example how to behave in exemplary fashion. 

And so on Sunday night which ended the second week, he had dinner with 
Eleanor Stanfield alone, and he put on his very best suit, had a haircut at 
the barber shop and a manicure as well (the stimulating sensation of having 
a pretty young girl bend over his hand and caress his fingers titillated him 
into hoping that with Eleanor's acquiescence, his nights wouldn't be lonely 
from now on!), and then met her in the lobby of the hotel and escorted her 
into the restaurant. 

He ordered steak and champagne, and the charming brown-haired widow gave him 
an arch look. "What's the celebration, Arthur?" 

"It's the anniversary of my meeting you, Eleanor. I have something I want to 
say to you, something very important. It means a great deal to me." 

"And what is that, pray tell?" she whimsically smiled at him and leaned 
back, in a way that made his heart bound again to see the magnificent thrust 
of her bubbies against her blue rayon dress. 

"I'm not going to say it until the champagne comes," he warned laughingly. 
"By the way, how is that lovely daughter of yours?" 

"Betty? She's fine. Somehow I had a feeling that you didn't want her along 
this evening." 

"Eleanor! You-you wonderful woman! You've got a seventh sense. I didn't want 
Hester along, either, to tell the truth." 

"So it really must be very important, Arthur?" Her eyes fixed on his and her 
red full lips curved in the most enchanting smile. He knew that if she 
didn't say yes, he would be the un-happiest of men. 

"I think, sir," she reproved him but with a twinkle in her eyes, "that 
you're trying to turn my head. Steak and champagne and flattery. It's a good 
thing we're in a public place." 

"Well," he blurted, feeling his face redden. "To tell the truth, I wish this 
were a private suite and we were dining just by ourselves with no one else 
around so I could tell you and show you all that you mean to me." 

"Arthur Hadley! I do believe you're going to propose. Is that it?" 

"Oh gosh!" he groaned. "Now the secret's out." 

"But I'm not offended at all. And I think it's a lovely proposal. You know, 
I wasn't certain that I was going to marry again after John's death. But I 
realize that it's time Betty had the authority of a father and the love and 
the care as well." 

"I do love your daughter, Eleanor. And I feel as if she were my own flesh 
and blood." 

"That's very dear of you, Arthur." She put out her hand over his and 
squeezed it gently. He felt his cock throb with indescribable ecstasy at the 
prospect of this gorgeous creature was going to be his to fondle and to 
fuck! "And I'll feel the same way towards your daughter, too, Arthur." 

"Am I to hope then, Eleanor, that you aren't going to say no?" his voice 
trembled a little. 

"The answer, you enterprising man, is yes." 

"Eleanor!" he exclaimed so loudly that diners around them turned to look. 
"Gosh! Darn it, how I wish we were alone, so I could take you in my arms and 
kiss you and tell you how happy I am and how happy I'm going to try to make 
you." 

"There'll be time for that, dear. You told me that you work in management 
counselorship, don't you?" 

"Yes I do. But I've been doing some thinking too--of course, it was 
contingent upon your saying yes. For the last few years, Eleanor, I've had 
the idea of founding my own firm. I've always wanted to be my own boss, and 
several of the contacts I've made on my last few trips indicated that they 
personally liked me and would give me a chance to handle their business. And 
I'd have to engage a staff and open an office, but what I'm getting at is 
that I wouldn't want to take you and Betty away from your hometown and your 
circle of friends. And for myself, I'd welcome the chance at last to settle 
down in one place and have a family." 

"Why, Arthur Hadley, do you know what you just said?" Eleanor Stanfield 
murmured with the most provocative smile he had ever seen on a woman's lips. 
Then he really did blush. 

"Well, all right, I mean, we can talk about--oh darnit anyway, Eleanor, I 
can't wait to get you out of the restaurant--" 

"And into bed?" she whispered meaningfully, arching her lovely eyebrows and 
giving him a soft, thrilling, humid look. 

Whatever he might have said then was halted by the arrival of the waiter 
with the steaks, and for the next few minutes each of them, too moved for 
conversation, did justice to the superb cord-fed beef. After dessert and 
coffee, Arthur Hadley, who was almost bursting with joy, beckoned to the 
waiter for the check, tipped him with a five-dollar bill, and then hurried 
to help Eleanor out of her chair and lead her out of the lobby. 

"That was a marvelous dinner, dear," she said. "And I drank just enough 
champagne to feel like celebrating." 

"Not too much, I hope, to change your mind though?" he asked nervously. 

"Of course not, darling. You know, when Betty hit you with that beachball, 
and I came over and saw what a nice-looking fellow you were, I told myself 
that if I did fall for somebody, it might very well be someone like you." 

"Eleanor!" he breathed, completely floating on a cloud. 

"Then you really are serious about forming your own business and coming to 
Claremont, where Betty and I live?" she asked as they got into the 
elevators. 

"Yes I am. I've had several offers for my house, but I've always resisted 
them because--well, I didn't think I was going to remarry, either. You 
darling!" 

"Shhh, the elevator boy can hear us," Eleanor warningly whispered, but her 
eyes and lips weren't the least bit reproving. As for Arthur Hadley, he was 
in something of a quandry; did she mean for him to come to her room or was 
she going to go to his? His eyes eloquently appealed as he stared at her 
silently. And Eleanor Stanfield comprehended through ESP; standing beside 
him and very close, she whispered, "Your room, if Hester can't come in." 

Now his heart really bounded with joy, because he had got Hester a single 
room with bath just across the way from his own. Now the only problem would 
be if his brashly selfish daughter should happen to come out of her room at 
the moment that he and Eleanor were entering his. But at this moment, he was 
willing to take that chance, because the pressure of Eleanor's thigh against 
his was making his prick ache with longing. 

The gods of love smiled kindly on him because when the elevator boy opened 
the door and he gallantly escorted Eleanor out, there wasn't a soul in the 
hallway. He took his key and swiftly unlocked his door, then, with a nervous 
glance to each end of the passageway, ushered her in ahead of him and 
hastily closed and locked his door. She stood facing him, an enigmatic smile 
on her firm, incisive lips, her eyes dancing, and the rich swell of her 
titties made the ache between his legs grow almost intolerably agonizing. 

"Eleanor, my sweet darling Eleanor!" his voice was husky with longing as he 
put his arm around her shoulders and for the first time tasted the sweet 
nectar of her lips. Her arms swiftly closed over his shoulders, and she 
arched to him, and he felt the thrilling pressure of her firm swelling 
hubbies and the warm suggestive hollow of her pelvic basin as she merged to 
him in this osculatory embrace. 

When the kiss finally ended, it was she who spoke first, her cheeks rosy 
like a schoolgirl's: "My gracious, Arthur, I guess you do mean it!" 

"Didn't you think I did, darling? I think when I first saw you on the beach 
coming after Betty and that ball, I knew then you were the girl for me." 

"You're awfully nice, Arthur, and you have a knack for saying just the right 
things to make a woman happy. But what touches me most is that you're 
willing to change your whole career just so that you can be with the two of 
us. That decided me that you weren't just an adventurer out to seduce me." 

"Well," he heard himself say, his voice thickening with desire, "I want to 
seduce you, and that's no lie." 

"You wouldn't be much of a man if you didn't, and I wouldn't be much of a 
woman if I didn't feel that you want me right away," was her thrilling 
answer as she whispered it into his ear and then lightly nipped his earlobe 
with her sharp white teeth. He uttered a stifled groan, because his prick 
was threatening to burst through the fly of his trousers, and he knew that 
she must be feeling it, clinging as she was to him with her entire body so 
supple and lithe and warm and inviting. 

"I can see where Betty gets her beauty, my darling," he huskily told me as 
his hand stroked her dimpled rounded shoulders. He still hesitated for fear 
of offending her, even though she'd said yes to him and had obviously come 
to his room for love. She was such an unexpected bounty from the goddess 
Venus that he didn't want to spoil matters by being too precipitate, and if 
she only knew how hard and agonized his prick was, she might be a little 
scared. 

"There are a couple of things you ought to know about me right away, Arthur 
darling," she murmured, her hands now cupping his cheeks and her eyes 
luminous with desire. "I'm not exactly the stern cruel disciplinarian you 
may think and I have all the urges and impulses of any healthy woman, and I 
think I'm still young enough and capable enough of adding to the family if 
you really want to, Arthur dearest." 

"Oh Eleanor, I can't believe you've said yes, it seems just like yesterday 
that we first came here, Hester and I, and I was so down in the dumps--and 
now I've got you. Pinch me to make sure I'm not dreaming--ouch! I guess I'm 
not--oh Eleanor!" he jubilantly blurted, hugging her tightly and again 
taking her mouth. He felt it grow moist and move under his, and then 
suddenly he gasped as he felt the flick of her dainty pink tongue. 

"You see?" she giggled impishly when at last that kiss ended, "I told you 
there is a lot you have to learn about me yet, Arthur. And don't think that 
this is a one-night conquest either, young man. I'm taking you on trust, so 
you'd better mean what you say." 

"I do mean it! I'm going to marry you, and I'm going to start my business in 
Claremont--oh you darling, you wonderful, beautiful woman!" 

Once again their lips met, and again her tongue nimbly pried between his 
lips to thrill him with the candor and zest of her ardent nature. His hands 
glided down her back till they reached her hips, and then impulsively, his 
face reddened with desire, he pressed her against him so that she couldn't 
help feeling the stab of his swollen prick which threatened at any moment to 
burst through the fly of his trousers. 

"My gracious, we must do something about that, mustn't we?" she whispered, 
again giving him a wicked little nip on the earlobe. "I want you very much, 
Arthur. And not just for tonight, either, young man." 

"Eleanor!" His voice was choked with longing. 

"And you needn't worry about right now. I'm just as modern as the next 
woman, and there are little pills these days," she intimated, further 
enchanting him with the boldness and the generosity of her voluptuous 
beauty. "I just thought I'd mention that to set your mind at ease, darling. 
I've a feeling you're still very old-fashioned and romantically sweet in 
many ways--and I like that in a man, don't think I don't. You're going to 
make a wonderful father for Betty." 

"I only hope she likes me just one tiny bit as much as her mother does," he 
hoarsely rejoined. 

"I'm sure she will, dearest. She already thinks you're awfully nice. She 
told me that herself. Arid some day perhaps you may be called upon to be the 
disciplinarian in the household, too, you know." 

"You think I could pinch hit satisfactorily?" he joked, and then went very 
red at his own temerity. 

"Arthur Hadley!" Eleanor Stanfield grasped his sides and looked teasingly at 
him as she pressed very tightly up against him, "that was really very 
naughty! But somehow I think you'll be able to do that well too, darling. 
But that's a long way off. Betty would have to get used to having a father 
in the first place after all these years, and then it would be a matter of 
psychology to get her to accept punishment from you the way she does from 
me. But now that's enough talk isn't it, sweetness?" 

"Uh huh," he panted, his desire swelling up in him so tremendously that he 
was almost blind with it. The smell of her, the feel of her, the unexpected 
daring of her words, the knowledge that this fascinating woman had consented 
to be his wife and to be his bedmate from now on, filled Arthur Hadley with 
an indescribable admixture of emotions. 

"I want you so much, Arthur," Eleanor Stanfield confided, and now her hands 
moved down to stroke the fronts of his thighs, as with a cry of rapture, he 
sank his fingers into the jouncy rondures of her bottom. He heard her catch 
her breath as she felt the stab of his prick, protruding violently against 
the taut material of his trousers. And then again she broke away, a little 
flustered, her cheeks flaming, as she whispered rather unsteadily, "I'd 
better get more comfy if you're going to do that, lover. This is a new dress 
and I wore it just for you." 

"It's lovely. It fits you so beautifully. You've a marvelous body, Eleanor," 
he hoarsely told her. 

Swiftly Eleanor Stanfield doffed the rayon frock, and then the slip beneath 
it. He caught his breath with speechless admiration and lust as he stared at 
her now, in the provocative dishabille of white nylon bra and pantie-girdle, 
whose narrow tabs clung to the tops of charcoal-brown nylon hose. Her ripe 
luscious body was almost pagan in its voluptuous opulence, yet nowhere was 
it overly proportioned. And, as he had seen from that one glimpse of the 
valley of her bubbies, her satiny skin had a milky pallor to it that was 
absolutely breathtaking, where the sun hadn't caressed her limbs and 
midriff. As she put her hands behind her to unfasten the bandeau of her bra, 
she teased, "Hadn't you better get undressed too, lover?" 

His face flushed as he nodded, and then, averting his eyes and trying to 
distract himself by concentrating on the removal of his clothes, he followed 
suit. When he was down to shorts and socks, he looked at her again, and saw 
that she had taken off the bra and draped it over the back of a chair near 
the bed. Her titties were absolutely dazzling. The brownish-coral aurolae 
were wide, the nipples pouting and turgid, a delicious dark coral, 
exquisitely crinkly, as if nuzzling out for kisses and tonguings and tactual 
adoration. Her navel was deep and very narrow, a tiny slit in the pale white 
goblet of her luscious belly. 

"You're very good looking, Arthur. How old are you, darling?" 

"Forty-three, Eleanor." 

"That's just perfect. You're in your prime. And I hope I am too, because I'm 
not forty yet. I shan't be forty until next January. So you see, I can still 
give you a child if you want our own." 

"Oh my darling, my dearest Eleanor," tears sprang to his eyes at this frank 
avowal. 

"Do you want to do the rest of me, sweetheart?" came her thrilling question. 

He moved towards her now, his prick sticking out violently against the thin 
shorts, and she smiled teasingly as he came to her. His hands cupped those 
closely spaced round titties, and his first touch of their satiny nakedness 
made him tremble with desire, for they were still firm and without sag. 
Under his palms, her nipples had grown turgid and he could feel the 
palpitating tremors of their erogenous buds. Their lips met, and now her 
tongue boldly entered his mouth and slushed this way and that, encountering 
his own tongue until he uttered a gasp of desire and put his hands on her 
bottom and again pressed her very tightly to him till his prick was doubled 
back between their bodies, rubbing against her belly. 

The feel of her naked titties against his straining chest was ultimate 
rapture. The nuzzling flints of her nipples scraped his skin with a sweet 
insistence, and now his mouth crushed hers, and boldly he asserted his 
maleness by foraging his own tongue deep between her eagerly parted lips. 
Their tongues rapiered together, and an electrical current seemed to 
galvanize them as she uttered a soft moan and trembled violently in his 
arms. "Oh take me, Arthur, take me now," she breathed. 

He disengaged himself from her, and his hands began nervously and fumblingly 
to unfasten the pantie-girdle, first loosening the tabs which held up the 
charcoal-brown nylons on those lusciously rounded calves and thighs of hers. 
She too helped him, tugging at the waistband, squirming sinuously to wriggle 
out of the clinging sheath, which at last dropped to her feet, and she 
stepped out of it. In high-heeled sandals and the sleek, gauzy hose, her 
body milky-naked where the sun had not bronzed it, Eleanor Stanfield was 
mouthwateringly fuckable. And when he thought that this opulent houri, who 
looked far younger than the age she had admitted to, was actually the mother 
of that voluptuous golden-haired teenager whose luscious bottom she 
chastised, Arthur Hadley felt the blood rush through his veins with a hot 
surge of furious rut. For the first time in his life, he had become aware of 
the sensual overtones of corporal chastisement... and soon he was to learn 
how domestic chastisement could provide a gamut of the most voluptuous 
ecstasies hitherto untasted even with his beloved Sonya. 

"You're so beautiful, Eleanor," his voice was shuddering with desire. He 
sank on his knees, in a pose of reverence, his eyes feasting on the thick 
fronds of dark-brown pussyhair, which shrouded the plump pink lips of her 
voluptuous vulva. There was an exquisite perfume emanating from her naked 
body, together with the woman-scent of her moist warm flesh. It was 
intoxicating, like cantharides mingled in champagne. Impulsively, his 
fingers on the edges of her lush hips, Arthur Hadley kissed Eleanor 
Stanfield's cunt. 

"Oh darling! That's so lovely, so very lovely!" she gasped, taken by 
surprise at his impulsive tribute. Her hands cupped the back of his head and 
pressed his mouth against the sacrosanct cleft of her lovetemple. "I can 
tell already it's going to be wonderful for us together, Arthur dearest. So 
many men think it's unmanly to do that--oh darling, do go on, and I'll do 
the same for you!" 

Already he was blinded by his ecstatic lust, hearing such a pledge of 
sweetly uninhibited passion to be his. He deposited another long and 
passionate kiss on her cunt, and then rose, husked down his shorts and his 
long, thick, dark-blue-veined cock stabbed against her abdomen, demanding 
entry to the grotto of delight. 

Her left arm circled his waist, and her slim right hand--the hand, he 
thought ecstatically, which had chastised Betty's lovely pinksheened 
bottom--glided down between their bodies to take hold of his prick near the 
meatus, separated as it was by a narrow circumcisional groove from the rigid 
and pulsing shaft, and drew it down against the mossy thatch of pubic hair 
to guide him along that secret pathway which would not be denied him. Arthur 
Hadley ground his teeth to hold back the furious welling-up of gism, because 
he had a horror of being a premature lover on this their first carnal 
conclave. 

"Oh, Arthur, quickly, let's go to bed," she whispered in his ear, her voice 
husky-soft, evocative of the most wanton delights to be bestowed upon him. 
He lifted her in his arms, and it was the test for his manhood, for she was 
voluptuously opulent, and yet the sweet feel of her naked flesh in his arms 
was indescribably heavenly. He laid her down upon the bed, and then mounted 
beside her, his prick bobbing as he crouched there, staring at the panting 
swell of her magnificent titties, at the quivering belly with its almost 
disappearing, narrow indentation of the navel, and the fleece which covered 
the plump mound of Venus. 

"Let me pay you back for that sweet kiss you gave me, dearest," she 
breathed. He understood, and with a choking cry of delight, reversed himself 
so that his face was over her cunt, while her arms caught him round the 
thighs and drew him back and adjusted him, then drew him down. With a groan 
of rapture, he felt the sweet torment of her mouth nuzzling the tip of his 
prick, and he buried his mouth in her cunt and thrust his tongue deep 
between the pouting pink lips of her loveslit. At once he found the 
clitoris, and Eleanor Stanfield moaned deliriously: "Oh, Arthur, of Arthur, 
that's wonderful! Slowly, darling, oh my dearest darling, I'm so glad Betty 
hit you with that ball! I ought to let her off a couple of spankings just 
for that!" 

Deep down inside of him, now that he was awakened and almost rejuvenated by 
the erotic fury that possessed him, Arthur Hadley had an impulse to call out 
to her to let Betty off not a single punishment... indeed, to let him be a 
secret witness to that delicious young girl's chastisement. But wisely he 
controlled himself. There would be time for that later after he had married 
Eleanor Stanfield. 

The tip of her tongue rubbed against the urethral lips of his meatus, and he 
closed his eyes and shuddered violently as he felt his juices surging to the 
brink in answer to that lascivious summons. In retaliation, his tongue 
flicked the nodule of her clitoris, feeling it turgify and throb, while the 
soft gasps and moans and whimpering little sighs which emanated from her 
parted lips told him that he was rousing her to her own concupiscent 
readiness for fucking. 

Suddenly he could bear it no longer, and drew back from her, and then 
reversed himself to face her, kneeling between her thighs. Her face was 
flushed, her eyes sparkling, and the nipples of her breasts were hard and 
dark with longing and she held up her arms to him. "Oh give it to me, give 
it to me, Arthur," she breathed. 

With a sobbing gasp of delight, forsaking his loneliness and inassuageable 
desires now, Arthur Hadley sank down and felt his prick delve into the 
quaking channel of Eleanor Stanfield's moist and churning cunt. The warmth 
and the suctional grip of her vaginal sheath nearly unmanned him and again 
he had to exert all his self control to keep from pouring forth his lusty 
libation to Venus. 

His hands slid under her buttocks, his fingers glorying in the lush, satiny 
warm and resilient flesh, as he slowly dug himself up to the balls, till 
their hairs merged, and Eleanor's arms locked tightly round his neck as her 
lips fused to his, her tongue delving and darting furiously inside his 
mouth. Her stockinged legs clamped instantly over his thighs, as she arched 
herself up to take every inch of his manhood, and she held him there with 
what felt like a muscular grasp as in the Venus-vise of her palpitating 
cunthole, while he gasped and shuddered over the inexplicably heavenly 
torture which her cunt inflicted on his agonized and aching prick. 

Then very slowly he drew himself back, and Eleanor's arms tightened 
convulsively as she rose with him, not wanting him to depart from her 
citadel for an instant. He thrust back, and she cried out, a cry that was 
drowned by his clinging mouth, and then he began to fuck her with 
accelerated vigor to which she responded with violent squirmings, her legs 
and arms shifting constantly and tightening their grip until he felt himself 
one with her, flesh and flesh, skin and skin, even pores to pores. 

And when at last he felt himself burst inside of her, felt her answering 
tides merge with his, he knew that fate had led him to this haven as a 
compensation for the loss of his beloved Sonya... and that he had gained not 
only a voluptuous and magical houri, but a woman who could help him make a 
proper daughter out of Hester and whose own daughter Betty would cause him 
much rejoicing and a pride of fatherhood even if Betty were not of his own 
flesh and blood. 

CHAPTER SIX 

Arthur Hadley's proposal to Eleanor Stanfield caused the latter to rejoice 
that she had found ah understanding and sympathetic man who had already 
proved himself to be a more than adequate lover. That he would be an 
excellent father, too, she had not the slightest doubt, provided that he 
would accept her own advanced theories on the proper uprearing of 
offspring... and when Eleanor Stanfield thought of uprearing, she foresaw 
the image of a juvenile girlish posterior upraised over the maternal lap for 
justified chastisement. 

However, Betty was not quite so jubilant at the outset when, just two 
evenings before she and her mother were to return to Claremont, the mature 
brownette widow closeted herself with the golden-haired teenager to break 
the news that soon there would be a new father to round out their little 
family. 

Betty's lovely heart-shaped face at once grew tense with anxiety. 
"M-Mother," she faltered, "can I ask a question?" 

"Of course you can, dear, and you also may." Eleanor Stanfield's smile was 
both teasing and authoritative, and the girl flushed as she recognized that 
she had been guilty of a grammatical slip: "Excuse me, I meant may I. Well, 
it's just that--I mean, you honestly are going to marry him, aren't you, 
Mother?" 

"Quite honestly, my dear," Eleanor Stanfield laughed gaily. "You do approve 
of my choice, don't you?" 

"Oh, for heavens sake, Mother," Betty nervously exclaimed, "I wouldn't dare 
make it my business to question what you do. And I do like him, yes, lots. 
But what I was getting at--" 

"I think I see the end in view," her mother rather mischievously punned. 
"You're wondering if this is going to change our little disciplinary 
sessions, aren't you?" 

"Y-yes, I-I am, Mother." Betty's lovely pink cheeks were now flaming crimson 
with embarrassment and she lowered her eyes and nervously twisted her 
fingers in her lap as she sat in the straight-backed chair regarding her 
mother over on the couch of their room. "I mean--I'd just die if--if he saw 
me getting spanked, Mother. I know that when I'm naughty I do deserve it, 
and I won't ever disobey and resist, but I was hoping that maybe--" 

"Don't worry, darling. Mother has no intention, at least not for the first 
few months, of letting your new father watch you being spanked. Nor for that 
matter, of letting him punish you himself. But very seriously, dear, one day 
he will, and since he will be your father then, he will have every right. 
You do understand that, don't you?" 

Betty lowered her eyes and uttered a deep sigh. Then docilely she murmured, 
"I-I suppose so, Mother. I guess the only thing to do is to see that I don't 
get spanked so the problem won't come up." 

"Exactly. But though you're a very sweet and healthy and normal girl, my 
dear, I can't quite see you escaping punishment in the next few years, no 
matter how hard you try. Still and all, the last year or so you've done very 
well and I'm proud of you, darling." 

"Oh Mother," Betty impulsively exclaimed as she rose from her chair and came 
to sit down beside Eleanor Stanfield on the couch, putting her arms around 
the handsome brownette matron and kissing her ardently, "I was really so 
worried. I would just die of shame if Mr. Hadley had to watch me getting 
punished... and I don't know what I'd do if you told him to go ahead and 
spank me, honestly I don't." 

"Well, for the time being, that worry needn't concern you, darling. What 
does concern me, however, is that you will soon have a new sister, Hester, 
Hester. She's two years older than you are, but in my opinion lags far 
behind you in social adaptability and general good behavior. She's been 
spoiled a great deal, and that isn't Arthur's fault at all. I think he 
begins to realize it now. But then, of course, he does know how I've brought 
you up." 

"Ohh Mother!" Betty gasped, and now even her dainty earlobes turned a vivid 
crimson as she hid her face in her mother's bosom. "You--you told him how 
you--how you--punish me when I'm naughty?" 

"Yes, darling. But only because I felt him to be entirely trustworthy and 
sympathetic. Otherwise, naturally, I wouldn't even be considering marrying 
him. He's a very good man and very devoted to his daughter. So you must try 
to make friends with her. At the same time, Betty, I shouldn't at all be 
displeased if you let Hester understand from time to time that good behavior 
is rewarded and bad behavior punished." 

"You--you mean you want me to let her know that I get spanked whenever you 
do it, Mother?" Betty anxiously inquired. 

Eleanor Stanfield frowned and was silent for a moment, while the blushing 
golden-haired girl, nestling in her arms, looked anxiously up at her for a 
decision. Finally she said, "There are a few more things I must tell you, 
dear. First of all, Arthur--and perhaps if calling him Father or Daddy 
doesn't come easily at first, you might substitute by calling him Uncle 
Arthur--is thinking very seriously of going into business for himself and 
moving to Claremont with us. Now you know that our old house is still pretty 
big, and there's even a room for Jennie, our colored maid who stays with us. 
Arthur was very proud and didn't want to think about moving in with us, but 
I convinced him that it was silly to go ahead and buy a new house when the 
old one we've got is perfectly satisfactory." 

"He-he goes around to offices and tries to straighten them out, doesn't he, 
Mother?" Betty wanted to know. 

"Something like that, darling. At any rate, he's going into business for 
himself so that he can be home with us. And of course Hester will live with 
us too. I'm so glad it's a nice big two-story house and there's plenty of 
room. There were times about five or six years ago when I seriously thought 
of selling it, but I'm certainly glad I didn't as things worked out now. But 
what I'm getting at, darling, is that when you go back to school this fall, 
you'll naturally resume all your associations with your friends and our good 
neighbors. Like the Gilmores, and the Carruthers and the Jamisons. And you 
are well aware, I'm sure, that your friends, both the boys and the girls of 
those three families, are punished just about the way you are." 

"Yes, that's true, Mother." 

"Well, of course you're going to introduce Hester to them. And since it's 
going to be a while before school starts for all of you, there'll be a few 
weeks in which you'll have time to get to know one another pretty well. 
Hester is probably going to find out that most of your friends are punished 
the way I punish you, dear. It will have an effect upon her, and I think 
that it may prepare her for a redirection of her own conduct, once she sees 
that her father and I both are agreed on impartial and just chastisement 
when it is deserved." 

"I see." The lovely golden-haired teenager pursed her lips and her lovely 
forehead was furrowed with concentration for a moment. Then, with another 
almost doleful sigh, she managed, "Well, Mother, you can rely on me. And she 
is awfully bossy, isn't she? Are you going to spank her too?" 

"I'll tell you another little secret. I should like nothing better than to 
turn that young lady over my lap, have her skirts up and her panties down 
and apply the spanking strap thoroughly until she realizes that it's time 
she brought herself up short and began to consider other people beside 
herself. But that can't be done overnight, and it can't be done too 
drastically until Hester is emotionally prepared. That's where you and your 
friends are going to come in. And of course I'm going to talk to Louise 
Gilmore and to Mabel Carruthers, as well as to Frieda Jamison about my 
plans. In other words, darling, Hester is going to discover a new kind of 
domestic regimen which she didn't dream exists, and yet she will find out 
also that it's perfectly wholesome and natural and that once a punishment is 
over, it is forgotten and parents and children are good friends as always. 
Don't you feel that with me, darling?" 

"Oh, yes, Mummy," Betty sighed, this time with a tremulous smile as she 
hugged her mother tightly and turned up her lovely mouth to be kissed. "I 
know I don't like spanking and I never shall, but you've shown me how to 
understand that when I'm naughty I have to be punished for my own good. And 
then when it's over, I want to be your little girl again and have you love 
me just as always." 

"I do, darling, you know I do. Mummy is going to have many nice little 
treats for her favorite girl if you manage to give Hester a liberal 
education as you go along. But we'll play it by ear, so to speak, darling. 
And now, I think you'd better help me pack, because we're both going to have 
dinner this evening with your new... well, I'll tell him that you're going 
to call him Uncle Arthur. He won't insist on anything more until you feel it 
of your own desire, darling. That's another thing that makes him such a 
wonderful man and why I'm going to be proud to be his wife, Betty dear." 

* * * 

Arthur Hadley had made some long-distance phone calls from his hotel room at 
Malibu, sounding out accounts who might be willing to work on a retainer 
basis with him when he began his new firm of industrial management, and the 
results were extremely gratifying. Accordingly, he sent off a registered 
special delivery letter to his employers indicating that he was resigning 
and that he was grateful for the consideration with which he had always been 
treated. Fortunately, the accounts which he had contacted were not under 
contract to his employers and therefore he could proceed with the full 
knowledge that he was acting in an ethical way. When he broke the news to 
Hester, she sulked a little, so much so that again he felt his palm itching 
to slap her--and this time, instead of in the face, as might normally have 
been his reaction in previous days, he had the impulse to take her over his 
lap and slap her bottom soundly. If only she could be as good-natured and 
amenable to reason as lovely Betty was! "I realize it means giving up 
friends and contacts, Hester, but it's going to be the same for me," he 
patiently explained to his daughter. "I'm going to have to get used to being 
in a new town and making new friends, and from a business point of view it 
might be a little tougher to start out from scratch in my own business. But 
it's really what I've always wanted, and Eleanor is a wonderful woman and 
she's going to make a wonderful wife and a mother to you, darling. I hope 
that you do like her." 

"Oh, she's all right, I guess," Hester diffidently replied. "But Betty is 
absolutely insipid. She's such a goody-goody girl, and we don't have too 
much in common." 

"Well, she's the outdoor type, and you're not, to begin with," Arthur Hadley 
said. He was striving to be perfectly rational and logical, because he 
realized that his only child had a precocious mind and that an appeal to her 
intellect would go much farther--at least at this point-- than to her 
emotions. "It wouldn't do you any harm to be out in the sun more, Hester. It 
might clear up that acne which bothers you so much." 

"Father!" Hester gasped, and her cheeks flushed with annoyance at this 
reminder of a physical defect which she found too childish for words. 

"I mean it, Hester!" he said more sharply than was his want. 

Hester again shrugged. "Well of course, Father" she drawled in that 
maddeningly impersonal tone, which Arthur Hadley had come to find so 
irritating of late. "Of course I'll try to get along with Betty. Am I still 
going to the same college, though?" 

"Probably not, my dear. There's an excellent girls' school in Claremont, and 
tomorrow I'll phone the dean of admissions and find out if we can get your 
credits transferred." 

"All right, if that's what you want, Father," Hester had the refined air of 
a martyr. Once again her father felt the itch in his palm, not one 
signifying money, but rather an overwhelming instinct to smack a girlish 
posterior quite close to him. But manfully he restrained himself. 

"We're going to be married at Eleanor's church in Claremont, Hester dear," 
he told her when he had full control of his voice and reactions. "And then 
we'll go for two weeks on a honeymoon, perhaps to Mexico City. I haven't 
quite decided yet but I'm going to take it up with Eleanor tonight. You and 
Betty will stay at Eleanor's house, and she has a very wonderful colored 
maid, who, I'm told, is a marvelous cook and very warmhearted. You can spend 
the time getting better acquainted with Betty, and I'm sure that she'll 
introduce you to many of her friends." 

"Oh, dear," Hester sighed heavily, "she's only sixteen, Father, and so her 
friends are likely to be about that age, and you're forgetting that I'm 
going to college in September." 

"I'm forgetting nothing, Hester. Don't try to anticipate trouble, please. 
I'm sure that everything will be fine." Even as he said this, Arthur Hadley 
wasn't quite so sure. But now that he had found this wonderful, fascinating 
woman, he wasn't about to lose her just because Hester might register 
tantrums on the emotional storm gauge scale.... 

And so, on the following Wednesday, Arthur Hadley and Eleanor Stanfield were 
married in the little Episcopalian church where she had first been wed and 
where Betty had been baptized. The happy couple escaped the traditional 
shower of rice from a bevy of Eleanor's friends, and hurried off to Arthur's 
Buick which was waiting at the curb. Hester, as the maid of honor, glanced 
forlornly at her father, then at her new stepsister Betty, who was simply 
adorable in a white chiffon dress and veil and a bouquet of gladioli. 
Jennie, a portly smiling talkative negress of about forty-eight, dressed in 
her Sunday best, brushed a tear away from her eye, and waved a handkerchief 
at the happy couple. "There they go," she said mournfully, rolling her eyes, 
"now you chillun better come along home. I'm gonna cook you a real nice 
supper to make you sort of take your mind off bein' orphans for two weeks." 

That morning, on the telephone in her own room, Eleanor Stanfield had 
performed a few last chores whose purpose was dedicated to the proposition 
of making her new husband-to-be the beneficiary of her advanced ideas on the 
Proper care of offspring. She had made three phone calls, one each to Louise 
Gilmore, another to Mabel Carruthers, and the other to Frieda Jamison. Each 
of them had been about the same subject with variations. 

Her first call, to the stately and dignified and still extremely attractive 
forty-four-year old silver-blonde Louise Gilmore had been rather more 
intimate than those to her other two friends, though this was not to say 
that she did not maintain with Mabel and Frieda quite as warm and happy a 
relationship as with Louise. However, Louise Gilmore had been her dearest 
friend and aided her most of all during the trying times when her husband 
had suddenly died and she had found herself bereft of energy and ambition to 
go on. 

"Well, Louise, I just wanted to talk to you before we met at the church this 
afternoon, dear. It's been a sort of whirlwind courtship and I'm wonderfully 
happy." 

"I'm glad to hear it, darling, you deserved it. From what I hear, he's a 
very fine person and he's going to settle in our community." 

"That's true, Louise. As soon as we get back from Mexico City, he's opening 
his own office in the mall, and of course his daughter Hester is going to 
live with us." 

"I think it's perfectly wonderful! You could call it fate, because he was a 
widower, wasn't he?" 

"Yes. His daughter is eighteen, just the age of your Janet, and I must say I 
only wish Hester could have profited from the training you've given Janet 
these last years." 

"Well, Eleanor, that's very kind of you to say, but I'm still not satisfied 
with Janet's thoughtlessness and impulsiveness. In fact, just a few minutes 
ago, I told her to go write down in her demerit book a couple of black marks 
for breaking one of my best dishes." 

"Oh dear, I sort of feel responsible, this being my wedding day! The poor 
darling must have been upset because she was thinking of the pretty dress 
she was going to wear to my wedding, no doubt," Eleanor Stanfield laughed. 

"Be that as it may, so on Friday she will just have a few more spanks to pay 
up." 

"And how are Tony and Constance?" 

"I'm happy to say they haven't been in too much trouble lately. But I had to 
whip Constance last week for tearing her new dress. She's somewhat inclined 
to be a tomboy, and it's not at all becoming." 

"Well, I just happened, to think my new daughter Hester will be going to 
Claremont college along with your Janet the end of September. I think Janet 
to be a very helpful influence on her." 

"Now you're being most complimentary, Eleanor darling, but I think I detect 
something concealed behind this nice little conversation or ours. Out with 
it!" 

"You're so refreshingly direct, Louise!" Eleanor Stanfield laughed. "Well, 
it is true. You see, during our honeymoon, Betty and Hester are going to be 
alone in the house with Jennie. And I'd be very grateful if you'd allow 
Betty to bring Hester along sometimes, and I wouldn't at all be displeased 
if it would just slip out that Janet and Tony and Constance are punished the 
old-fashioned way and excellently, I might add." 

"Again you're flattering me, darling. Thanks. Well, that's an easy enough 
favor to handle, and of course you've got my promise I will. So you think 
that Hester's spoiled?" 

"She's egotistic, vain, conceited about her intellect, which I will grant is 
quite good. She's inconsiderate and quite rude. And something of a snob, 
because she's always breaking in to show off some French phrase or some item 
or other she's just acquired in her studies, just to impress us all." 

"That's really regrettable. But I'm sure that eventually you will straighten 
her out and she'll be just as well behaved as your darling Betty." 

"Thank you, Louise. Coming from you, my dearest and oldest friend,--well, 
what I really mean, is friend of longest standing, because heaven knows 
you're certainly not old at all--" 

"I'm glad you added that in time," Louise Gilmore laughed. 

"You know what I meant to say, Louise darling. Oh, I almost forgot to ask, 
how's Hilda?" 

Hilda was the German maid whom Fred and Louise Gilmore had hired about 
eighteen months ago. She was a buxom, quite attractive blonde of about 
twenty-eight. And she had also been introduced to disciplinary measures at 
the Gilmore household. Hilda had originally come to Claremont to live with 
her cousin, but financial reversals had forced him to sell his house and 
take a job in Los Angeles, whereupon his bewildered and attractive cousin 
found herself practically abandoned. At this critical juncture in Hilda 
Messering's life, Fred and Louise Gilmore had offered her a job as a maid, 
with the understanding that she would work diligently to improve her English 
and to qualify for citizenship, and also that she would submit to corporal 
chastisement just as the Gilmore children did. Now Hilda was as docile as 
Jane, Tony and Constance, and loved her master and mistress dearly. 

"Well, Hilda is improving and she's going to take her citizenship test any 
day now." Louise Gilmore replied to Eleanor's last question. "But last night 
she burned the pie I'd asked her to bake for Fred, and so I had to give her 
the dog-whip." 

"In front of Janet, Tony and Constance, I suppose?" Eleanor Stanfield asked. 

"Naturally, that is part of her humiliation, and was explained to her when 
we engaged her, Eleanor dear. She bent over the top of the straight-backed 
chair on which I made her kneel, drew up her own skirt and slip, and I 
rolled down her pantie-girdle. The poor dear is wearing a very tight rubber 
one these days because she's become extremely weight-conscious and wants to 
lose some pounds in a hurry. Just the same," And here Louise Gilmore giggled 
in a most unladylike way, "I can tell you it takes some maneuvering to get a 
tight pantie-girdle down from such bulky hips and round buttocks. But I 
managed, naturally. She got eighteen cuts of the dogwhip over her backside, 
and I finished with two strokes on each of her thighs, just as a little 
reminder to be more careful in the future." 

"And then, I suppose," Eleanor Stanfield continued, "you made her kiss the 
dogwhip and thank her for the good whipping." 

"Naturally, and then she apologized to Fred, and she went back to the 
kitchen, Eleanor dear, and she baked another pie and this one was perfect. 
It just shows you that a little discipline at the right time will do 
wonders." 

"That, darling," Eleanor Stanfield, about to become Eleanor Hadley, 
concluded, "is a maxim which ought to be engraved in letters a foot high 
over the door of every house containing children. Well, I better hurry and 
get ready now for meeting you in church--and I don't want to be late in 
getting Arthur now that I've found the man I love." 

And thus, as Eleanor and Arthur Hadley sped away towards the airport from 
whence they would shortly fly to Mexico City for a wonderful two-week 
honeymoon, the future of Hester Hadley was being forged in the mysterious 
crucible of neighborly parental practice. 

CHAPTER SEVEN 

Arthur Hadley had never known such happiness before, not even with Sonya. 
And thus the vacation, which had begun at Malibu with the prospect of a 
rather dreary time with his daughter Hester would hardly make any less 
difficult with all her moodiness, rhapsodically extended into what the 
French call the lime de miel, or, literally, "moon of honey." 

In Eleanor Stanfield, he believed that he had found an understanding and 
most attractive mature companion who would be well past the time of 
adolescent anxieties and sheer sensual mischievousness, and hence could give 
him the placid life he sought. Instead, to his great joy he discovered that 
he had married an authoritative woman who could at the same time be all 
woman, yielding and passionate, fiery and imaginative, still with the vigor 
of youth and yet with maturity's deeper, lengthier knowledge of byplay and 
foreplay in the bed of love. And so he felt himself revived in outlook as he 
had not even been at the time of his first marriage to Sonya, whose gentle 
and reticent nature had precluded any wild ecstasies and vivid 
improvisations in the tourney of physical conclave. For Eleanor was also an 
excellent conversationalist, quite well read--he discovered, for example, 
that she spoke Spanish passably well enough to procure the very best of 
service and to make friends with the old hotel porter and the doorman and 
their maid so that they were treated virtually like royalty. 

They spent the first week in Mexico City, making passionate love and 
sleeping late till about noon, then, commandeering a car and seeing the 
magnificent sights of Mexico City, from Chapultepec Park with its new and 
dazzling National Museum of Anthropology and History and famous zoo; the 
National Palace with frescoes by Diego Rivera, and the Bazaar Sabado with 
its fascinating display of modern Mexican arts and crafts. They were lodged 
at the Re-forma Inter-Continental on the fashionable Paseo de la Reforma, a 
little world unto itself with many new restaurants and nightclubs. They 
dines at restaurants celebrated for French cuisine, but they also enjoyed 
the famous Mexican specialty of mole de guajolote, turkey in spicy chocolate 
sauce as well as the tostadas, roasted fried tortillas with chicken, beans 
and lettuce. On Thursday afternoon of the first week, Arthur and Eleanor 
enjoyed the horseracing at the Hipodromo de Las Americans, and in the 
evening watched the furiously combative jai-alai games, betting on the 
horses and the players and in each instance winning, which Eleanor gleefully 
proclaimed was a happy omen for their marriage. 

At their hotel, on Friday evening, they visited the spectacular El Koyau 
nightclub, and on Saturday Arthur bought his beautiful wife some exquisite 
Mexican jewelry of handmade silver, perfumes and a pair of stunning suede 
shoes. 

On Monday of the second week, the Hadleys went to Cuernavaca, about fifty 
miles from Mexico City on the new super highway. Here there were pyramids, 
lakes, cathedrals, quaint streets, wonderful old houses and excellent shops. 
And their hotel room had an immense double bed in which, Tuesday night, the 
handsome brown-haired matron teasingly told her husband, "I feel like a 
courtesan of olden times on a bed like this, darling." And Arthur Hadley 
discovered that Eleanor had that indescribably exciting admixture of 
propriety and wantonness which is so indispensable to a harmonious sexual 
relationship; she could be passionate without being boldly suggestive, and 
by implication could rouse him to furious exultance. She would lie there 
smiling at him, her slim hand reaching down to fondle his cock, her other 
hand caressing one of her round lush titties, while his lips adoringly moved 
over her satiny naked skin. And then suddenly her fingers would tighten on 
his meatus, and he would know that that was her signal to take her fiercely. 
With a stifled little gasp she would welcome him as he thrust inside of her, 
her legs promptly locking over his, while she kept her thumb and forefinger 
very lightly against his shaft near the scrotum, so that he had the added 
frictional delight of feeling her fingers against his prick driving him into 
the warm moist cavern of her lovetemple. 

During this second week, after the first wild ecstasies of learning each 
other's needs and desires, Arthur and Eleanor began to talk of the future 
and particularly of Hester and Betty. Arthur was more than ever convinced 
that he had been an extremely fortunate man in finding such a mother for his 
difficult daughter, and indeed it was he who first brashly proposed that 
there be no further delay in acquainting Hester with corporal chastisement. 
But Eleanor shook her head: "No, darling, that would be a great mistake. She 
would feel martyred, deceived and betrayed. She would hate both of us, but 
you especially for having changed her life so abruptly. No, Arthur, leave it 
to me. When we get back, there will be three of four weeks before school 
begins for her as well as for Betty, and I propose to have both the girls 
meet Betty's friends. They are all of them without exception subject to 
corporal punishment when they misbehave, and I've already had a little talk 
with Betty so that she is apprised of my feelings on the subject. In other 
words, Arthur lover, Hester is going to meet young people who have been 
spanked and are used to it, and she's also going to discover in the normal 
course of events that it's not quite such a tragedy as she would probably 
think right now." 

"You never cease to amaze me, darling. And I was a very lucky fellow. I'll 
say one thing," he told her as he put his lips to one of her nipples and 
gently nuzzled it, while his right hand caressed her smooth belly and moved 
down to the thick dark brown curly thatch of her pussy, "the way I feel now, 
if Betty hadn't selected me as her new father by bouncing that beachball off 
me I'd turn the little minx and give her the spanking of her sweet young 
life." 

"Why, Arthur Hadley!" Eleanor laughed huskily as she turned over on her side 
towards him and put one arm around his neck and her other hand over his 
stiffened cock, "you certainly have changed! And you're not going to go too 
fast with my girl either, I'll have you know. In fact, just before we left 
on this wonderful honeymoon of ours, darling, Betty was all fidgety over 
worrying whether I was going to let you watch her being spanked when I 
sentenced her to punishment and whether you yourself were going to take a 
hand." 

"And what did you tell her, darling?" he huskily questioned. 

"That we'd see, but that at the outset anyhow, things would go on just as 
before. She'll have to get used to you, Arthur, just as Hester is going to 
have to get used to her new responsibilities as part of our family. 
Besides," this with a teasing wink and a naughty little squeeze of his prick 
in her soft fingers, "I never dreamed that the mere mention of spanking 
would set you off so. Just look at how bold you are, young man. It's all my 
poor little fingers can do to keep that monster of yours in check until I'm 
ready-- oh yes, Arthur, now, or put it into me slow and deep, I just want to 
feel it going into me all the way--aahhh--oh, darling, what a wonderful 
lover you are!" 

She flung her left leg over his right hip as they merged, her ringers 
caressingly fondling his cock as his meatus probed between the lips of her 
eager vulva and entered the gripping channel of her sheath. He could feel 
the pulsations and contractions as he sank slowly to the hilt, and the 
tightening pressure of her bare leg intoxicated him. Their lips met, and 
hers parted under his as her tongue delicately flicked his gums and teeth, 
encountering his tongue, whereupon a sudden maddening surge of passion 
galvanized him. He drew himself back to the brink, then plunged deeply to 
the hilt in a single ferocious lunge, and Eleanor gasped and wriggled onto 
her back, drawing him atop her, and they consummated their ecstatic passion 
in a furious crescendo. 

Then it was over, and they lay smoking cigarettes, lazily looking at each 
other and smiling with that secret and delightful knowledge which two people 
have when they have shared the gamut of carnal passion, his left hand and 
her right clasped, the ringers tightly entwined, Eleanor murmured, "You 
know, darling, that while spanking is a very useful and functional 
educational and corrective process, it also has its own values as a sexual 
stimulant." 

"I suppose that's true darling." 

"Of course it is! Why, you naughty boy you, every time I talk about spanking 
Betty, you get stiff as a rock!" 

At this, Arthur Hadley blushed, for it was quite true: he kept seeing in his 
mind's eye the golden haired adolescent, lying on the bed with her wrists 
bound, a pillow under her loins to prop "p her jouncy round naked bottom, 
and Eleanor standing beside the bed, her face grave and intense, lifting the 
spanking strap high in the air to bring it down over those luscious young 
hillocks. And invariably when he had this image before him, he felt a 
resurgence of his manhood. 

"Just look at you blush," Eleanor teased. "Of course it's true. As a matter 
of fact, if you'd like, I've just found out that we can watch someone 
getting spanked in a very sexy way. Do you think you might like that, 
darling?" 

"What do you mean, Eleanor?" 

"Why, you know that I speak Spanish. I had two years of it in high school, 
and I've been brushing up, ever since you told me we might go to Mexico 
City. Well, this morning while you were out at the shop buying me that 
lovely basket, I was talking to Consuela, our very pretty maid. And she told 
me that she has a cousin who runs a very private little house just on the 
outskirts of Cuernavaca where people pay to watch naughty girls spanked and 
then made love to by their novios. And she says that if we like, she can get 
us there tonight." 

"Why, that's incredible! It sounds like one of those pre-war French 
bordellos I used to read about." 

"You see, Arthur Hadley! You're not quite so naive as you pretend to be. All 
right, if you'd like, I'll tell Consuelo. It won't cost much, and I think 
you'll find it very exciting." 

Her words were prophetic indeed; this unexpected interlude on their 
honeymoon was to lead Arthur Hadley into a completely altered transformation 
of all her sexual ideas! 

* * * 

A cab driver took Arthur and Eleanor to the sound end of the city and 
stopped in front of a handsome estate enclosed behind a brick wall. The 
couple opened the iron gate which led to a paved walk circling a fountain 
and thence to the steps of a veranda. When Arthur rang the doorbell, it was 
opened by a lovely young Mexican girl in a maid's costume which suggested 
that she was from Paris rather than Cuernavaca; a lace cap atop her bobbed 
black curls, a shiny black satin dress whose very short skirt descended only 
to mid-thigh, sheer black opera-length hose of very elegant denier, and 
trim, gleaming black leather highheeled pumps. She curtsied prettily, 
inquired as to Arthur's name, and then smiled knowingly. "The Senora Rigal 
will be with you very soon, Senor Hadley. You and your lovely wife may wait 
here, and I shall bring you tequila." 

Arthur and Eleanor seated themselves on a wide leather-padded couch, 
glancing around the salon which was elegantly furnished. The maid shortly 
reappeared with a tray on which two glasses and a bottle of tequila and a 
plate of sliced limes as well as a salt shaker were placed, and served them 
both, explaining how the national drink was partaken. The lime slices were 
salted, one could hold a slice in one's mouth while sipping the colorless 
liquid. Tequila, Arthur Hadley discovered, had a potent wallop later on, 
though it glided down smoothly without apparent reaction. After two drinks, 
he found himself on tenterhooks waiting the advent of the proprietress of 
this maison de luxe. 

At last she appeared, and his eyes widened with appreciation at the sight of 
her voluptuous and opulent beauty. She was about five feet eight inches in 
height, perhaps forty, resplendent in an off-the-shoulder black faille gown 
which swung to the appetizing rondures of bosom and haunches. Her jet-black 
hair was pompadoured, and silver earrings dangled from the lobes of her 
dainty ears. Her face was oval, grave, and the unmistakable sign of a 
dominatress was evidenced in the thin, supercilious lips, the thick brows 
over piercing black eyes, and also in her tone of authority, gracious though 
it was to her guests. 

Hesitatingly, Arthur mentioned that he had been recommended by Consuelo, and 
the woman nodded comprehendingly. "A very charming mu-chacha, that one. And 
she is muy simpatica to you, for she has telephoned me and told me that she 
likes you very much. You must understand, Senor Hadley, that not everyone is 
told about this casa. Now how can I be of service?" 

Arthur Hadley blushed like a schoolboy, and looked foolishly at the handsome 
proprietress, who at that moment added, with an ingratiating smile, "You may 
call me Mercedes." But it was his wife Eleanor who came to the rescue and in 
reasonably fluent Spanish, explained that Consuela had suggested that they 
might see a girl chastised for being naughty and watch in private. 

Mercedes Rigal smiled and nodded: "But of course you may. And for you, 
because you are both friends of my charming little muchacha -- who by the 
way in my niece--I shall make the fee extremely reasonable. Let us say, with 
refreshments and a private room for the two of you, six hundred and 
twenty-five pesos. I believe that will be fifty dollars in your money, Senor 
Hadley." 

"That is very reasonable," Eleanor told him. "And we should like to leave 
Consuela a little gift so that she may buy herself something that she likes 
in the shop." Then she whispered to Arthur, "Give her about fifty-five 
dollars, darling. I've got a feeling this is going to be quite a show." 

When the transaction had been effortlessly completed, Mercedes Rigal thanked 
them and added, not without a sly little wink, "I shall have my pretty maid 
Vera show you to the room, Senor and Senora Hadley. If you like, she will be 
at your disposal, you needn't worry that the tariff will be demanding. I 
find you both very gracious and intelligent, certainly much more enlightened 
than so many of the nortea-mericanos who try to come here. Adios, or perhaps 
I should say hasta la vista!" 

With this she disappeared, and in a few moments the charming French-costumed 
little maid, who was about five feet four inches in height, with adorably 
girlish, long-legged figure and tantalizingly prominent, widely spaced 
pear-shaped titties, came out to escort them to the private room, which was 
on the second floor and at the back of the elegant house. The floor was 
thickly carpeted with red velvet, and it was evident that Mercedes Rigal was 
a woman of great means. Vera opened the door and deferentially inclined her 
head as Arthur and Eleanor entered this voyeuristic chamber. It too was 
thickly carpeted from wall to wall, and there was a huge double bed, quite 
low, the covers were already drawn most suggestively and invitingly. At the 
right-hand wall, were two armchairs. Between them was a wide and long 
rectangular brown wooden panel which, Vera at once demonstrated, could be 
slid to one side, thereby revealing an opaque glass through which they could 
see without being seen by those in the adjoining room. There was also a 
genuine French bidet and a washroom connecting to the left with this 
watching room--for such it was. Vera excused herself with a charming and 
coquettish look at Arthur--which made his pulses race inexplicably--and then 
went out, only to return a moment later with another tray on which a bottle 
of excellent champagne and two glasses were placed, as well as a plate of 
cheeses, nuts and crackers. "If the Senora and the Senor wish me, they have 
only to press the button in the wall beside the bed," she told them, and 
then again curtsied and left the room, closing the door behind her. 

Eleanor turned to look at Arthur, her eyes twinkling: "Well, now, my darling 
husband, don't you feel risque and maybe about twenty years younger? It's so 
very much like Paris--of course, I've read about it, as I was never there. 
Do you think I'm being very wicked?" 

"Whatever it is you're being, darling, I like it," he said thickly as he 
came to her and ran his hands down her back, pressing her buttocks avidly as 
he strained himself against her, their lips meeting in a long and 
passionately thrilling kiss. 

"I can see, young man," she teased him, "that you aren't going to feel a 
stranger at all when you move in with me. And I'm afraid my poor little 
Betty is in for a very tender bottom in the not too distant future once you 
insist on taking a hand in the proceedings, as I'm sure you're going to." 

"Eleanor, I told you I'm not going to rush things at all. And besides, it 
wouldn't be fair of me to spank Betty without seeing to it that my own 
daughter got exactly what she's been deserving for so long," was his gallant 
answer. 

"I love you because you're so fair and equitable, darling, and very 
considerate. So, just let's pretend we aren't married but lovers on a secret 
rendezvous, and watch what they have in store for us. And by the way, I hope 
you didn't misunderstand Senora Rigal's little hint about Vera?" 

"Er, what do you mean, Eleanor darling?" he gulped. 

"Well, it's obvious that the charming little girl would be very happy to 
cater to any of your little whims--or to mine, for that matter--either 
during or after the performance we're about to see," Eleanor saucily 
retorted. And this made Arthur Hadley blush even more. He had never dreamed 
that marriage to a women could be so fascinatingly complex and excitingly 
new with each new day of their union. Now, as he uncorked the bottle of 
champagne and poured out two glasses, while Eleanor seated herself in one of 
the armchairs, he told himself that he was a very lucky man indeed. 

As he sipped his champagne, he suddenly saw the door of the next room open 
and a well dressed gray-haired man, apparently in his early fifties, enter 
the room, his wrists held tightly by two swarthy Mexicans wearing sombreros. 
They dragged him over to a straight-backed chair, tied his wrists behind the 
back of the chair, made another cord secure around his waist and the back of 
the chair, and then squatted down and bound his ankles securely to the chair 
legs. Then one of the Mexicans took out a handkerchief while his colleague 
forced the man's mouth open, the gag was thrust in, and a second 
handkerchief was tied around the victim's mouth and knotted at the back of 
the neck. 

The two Mexicans then left the room, and in three or four minutes returned 
dragging a struggling young woman with them. She wore a white summery frock 
which went down just to her knees, she had on charcoal-brown pantie-hose and 
sandals, and her light brown hair was fixed in a thick ponytail whose ends 
went below her shoulderblades. She had no makeup on, and her face looked 
young and defenseless, with slantingly set cheekbones, very wide and 
intensely dark brown eyes, a dainty little snub nose, and a small while 
mouth. She began to cry out--and Eleanor and Arthur discovered that they 
could hear every sound, thanks, no doubt, to a secretly placed public 
address system hooked up between the two rooms. When she saw the man in the 
chair, she tried to break free and cried out for them to let her go and to 
let her husband go, that they would pay any ransom the men wanted. The two 
Mexicans just laughed at her and contented themselves by holding tightly to 
her wrists, while she twisted and jerked herself in vain. 

Arthur Hadley leaned forward, finding himself intensely stirred. It was true 
that he had read many erotic books in his time, but he had never actually 
seen either movies or any such "life" spectacle as was now before him. 
Moreover, the realization that he was witnessing this in Eleanor's presence 
and that he was also in a house of ill-fame seemed to have a profoundly 
lascivious effect on him, for already his prick was throbbing and swollen 
against his fly. He cast a guiltily nervous glance at his wife, but found 
that she was watching just as intently, her eyes glowing, her lips parted, 
her nostrils flaring and shrinking, and her magnificent bosom swelling 
voluminously. 

It was strange, he told himself, that he hadn't asked her anything about her 
outlook on sex; but then, they'd come together to naturally just before 
she'd agreed to marry him, and they'd both had orgasms at the same time, 
which was rare between two so different personalities. Even now on this 
honeymoon, early as it was, he found that she could anticipate his desires, 
and with them the most imaginative nuances and yet without speech. There was 
a naturalness to her which excited and delighted him at the same time. 

The two Mexicans were perhaps ten years apart in age, taller one being 
younger, wiry, with a scar on his left cheek, while the older man had 
receding hair, a fat, sensual face and was squat and short. "It is not 
ransom we want, Senora," the older man told the frightened woman, who Arthur 
Hadley guessed to be about twenty-five. "Juan and I, Esteban, have already 
taken what we want from your husband's wallet. No, it's not dinero, but you, 
Senora. You are so linda, that Juan and I desire to have some pleasure with 
you. Now if you will be a good muchacha and take off all your clothes, we 
will not hurt you." 

"You must be out of your mind! Oh, Frank, for God's sake, they want to have 
me--help me, oh my poor husband, help me!" the young brownette cried as she 
tried again ineffectually to break free of the two Mexican's hold. 

"I do not think this little one is going to do it willingly, Esteban," the 
taller, younger Mexican chuckled. "I'm afraid that we shall have to teach 
her a little lesson. Let us get her on the bed and tie her down, and then we 
shall see what we shall see. Come along, muchacha!" 

"Oh no--for God's sake, oh Frank, they're going to do it to me--help me, oh 
please help me!" the young woman shrilled. 

But the two Mexicans lifted her now and put her down on the wide double bed, 
while the older man at once tied one of her ankles to the bedpost and then 
made the other one secure so that her legs were hugely straddled and the 
material of her frock threatened to tear from the distension of her legs. 
The other Mexican quickly secured her wrists in the same way, so that the 
helpless young woman found herself spread-eagled on her back and entirely at 
their mercy. 

The squat Mexican chuckled as he bent down over the young woman's writhing 
body. "Such lovely legs, eh, Juan? Let us see them all now, shall we?" 

With this, he put his hands to the frock and ripped the garment up to the 
girl's belly, disclosing the gauzy pantie-hose. Arthur Hadley caught his 
breath, his eyes glittering, waves of desire surging through him. The young 
woman had pale milky flesh, but the gauzy sheath disclosed the prominent 
mount of her cunt, shielded with very thick dark brown tufts of love fur. 
She turned her face towards her gagged and bound husband in the chair near 
the door and shrieked, "Oh don't let them take my clothes off, Prank! Please 
help me! I don't want them to, oh please, I don't want them to!" 

The fat Mexican put both pudgy hands on one of the young woman's calves and 
slowly caressed the shuddering and jerking leg all the way up to the crotch, 
while his companion imitated him with the other leg. As their fingers neared 
the sensitive apex of the captive's thighs, she arched and jerked and 
shrieked, turning her face this way and that, her face flushed and contorted 
and her eyes sparkled with tears. 

"She had really a beautiful pair, Juan," the older, fat Mexican declared, 
"but now I want to see her tetas." 

Under the white frock, the victim wore a thin chaste white satin slip, and 
this too was torn from her, leaving her in the ripped dress which gaped now 
up to her bosom, and a white nylon brassiere. Her breasts were surprisingly 
round and full, set very closely together, and in their agitated heaving, it 
was plain to see the dark coral, ripe buds of the nipples in their even 
darker, narrow aurolae. Each of the Mexicans reached out with thumb and 
forefinger pinched those voluptuous buds, while the frenzied girl continued 
to twist and jerk at her bonds, and to call upon her husband to save her. He 
by now was struggling in his chair, and his muffled groans came through the 
gag quite audibly to Eleanor and Arthur in the next room. 

Now there was a wild shriek as Juan ripped away the brassiere, and then 
Esteban completed the girl's preparation for an inevitable fucking by 
completing the rending of the white frock and pulling it out from under her 
tethered body. Then he inserted his fingers in the waistband of the 
pantie-hose and began to jerk them down, while the frantic young woman 
ground her hips against the bed and tried to prevent this catastrophe, 
screaming for her husband to aid her. 

Arthur Hadley's prick was gigantic by now, and he felt his teeth chattering 
with the waves of lust that swept through him. He hardly dared look at his 
beautiful wife, and he suddenly had the guilty desire of wanting to be in 
that room with the Mexicans so he could take part in this coercion. 

Now, despite her struggles and pleas, the pan-tie-hose sheath was tugged 
down to about the middle of her thighs, and left there as a rumpled fetter. 
The squat Mexican now unbuckled his belt from his trousers and cracked it in 
the air ominously. "You are going to be nice now, mu-chacha," he told the 
sobbing, naked beauty. "And first you will start by telling us your name, 
querida." 

Both men now avidly stared at the thick fleece of dark brown lovecurls which 
covered the gaping cunt, though it did not quite conceal the glimpse of the 
twitching pink lips of that enchanting vulva. 

"You won't speak? Que lastima! I am afraid, Senora, that we are going to 
loosen your tongue a little. In this way!" And with this, he raised his 
right hand and then brought the belt down with a wicked crack across the 
young woman's milky waist. She started convulsively from the bed, her 
titties tautening with the maneuver, and her head fell back as she uttered a 
strident cry: "Oh Frank, they're whipping me, oh God, save me, save me, my 
poor darling husband, save me!" 

A second blow of the black wide leather belt, which was about a quarter of 
an inch thick, smacked ferociously down over the young woman's naked belly. 
Her navel was wide and shallow, an exquisite oasis in that goblet of pale 
milky flesh. At the sound of the bite of leather on bare animal flesh, 
Arthur Hadley trembled and glanced quickly at his wife. Her eyes met his, 
and she reached out her hand, their fingers entwining. "Excited, dearest?" 
she whispered. And he could only nod his head and blush violently at this 
admission. 

A third lash fell now, just above the victim's titties, and the young woman 
lifted her head, her eyes rolling in their sockets, as she uttered a 
piercing cry: "Eeeyeowww! Oh please, don't beat me, don't beat me, oh God, 
what do you want of me?" 

"First Senora, your name!" the squat Mexican with the belt demanded. 

"Oh, Frank, Frank, help me, help your Shirley!" the brown-haired young woman 
sobbed. 

"Shirley. That is a very lovely name, Senora. And now the next thing we 
want, Juan and I, is that you ask us to fuck you. Each of us in turn, I 
first because I am the oldest, naturally. And what is your answer, linda 
Shirley?" 

"Oh, you filthy beasts, I'd rather die! Oh, Frank, for God's sake, can't you 
get lose from that chair and help your poor wife? They want to do it to me, 
Frank, don't let them, oh I'd rather die than let them!" the naked beauty 
wailed. 

"She is behaving like a naughty child, Esteban," the tall wiry Mexican 
commented. "Perhaps she should be treated like one. Let us turn her over and 
tie her back down but this time so that the belt can be given to her lovely 
bottom, no es verdad?" 

"Juan, there are times when you have true inspiration. Let us do that by all 
means," the other Mexican avidly concurred. They swiftly untied the 
struggling naked captive, pulled off the pantie-hose and forced her back 
down on the bed, this time on her belly, spread-eagled, stark naked, the 
pale milky half-moons of her bottom upturned and contracting violently in 
her apprehension. 

Each Mexican now ran his hands over that luscious posterior, squeezing the 
cheeks, patting and slapping, while the naked captive sobbed and groaned and 
again uselessly called on her helpless husband to come to her salvation. By 
now Eleanor Hadley had moved over to sit on her husband's lap, and to his 
great delight, had hoisted up her peasant skirt, a gay multicolored cotton 
garment under which he was dazzled to observe that she wore absolutely 
nothing. She reached down with one hand to zip open his fly, drew his stiff, 
turgid weapon out and whispered, "Put it into me very slowly, darling, and 
let's watch! Isn't it exciting!" 

He felt her ease herself down on his ramrod, and the pulsations of her quim 
against the meatus just as he entered the sweet lobby of her cunt almost 
made him burst with furious delight. It took all his self-control to hold 
back his vital juices, while Eleanor adjusted herself and sank slowly down 
until at least half of his prong was furrowing her lovesheath. 

His left hand was on her left tittie, and his right hand stroked her inner 
thigh and belly, as they both leaned forward to watch the absorbing scene. 

Now the two Mexicans had moved back, and the fat one with the belt lifted it 
high, poised it in the air and then brought it down with a wicked Smack over 
the ripest curves of those two juicily rounded milky bottomglobes. Shirley's 
body started convulsively, and her face turned towards her assailant, her 
eyes enormous and drowned in tears: "Owww Ooooh! Oh please don't whip me 
like that, please!" 

But Esteban did not reply. Instead he added a second lash almost exactly in 
the same place, the black leather band clinging to the resilient contours of 
the victim's behind, and again Shirley uttered a shriek of pain and jerked 
frantically at her wrists and ankles to free herself. 

Now, very slowly and methodically, he began to whip her bottom, beginning at 
the base and applying horizontal strokes about half a minute apart until one 
could plainly see imprinted on that marvelously pale-milky canvas of living 
womanflesh the angrily growing stigmata of the belt leaping across both 
globes. By the time he had reached the top of Shirley's hips, she had 
received twenty lashes, and she was sobbing and begging them to stop, while 
at the same time looking back over her shoulder to implore her husband to 
come to her aid. 

The man's face was flushed, his eyes bulging, and sweat beaded his forehead 
as he pulled against his bonds. Esteban noticed this and chuckled to his 
crony, "The Senor is getting excited too. Perhaps it would be only proper 
hospitality to let him have some pleasure, don't you think, compadre?" 

"Si, si, to be sure, so that our visitors will not be able to say that the 
people of Mexico are not hospitable," Juan chuckled. With this, he went over 
to the chair and, squatting down, pulled down the zipper of the husband's 
trouser fly and then fumbled in the man's shorts. The Mexican with the belt 
uttered a boisterous laugh as he saw the helpless husband's penis jut out, 
angrily throbbing and swollen. 

"So we have done that much for you, at least, Senor," he quipped. "And now 
it is Shirley's turn to be as hospitable to us. Are you ready yet, linda, to 
ask us to fuck you?" And to punctuate his words, the belt crashed down, but 
this time vertically, biting not only the middle of the young woman's left 
buttock, but also the small of her back and the top of her naked thigh. 

"Eeeoowww! Oh Frank, they're killing me, I can't stand it any more, oh my 
poor darling, what am I going to do?" she screamed. 

Crack! The belt visited the right buttock this time, then came down in 
another furious vertical descent, and again Shirley's naked body lunged and 
arched and twisted, while her pathetic, sobbing cry made Arthur Hadley 
groan. Eleanor too was excited, for he could feel the kissing and clipping 
of her cuntwalls against his imbedded phallus, as well as the stiffening of 
her nipple against his palm. 

"This little muchacha is very shy, don't you think, Juan?" The Mexican with 
the belt tauntingly remarked. "Perhaps she is on her honeymoon, and so it is 
difficult for her to invite a strange man to enjoy her. So we must warm her 
thoroughly until she is convinced that we are as good as her husband, 
because after all he cannot help her and we can." 

"You speak words of wisdom, Esteban," the tall wiry Mexican laughed. 

The belt fell now, with three rapid strokes, diagonally from the young 
woman's right hip to the base of the left buttock. She jerked and twisted, 
screaming out at each, and now a fiery, lascivious pattern was imprinted on 
her swollen bottom, even more voluptuous in contrast with the untouched 
milky pallor of her thighs and back. 

"Oh God, I can't stand it, haven't you any pity? Oh what must I do, oh 
Frank, tell me what to do!" she wailed. 

"As soon as you are ready to have the whipping stop, linda Shirley, all you 
have to do is to ask us very nicely to fuck you, that is all," Esteban 
replied with mock politeness. Then his arm rose and fell twice more, this 
time visiting the base of the young woman's inflamed and tortured bottom 
with two vigorous horizontal cuts. 

"Oh Frank, I can't help it, please forgive me --eeeeowwwouuu!!! Oh fuck me, 
then, fuck me, but for God's sake, stop whipping me!" the young woman now 
hysterically capitulated. 

Then she pressed her face down against the sheets and began to sob with all 
her heart, while her hips still weaved and squirmed as if she were 
masturbating herself, in her ingenuous attempt to alleviate the burning fury 
of her well thrashed naked bottom. 

Juan now took a pillow from the side of the bed and forced it under her 
belly, arching up her bottom and loins for better access. Then he gestured 
towards his fat, older crony: "You have won your turn, Esteban. But I pray 
you, por favor, do not keep me waiting too long, for my cojones are smoking 
hot with what I feel for this linda muchacha!" 

"Do not worry, amigo, I will not keep you waiting, for we are good friends." 
The fat Mexican now opened the fly of his trousers, kicked off his shoes, 
and got onto the bed, kneeling between the young woman's straddled naked 
thighs. He dug his fingers into her groin, lifting her from the pillow, as 
he arched himself towards the gaping pink slit framed by the thick dark 
brown curls of pussyhair. "Oh Frank, he's going to do it to me--oh Frank, 
don't look, I beg of you, I'm so ashamed, I want to die--ohhhh-- aahhhh--oh 
my God, you're hurting me, you're too big--oh please, oh Frank, save me!" 
the naked woman wailed as she felt the Mexican's prong pry apart the 
twitching lips of her vulva and dig deep into her narrow cunt-canal. Her 
face was upturned, her eyes bulging and glassy with tears, and her fingers 
clawed the sheets as she tried to disengage her ravisher's weapon from her 
cleft. But with a grunt of triumph, Esteban thrust himself to the balls with 
a single violent shove, and then he began to fuck her with a furious 
rapidity, making her jerk and gasp with the vigor of his assault upon her. 

When he had finished, he moved off to one side while the wiry Mexican 
replaced him. Juan took his handkerchief and mopped the young woman's pussy, 
and then without more ado, gripping her reddened, naked hips with his wiry 
fingers, he in turn forced his way into that quaking sheath and fucked her 
but with slower and more deliberate vigor till at last he burst his vital 
seed deep within her womb. 

And just as he achieved his climax, Eleanor began to arch herself up and 
down on her husband's organ, whispering to him, "Oh hurry, come along with 
me, darling, oh God, I can't hold it back anymore, do it, do it all--oh 
Arthur, oh my darling!" as with a final shout of ecstasy, she reached her 
orgasm, her head falling back, her heart wildly beating against his pressing 
palm, while he felt himself shatter and explode within the grip of her tight 
moist hot love canal. 

But this was not the finale of the scene they had just witnessed. For after 
the two Mexicans had satisfied their lust on the spread-eagled milky naked 
body of the sobbing young woman, they restored their clothing to proper 
order, and then untied the gagged husband's bounds and swiftly left the 
room, locking the door behind them. 

The man called Frank totteringly rose from the chair, his eyes burning, his 
chest heaving, his stiff prick still violently out thrust and shaking with 
pentup rut. 

"You dirty little bitch, you enjoyed it!" he accused in a hoarse, shuddering 
voice as he approached the bed. 

"Of Frank, how can you say such a dreadful thing to me? You know they made 
me, they whipped me so terribly, I couldn't stand it! Oh I begged you to 
help me, darling, oh please, untie me, my wrists and ankles are so sore! I 
hurt everywhere, oh darling, have mercy on me, forgive me!" she sobbed. 

But to the dazzled eyes of Arthur Hadley, the man in no way answered that 
heartrending petition. Instead, getting onto the bed and kneeling beside the 
naked young woman, he put his left palm on the small of her back and then, 
raising his right, began to spank her already inflamed and angrily reddened 
bottomcheeks until she shrieked and wept and jerked and twisted frantically, 
imploring him to stop, begging him to understand that he was punishing her 
when it hadn't been her fault. 

When his hand was tired, after about some forty spanks, he got between her 
thighs, gripped the insides of her hips, and lifting her up, thrust home his 
spear deep into her cunt and then began to fuck her. 

Eleanor had moved back to her chair now, smoothed out her dress, and she 
looked over at her husband with indulgent and amused eyes: "Would you like 
to ring for Vera, darling?" she whispered. 

"You--you wouldn't mind, Eleanor?" he panted. 

She smilingly shook her head. "Maybe I'd like her services too, when you've 
finished, Arthur darling." 

"Oh Eleanor, you're the most wonderful wife any man could ever have," he 
gasped as she staggered from her chair and made his way over to the bell on 
the wall. A few moments later the door opened and the charming 
French-costumed lovely young Mexican maid entered. 

"The Senor desires?" she murmured, in a husky, soft, sexy voice. 

"Yes he does!" Arthur Hadley hoarsely gasped. "Come over here to me, young 
lady. Such bad service, here we were all this time and you didn't even come 
in to see if we needed more champagne. I'm going to spank you first." 

"As the Senor wishes," the charming maid said, demurely lowering her eyes. 
She crossed over to him, as he seated himself on the chair, grasping her by 
the wrists, Arthur Hadley pulled her down over his lap, flipped up her short 
skirt, and uttered a gasp of delight when he saw that she wore no panties, 
only a garterbelt with very narrow tabs to hold up the sheer opera-length 
black mesh hose on her lissome legs. 

His left palm in the small of her back, he began to spank her. It was the 
first time in his life he had ever done that, and as he did it, he was 
thinking of Hester, his willful, spoiled daughter who really deserved it 
most. The pretty maid submitted to a rather vigorous chastisement with gasps 
and little sobs, glancing back up at him from time to time, and sinuously 
wriggling her lithe body over his lap. Finally he stopped, out of breath and 
conscious of the frenzied swelling in his cock. 

"Maybe that will teach you," he said thickly. 

The pretty maid rose from his lap, keeping her skirt hoisted up with one 
hand while she rubbed her blazing bottom with the other. Then she wryly 
nodded and whispered, "I see that I made the Senor very uncomfortable. Does 
he wish me to do something about it?" 

"I--" Arthur began, then looked helplessly at his wife. But Eleanor was 
smilingly nodding. "Yes," he panted. 

And to his absolute consternation and unexpected joy, the pretty 
French-costumed maid knelt down, grasped his calves with her slim hands, 
and, putting her mouth to his swollen prong, began to suck and lick him till 
he felt himself explode. 

When this was done, Eleanor then whispered into Vera's ear, and the girl 
giggled understandingly. "I'm going to leave you for a little while, 
darling," Eleanor murmured as she bent over the chair into which he had 
seated himself again, "But Vera tells me there will be another show in just 
a few minutes, so it will keep you from getting bored." 

The husband and the young wife had now left the room, and in a few moments a 
couple entered, quite divergent in years and bodily traits indeed. The 
female was a sixteen-year-old Mexican girl, very prettily dressed, with a 
gray-haired man whom she addressed as her Tio Pepe." This elderly uncle 
scolded her for being a flirtatious little minx and having heard reports 
from the neighbors on how she let the boys kiss and maul her, and condemned 
her to a spanking. Despite her very ingenuous pleas, she was pulled across 
his lap, her skirts drawn up, her dainty white cotton panties lowered to her 
knees, and then given a vigorous handspanking, which made her kick and 
squeal, while her olivesheened bottom turned a fiery hue. 

When the spanking was over, she got up tearfully, rubbed her bottom, and 
hesitantly thanked him for chastising her. Then, to Arthur's stupefaction, 
she knelt down between the elderly man's legs, opened his fly, took out his 
organ and began to suck him till he was almost at the point of orgasm. Then, 
nimbly, hoisting her skirts high, she seated herself upon his organ and 
impaled herself, just as Eleanor had done with Arthur himself. 

About half an hour later, Eleanor returned, languid, her eyes and mouth soft 
with fulfillment. She didn't find her husband bored, but quite the contrary. 
And so she whispered to him. "Darling, let's wait till we get back to the 
hotel and just before we go to sleep, I'll do something about that 
insatiable third leg of yours." 

And so indeed she did. Arthur Hadley had guessed that she and Vera had made 
love together, but he was much too tactful to allude to it. 

And so when they returned to Claremont, Arthur Hadley had had the most 
liberal education conceivable for one so mature in years and yet untutored 
in the ways of voluptuous and domestic chastisement. And what he learned, as 
we shall see in future chapters, was to affect not only his own pampered 
daughter Hester, but also many of Eleanor's friends and their own lovely 
daughters. 

CHAPTER EIGHT 

By the last week of August, Arthur Hadley had made a swift and most 
efficient hiatus in moving to Claremont, opening his office in that pleasant 
little town's very modern mall, and arranging for Hester's entrance as a 
freshman into Claremont College for Girls. He had had some misgivings about 
moving his housekeeper along with him, but by fortunate circumstance she had 
just come to the point of giving him her notice because she had had an 
invitation to go live with her younger sister in Tacoma. Arthur Hadley had 
given her a month's wages and a glowing reference in the event that she 
decided to go back to work, and thanked her for all she had done for him and 
Hester. But on this last subject, she shook her head and tactfully replied, 
"Well, Mr. Hadley, sir, to tell the truth, I haven't felt that I've done 
very much with that young lady, begging your pardon. If you ask me, the best 
thing in the world you could have done was to get married so she'll have a 
mother who sets her straight. That girl needs a good talking too, and maybe 
something else, I'll be bound." 

It was just as well for her piece of mind that Hester didn't hear this 
farewell conversation, for she had no inkling whatsoever that the days of 
the virginity of her bottom so far as chastisement was concerned were 
finitely numbered. 

Hester was given a very spacious room across the hall from Betty's, which 
was actually bigger than her own room back in Pomona, but it didn't seem to 
please her. Busy with his preparations for making a success of his new 
venture on his own and adjusting himself to the placid routine of getting to 
know his new neighbors and at the same time, at night, enjoying Eleanor's 
passionate devotion, Arthur Hadley attributed Hester's diffidence to the 
understandable nostalgia which she would have for her past surroundings. At 
the same time, it was his fervent hope that, exposed as she would be to 
Betty's cheerful aura, his problematic daughter would be compelled to become 
more of an extrovert than in the past. 

He and Eleanor had agreed that Betty would call him "Uncle Arthur" for a 
time until of her own accord the lovely golden-haired teenager preferred to 
give him the title of "Father," and Betty certainly showed no signs at all 
of any indifference to him. By contrast, indeed, her politeness and natural 
sweetness and exuberance delighted him, and with each new day he was more 
and more convinced that a kindly fate had taken pity on a lonely widower by 
introducing him to Eleanor Stanfield and her delightful daughter. 

Eleanor, meanwhile, explained to him the status of the neighborhood children 
with whom Betty was on the friendliest terms and something about their 
parents. He had already heard about the Gilmores and their three offspring, 
Janet, Tony and Constance, and their buxom, very attractive, German maid, 
Hilda. Mabel Carruthers was an attractive auburn-haired woman in her early 
forties, svelte and quite personable, and her husband, Dave was forty-seven, 
a successful attorney who specialized in patent law. They had two daughters, 
brown-haired Verna, rather tomboyish, fourteen and a half years of age, and 
black-haired Barbara, not quite seventeen, bewitchingly attractive and 
beginning to discover the fascination of the opposite sex. 

"They're both delightful girls, Arthur dear," Eleanor explained on their 
second evening back home as the two of them lay in bed, cuddling and 
kissing. Eleanor wore the black nylon nightie which he had bought for her in 
Mexico, and her voluptuous, ripe body had never been more alluring, with the 
gauzy black sheath accentuating the milkiness of her most intimate anatomy 
where the sun hadn't caressingly bronzed it. "Just like Louise, Mabel deals 
out the discipline at the Carruthers' house, though occasionally Dave will 
take a hand when the girls are especially naughty. Mabel doesn't like 
Barbara to have dates except on Friday nights, and she has to be back at 
ten-thirty. She stated that in June when Barbara did very well in her next 
to last term in high school. As for Verna, she's always getting into 
mischief but she's very goodhearted and generous and fair with her 
companions. I like her almost as much as Constance, though she perhaps is a 
little more nerve-wracking to have around. Just like Constance, she takes 
her punishments very stoically and the next moment they're forgotten. 
Barbara is beginning to feel that she's a little too old for spanking, but 
Mabel and Dave know how to bring her up to the mark when she gets adult 
notions about independence and that sort of thing, just like Janet Gilmore." 

"You mentioned, darling, that Louise Gilmore keeps a demerit book." 

"That's true. She lets the demerits accumulate over a week, but they must be 
cleared off within ten days, like it or not. That's because she's quite busy 
in social and charitable affairs in the community and doesn't always have 
time to deal with the offender at the moment. So she'll say, 'Janet, go put 
yourself down for fifteen spanks in the book,' and then by the tenth day, 
Janet must bring her the book for a reckoning. And since Janet is eighteen 
and will be starting Claremont College along with your daughter Hester, 
darling, she's beginning to get very unhappy about the humiliation of being 
spanked just like a little girl. So there are times when she lets the 
demerits pile up in the hope that perhaps Louise will remit them, which of 
course Louise won't ever do. So on occasion the poor darling has a rather 
lengthy and painful ordeal in store for her. As I've told her before, 
because sometimes she's let it slip to me that she's not entirely happy with 
not being treated like an adult--the best way to avoid that is not to earn 
demerits." 

"It would seem to me that these two families have the problem of discipline 
pretty fairly worked out," Arthur Hadley mused. 

"Yes, they do. And of course my dear friend Frieda Jamison and her husband 
Hank, though a very easygoing couple, have laid down the law to their two 
girls and even their twelve-year old son Bob. Frieda is about my age, rather 
tall and athletic, a decided brunette and Hank is your age, Arthur, and he's 
a commercial artist with his own studio here in Claremont. He's done a lot 
of work for children's magazines. Besides Bob, they've got Nancy, who is 
fourteen, and a real redhead who's going to be a real beauty someday soon, 
and Sally, who is seventeen, sandy-haired and quite maturely developed for 
her age. She too is beginning to feel her oats so far as boys are concerned, 
and Frieda and Hank have made it plain to her that she's to go out only with 
fellows she brings home to be introduced to them and then only on Friday or 
Saturday nights when there isn't any other family affair planned, and of 
course they have a curfew for her too just like all us parents. Both Frieda 
and Hank handle the spanking problems at the Jamison house. So you can see, 
lover, that when Betty starts introducing Hester to all her friends, your 
daughter is going to discover that nobody at all--except maybe Sally and 
Barbara and of course Janet--thinks that there's anything unusual about 
getting a spanking when they're naughty. The psychological effect should, if 
you'll pardon the pun, soften Hester up for the time when she faces the 
reality of crime and punishment. But understand me, darling, I am absolutely 
not going to undertake chastising her until you yourself give me the 
go-ahead sign. As I've already said, I think it would be a drastic mistake 
so very soon to let her think that she's hardly changed homes and acquired a 
new stepmother and stepsister and feel herself in a reformatory where 
punishments are meted out." 

"I quite agree with you, Eleanor. But I want her to be treated just as 
fairly as you would your own daughter. If she does something wrong that 
offends you, I expect her to be old enough to understand her 
responsibilities in the matter and not to have immunity just because she 
happens to be my girl and not yours." 

"Well, darling," Eleanor murmured as she slyly slid her hand along his 
thighs and grasped the tip of his stiffening cock, "That works both ways. 
The time is going to come when you will be vexed with my girl and want to 
take her across your lap for a sound walloping, so that's why I'm letting 
Betty know that she too can't exactly expect total immunity from you in the 
future." 

"How grim you make it all sound," he chuckled thickly, for by now the 
caressing of her soft fingers had made him furiously randy. His lips nuzzled 
one of her nipples, and his right hand was on one of her spacious 
bottomcheeks while his left arm was passed under her armpit as they lay 
facing each other on their sides. 

"But it isn't grim at all, darling. I can assure you that Betty doesn't have 
the slightest resentment for me. An hour or so after her spanking, she's 
just as cheerful as ever, and I think she loves me more. That's because 
everything is done out in the open, and she has acquired enough intelligence 
to see that I don't punish without a reason. A parent should never punish in 
anger at any time. Oh yes, I'll admit that some educators would argue with 
me about what would seem to be ritualism in the way I punish, just as they 
would with Louise Gilmore and her demerit book, but basically Louise and I 
both agree that teenagers are an impressionable lot and that it's quite one 
thing to turn a girl over her lap and give her a few hasty angry spanks and 
another to make her go to her room and meditate about her follies with the 
knowledge that in an hour or two her mother is going to enter her room and 
give her a sermon and then punish her according to her just desserts. And 
now, young man, I'm beginning to wonder about you. Everytime I talk about 
spanking, you get so stiff I can hardly hold you," she softly teased as she 
sinuously drew up her filmy nightie and, guiding his throbbing cock to the 
furry nest of her pussy, pressed it in between the twitching, moist lips of 
her ardent vulva. With a groan, Arthur Hadley closed his eyes and kissed her 
hard on the mouth, his left hand moving to grasp her right tittie, his right 
hand squeezing the jouncy, satiny naked globe of one luscious bare buttock. 
Slowly and deliberately, he began to fuck her, until soon he had reached her 
threshold of amorous sensitivity and she began to whimper and gasp and cling 
to him more tightly, furling her tongue between his lips and exhorting him 
to greater passion... 

After their rapturous lovemaking had been concluded and they lay side by 
side with fingers entwined, sharing a cigarette between them, Arthur Hadley 
pursued the topic which had now become of such sensually rousing interest to 
him: "You've told me how you spank Betty, darling, and I was wondering how 
the other parents chastise their children when they're naughty." 

"I see that I have made a convert who is getting impatient to enter the 
lists late in life, haven't I, darling?" the brown-haired matron teased him 
as she took a puff of the cigarette, blew out rings which rose towards the 
ceiling, and then caressingly ran her fingertips over his then handed it 
back to him and stroked his belly limpened cock. "Well, Louise uses a little 
rubber dogwhip on her maid Hilda, because Hilda is big and sturdy and of 
course, quite a mature woman, and so the punishment must take effect. Janet 
gets a dose of the little whip too, whenever she's marked down for more than 
a hundred spanks, which frequently happens." 

"So many?" he marveled. "But that sounds like torture!" 

"She is much more severe than I am, in some ways, I'll admit," Eleanor 
murmured as she pressed her bare hip against her husband's and continued to 
fondle his cock in the hope of restoring it to vigor for a second engagement 
in erotic ecstasy. "But the skin is never broken, and the whip stings rather 
than cuts. She's an expert with it, and even after a rather severe spanking 
with it, in a few days Janet's plump white bottom hardly shows any marks. At 
times she uses a ruler on Tony, because a loud smacking is humiliating for 
him, and the same with Constance, though Constance has had her share of the 
little rubber dogwhip too. However, just before Betty and I left for Malibu, 
Louise told me that she had added a leather sole to the arsenal, and that it 
has made a howling success, to coin a rather obvious phrase. None of her 
three offspring likes it at all, not so much because it smacks and stings 
quite vigorously, but because of the loud and most disconcertingly 
embarrassing noise it makes. You see, darling, humiliation is a part of 
corporal punishment, a most important one from the psychological viewpoint. 
A teenager with any common sense at all eventually makes up his or her mind 
that if something is unpleasant, he or she is going to avoid it at all 
costs, which eventually makes for better behavior and more serious thinking 
on the subject of good conduct all around." 

"I see," he said, impressed. "What about Mabel and Dave Carruthers?" 

"Mabel is a great adherent of the hairbrush, which most of the time is the 
instrument used on Verna and Barbara. Dave, on the other hand, uses his 
hand, which is quite heavy, from what his girls ruefully tell me, and also 
his belt when Verna and Barbara have been especially naughty. As for Frieda 
Jamison, she prefers a pingpong paddle for minor offenses, and she has a 
special spanking strap which is very much like an old Scotch tawse." 

"What in the world is that?" he wanted to know. 

"It's a leather strap about twenty inches long, darling, with an extra thick 
piece at one end to be used as a grip, and the last three or four inches are 
cut at the other end into three separate fingers. It stings very painfully, 
I can assure you, especially when it has been prefaced with a good 
handspanking. Hank has on occasion used the paddle on the girls, but he 
still spanks his son Bob by hand, which seems to humiliate the boy a lot, 
and I understand that the last few months Bob has tried hard to avoid 
getting into trouble. And that is my exact point about all this, dear, 
because you mustn't think that all of us parents who spank our children do 
so out of unadulterated hostility or any perverse cruelty towards them. 
Quite the contrary. We have simply come to the conclusion that it's much 
more effective than stopping allowance or forbidding our children to go out 
to a movie or denying them rewards which in the main their good conduct has 
earned. A spanking is painful and embarrassing at the time, it serves to 
remind the culprit that he or she has marred a good-conduct record by a very 
silly and easily avoidable fault, and so it serves its purpose admirably." 

"Yes, it seems to," he agreed. "But all this talk about it, Eleanor, is 
having an effect on me, as well as what you're doing right now." 

"I take it," she winked naughtily at him, "that you are rather more affected 
by the erotic side of it, aren't you, lover? The way you were when you saw 
that lovely young bride in the house at Cuernavaca. Well, Arthur, very 
frankly, there is that side to spanking, too. Adults practice it among 
themselves for sexual stimulation, as you may have guessed. Why, in Los 
Angeles, I've heard there's even a club that calls itself the 'Swap 'n Spank 
Society' in which the members go in for wifeswapping and a little playful 
spanking to stimulate them to lovemaking." 

"I guess I'll have to confess, darling, that's opened a new world of 
speculation to me." Arthur Hadley pulled his beautiful brown-haired wife to 
him, his mouth coming down passionately on hers, and at once her nimble pink 
tongue darted between his lips and he felt her arms and legs lock round him 
to accept him. His prick was nuzzling along her velvety inner thighs, 
rasping against the curly darkbrown tufts of pussyhair, which titillated him 
into a new awareness of desire. When the kiss was over, he added, his voice 
unsteady, "But I imagine that kind of domestic chastisement is rather 
playful instead of punitive." 

"Sometimes it's both, darling. And there's no denying that when a man has a 
pretty girl over his lap and her bare bottom is upturned and wriggling and 
growing red and he hears her crying, he has a sense of mastery and 
domination which is very much like that which the lord of a harem enjoy. 
Just the same, a parent must make a very careful demarcation between the 
loveplay which he exercises with his own wife--or in the case of the woman 
the husband of course --and his daughter, because otherwise that would be 
venturing into a forbidden field. However," Eleanor said archly, as she 
snuggled closer, and tightened her hold round his shoulders, feeling his 
prick slip slowly down deep into her chasm, "that's another excellent reason 
why I'm so glad I've got a husband now. Because I will admit, since it's 
between the two of us right now, lover, that spanking Betty's pretty bottom 
often does get me excited. And while I was a widow, there wasn't any proper 
way to have any assuagement of those urges, which now, thank goodness, you 
are so wonderfully able to satisfy in me. Oh darling, give it to me hard! 
Dig your nails into my bummy! Love me, give it to me, yes, Arthur, oh my 
goodness, you're so wonderful, I'm ever so glad that beachball missed its 
mark!" 

CHAPTER NINE 

Earlier that same evening, in the Gilmore house which was down at the end of 
the same block on which Eleanor lived, Hilda was undergoing the severe and 
yet solicitously maternal attentions of her mistress. 

The entire family was at dinner, and Hilda had had the misfortune to slop 
over a tureen of soup which she had set down before Fred Gilmore, a 
pleasant-faced, stocky, well built man whose gray hair was thinning around 
his temples. He frowned at this, and Louise remarked rather tartly, 'Hilda, 
you really must be more careful, you know!" 

"Yes, Mrs. Gilmore, I'm sorry. I'll clean it up right away, Mrs. Gilmore." 

"Do that," Louise sternly declared. "And remind me after dinner that you've 
something coming for your sloppiness." 

"Y-yes, Mrs. Gilmore," Hilda flushed and lowered her eyes, then meekly took 
a paper towel and blotted up the edges of the tureen and the platter under 
it, then departed for the kitchen. 

Louise Gilmore was an imposing and extremely handsome woman, with an 
authoritative air. 

Her face was rounded, the lips thin and incisive, the nose straight and 
small, with dark blue widely spaced eyes and thin penciled brows which she 
used most expressively to underline her comments to her children and her 
maid. 

Janet, the oldest of the three Gilmore offspring, sat at her mother's right, 
and was really a most attractive young woman, promising to rival her 
mother's generous bodily development within a very few years. Louise's solid 
hips and plump bosom were more than suggested in Janet's deliriously 
curvaceous figure, with high-perched round young breasts set closely 
together, a slim waist that flared into broad, plump oval buttocks and 
somewhat short but mouth-wateringly rounded thighs and saucily rounded 
calves. She had an oval face, with a pert uptilted nose, a full sweet mouth, 
and eloquent dark brown eyes, was about five feet five and a half inches in 
height, and possessed an olivesheened complexion which many a mature woman 
would have envied. Her black hair was coifed in a modish upsweep with a wide 
curl to the right of her forehead. Janet fancied herself almost ready for 
marriage, and there were times when she was greatly distressed when she had 
to be humiliatingly prepared for what she considered outmoded juvenile 
discipline. Yet she respected as well as feared her mother and father and 
had come to the doleful conclusion that it was far better to submit than to 
argue and discuss and to run the risk extra spankings, which had occurred 
only last year at her seventeenth birthday when she had protested her 
mother's sentence of a spanking for having torn a new dress. That little 
argument had cost her a session over her father's lap after which she had 
believed that his hard hand had thoroughly chastened her, only to discover 
that her mother had a ruler spanking in store for her and a finale of a 
dozen stinging cuts with the little rubber dogwhip. 

Constance, across from her sister, was a really lovely girl, and very much 
like Betty, though somewhat quieter and much more demure in the presence of 
her elders. Her face was heart-shaped, with adorably dimpled cheeks and 
chin, a dainty aquiline nose, gray-green eyes, and a generous mouth, and her 
fluffy light brown hair was styled in a thick pageboy. Her pale milky skin 
was very sensitive to spanking, and marked visibly at the very outset, yet 
in some ways she was more stoic than Janet when it came to receiving 
punishment. Her buttocks were two tightly spaced rotundities, somewhat 
heavier than was expected of her age, and indeed reminded her mother of 
Hilda's even more generous contours. Her thighs were long but well rounded, 
and her calves were highset and sleek. Tony, who sat next to his younger 
sister, was an ebullient black-haired, wiry young man who also seemed to 
have a rather solid bottom, which apparently was the Gilmore heritage. 
"Well, Louise," Fred Gilmore said as he cut into his roast beef which Hilda 
had just served with bated breath, "I see that Eleanor has got herself a new 
husband and daughter at the same time. Have you had a chance to meet the 
fellow yet?" 

"No, Fred, but Eleanor is going to have us over for afternoon tea tomorrow, 
and I'll have a chance to meet Mr. Hadley then, and his daughter, Hester. 
From what Eleanor tells me, however, Hester is Janet's age and she's never 
been spanked in all her life." 

"Lucky Hester," Janet murmured with a plaintive sigh. 

"That will be just about enough of that, young lady," her mother flashed her 
a meaningful glance. "Would you like me to have you go enter about fifteen 
in your book for impertinence at the table?" 

"Oh no, Mother, I'm sorry!" Janet gulped and went very red as she suddenly 
found what was on her plate infinitely more palatable than the subject under 
discussion. 

"I understand," Louise went on, momentarily passing over Janet's 
impertinence, "that the poor man was a widower, which would account for the 
way Hester had missed parental discipline." 

"Well, if I'm any judge, Louise dear," Fred Gilmore chuckled, "Eleanor will 
soon equalize matters, and I'm afraid that Hester may have to make up for 
lost time, as the saying goes. I shudder to think what these three 
hellions," here he glance affectionately at his brood, "would be like if you 
and I hadn't agreed at the very start to keep them on the straight and 
narrow. What are we having for dessert, Louise dear?" 

"Strawberry cream pie, one of Hilda's specials," his handsome wife replied. 
"Janet and Constance, Betty's mother asked me to invite you both along with 
me tomorrow afternoon when you meet her new husband and Hester. I'm sure 
you'll both be on your best behavior." 

"Oh yes, Mother," Constance demurely replied, and Jane contented herself 
with a nod, watching her mother's face anxiously for any signs which might 
mean a visit to the demerit book and a subsequent entry. 

"I wonder," Fred Gilmore thoughtfully mused, "whether it wouldn't be a good 
idea for Hester to find out that all three of our kids get tanned whenever 
they need it, just the way Betty does." At this, Janet turned red as a beet 
and again stared down at her plate and forked some of the vegetables she 
hadn't yet consumed. 

"As a matter of fact, Fred dear, that was something that Eleanor mentioned 
on the phone when she called me. She would like the girls to mention how 
they're punished if Betty brings the subject up. And I personally think it's 
an excellent idea." She permitted herself an amused little laugh. "It will 
serve an excellent purpose, too, in reminding Janet and Constance and Tony 
that their conduct is to be as exemplary here when we're all among ourselves 
as when it is away from home as guests. Well, Fred, here's the pie." 

But unhappily, Hilda, who had been worrying about Louise Gilmore's 
meaningful order to her, set the pieplate down rather abruptly in the middle 
of the table, and some of the berry juices spilled over onto the tablecloth. 
She uttered a cry of horror, clapped her hand to her mouth, and then eyed 
Louise as if the end of the world had just come. 

"Good heavens, Hilda, what's got into you this evening? I'm afraid your 
punishment won't wait until after dinner. Go get me your whip," the 
autocratic blonde matron demanded. 

"Y--yes, Mrs. G-Gilmore. I-I'm awfully sorry. Please let me clean it up 
first." 

"No, that tablecloth will have to be sent to the cleaner anyway. Hurry, 
Hilda, and don't make matters worse by arguing!" the steely tone of 
authority impressed the handsome German maid into nodding and quickly 
hurrying out of the dining room. When she returned, she carried a black 
rubber dogwhip and shamefacedly handed to her mistress. Janet and Constance 
and Tony stared wide-eyed, perhaps deriving secret solace from their own 
punishment sessions by realizing that this grown woman was about to be 
spanked by their own mother in front of them. 

"What is this for, Hilda?" Louise Gilmore studiedly demanded. 

"Please, Mrs. Gilmore, I'm sorry for spilling the s-soup and the p-pie, and 
I deserve to be punished. Please whip me well so that I can be pardoned for 
having been so careless," Hilda stammered. At twenty-eight, she was 
strikingly attractive, though her generous proportions were somewhat 
overblown. Of medium height, with straw-colored hair formed in a curly bob, 
she had a prettily rounded face, widely spaced light blue eyes, a small 
sensuous nose, and a ripe mouth which had already begun to quiver with 
apprehension. 

"Draw up that straight-backed chair, Hilda, and kneel down on it," was the 
next order. 

"Yes M-Ma'am," Hilda quavered. She went towards the door, picked up one of 
the straight-backed chairs in a row against the wall, and returned with it 
to the dining table, set it down and then slowly knelt over it. It was 
evident that this ritual was not at all new to her, for she promptly bent 
her head and shoulders over the top of the back of the chair, clasped her 
hands around the back and entwined her fingers tightly together as if 
holding tight for needed support. 

Louise Gilmore rose from her chair, approached the quivering German maid,, 
and promptly trussed up Hilda's skirt and slip beyond the young woman's 
waist, taking a safety pin from the pocket of her dress and ascertaining 
that the culprit's garments would not fall back down over her condemned 
bottom. 

Hilda's spacious bottomcheeks, juttingly rounded and extremely tempting in 
their thrust against the tight white pantie-girdle which shaped them out 
like a second skin, quivered visibly as Louise Gilmore now inserted her 
fingers under the waistband and carefully rolled the garment down to the 
young woman's stocking-tops. The plump hindquarters, contracting 
spasmodically as Hilda uttered a soft little gasp to find herself stripped 
bare before the children and Fred Gilmore, were endowed with a pale pink 
epidermis, glossy and satiny, and the skin seemed to gleam because of the 
moisture which the rubber sheath had imparted with its warmth as it clung to 
those generous contours. 

Louise Gilmore had left the little rubber dog-whip on the edge of the table, 
and now turned to retrieve it. Planting herself at the victim's left, her 
left palm bearing down on the small of Hilda's naked back, she announced, 
"Twenty-five, Hilda. And remember to stay in position, if you please!" 

"Yes--yes, M-Ma'am," the German maid quavered and bent her head down still 
lower, tightening her fingers together as she hugged the back of the chair. 
This kneeling posture accentuated the lascivious jut of her ripe 
bottom-globes, and one could see the shadowy groove which separated the 
cheeks, as well as the provocative dark blonde fleece which framed the pulpy 
fig of her cunthole. 

Louise Gilmore slowly raised the dogwhip, and then descended it with a swift 
stroke which made the black rubber thong cling greedily to tops of Hilda's 
ample hips. One could hear Hilda suck in her breath, and her thighs twitched 
convulsively, but otherwise she did not move. A bright pink streak sprang up 
at once on the pale moist gleaming epidermis. 

A past mistress of fustigation, Louise Gilmore whipped without haste and 
following a preconceived pattern. The first eight lashes were spaced about 
half a minute apart, curling horizontally and wickedly over the jutting 
bottom-cheeks. After a pause of about a minute, Louise then applied five 
vertical cuts to each succulent bottomcheek, and then there was a further 
pause of a minute while she lectured the now softly sobbing kneeling victim, 
who falteringly promised to mend her ways. 

There then followed five lashes delivered diagonally over the now squirming, 
plump and vividly striped hindquarters, and then after a further pause of a 
minute during which Louise Gilmore again harangued the weeping victim, the 
final two cuts were applied with full force across the ripest curves of both 
huddling and squirming nether globes, drawing wails of pain and frantic 
squirmings from the sufferer. 

At the conclusion of the whipping, Louise Gilmore herself pulled up the 
pantie-girdle, which obviously would add to Hilda's discomfort for a good 
while, for its tight cling and heat would retain the burning anguish of the 
lashing far beyond its normal duration. Then she unpinned Hilda's skirt and 
slip and drew the garments down and smoothed them into place, following 
which she took her seat and waited. 

After a moment, Hilda gingerly got down from the straight-backed chair, and 
knelt down on the floor before her implacable mistress. Tearfully she kissed 
Louise Gilmore's hand, then the rubber dogwhip, while she faltered out a 
formula of thanks: "Th-thank you, M-Ma'am, for having punished me for being 
so sloppy. I promise I'll do better from now on, honest I will. I'm sorry if 
I spoiled your dinner." Then, turning towards Fred Gilmore, who had an 
amused expression on his face, she added, "I'm awfully sorry I annoyed you, 
Mr. Gilmore, I won't do it again, honest I won't." 

"I hope not, Hilda," he chuckled. "Does it hurt very much?" 

"Yes-yes, s-sir. If only I could take off that awful girdle--" 

"But you know perfectly well you can't, Hilda. Not until tomorrow morning. 
And now continue with the rest of it, if you please, because we're eager for 
our coffee," Louise tartly interrupted. 

"Yes--yes, M-Ma'am. Please do forgive me for having been so careless, 
M-Ma'am." 

"All right, Hilda, you may put the whip back and go bring us our coffee. 
Because it's vacation time, the children may have a cup too, but half-filled 
with milk." 

"Yes, Mrs. Gilmore, thank you, Mrs. Gilmore." Hilda rose with a surprising 
alacrity, considering the fiery state of her well striped bottom, then 
impulsively bent her head, took her mistress's hand and kissed it, and then 
disappeared. 

Fred Gilmore took out his pipe and began to fill it from a well worn leather 
pouch. "I think," he remarked with a chuckle, "I'm hungrier than ever for 
that strawberry cream pie now. Want me to try my hand at slicing it out and 
serving it, honey?" 

"No, dear, that's for Hilda to do," Louise Gilmore firmly countered. "How do 
you suppose she's ever going to improve on her mistakes if she isn't given a 
chance? That's the whole purpose of punishing her like this in front of 
everyone. Ah, here's our coffee, Hilda, please serve up the pie at once." 

And thus in the Gilmore household, while their three youngsters watched with 
curious eves the handsome German maid humbly and swiftly obeyed the orders 
of her mistress and master, and she was even smiling with gratitude. For in 
this singular household, Hilda had learned already that once a punishment is 
experienced and the sin paid for, all was forgiven, and Louise Gilmore had 
been very generous to her in so many ways, and she only hoped that she 
hadn't spoiled things by needing to be punished tonight. 

CHAPTER TEN 

During the two weeks of her father's Mexican honeymoon with Betty's 
beautiful and mature mother, Hester Hadley found herself introduced to the 
golden-haired teenager's circle of young friends. She was not especially 
crazy about them, because all of them, with the exception of Janet Gilmore, 
were younger than herself. However, and again with a condescending air of 
one who is performing a disagreeable task solely as a necessity, she tried 
to be as cordial as possible to them all. 

Jennie, Eleanor's jovial housekeeper, had already made her mind up about 
Hester the very first day they met when Hester had come into the kitchen to 
ask that some milk and sandwiches be served to her in her room. The portly 
Negress put her hands on her hips after Arthur's daughter had left the 
kitchen, shook her head and exclaimed, "My lands! Dat dere young gal gonna 
find out Miz' Eleanor ain't gonna stand sass nohow soon as she done come 
back from de honeymoon! Serve it up in her room, she says! Huh! I shonuff 
wonder what Miz' Eleanor would say if Betty came in and asked for service 
like that, I sho' does!" 

Nevertheless, deciding that it was not her place to educate Hester as to the 
regimen practised in the Stanfield home, Jennie made the sandwiches and 
poured out a glass of milk and brought them up to the diffident auburnhaired 
teenager, who gave her a cool nod and accepted the service as if it was her 
due without so much as a "Thank you, Jennie." And this further lack of good 
manners made the Negress a much more staunch ally of Betty than ever before. 
She, of course, was fully aware that the golden-haired teenager was punished 
when she displeased her mother. Often, indeed Jennie had watched Betty being 
spanked right there in the kitchen. As a matter of fact only a week before 
Eleanor and Betty had gone to Malibu on the vacation that was to turn into 
romance for the mature brownette widow, Betty had forgotten to ask her 
mother's permission to have lunch with Sally Jamison and spend the afternoon 
playing with her. When she came back about four-thirty, Eleanor rebuked her 
daughter and irritatedly informed her that she had asked Jennie for Betty's 
whereabouts and had been unable to learn anything at all. Sentence was 
immediately pronounced and executed. 

Much to her dismay and humiliation, Betty was obliged to hold up her skirt 
and nylon petticoat, and go across her mother's lap on a kitchen chair in 
full view of Jennie. Thereupon Eleanor requested a three-thonged leather 
martinet from the Negress, who got it from its hook in the pantry and 
presented it to her employer. Eleanor had acquired this martinet only a few 
months previously; today was the first time that Betty had been introduced 
to it and it was an experience the golden-haired teenager would gratefully 
have done without. 

Calmly and dispassionately, Eleanor had applied forty stinging lashes, and 
with an admirable dexterity had applied about half of the strokes in such a 
way that the tapering brown leather thongs cracked sonorously over Betty's 
upturned pink sheened round bottomcheeks, while the other half she inflicted 
so that the tips of the thongs nipped the inflamed and squirming posterior. 
Betty's shame was intensified because, her panties slipped down around her 
knees, she couldn't help trying to kick and twist and wriggle under this 
highly unpleasant and painfully diversified chastisement, maneuvers which 
exposed to Jennie's eyes the most intimate parts of the young girl's 
virginal anatomy. After the punishment had been inflicted, there was the 
usual ceremonial of making up, and this Betty liked most of all when she had 
to be punished. Without being allowed to pull up her panties, she could sit 
on her mother's lap, cuddling her arms around Eleanor's neck, while Eleanor 
gently chided her for her naughtiness and made her promise not to repeat the 
offense. Then followed the kiss of peace, after which Betty was permitted to 
pull her panties up and lower her outer garments and then put the martinet 
back in place in the pantry. 

During this period of the honeymoon, Betty remembered her mother's 
instructions on indoctrinating Hester into the mysteries and meaning of 
corporal punishment. She wasn't quite sure how to begin the topic, but as 
matters turned out, Hester herself unwittingly led the way by asking 
casually, as they were enroute to Frieda Jamison's house, "I hope you're 
feeling better, Betty, after that sick spell you had." 

Mystified, the lovely golden-haired teenager regarded her new stepsister: 
"Sick spell? Whatever in the world are you talking about, Hester?" 

"I mean that evening you were supposed to have dinner with your mother and 
my Dad and you didn't show up." 

"Oh, that," Betty said flippantly. "I wasn't exactly sick. I just had to 
stay in my room, that's all." 

"But why?" Hester pursued. 

"Because Mother punished me, that's all. She had my supper sent up from the 
restaurant, though, so I didn't exactly starve." 

"Punished you?" Hester echoed with growing curiosity. "But how and for what, 
Betty?" 

"I just did something mother didn't like," the good-natured teenager 
casually replied, "so she sent me up to my room and then in a little while 
she came and gave me a spanking." 

"You must be joking!" Hester's jaw dropped. "Nobody spanks girls your age 
anymore." 

"Try telling that to Mother, and see how far you'd get," Betty merrily 
laughed. "But don't look so worried, Hester. I'm not, I can assure you." 

"You mean--Betty, tell me the truth! You mean she really did spank you?" 
Hester gasped. 

Betty nodded so that her golden curls danced in the air, and then giggled: 
"My gracious, Hester, from the way you talk, you'd think it was the end of 
the world! Lots of kids get spanked in Claremont. Fact is, all the kids I 
pal around with do, even the fellows." 

"I can't believe it. You reason with a child, you don't use physical force," 
Hester declared. "And you're sixteen, and these other friends of yours are 
about that age, aren't they?" 

"Yes, except Janet, she's eighteen, and Sally Jamison is seventeen, and so 
is Barbara Carruthers. But they get spanked just the way I do. Oh, I guess 
it's a little different, because every parent has their own way of doing it. 
But when we're naughty we can expect it I'll tell you that much, Hester." 

"I never heard of such a dreadful thing!" Arthur Hadley's precocious, 
selfish daughter gasped, her cheeks coloring vividly. "Why, it's downright 
cruelty, that's what it is! Parents who beat their children--why, they ought 
to be in jail." 

"Say, Hester, you sure get some goofy ideas," Betty shook her head 
reprovingly. "And you just better not talk like that when we're over in Mrs. 
Jamison's house. There isn't a kid I know who gets spanked who doesn't think 
the world of their father and mother, and that's no lie, Hester. Mother 
started spanking me when I was about ten, just after Daddy died. I can see 
now that I was a real problem to her. And if it hadn't been for those 
spankings and her constant showing me what I was doing wrong, I don't know 
how I would have turned out. I've still got a long way to go, but I never 
feel mad at Mother when she does have to spank me, because there's always a 
good reason for it, and she tells me so before she punishes me." 

"Just the same, Betty, it sounds so cold and brutal," Hester exclaimed 
shaking her head incredulously. "It just doesn't seem possible, when a girl 
is your age, or like your friend Sally Jamison, to actually treat her like a 
little child-- it's terrible!" 

"Now you listen here, Hester," Betty firmly avowed as she turned to face her 
friend just before they mounted the steps of the Jamison porch. "Until a kid 
is old enough to get married and to go out and earn her own living or get 
married, she still is a child in lots of ways. I know Mother has shown me 
that I am. All the girls I know feel that way. But I tell you, Hester, they 
don't resent it at all." 

"They must be just sheep then," Hester sniffed. 

"Well, I like that. I suppose you think I'm one too because I let Mother 
spank me!" Betty heatedly countered. 

"I don't know what to think at this point," Hester confessed. "I just never 
dreamed that modern parents still did that. It's old-fashioned, and it's so, 
well, cruel, that's the only word I can think of for it. Does your mother--I 
mean, when she punishes you, does she spank you with her hand, Betty?" 

"Not usually," the pert golden-haired youngster giggled. "I sometimes wish 
she would, because I can tell you that a strap and a hairbrush hurt a lot 
worse than just the hand." 

"A strap? She beats you with a strap, Betty?" Hester was pale and wide-eyed 
now. 

"Say, why do you have to keep repeating everything I say, Hester?" Betty 
wanted to know. That's what I said, a strap or a hairbrush. On the bare skin 
too, if you want to know something. And when it's over, sure, I'm crying and 
my heinie stings like anything, but then it's all over and I'm forgiven for 
having been naughty, and Mother takes me on her lap and I promise her I'll 
be a good girl, and we kiss and make up and everything is nice. And it's not 
just because we kiss and make up that I say that, either," she added 
loyally. "Mother does lots of wonderful things for me, gives me lots of 
unexpected treats and rewards when I'm good, without my going out of the way 
to earn them. So you see, it's not brutal or cruel at all, and I do hope you 
won't use words like that in front of my friends. They'd just laugh at you." 

"Just the same, I think I'd die if anyone ever did that to me," Hester 
gasped, her cheeks coloring violently at the mere thought. 

But the ice had been broken and now this mysterious subject had entered the 
precocious mind of Arthur Hadley's only child, at an age when, as his 
beautiful new bride had already agreed, it was almost too late to begin to 
make amends for Hester's earlier undisciplined upbringing. 

However, the first seeds of awareness that life was not all untrammeled 
selfishness had just been sown in Hester's keenly impressionable mind, and a 
sprouting at the harvest to be derived from that would, as we shall see, 
achieve a most dramatic and exciting gleaning! 

"Now I'm going to introduce you to Sally Jamison, who is my best friend next 
to Connie Gilmore," the goldenhaired teenager told her older stepsister. 
"And please, for gosh sakes, Hester, don't embarrass me by saying what you 
just did about parents who spank, because Sally happens to love her mother 
and father an awful lot. And yet she sometimes gets it a lot worse than I 
ever do from Mother." With this admonition, Betty rang the doorbell of the 
Jamison house, and a moment later, sandyhaired ripe-contoured Sally herself 
answered. She had a pretty rounded face, with an adorable dimple in each 
cheek and in the middle of her chin, with gray-blue eyes, a demure, straight 
little nose with rather pronouncedly flaring wings, and full, firm, generous 
mouth. She was about the same height as Betty, but, a year older, even more 
ripely developed, her breasts being highperched and closely spaced, 
surprisingly large for so young a girl. From her slim waist, there flared 
surprisingly ample hips, but her thighs and calves were beautifully 
proportioned by contrast. Her bottom was solid, the cheeks round and jouncy, 
and very tightly spaced. Her skin was freckled and milky, and she had a soft 
flurried voice and was evidently, of a highly excitable temperament, and 
very devotedly a friend of Betty's. 

Mrs. Jamison herself came into the living room to welcome the two Hadley 
girls and to be introduced to Hester. Frieda Jamison at thirty-nine, wore 
her black hair closely cropped, almost in a mannish do. She was about five 
feet six and a half inches in height, slim and elegant of build and 
features. Her pleasant twinkling, widely spaced darkbrown eyes and her Roman 
nose and small firm mouth, as well as her high-set cheekbones gave her an 
air of sophistication. Her voice was cool, and a rich contralto, and she and 
her illustrator husband Hank had traveled a good deal at the outset of their 
marriage so that she spoke French fluently. She did not quite have the 
severity of Louise Gilmore, but from the way in which Sally quieted down as 
soon as she came into the room, it was evident that she possessed a good 
deal of authority over the family, which included twelve-year-old Bob and 
fourteen-year-old Nancy. 

"Remember, Sally, I'd like you to go to the store for me before it closes," 
she remarked as she was turning to leave the living room. "That should give 
you girls about an hour to chat. I'll bring in some cookies and milk for all 
of you." 

"Thanks, Mother," Sally called, "I won't forget. Do you have a list of what 
you want?" 

"It's on the kitchen table, and the money's in a little coin-purse." 

"Fine, Mother, I'll do it. And thanks a lot for the snack!" 

"Not too many cookies for you, Sally," her mother smilingly retorted, 
"you're planning to lose enough pounds so your father can buy you that 
pretty skirt and suit combination you've had your eye on for the opening of 
school." 

"I know, Mother. Isn't it awful?" Sally turned to Hester and Betty with a 
mock-tragic expression in her lovely eyes. "I do so love Mom's pies and 
cakes and stuff, but the minute I start eating, I just can't seem to shed 
any weight." 

At this point, Frieda Jamison went down the hall and Betty now teasingly 
giggled, "The worst of it is, Sally, that the more weight you put on, it 
goes all to your heinie, and that makes lots more for your mother to spank 
when you're naughty!" 

"Oh, you!" Sally blushed and laughed. 

"Well, here's my new sister," Betty told her as the three of them made 
themselves comfortable in the living-room couch." She'll be going to college 
the end of next month. You and I will be going back to Claremont High. 
'Course, you'll be a senior ahead of me." 

"Sure, I'm a year older than you are, so why not?" Sally laughed. 

"Well, how are things going this summer? Did you have your vacation yet? We 
went to Malibu, you know," Betty boasted. 

"Daddy took his the first weeks in July. He had to, because all the work for 
fall and winter is piling up around now, and that was the only time he could 
really get away. We went to Lake Arrowhead, you know. It was peachy!" 

"Gee, I'll bet it was. How's Nancy and Bob?" 

"About the same. Nancy is over playing with Verna, and Bob and Tony are 
working on a model plane together. Bob's real smart about mechanical things, 
and Daddy thinks he's really going to be happy with that new woodshop course 
they're having in grade school next term," Sally Jamison proudly reported. 

"That's great!" Betty beamed. "And your kid sister Nancy, is she keeping out 
of mischief?" 

Sally shrugged, her luscious breasts jiggling against her cotton dress 
through which could be glimpsed the outline of a bra. "Just so-so, I guess. 
She really got a tanning when we were at Arrowhead. I never saw Daddy so mad 
as he was that time. And I'm sure glad it was Nancy instead of me." 

"Why, what happened, Sally?" Betty casually asked, glancing at her 
stepsister who sat beside her. Hester's face was flushed, and her eyes very 
wide at this sudden and unexpected disclosure of parental wrath. 

Sally giggled. "Well, they say that redheads are always stirring up a 
hornet's nest. Nancy thought it would be a great stunt to put a frog in 
Dad's fishing boots, but he didn't quite go for the idea. Especially when 
the frog jumped right into bed with Mom and nearly scared her out of a 
year's growth. Then Nancy tried to fib her way out of it by saying that the 
frog had just jumped in when she opened the door to look outside and see how 
the lake was, and of course she didn't get away with that one little bit." 

"And I suppose you watched," Betty wanted to know. 

"Sure, because I woke up when I heard all the commotion. Poor Nancy! I bet 
she was sorry she went on vacation with us, right about then. Of course Dad 
hadn't brought along the pingpong paddle or the split strap Mom uses here at 
home, but he pulled Nancy over his lap and gave her a bare-butt spanking 
with his hand that made her hind end red as a tomato. And when he got 
through with that, he told her she was going to get a little something extra 
for fibbing, and that it wouldn't have happened at all if she'd just owned 
up to pulling a practical joke like that and taking her medicine. He used 
Mom's big ivory comb which she'd packed and taken along on the trip, and Mom 
had to hold Nancy's wrists after the first couple of licks because it really 
must have stung her bare tail. Boy, was Dad mad!" 

"All that terrible whipping for just a harmless little prank like that?" 
Hester couldn't help blurting out. 

Sally looked at the auburnhaired daughter of Arthur Hadley, then back at 
Betty. "She's got to be kidding, Betty--" the sandyhaired teenager giggled. 

"She's not," Betty shook her head with a very grave expression on her pretty 
face. "After all, Hester is eighteen and going to college, and she's never 
been spanked in all her life, have you, Hester?" 

"No, of course I haven't," Hester went very red in the face and gave Betty 
an angry look. "And all I can say is that I just don't understand how the 
two of you can talk so calmly about something so dreadful and shameful and 
still not resent your parents for treating you that awful way!" 

"Oh my," Sally shook her head again. "It s a good thing she isn't my sister, 
Bets, because she wouldn't be able to sit down for a week if Dad heard her 
give out with a spiel like that." 

"If you don't mind, Betty," Hester drew herself up righteously, "I think I'd 
like to go back home. There are some books I want to unpack and get my room 
nice and ready when Father comes back home." 

"Suit yourself, Hester. Do you mind if I stay and have a chin-fest with 
Sally, though?" 

"I don't care what you do," Hester pointedly declared. She looked at Sally 
and then tersely remarked, "Glad to have met you," and then let herself out 
the front door. 

"Well, look at her!" Sally exclaimed, making a circle with her finger at the 
side of her head, "Is she nuts?" 

"No, Sally, but it's true what I said. She never in her life has had a hand 
laid on her. You see, her dad married my Mom. And Mom already told me that 
poor Hester has had her own way so long she's really going to have problems 
if somebody doesn't take a hand to her soon." 

"I get it. And your mother is just the one who can do it, too." 

"That's right. Now listen, Mom said I was to introduce Hester to our whole 
crowd. Try to pass the word to get the kids to talk about how they get 
spanked. That's what Mom wants Hester to hear, because Hester still doesn't 
believe that parents do it anymore." 

"Well, all I can say is that in a way I wish she was right," Sally ruefully 
retorted, "Oh my gosh, I better get to the store before I forget. Now that 
we're back home and Mom has that split strap in her upstairs drawer, I'd 
just as soon not be reminded what it feels like on my bare heinie. See you 
around, Betty." 

"You will indeed," the golden-haired teenager merrily retorted. "Just don't 
forget to tell Nancy and Bob that if they meet Hester it'd be a good idea 
just to mention about how they got spanked the last few times. Hester is 
really a nice girl, and I do like her, but she has such superior ways she 
isn't really going to make friends if she keeps it up." 

"No she isn't," Sally agreed. "Well, it was swell seeing you, Bets. But I'll 
see you again tomorrow, huh?" 

"Could be, Sally. Well, tell your Mom thanks for the milk and cookies. Next 
to my Mom, she makes the best cookies of anybody I know." 

"I'll tell her that. Now I better hurry up to that store or I'll have 
something to tell your new sister that I'd just as soon not," Sally giggled. 

As luck would have it Sally Jamison was destined to feel that split 
strap--her designation for the tawse her mother used for serious breaches of 
conduct--the very next afternoon. The day being excessively warm, Sally 
decided to take a swim in the little creek about half a mile to the north of 
the Jamison house. She biked out there and put her swimsuit in the bike 
basket. Then, believing that no one could see her from the clump of trees 
which framed the old creek, she hastily undressed and got into her suit. As 
luck would have it, Mrs. Nielby, an elderly and cantankerous widow who lived 
across the street from the Jamisons, was walking home from the convenient 
little shopping center about three blocks away from the creek, and happened 
to see Sally in the process of removing her suit, drying herself with the 
towel she had brought along, and then hastily dressing. 

Scandalized, she promptly phoned Frieda Jamison, and when Sally walked into 
the house, the sophisticated brunette met her daughter at the door. 

"What's this I hear about your putting on a peepshow, Sally?" she blandly 
asked. 

"I--I don't know what you mean M--Mom," the pretty sandyhaired teenager 
stammered. 

"Well, I don't recall that you asked my permission to go swimming in the 
creek, and particularly to do a striptease there where old Mrs. Nielby could 
see you, young lady." 

"Darn her hide anyway, the old snitch!" Sally groaned. 

But this justifiable protest didn't in the least soften Frieda Jamison's 
heart. "You know I've told you repeatedly, Sally, that you're a big girl now 
and there are some neighbors who just go out of their way to criticize. So 
it's best not to give them any room to do so. And it certainly wasn't proper 
for you to undress right there where you could be seen. I'm afraid I'm going 
to have to use the tawse. Go get it, please." 

With a groan, Sally obeyed, and when she came down the stairs, to her 
mother's room carrying the strap with its ends split into three finger-like 
strips, she was biting her lips nervously. Her father would be home in 
another half-hour, and she hoped that her mother wouldn't tell him, because 
he might take it into his head to add a little extra dosage to the 
punishment. 

"I'm going to give you fifteen, Sally, and I want you to count them one by 
one, and after each you're to say 'I won't ever undress by the creek again,' 
do you understand, Sally?" 

"Y-yes, M--Mom," Sally was fighting the tears as she prepared herself. 
Something her mother had taught her to do over the years. Lifting up her 
skirt and slip, she knelt down on the couch, pressing her face against the 
cushion at one end, while her mother carefully folded the upturned garments 
high on her back so they wouldn't fall back down over her bottom. Next, 
Frieda Jamison tugged down the thin white cotton panties, and the sight of 
the twitching, milky, ripe bottomcheeks made her mother remark somewhat 
ironically, "I see you were in such a hurry you didn't completely dry 
yourself, Sally. Well, we'll see if the tawse can do that for you. Now get 
ready, and don't forget to count and to say what I told you to say." 

Sally uttered another groan as she arched her hips and thrust out her 
shrinking, all too plump, bare buttocks to meet the kisses of the tawse. 
Slowly the leather strap fell, the finger-like strips stinging and whisking 
over the edges of the huddling naked nether globes. Sally took her whipping 
bravely, and managed to count each of the fifteen cuts and to utter the 
prescribed formula. Nevertheless, from the eleventh stroke on, she was 
crying softly. When it was over, her mother kept her kneeling there for a 
long minute, and then, lecturing her again, finally allowed her to get down 
off the couch, pull her panties back up and smooth down her clothes. 
Tearfully, Sally clung to her mother and kissed her, and thanked her for the 
whipping, as she promised not to repeat that outdoor undressing act ever 
again. 

Her only consolation as she went slowly upstairs to her room, frantically 
rubbing her burning bottom now that her mother was out of the way and 
couldn't see, was that she would really have something to tell Hester Hadley 
the next time she saw her. 

Indeed, Betty's mother's plan of "psychological warfare" against her new 
stepdaughter's immunity was beginning to be launched on all fronts. 


End
