Shadow Lane Volume 3: The Romance of Discipline, Spanking, Sex, B&D and Anal Eroticism in a Small New England Village. Eve Howard

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СКАЧАТЬ more with the hairbrush,” he pulled her down to sit on his lap, encircling her small waist with his arms.

      “Thank you,” she murmured.

      “I’m still angry with you, though.”

      “Are you really?”

      “When would you have deigned to come back if it weren’t for Hugo’s lie about my new secretary and the trip abroad?”

      “I was planning to run into you at Hugo’s Halloween party,” she confessed.

      “Not until then?” Now Anthony was genuinely perturbed. “You intended to keep your distance for two months to prove a point?”

      “Tony, we’ve traded E-mail every single day since I’ve been at Central Park West,” she referred to their daily computer bulletin board message exchanges via the modem. “If you wanted me to come back to the Village so badly why didn’t you say so?” Susan jumped off his lap.

      “I guess I was waiting to see how long it would take you to decide to return on your own.” He got up and paced.

      “That and you were so busy up on Park Avenue that you barely noticed I was gone,” Susan suddenly accused.

      “What do you mean, Park Avenue? Susan Ross, did you follow me tonight?”

      “What if I did?” Susan challenged.

      “Worse and worse!”

      “Oh Anthony, I’ve missed you!” she tried to put her arms around him but he didn’t allow this.

      “So much that you could afford to wait to run into me at a party a month from now?” Anthony was so piqued at this revelation that he lifted her onto the high, lavishly dressed four-poster bed saying, “We’ve got to get some things straightened out here. Arms around the post.” He assisted in arranging Susan’s arms so that she hugged the carved wooden bedpost with her graceful back turned towards him. He gathered up the skirt of her gown and tucked it up between her arm and the bedpost, baring her pink bottom. He took up the multi-thonged whip with its broad, flat, leather lashes and placed his other hand in the small of her back.

      “Run into me at a party, will you?” he administered the first stroke directly across the fleshiest portion of her bottom in a vigorous manner, which caused her to catch her breath and rock with the lash.

      “You know, Susan, you’d bore me to death if you didn’t have a life of your own, but let’s not lose perspective here.” He delivered the next stroke lower and harder. Susan gave a little sob of fear.

      “Are you my girl or aren’t you?”

      “You said I wasn’t before,” she murmured.

      “Don’t tell me what I said,” he administered a third lash, which seemed to cover her entire bottom and left a pink bouquet of whip marks in its wake. “Your manners are getting worse and worse, Susan.” He punctuated this accusation with the firmest stroke so far, one that caused her to cry out in pain and fear, while appealing to him with tearful eyes.

      “Don’t look at me like that. I’m very displeased with you,” he told her, drawing back his arm to administer the end of the whipping. The two final strokes were frighteningly severe to Susan, who immediately sank down on her knees, hid her face and wept.

      “Let’s get back to you following me tonight. You can’t possibly think that was the proper thing to do?” He lifted her head and quite coolly wiped her face with his handkerchief.

      Susan looked guilty. “I just wanted to see the lady.”

      “Really! Well, thanks to your eleventh hour histrionics I had a perfectly awful time. I couldn’t concentrate on anything besides what I was going to do to you when I got home.”

      “I’m sorry.” Susan sank down on the pillows, profoundly relieved that he’d cast the whip aside and charmed that she’d preoccupied him all night. Her tears subsided as he continued to make repairs to her damp face with the handkerchief. Forced to scrutinize her dear face he could not resist bestowing a kiss on her full, red mouth. As she yielded to him he drew her against his chest and kissed her hard, on her lips, throat and bosom, which he also gently squeezed through the fine, embroidered gown.

      “Your punishment isn’t over,” he told her, repressing the rising tide of sentimentality which suddenly engulfed him as he caressed her. Her passivity in his arms was intoxicating.

      “Please, Anthony, the brush and whip hurt so much. Couldn’t the remainder of my lesson be ... less stringent?” Susan requested hesitantly.

      Anthony didn’t answer immediately but continued to hold her.

      “Perhaps,” he said, at length, “we should visit the examining room.”

      Susan immediately flushed.

      “Or is that concept too humiliating?” he asked, making her look at him.

      “No, Sir.”

      “Do you think you could benefit from that sort of discipline?”

      “Yes.”

      As Anthony led Susan upstairs to the luxuriously appointed Victorian examining room on the third floor, she clung to his hand, ashamed of the ache she began to experience in anticipation of what would soon be done to her bottom.

      Once the door was locked behind them Anthony adjusted the lighting to his taste and deposited Susan in a leather armchair opposite a grand mahogany desk, behind which he then sat, in a corner of the room designated as a consulting area.

      On the wall to Susan’s right hung Anthony’s several Ivy League and conservatory diplomas, each signifying a different degree of academic and musical accomplishment. The wall behind his desk held a pair of wood trimmed glass cases filled with volumes of arcane medical lore, which he had purchased at an estate auction to lend authenticity to this examining room, which he had installed in his townhouse for their mutual enjoyment.

      “Well, young lady,” said Anthony, slipping on a pair of glasses and sternly consulting her file, “I didn’t expect to see you back at our clinic so soon.”

      “It’s been six months,” she protested.

      “Has it, indeed?” Anthony, who was gratified that the date of their last appointment in this room had fixed itself so firmly in her mind, nevertheless frowned at her.

      “Yes, Sir.”

      Susan understood that they had become characters in a fantasy. Anthony even got out a chart.

      “Now then, Miss Susan, when was the last time you engaged in sexual intercourse?” Anthony asked blandly.

      “Uh...do I have to answer?”

      Anthony slammed his pen down on the desk.

      “My dear girl, as the Director of this clinic, I assure you that all you reveal will be held in the strictest confidence.”

      “I don’t remember,” Susan smiled. “It was ages ago.”

      “I СКАЧАТЬ