Whip Hands (21 page)

The second and third strokes were more wristy, but still Tammy kept looking. On the fourth, which I delivered with some muscle, she flinched and turned to face the front. I noticed her petite rump was mottling over with angry red blotches. On the fifth stroke she let out a gasp and waggled her hips like a cat about to pounce.

‘Last one, Tammy. Come on, let's see that burning backside in all its splendour.'

Bless her, she did arch herself again and displayed those perfectly rounded haunches for my delectation. I took a few seconds to take them in and notice the unmistakable glistening at the secret fold guarded by her rounded cheeks.

‘Get on with it, and make this a good one!' Jess ordered.

The final stroke took both buttocks with equal force, the warmed steel rule flexing appreciably as contact was made with a satisfying slap. This time Tammy wriggled much more vigorously and I could have sworn I heard a soft moan. If so, it was quickly swallowed.

Slowly she pushed herself upright. Knowing that Jess and I were rooting our gaze on her rosy orbs, she walked slowly back to her desk without any attempt to cover herself. There was defiance, pride even, in her walk. But self-control, too. She quickly dressed, scarcely wincing as the jeans were pulled back on.

Now it was Jess' turn. To give her her due, she didn't hesitate. She removed her big, hooped earrings then unzipped the crimson creation she was wearing and pulled it over her head in a flurry of auburn tresses. Underneath she was only wearing tights and pants, so these had to come off if she was to be equal with Tammy. In that case she would face us both naked.

‘Take the lot off,' breathed Tammy, standing with her arms akimbo, savouring Jess' discomfiture. Jess could hardly beg for clemency since she had shown her rival no mercy.

With her tights cast aside, Jess stood in very classy high-cut briefs with lace panels. They would have taken away little of the sting, I realised, but it was only fair she should have a bare bottom, too. She slipped them off, looking straight at me and ignoring Tammy.

Undoing the top button of my silk blouse, I fanned myself. It was getting warm in here. Then I laid a hand on Jess' familiar shoulder to push her down a little.

‘Now, Jess, are you ready for your share of punishment?' I asked.

She grunted, and as I raised my arm I was suddenly aware of Tammy moving stealthily towards the glass partition behind us. But I needed to concentrate on Jess' quivering globes, which clearly showed the imprint of elasticated lace. They brought back memories.

‘One.'

Jess came upright with a hiss of indrawn breath. I pushed her down again firmly and delivered the second with slightly more wrist. At that she tried to get off the chair, rubbing her cheek vigorously, but I grabbed a handful of hair to hold her in place. Relaxed by the wine, I was beginning to enjoy getting my own back.

With number three she swore aloud, but I held her fast. Her buttocks were now at least as scarlet as her cheek where Tammy had slapped her.

‘One extra for that. This is for your own good, Jess. Think about it. You're kneeling here stripped to the buff. I would have thought you'd want to get this over as soon as possible.'

I gave her number four, keeping a firm grip on her hair. While waiting for her bucking to stop, I quickly looked over at Tammy. She caught my gaze and gave me a slow, conspiratorial smile. I wasn't entirely sure what she meant by it.

Then I noticed she held the cord of one blind and was very gently opening the louvres a crack at a time. Jess, of course, was too occupied with her discomforts to notice.

By the time I had finished with her Jess was certainly tingling. Her glowing buttocks no longer showed the lacy trim of her briefs. But she didn't realise that she had also been granting a free show to most of the work-force. By the time she was on her feet again, Tammy had stealthily pulled the blinds closed.

I really should have punished the little urchin again for such a mean-spirited act. Quite out of character, I thought. But I was by now quite worn out with so much physical exertion in a single afternoon. And it certainly improved morale in the workplace, since no one liked Jess and her bossy ways.

Besides, I thought it would be prudent to save up Tammy's misdemeanours for further correction. Next time we would carry out her punishment well away from Purple Pros.

 

 

 

‘This could be the most painful bit. But you've been very brave so far, Keith.' The beautician simpered at the powerful figure as he lay flat on his back, stripped to the waist.

Raising his head slightly he could see that his chest, which once had a golden down spreading like a shield up to his pecs, was now blotched red and almost entirely hairless. Just in the immediate vicinity of each nipple there were a few long, sprouting hairs. The beautician applied a pink, pungent wax solution on a kind of lollipop stick and waited a few seconds, flashing him a reassuring smile.

She pressed down with a strip of cloth, then yanked it away. Before Keith had time to recover from the sharp pain she had repeated the process on his other breast. She showed him the cloth strip now bearing a fringe of golden hairs that had adorned his chest. Keith tenderly rubbed the inflamed area around his nipples with a fingertip. The skin felt slightly tacky and rough. He hoped it would soon return to its accustomed soft, tanned appearance.

‘Now, that wasn't too bad, was it, Keith? I'll clean off the remaining bits of wax and rub on some soothing balm.'

She was good, getting his name right first time, even though he had never been here before. Harry had recommended her and since Harry was providing him with plenty of work at the moment, Keith did as he was told.

Harry produced short porno videos, getting together a team of two or three amateurs for an afternoon in a suburban flat. With only a camcorder man and a sound technician to pay on top, the videos were a real money-spinner. Keith could visualise Harry blowing smoke rings on his panatella as he used that very phrase. He had taken Keith into his confidence for the first time in that dingy office over the betting shop last week.

Before then, Keith had been in half-a-dozen of these low-budget epics with inspired titles like Nymphos Meet Their Match. Harry thought them up, of course, his bald pate glistening with the mental effort. Keith curled his lip in contempt. He would show Harry a thing or two once he had learned all the ins and outs of the business. Ins and outs, that was good.

Keith sat on the edge of the beautician's couch while she applied the herbal ointment. He admired his physique in the mirror. Though in his early thirties he looked a good ten years younger, kept well toned by regular workouts and a careful diet. Pity that a good woman couldn't appreciate his admirable qualities. All he needed was someone with a voluptuous figure and an appreciation of the finer things in life, but not imbued with too much intellectual curiosity. Keith had tried marriage a few years back but found the commitment side too much.

He liked to keep a woman in her place. That was why he was enjoying what Harry had been offering him recently. Mind you, it was only what he deserved. Without Keith these miserable forty-minute efforts wouldn't get made on budget.

Keith saw himself as the sugar coating on the pill. Harry got the girls to come along but it was he, Keith, who got them to do what the punters would pay to see. The girls were strictly amateurs, brought in through contact magazines and usually in need of money to eke out a student grant or settle a household debt.

Keith chatted them up beforehand, plying them with drink to relax them. That always saved time and time, as Harry kept reminding him, was precious. Having the ‘crew' standing around doing nothing was costing Harry good money. The girls themselves would be happy with a few quid for a two-hour session. And so was Keith the first few times, but now he'd got higher ambitions.

Without him, he argued, the girls would hardly get undressed - which they usually had to do with Harry looking on and commenting - let alone do the business. Keith had the knack of making them feel at ease, and after that the rest came naturally.

He was still in good shape, Keith concluded as he got dressed, but recently he'd been finding these bonkathons were beginning to take their toll. Then he'd had a real brainwave. Why not move into CP? The girls wouldn't need to be told beforehand exactly what they would be expected to do. Once they had their tops off they rarely refused, especially if told their fee was in jeopardy.

And Keith just loved putting the naughty young things over his knee; it helped him to get a real hard-on for the final coupling. He had become almost indispensable. And that was why this time he had told Harry he was doubling his fee.

After this shoot he was looking to walk away with a grand in his pocket. It was worth losing your chest hair for, he reflected, gingerly enjoying the novelty of being as smooth as a baby.

 

The location was a former girls' school - quite a palace, with an imposing stepped portico, in a smart area of town. The establishment had amalgamated with a boys' private school, so the building was up for sale.

‘I couldn't believe my luck,' Harry guffawed. He was dressed in a loud check that a racecourse bookie would think twice about wearing indoors. ‘Spoke to the agents last week and they showed me round. Told them how I was thinking of going into upmarket hotels. Said I would need to spend an afternoon measuring up. Couldn't have been nicer, the gormless wankers. Have to return the keys tomorrow, though.'

‘So we've got the place to ourselves and no prying neighbours? Very neat deal, Harry.' Keith admired the panelled hall with its open fireplace and carved surround.

‘All you need is a bit of lateral thinking, son. You can pick up all kinds of things for free. The competition just run up needless expense booking into holiday chalets or executive flats. Lateral thinking, Keith, know what I mean?' He tapped the side of his forehead animatedly.

Keith had an idea what he meant. It amounted to screwing everyone down to the lowest possible price so Harry grossed an obscene profit on each of these grubby little videos. However, it reminded him that Harry still owed him half the fee.

‘Very good indeed, maestro. Now you can afford to raise my fee a little since your overheads are reduced. Fair deal?'

Harry drew him a sharp glance and reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a stuffed envelope. ‘Come on, Keith, here's the other two hundred and fifty. We had a deal, and it was a darned good one for you. It's too late to start renegotiating. Besides, I'm having to pay the dolly birds more than usual.'

Keith put on his slyest expression. ‘Suddenly I can't remember the deal, Harry. All I know is I'm expecting another half grand, otherwise I'm not available for the shoot.'

‘You're joking, Keith. My God, you're trying to screw every penny of profit out of me. I swear you'll bring me to ruin.'

‘That'll be the day, Harry. In future, if you want to secure my services I'll be wanting a proper contract with working conditions all laid out. In black and white. Of course, if you've got someone else waiting in the wings...'

Harry grunted, then threw his hands into the air. ‘Did you get your chest done, like I asked?'

‘I'm as smooth as a billiard ball and I hope to be almost as shiny by the time I've finished with those two beauties. Have I balled them before?'

‘Julie's a student nurse, but Maria's got experience. Even so, I want you to take it fairly easy with them, Keith. Let them come on to you a bit. Catch my drift?'

‘You mean they're going to be just a teeny bit cheeky to me before I get to whip their arses to a nice beetroot? Am I getting close, Harry?' Keith gave the smaller man a comradely shoulder punch. ‘By the way, what's the title of this one?'

Harry hesitated fractionally. ‘You'll find it's the usual scenario. You're the gym teacher and you catch them smoking in the changing room. And then I'll leave it to you. What have you brought this time?' he asked, gesturing towards the kitbag over Keith's shoulder.

‘The long-handled ebony hairbrush, my old favourite. Belonged to my least favourite granny. One day it's going to split, but that wallop it makes is magic. I should know, she used it on me often enough. I've got a nice red leather paddle with a few studs to make it zing. This will be its maiden voyage. Then there's the old-fashioned tawse to bring up a few stripes on those girlie butts.'

Harry nodded approvingly. ‘You should see the changing room. It's a beauty, Keith, with all those pink metal lockers. A real fetishist's wet dream, I'm telling you.'

‘Now you're talking! Show me the way, Harry. That is - if we have a deal.'

‘Okay, you get another two-fifty after the shoot if you're up to scratch. You've got my word for it. Follow me and I'll introduce you to the girls.'

Keith silently punched the air, then followed the producer along dark corridors to the back of the building. A trail of cigar smoke kept him on track. Harry eventually pushed open a pair of swing doors and they were in the gym. They both stopped in amazement.