Over the Knee (15 page)

It came, brightening the fire in her bottom and making her cry out. The next stroke knocked her off balance again and, as soon as she resumed her position, the final one broke her.

She sank to her knees and covered her face with her hands, tears of pain and humiliation streaming down her face. Oddly enough, she was no longer angry with Derek. But she was furious with herself. And she fought hard to restrain the torrent of emotion threatening to burst free.

She felt the touch of his hand on her shoulder and she weakened even more. When she didn’t rebuff him, he gave her an affectionate squeeze. It was too much. She crumbled. Courtney couldn’t remember crying so hard since her cat had run away when she was five. Their father had held her and rocked her while she cried and cried as though her little heart would break. She felt like that five-year-old child again as she sobbed in her brother’s arms.

‘Shh, it’s all right, sis,’ he said gently.

Courtney clung to him, baring her soul completely, vulnerable as she’d only ever been with their father. Derek held her securely, his arms big and warm around her. She
knew
she could trust him with her tears, and that allowed her to cry even harder. The physical pain was the last thing on her mind.

When her crying finally subsided, he tilted her tear-streaked face up to his. Courtney sniffled and gathered her wits, wiping her eyes.

‘I’m sorry, Courtney,’ Derek said. ‘But I had to do it. You understand, don’t you?’

She nodded reluctantly.

‘You don’t belong in a sleazy place like that,’ he said.

He was no longer the tyrannical disciplinarian. He was just her overprotective big brother, intimidating her boyfriends and looking out for her.

With a long shuddering sigh, she agreed. ‘I know. I just wanted to have some fun.’

He grinned. ‘Was it worth it?’

Courtney went into the bathroom to have a look. Derek followed her. The mirror showed her two flaming-red cheeks, punctuated in the centre by large round bullseye bruises. She winced. Dancing was clearly not going to be an option for at least another week.

She reached behind to touch the scorched flesh. ‘No,’ she admitted.

‘That was almost ten years ago,’ Courtney said wonderingly. ‘It still seems like yesterday.’

My eyes were like dinner plates. ‘What an amazing story,’ I said. ‘It’s exactly the sort of thing I always fantasised about. I always wished I’d had a big brother.’

Courtney tossed her red hair proudly. ‘I blame him entirely for my frat paddle fetish.’

‘And you should see our collection,’ Shaun broke in.

Peter nodded in confirmation. ‘It’s impressive. More wine?’

Courtney held out her glass while he filled it. ‘Sometimes I wonder what Derek would think if he knew what I was into these days. Shaun says we should invite him to a play party if he visits.’

Play parties! I couldn’t keep up with this new reality. Just the idea of having like-minded friends to talk with
about
it, to conspire with … It was staggering. For years these things had been my dirty little secret.

‘So Peter said he showed you the site,’ said Shaun, inflecting it as a question.

‘Yes, it’s absolutely stunning.’ I turned to face Courtney. ‘I recognised you, of course. You got me into so much trouble. I still can’t believe you managed to shove those knickers into my pocket without my knowing it.’

Courtney laughed, a high musical sound. ‘Oh, that was easy,’ she said in her sultry Southern drawl. ‘I shoplifted a bit when I was a kid. I was good at slipping things into my pockets, so Peter knew who to recruit for the job.’

‘I’m never stuck for an excuse with this one,’ Shaun said, rolling his eyes.

‘Don’t some of those shots just blow your mind?’ Courtney asked, ignoring him. ‘I mean, that Japanese girl naked in the snow?’ She affected an elaborate shudder. ‘No way could I do that!’

‘It’s quite something,’ I agreed.

‘And they’re so much fun to pose for too,’ she said. Then her face brightened. ‘You’ll love it.’

Shaun agreed and I looked down, abashed. It was one thing to play privately, with a trusted partner. But to flaunt it for everyone on the Net?

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I’m still just a newbie.’

‘Hey, no pressure,’ Courtney assured me. ‘Just let me know when you’re ready …’

I smiled into my glass at that. She was so cocky and confident. And I had to admit the idea was alluring.

‘What would be your hottest fantasy location?’ Peter asked.

Oddly enough, that question hadn’t occurred to me when he’d shown me the site. ‘I don’t know,’ I said, thinking. ‘I suppose maybe … Well, I could see myself being smacked in some old Victorian schoolroom. Or Dartmoor Prison. No, better yet – how about
HMS Victory
?’

Peter rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘
Victory
might be problematical. But how about the
Cutty Sark
? Or the
Grand Turk
? She’s moored in Whitby.’

I grinned. ‘Hornblower’s ship. How fitting.’

Peter didn’t miss a step. ‘Mr Wellard, you mean. One of the best canings in mainstream film,’ he said.

Shaun laughed delightedly. ‘I could be up for shooting that one,’ he said.

Shaun was thirty-six and a native Londoner. He didn’t have Peter’s fine education or his accent, but Courtney clearly liked her bit of rough. They made an odd pair – the fetish photographer and the delinquent Southern belle.

‘Where’d you two meet?’ I asked, curious.

Shaun nodded towards Peter. ‘Same place you did. Courtney was posting to the forum as “Little Miss Naughty”, just begging to be taken in hand.’

Courtney sniggered at that. ‘My brother would certainly agree. But he thinks we met at the Tate Gallery.’

‘Very civilised,’ Peter said approvingly.

I turned to Shaun. ‘What about you? Have you always been into this?’

He grinned at Peter. ‘Full of ‘satiable curtiosity, isn’t she?’ he asked.

I blushed. ‘The Elephant’s Child’ had been one of my favourite stories growing up. But if my mother was curious why I always insisted on her reading that one over all the others, she never asked.

‘I didn’t have any single defining episode like Courtney,’ he said. ‘I sort of found my way here through S&M. I had to search and refine what it was that worked for me until I arrived at spanking. For the longest time I thought
Story of O
was as close as I’d get to my own fantasies. There were some hot elements there, but it still wasn’t quite right.’

‘Not enough punishment,’ I agreed.

‘Well, it wasn’t that,’ Shaun said. ‘There just wasn’t any spanking. I don’t mind if a girl enjoys it. I certainly enjoy it when I’m on the other end.’

I blinked. ‘Oh, are you a switch? I hadn’t realised.’

‘He’s a slut,’ Courtney corrected. ‘I’m the switch.’

Now I was really intrigued. I’d never had girl-girl spanking fantasies. But I could certainly see Courtney as a top.

‘I can’t even imagine spanking anyone,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I only ever fantasise about being spanked myself.’

Courtney nodded. ‘Yep. That’s how I used to be. Then one day I just got curious. And I had a more than willing guinea pig.’ She squeezed Shaun’s knee.

Shaun turned to me. ‘And you? How’d you fall into this?’

‘I’ve been fascinated by it for as long as I can remember. Though of course I didn’t understand it when I was little. I just knew that there were certain scenes in books and movies that made me feel funny. I didn’t know they were sexual feelings.’

‘Psychosexual,’ Peter corrected.

‘Yes. The focus wasn’t on sex or sexuality, but control. It’s hard to describe. There was something oddly reassuring about those idealised discipline scenarios. There was no ambiguity in what was expected of you. You did what you were told or you got punished. Then you were forgiven. That was it. The simplicity was comforting.’

‘Someone to watch over you,’ Peter said.

‘Quite. The worst that ever happened was that you got a sore bottom. But you were always taken care of.’

Courtney absently wound a lock of hair around one finger, considering. ‘Though perhaps not always so lovingly,’ she said at last.

I understood completely and I smiled. ‘No. Not always.’

‘Sometimes mistreatment can be hot.’ She crossed her legs and folded her hands coyly on her lap, pretending to be embarrassed by the admission.

‘I know what you mean,’ Shaun agreed. ‘Something sort of clicked for me in a secondary school literature class when we read “Galloping Foxley” – you know, Roald Dahl. In a rather different mode than
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
.’

‘Oh, I loved that story!’ I cried. ‘I read it at school too and was so afraid everyone could tell I was reacting to it.’

Peter grinned knowingly beside me. ‘Me too. I remember resenting having to read it to begin with. I thought it was
a
children’s story. But the first mention of caning got my attention. I must have read it a hundred times.’

‘That was the first time I pictured myself as a boy,’ I confessed dreamily.

Courtney raised her eyebrows to me. ‘Oh, really? Do tell.’

I blushed. ‘Well, in so many girls’ school stories … the girls have it easy. Lots of times they didn’t even get told off. I got sick of reading girls’ school stories where there was no punishment. I felt cheated. But boys got treated differently.’

‘Too right they did!’ Shaun laughed. ‘That’s certainly how it was at my school. The girls got it on the hand while we had to bend over for it. We had to take cold showers too – stand there in the glacial spray with our teeth chattering for sixty seconds.’

I felt cold just thinking about it. ‘Bloody hell!’

‘Oh, you’d be numb after that,’ he continued. ‘There was also a sadistic gym master – Kendrick. He loved to line up a row of us and whack us with an arrow. Nothing like that ever happened to the girls.’

‘Mmmm,’ Courtney purred. ‘Across those tight white schoolboy gym shorts. That must have smarted.’

I giggled, enjoying the image.

‘Well, there was no discrimination at my school,’ Peter said sadly. ‘There weren’t any girls.’

Shaun looked at him with mock sympathy, but I squirmed in my seat, remembering what he’d told me about his school days.

Peter continued. ‘My housemaster, Mr Carew, was rather fond of the slipper, especially at bedtime. So were the prefects. They weren’t allowed to use the cane, so they made sure a slippering was no small punishment.’

‘And you Brits think the paddle is crude,’ Courtney said, laughing. ‘Whacking boys’ bottoms with a gym shoe – really! Well, if it makes you feel any better, I sure as hell wasn’t spared. I got sent to the principal a few times. And my cheerleader coach didn’t spare the paddle either.’

‘You were a cheerleader?’ I asked.

‘Yep. Still have the uniform.’ She and Shaun exchanged a meaningful grin.

‘So … what was it like?’

‘Well, for starters it’s nothing like as formal. Americans don’t go in for all the ritual, I guess. No uniforms, none of this “sir” and “miss” stuff. When you get paddled you just bend over and grab your knees and they give you a couple of swats. When I was in school it was a mark of distinction to get whacked. Practically a fashion statement.’

‘But it must have hurt!’

She gave me a conspiratorial wink. ‘Let’s just say that if you were lucky you were wearing jeans when you got busted.’

‘But if you were unlucky,’ Shaun interjected, ‘you got caught misbehaving in your cheerleader uniform.’

Her cheeks flushed and she reached for her wineglass. ‘Well, I guess I knew I’d have a kinky English boyfriend someday, now didn’t I?’

‘There are some American rituals,’ said Peter thoughtfully. ‘There’s the woodshed.’

‘Oh, right,’ Courtney said, laughing again. ‘Them was the good ol’ days when your pa used to take you out to the woodshed for a whipping with the razor strop. Or send you into the woods to cut a switch.’

The conversation was making me feel light-headed. ‘That’s heavy stuff,’ I said, remembering
Tom Sawyer
.

‘But it’s not ancient history,’ she added. ‘There are schools in the States that still use corporal punishment today. Mostly in the South, of course.’

I shook my head, mystified. I felt for those unfortunate miscreants, but I couldn’t help wondering how many of them were future spankos just like us. Were they being created? Or just awakened?