From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Linda Catches Me At Work (FM, fdom, spank) [1/3]
Date: 5 Feb 1996 23:27:10 GMT

		      Linda Catches Me At Work
			     Chapter One

			  September 24, 1985

	Something happened to me this evening that is so mind blowing
that I have to tell someone. For reasons that will be obvious, I can't
do that, so I'm writing it down instead.

	It started with a phone call this morning from Linda, a girl
in the payroll department at the construction company where I'm an
estimator. I knew her by sight, but that's all, so I was a little
surprised when she said she had something personal to discuss with me.
She suggested that we have lunch away from the office, so we could
talk in private, and I agreed to meet her at a little burger joint a
couple of miles from where we work.

	Linda was already there when I walked in a few minutes after
noon, sitting by herself at a table in the corner. I'd never really
noticed her before, but now I took a look as I walked toward the
table. She was about my age, maybe two or three years older. Short
light-brown hair. A white blouse with ruffles down the front, primly
buttoned to the collar, enclosed what seemed to be a nice pair of
boobs. With contacts, or maybe a less librarianish pair of glasses, I
decided, she wouldn't be bad looking at all.

	I said hello and sat down. We made small talk until the
waitress had taken our orders, and then I asked Linda what she wanted
to see me about. She said that she'd been working late the night
before, doing some month-end work, and her computer had started to act
up, so she had gone over to my desk to use mine. Not wanting to damage
any of my files, she had looked to see what was stored on my
computer's disk, and had noticed that some of the file names didn't
seem to have anything to do with the jobs I was working on. In
particular, she said, she'd been surprised to find, "these": she pulled
a manila envelope out of her purse, opened it, and slid out half a
dozen sets of pages stapled together.

	I didn't need to look at them to know what she had. When I
was younger I'd thought about becoming a writer. I've pretty much
given up on that idea, but lately I'd been working on a novel. Nothing
that Book-of-the-Month Club would be interested in - it was pure,
hard-core pornography, as raunchy as it gets. I hadn't decided whether
to try to sell it to one of the X-rated book publishers or not; for
now, it was just a private exploration of some fantasies.

	At least it had been private. But now, here was Miss Prim
sitting across from me, holding printed copies of the first six
chapters of my X-rated book. No doubt she'd copied the computer files,
too, so grabbing the hard copies wouldn't help.

	I was dizzy with both anger and embarrassment, and my face
felt about ten degrees hotter than the rest of my body. "You had no
business looking at those files," I said through clenched teeth, "let
alone printing them out." Linda looked at me coolly and replied, "It's
the company's computer, and I don't think Mr. Moore would appreciate
what you've been using it for."

	Bob Moore is the founder of the company and still runs
everything with an iron hand. He hired me right out of college, even
though I didn't have any real experience, and has seemed to be pretty
happy with my work so far. He also happens to be the father of Kathy
Moore, who has been the principal love object in my life for most of
the last year, whenever she's home from school on breaks or vacations.
Besides that, he's a deacon in the local Baptist church, president of
the Rotary, and a major contributor to the Republican Party and the
Moral Majority.

	I could see it now. If Bob Moore knew what I'd been writing,
he'd fire me, forbid his daughter to see me, have me publicly branded
as a pornographer, and do his damnedest to see that I never got
another job in his town, or anywhere else for that matter.

	"What do you want?" I asked weakly.

	"Why don't you come over to my place this evening," Linda said
sweetly, "about seven, and we'll talk about it." She wrote out her
address on a napkin and handed it to me.

	I stuffed the napkin in my pocket, dropped a five dollar bill
on the table and walked out. I wasn't hungry any more.

	The afternoon was pretty much a waste. I didn't know what
Linda would demand, but I assumed that it would be money, and I didn't
have a lot to spare. Even if I paid her off, how could I be sure that
she wouldn't keep a copy of the incriminating files and hit me for
more later? I thought about going to Mr. Moore and confessing
everything, but I figured that even if he somehow could be persuaded
to let me keep my job, he'd put Kathy off limits. That was an awfully
high price to pay, and I decided that I'd better find out how much
Linda wanted before I took that course.

	I knocked on Linda's door at 7:00 sharp, and she invited me
in. She'd changed into slacks and a T-shirt, and I realized that I'd
been right about her boobs. She offered me a drink; I started to
refuse, and then decided that under the circumstances I needed one and
asked for a scotch and water.

	We sat on opposite ends of the sofa in her living room,
sipping our drinks and waiting, each of us, for the other to say
something. Finally I decided to go first. "I gather that you're
planning to give those printouts to Mr. Moore, and tell him where you
got them, unless I give you some reason not to," I said.

	She nodded.

	"You know what I make," I said, "and I don't have any savings.
I don't see how you could expect me to give you enough to make it
worth your while to risk going to jail for blackmail."

	"I don't want money," she said.

	"What do you want, then?" I demanded.

	"When I was growing up," she replied, "my parents were pretty
rough with us - with me and my brother, who's three years younger than
I am. Whenever one of us got out of line, there was a spanking, a
paddling, a caning or a real whipping with a belt or a razor strap. If
we got in trouble together, like if we were fighting or something like
that, my mom or my dad, or sometimes both, would line us up and give
it to the two of us together."

	"I don't get it," I said. "What does your childhood have to do
with me?"

	"Just shut up and listen," she said roughly. "A few times one
of us got a licking in the middle of the day, but usually they waited
till bedtime, when Jimmy was in his PJs and I was in my nightgown. It
was awful, knowing sometimes for hours that it was going to happen,
taking a bath and getting ready for bed, and then having one of my
parents come in, make me take off my nightgown and work my ass over
with a hairbrush or the strap or something like that."

	I was listening but I couldn't help picturing Linda stripping
off a little nightgown and presenting her developing young asscheeks
to her mother or father. I could feel a definite tightening in the
crotch, and crossed my legs to hide the situation.

	"It was almost as bad when Jimmy was going to get it," Linda
continued. There was just as much tension in the air, and when I said
good night to Jimmy, I'd know that in a few minutes I'd hear him
crying and pleading, and then there would start these terrible
alternating sounds as something smacked into his ass, followed by his
shriek of pain, and then another smack and another shriek."

	"The only times I could say I looked forward to it was when we
were both going to get it. I'd get taken to Jimmy's room, or he'd be
brought to mine, and then we'd both have to strip. One of us would
watch while the other got it, and then the other would watch while the
first one got it. Once - I remember it very clearly, because it was
when I had my first orgasm - we both got it at the same time; my mom
had me across her lap and was paddling me with a hairbrush, while my
dad had Jimmy over the edge of his bed, blistering his behind with a
cane."

	Linda paused and looked at me. Her eyes were shining, and I
could see little beads of sweat on her forehead. "I still don't know
where you're going," I said. "I'm sorry you had such rotten parents,
but I don't see what this has to do with my stories."

	"It's very simple," she replied. "We're going to do some play
acting. You're going to be my little brother, and I'm going to be my
mother."

	It took a minute to sink in. "Wait a minute!" I almost gasped.
"You think I'm going to let you, uh, spank me? I'm twenty-three years
old!" The idea seemed so ludicrous that I wanted to laugh, but Linda
didn't seem to be joking.

	"Would you rather I had a talk with Mr. Moore in the morning?"
she asked.

	"Of course not," I blurted without thinking. "But I'm too old,
I mean, I'm not a little kid! This whole thing is too silly for
words!"

	"Jimmy wasn't a little kid, either," she said hotly. "He was
fourteen the time I mentioned, when I - when we both got it at the
same time. And Mr. Moore would think that your little stories were a
lot worse than anything Jimmy or I ever did!"

	"Anyway," Linda added defiantly, "that's the price you pay -
either that or I go to Mr. Moore in the morning. So which is it going
to be?"

	My mind was whirling. If she went to Moore, it would be
practically the end of my whole world, and how bad could a spanking
be, anyway? I could handle pain; I'd broken bones as a kid, and played
football in high school, until I had knee surgery and couldn't run any
more. But on the other hand, how could I, a grown man, stand the
humiliation of letting a woman spank me? Then again, was that really
worse than the humiliation of being fired from my first job and being
denounced publicly as some kind of moral degenerate?

	Finally, I told her, "If I say yes, I'll want every copy of my
stories back - including whatever copies you've made of the computer
files".

	"When we're through," she answered, "I promise that you'll
have everything back, and you can watch me erase the computer disks."

	"All right," I said grimly, "let's get it over with."

	Linda stood up. "Take your clothes off in here, and then come
back to my bedroom." She pointed to the door that led into a hall at
the end of the living room. "Through that door and turn right."

	"Just a minute," I said. "If I'm supposed to take my clothes
off, then you should too."

	She laughed. "You don't give up, do you? You think I'll be so
impressed with your big manly body that I'll forget why you're here
and slip into the sack with you? Well forget that idea."

	She started toward the hall, then stopped and turned back
toward me. "I'm not getting undressed, but I do think I'll change into
something else."

	After Linda left the room, I pulled my shirt off and sat down
to untie my shoes. My socks came next, and then my pants. I piled my
clothes on the end of the sofa, but decided to keep my jockey shorts
on. I'm not ashamed of my body, but I wanted to keep whatever dignity
I could for as long as I could. Everything that had happened since
Linda had called this morning still seemed unreal, but here I was,
standing almost naked in a girl's apartment, heading for her bedroom.
It was a great scene, except I wasn't going in to make love to her,
but to let her spank my ass.

	I walked into Linda's bedroom and my eyes almost popped out of
my head. She was standing by the foot of her bed, and she had indeed
changed clothes - she was wearing one of the tiniest string bikinis
I'd ever seen! It was an aqua color, and it covered only a few square
inches of an absolutely luscious body. Obviously, no one at the
company knew much about the uptight young lady who cut their checks. I
stood there gaping at her, and despite the absurdity of the situation,
I could feel myself getting hard almost instantly.

	"I told you to leave your clothes in the other room," Linda
snapped. I started to reach for the waistband of my shorts, but then
she noticed my erection. "Keep them on," she said quickly. "I'll take
them off when I'm ready. But from now on, you do exactly as I tell
you."

	She walked over to a dresser and picked up a wide, flat-backed
hairbrush. It was made out of some kind of dark wood, and looked
heavy. She went back and sat on the end of the bed, her legs just
dangling over the edge, knees about eight inches apart and feet not
quite touching the floor.

	"All right," she said. "Get over here, across my lap, with
your head toward my left." I obeyed, clambering over her until my cock
and balls settled into to the space between the middle of her thighs
and my head hung just over the side of the bed.

	"I've never felt so ridiculous in my life," I complained.

	"You'll feel a lot more than that, in just a minute," Linda
responded. "When was the last time you had a good hard spanking?"

	"I've never been spanked, except by hand, and the last time
for that was probably when I was four or five," I answered.

	"Well, so as not to shock your tender little ass too much too
soon," Linda said, "I'll give you some warmups with your underpants
on."

	I held my breath as I felt Linda's balance shift while she
raised the hairbrush. It smacked down on one cheek of my ass, and I
grunted and jerked. It stung quite a bit, and the burning feeling
radiated out from where the blow had landed. Before I really had time
to think about the sensation, the hairbrush had landed again, this
time on the other side of my ass. I jerked again, and again as the
heavy brush smacked in a different spot on the other cheek.

	The blows went on until I'd received maybe twenty of them, and
I realized that each smack was a little harder than the last. The pain
wasn't unbearable by any means, but by the time Linda had stopped my
ass was really smarting and my breath was whistling through my teeth
with every stroke.

	"That's enough," I said, starting to slide off her lap.

	She grabbed me across the knees and pulled me back. "Oh, no,
it's not. Those were just the warmups! Now, before I take your pants
off and really get down to work, I'll give you just a taste of how
it's going to feel."

	She caught the leg opening of my shorts and pulled the fabric
up until it cut painfully into the crack of my ass and my right cheek
was exposed. "Just so you remember, here's how it feels with your
pants on." She brought the hairbrush down hard on the still-covered
left cheek. "And here's how it will feel with them off." The brush
landed on my bare right cheek and felt like a branding iron! I
couldn't believe the difference one little sixteenth of an inch of
cotton could make. Before I could react, the hairbrush had landed
back on the left, then on the right again.

	"That's enough playing around - now it's time to get serious,"
Linda exclaimed. She grabbed my shorts at the waist and yanked them
down in one motion to my knees. I swore as the waistband ripped past
my balls, and it dawned on me that the erection I'd had just a few
minutes before was gone.

	"Such naughty language!" Linda giggled as she brought the
hairbrush down with a fierce, "whack" in the middle of my butt. I tried
to squirm, but she had a firm grip and my legs were pinioned with my
shorts around my knees. I knew I could get away, but what was the
point of putting up a fight? Either I'd leave and she would go to
Moore in the morning, or else I'd wind up back in the same position.

	Again and again the back of the hairbrush burned into my ass.
I was determined not to yell or do anything else to let her know how
much it hurt, but I was beginning to wonder how much more I could take
when she finally stopped.

	"Halftime," Linda said. She put the hairbrush down and began
to knead the burning flesh of my ass with her fingers; under other
circumstances it would have been a real turnon, but instead it just
hurt. "Your ass gets numb," she commented, "and you don't feel it as
much. We don't want you to miss out on anything, do we?"

	"O.K." she directed. "Stand up." My shorts dropped to my
ankles as I clambered to my feet. "Leave your underpants on the floor,
and kneel on the bed, facing the side." I did as I was told. "Now cup
your balls with your right hand, and hold your cock in your left
hand." I stared at her in amazement, but when she said I'd be sorry if
I didn't obey her, I decided not to take any chances. "Keep your hands
where they are, and lie down on your stomach," she ordered. I flopped
down, with both hands under the weight of my body.

	"Spread your legs out - wider," she commanded. "I want to be
able to see your fingers around your balls. If either one of your
hands comes out from under you, I'll flatten your balls with the
hairbrush. Understand?"

	I muttered that I understood. The new position didn't make
much sense to me, until I realized that with me across her lap Linda
could only lift the hairbrush about a foot, but now, with her standing
up, she could swing it three feet or more!

	I lay there, clutching my cock and balls, feeling ridiculous
and more than a little apprehensive about what the hairbrush would
feel like the next time it landed. I didn't have long to wait.

	Linda put her left hand in the small of my back, supporting
most of her weight with it, raised the hairbrush high with her right
hand and swung it down ferociously. It landed with a crack like a
gunshot on the left cheek of my ass, and despite my earlier resolve, I
couldn't help crying out. The pain was more intense than anything I'd
ever experienced before.

	I steeled myself for the next blow, which landed just as hard
on the right cheek. That time I managed to limit the sound I made to a
gasping groan. I was still marveling at that when the hairbrush landed
again. After suffering through about six more, I decided that I
couldn't take it any longer.

From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Linda Catches Me At Work (FM, fdom, spank) [2/3]
Date: 5 Feb 1996 23:27:49 GMT

		      Linda Catches Me At Work
			     Chapter Two

	"Stop it, please, Linda," I begged. She stopped in mid-swing.
"Sure, I'll stop whenever you say," she said calmly. "Of course, if
you make me stop before I'm ready, then you won't have kept your part
of the bargain, and I won't have to keep mine, will I?"

	She let that thought linger for a bit. "Well, what do you
say?" she asked. "Shall I stop now?"

	I groaned and said, "No, go ahead."

	"Go ahead and do what?" she demanded.

	"Go ahead and spank me some more."

	"A little more, or a lot more?"

	"A lot more!" I shouted.

	I had barely answered when the hairbrush began its drumming on
my ass again. It was coming down so hard that my whole body was
bouncing off the bed, almost as though Linda were dribbling a
basketball. After thirty or forty of those, she stopped again and
asked if I were ready for her to quit. "Not until you're ready to
stop," I replied, and so she started up again.

	Finally she stopped, panting, and took the hairbrush back to
the dresser. I lay on the bed, still clutching my cock and my balls,
my ass throbbing in time with my pulse, and watched her walk across
the room. Her whole body was damp with sweat, her bikini bottom dark
at the crotch and along the crack of her ass. I was still alert enough
to reflect on how incredibly sexy she looked, but I couldn't have
gotten it up if my life depended on it.

	Linda looked down at me. "Get up and get dressed," she
snapped. "I'll see you in the kitchen."

	I staggered to my feet and went to pick up my shorts, glancing
in the full-length mirror as I crossed the room. My ass looked just
the way it felt, an ugly purple from top to bottom and side to side. A
good thing I had no hot dates scheduled this week, I thought to
myself. I eased my shorts on and went out to the living room where I'd
left the rest of my clothes. Dressing was agony, but at last I
finished getting everything back on, even tying my shoes.

	Linda was sitting on a stool in the breakfast nook in her
kitchen. "Have a seat," she smirked as I shuffled in.

	"No thanks," I said. "I'll just take my stories and all of the
computer disks and go." I wondered whether I'd be able to sit in my
car to drive home.

	"I promised you could have them when we were through, didn't
I?" Linda said thoughtfully.

	"You're damn right you did!"

	"Well, I'll keep my promise, but this was just so much fun
that I don't think we're through yet."

	"What the hell do you mean?" I demanded. "You've had your fun,
now give me those files and those papers!"

	Linda was opening the front door as I spoke. She smiled at me
and said, "Why don't you come over Friday evening, and we'll talk about
it then?" She nudged me onto the porch and closed the door behind me.

	I was tempted to kick the door in, beat the shit out of Linda,
if necessary, and demand my papers and computer files back. As I stood
there in the cool night air, though, I realized that I couldn't be
sure she hadn't kept copies somewhere else - and besides, if she went
to the police and gave them my name, I didn't really want to tell them
my side of the story. There was no way to keep it quiet in a town the
size of ours.

	Cursing under my breath, I limped back to my car and eased
myself in. Sitting down wasn't pleasant, and I wondered how much
better it would feel tomorrow.

	Well, that's the story for now. Somehow, between now and
Friday (this is still Tuesday, for another few minutes) I've got to
decide what to do. Whatever it is, I won't be able to tell anyone, so
I'll just have to continue to confide in this journal.

			  September 27, 1985

	I'm writing this Friday evening, after coming back from
Linda's again. Emotionally, but not physically, I feel a lot better
than I did Tuesday night. The story is, if anything, more incredible
than the first part was.

	My work suffered all week as I stewed about what to do, but I
finally decided there really wasn't much choice. I'd have to confront
Linda again if I were ever to be sure of getting all of the
incriminating evidence back. I worked late Wednesday night, and
managed to check Linda's computer and her desk to make sure she hadn't
kept any copies at work.

	I found nothing, and hadn't really expected to. Linda's power
over me depended on no one else knowing what she knew, so she wouldn't
take a chance on leaving anything at the office. That probably meant
that everything was in her apartment, though she might have put copies
in a safe deposit box or someplace like that; I'd just have to judge
how sincere she seemed to be Friday evening, because there was no way
I was going back for a third session!

	Linda walked by my desk this afternoon and murmured, "See you
at 7." I just nodded. I didn't want anyone else to get the idea there
was something going on between us.

	I knocked on Linda's door a few minutes after seven. She
opened the door, stepping aside as I walked in.

	"I was beginning to think you'd changed your mind," she said.
"I wouldn't have minded talking to Mr. Moore on Monday," she went on,
"but it sure would have spoiled my plans for this evening."

	I said nothing. She looked at me for a few seconds, and then
went to fix drinks. "How're the buns?" she asked in a conversational
tone. "Bruises all gone?"

	I nodded as she handed me my drink. "Well, we'll remedy that
in a few minutes," she smirked.

	"No more dirty tricks," I said. "This has to be the last
time."

	"Okay," Linda said - too quickly, I thought.

	"I mean it," I insisted. "I want to see all of the hard
copies, and all of the computer disks, out here right now."

	"No way!" she snapped. "I want you cooperating, and you won't
be if you know that all you have to do is come out here, grab the
stuff and leave."

	"How do I know you won't pull the same stunt as last time?" I
demanded.

	"You'll just have to trust me," she replied, "when I say that
tonight is it."

	That's not good enough, I thought to myself, but I'll just
have to find another way to deal with it.

	Linda glanced at my empty glass. "All through?" she asked.
"Good. You can leave your clothes in here - all of them, this time -
and meet me in the bedroom."

	She strode out of the room, and I was left to repeat the
bizarre experience of last Tuesday, stripping off my clothes to meet a
beautiful and sexy woman, for an experience that was going to be
anything but erotic, at least for me!

	I pulled my shorts off, leaving them on the sofa on top of all
of my other clothes. My stomach felt hollow as I walked resolutely
toward Linda's bedroom, my limp cock swinging in front of me and my
scrotum tight with nervous anticipation. I wondered if Linda would be
wearing the aqua bikini again; it didn't really matter, but somehow I
hoped she would be.

	When I rounded the corner and could see into the bedroom, I
was glad Linda wasn't wearing the aqua bikini. ... Instead she was
wearing a red one, even smaller - if that were possible - than the
other. The bottom covered less than half of each tawny cheek of her
ass, and when she turned to face me I could see her nipples standing
out sharply through the filmy material and the lips of her pussy
pressing tightly against the crotch of her bikini bottom. Despite my
nervousness, my cock began to salute the vision in front of me.

	"You like it, I see," Linda said. "I don't get to wear it as
often as I'd like to," she added almost wistfully. Then she turned
all business.

	"I have a little surprise for you tonight," she said. "I want
you on the bed from the start this time."

	I clutched my cock in one hand and my balls in the other, and
lay down across the end of her bed, as I had last Tuesday.

	"Not like that - up in the middle, with your arms out in front
of you," she instructed.

	I obeyed, releasing my genitals and stretching my arms out as
I sidled away from the foot of the bed. Linda bent down in front of
me, giving me a magnificent view of her delectable tits as she reached
under the bed. She sat back on her haunches, holding an elastic cord
about three feet long-the kind some people use to strap luggage on the
racks on the back of sports car trunk lids - with metal hooks on each
end, and began to wrap it around my wrists.

	"What's that for?" I protested. "I'm not going anywhere."

	"Just a little extra precaution," Linda answered grimly. She
stretched the cord as she wrapped it four or five times around my
wrists, clamping them together, and then fastened the hook on the
other end of the cord to some part of the bedframe.

	Linda stood up and walked around the foot of the bed. I
thought she was going after the hairbrush until I suddenly felt her
wrapping another cord around my left ankle. That worried me, and I
started to kick and struggle, but she was too fast and too strong.
Slowly she dragged me backward across the bed, stretching the cord
that held my wrists as she pulled my left ankle down against the cold
metal of the bedframe.

	I tried to kick at her with my right foot, but she quickly
seized it, repeated the wrapping process, pulled my right ankle down
toward the head of the bed and hooked the end of the cord to the
bedframe at that corner. Then she gripped me just above the hips and
dragged me back another inch until I felt my balls slide free of the
edge of the mattress.

	There was no way I could have been more helpless, or more
vulnerable. My feet spanned almost the full length of the bed, my ass
just off the side of the mattress, cheeks spread wide apart, my balls
hanging free. I swore furiously at Linda, squirming in my makeshift
bonds.

	She ignored me for a while, then told me to shut up; I did,
but only after she'd reached down and given my balls a sharp squeeze.
That really took the wind out of me, and I watched silently as she
walked over to the dresser and picked up the all-too-familiar
hairbrush.

	"I told you I have a surprise for you," Linda said smugly,
"but I'm going to save it for a few minutes. I think your little bummy
needs some spanks with this to warm it up." She brandished the
hairbrush as she walked toward the foot of the bed and stopped behind
my painfully twisted left knee. "You don't have your underpants to
protect you, so I'll be very gentle," she added mockingly.

	I craned my neck to look over my shoulder as Linda brought the
hairbrush back and began to swing its lacquered face toward my
immobilized buttocks. I lost sight of it before it completed its
swing, but my sense of touch told me exactly where the swing ended.
The hairbrush landed squarely in the middle of my right asscheek. I
gasped in pain but, remembering how annoyed I'd been with myself on
Tuesday, I managed not to cry out.

	The next blow smacked into the left cheek, and I bit my tongue
to keep quiet. As Linda continued to paddle my helpless ass, I turned
my head away and closed my eyes. I squirmed and wriggled, but nothing
I did could deflect the hairbrush from whatever part of the target
Linda selected.

	After about the fifth "SMACK" I'd started counting, mostly as
a distraction from the pain. Thirty blows later, she stopped. "There,
now," she asked innocently, "weren't those nice and easy?"

	"You know they weren't, goddamn you," I spat. "Now unhook me
and let me get out of here!"

	"But we've hardly started," Linda protested. "And I'm hurt
that you don't give me credit for being gentle. Maybe you need a real
spanking to help you appreciate the difference."

	"NO!" I yelled, but it was too late. The hairbrush landed low
on my right buttock, and even as I bellowed in pain I had to admit
that Linda had been right - the first batch had been gentle in
comparison. She settled into a slow rhythm, burning the hairbrush into
my ass every two or three seconds. I rocked from side to side, trying
to break the cords that bound my ankles to the bedframe, and cried out
shamelessly with every blow.

	After thirty or forty of those - I stopped trying to count -
she paused and asked if I wanted a gentle one.

	"Yes, please," I begged, and she obliged.

	"What kind was that?" she demanded.

	"An easy one," I gasped.

	The next one wasn't. I screamed again, and Linda asked, "What
was that one?"

	"A hard one!" I groaned.

	"Tell me what this one is," she commanded as the hairbrush
slapped again.

	"An easy one."

	"So you do know the difference," Linda said sarcastically. Do
you want some more easy ones?"

	"No, please, Linda, no more," I pleaded.

	"Ten more," she said. "Hard ones or easy ones?"

	"Easy ones, please," I answered.

	"I thought you'd say that," she snorted. "I'll compromise with
you," she said. "Half and half - do you want the easy ones first or
last?"

	I couldn't answer her. I didn't want any at all, hard or easy.

	"Hurry up," she demanded, "or there won't be any easy ones!"

	"Last," I answered quickly.

	The next five were the worst so far, and the final five
weren't much gentler, at least from my perspective, but Linda kept her
word and stopped after ten. I looked over my shoulder at her, and saw
that her bikini was almost transparent with perspiration. My cock
didn't respond at all; 99 percent of my attention was focused on the
pulsating pain in my butt, and the other one percent on my aching
knees and hip joints.

	"That's enough, Linda, let me go," I pleaded.

	"We'll take a break for a few minutes," she answered, "but you
haven't had your surprise yet."

	I wondered what on earth she could be planning to top the
horrendous paddling she'd already administered, but I was sure I
didn't want to find out.

	Linda walked over to her dresser and picked up a leather thong
that looked like a boot lace from a hiking boot. She tied a slip knot
near one end of it, passed the end through the knot to form a circle
about two inches in diameter, and walked back over to the bed. I could
sense her directly behind me and was mystified until I felt her cup my
balls in one hand and slip the leather loop over them.

	"What the hell are you doing?" I demanded. For the first time
I was really frightened. A man tends to be really protective of his
testes, and not just to avoid the pain that comes from mistreating
them - probably some instinct provided by nature to ensure
perpetuation of the species.

	She tightened the noose without replying, and I could feel my
balls squeezed tight against the bottom of my scrotum. I tried
frantically to rock forward and backward, to loosen or break at least
one of the cords that held me, until Linda yanked downward sharply on
the leather thong. I screamed in pain, and Linda said calmly, "Hold
still, or you're going to hurt yourself."

	"You're the one who's hurting me, you fucking bitch," I yelled
at her. "And why? You've already got my legs tied up."

	"I'm going to take the cords off your ankles," she answered,
"but I don't want you going anyplace." She tugged hard at the thong
again as she tied the lower end tightly to the frame of the bed. I
groaned and tried to push myself backward to ease the pressure on my
balls, but the cord holding my wrists had already been stretched to
its limit.

	Then I felt first one ankle and then the other come free as
Linda unhooked the cords and unwrapped them. I gave a small sigh of
relief as I pulled my legs closer together and took some of the strain
off my knees and hip joints. My legs were free, but the rest of my
body was even more tightly restrained than before; the cord binding my
wrists kept me from moving backward, and even the thought of trying to
move forward added to the constant ache in my testicles.

	Linda stood up from her labors behind me and walked over to
the closet at the far side of the room. "Now for the surprise I've
been promising you," she said over her shoulder.

	She reached into the closet and came out with a thin rod about
three feet long. "I took this with me when I left home," she
announced. "A family heirloom, as it were, used on several generations
of naughty bare bottoms - mostly younger than yours, but none more in
need of it," she added.

	As she came closer I could see that it was made of wood, a
little bigger around than the diameter of a pencil. "It's a birch
cane," Linda explained, "and I can tell you from personal experience
that its effects are really, um, exquisite."

	She walked around the end of the bed and I felt the muscles in
my ass shudder as she rested the cane across both cheeks. "Listen,"
she ordered. She lifted the cane, brought it back and then swung it
sharply toward me; it made a whistling kind of, "swish" as it sped
through the air, stopping just as it tapped me. I jumped at the
contact, and Linda giggled at my reaction. "That sound really turns me
on," she exclaimed. The cane whistled again, and again it stopped with
only the lightest touch on my expectant asscheeks.

	My buttocks clenched and my legs twitched involuntarily, and
she laughed again. "You'll know when it's the real thing," she said.

	"Listen, Linda," I said, "this game has gone on long enough.
Put away the cane and let me go."

	"Oh, no," she responded. "This is the best part, and I don't
care how much you beg, I'm not going to quit now."

From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Linda Catches Me At Work (FM, fdom, spank, switch) [3/3]
Date: 5 Feb 1996 23:28:56 GMT

		      Linda Catches Me At Work
			    Chapter Three

	Her voice distracted me enough that I didn't hear the swishing
of the cane. In fact, the next sound I heard was the echo of my own
surprised bellow of pain as the cane cut into both cheeks of my ass.
The cane whistled again, slashing diagonally across my right asscheek
and forcing another scream from my lungs.

	The pain was beyond description. Each time the hairbrush had
landed, pain had radiated out in all directions from the spot where it
hit. With the cane, it felt as though all that pain, and more, was
concentrated in the tiny strip of bruised flesh right under the cane.

	In the time it takes to tell about it the cane had cut into
the helpless cheeks of my ass a dozen times or more. I was totally out
of control, screaming at the top of my lungs with every stroke,
kicking my legs and struggling against my bonds, oblivious to the pain
in my balls.

	Linda paused until I quieted down. "I don't care how much
noise you make," she told me. "My apartment's at the end, and the one
next door is vacant. But you ought to take it easy with that kicking -
if you're thinking of ever having a family, that is." And with that
she resumed the caning.

	I screamed. I begged her to go back to using the hairbrush. I
pleaded with her to stop. I told her to go ahead and tell Mr. Moore
about my stories. But nothing even slowed her merciless slashing at my
ass.

	Between yells I looked back at her, and realized that Linda's
left hand was deep inside her bikini bottom. From the movement of her
hand I could tell that at least one finger was plunging rapidly in and
out her pussy. She had a rapturous look on her face, but even that
didn't interfere with the rhythm of the whistling cane.

	Suddenly the caning stopped, and I was dimly aware that the
telephone was ringing in the other room. Linda dropped the cane on the
bed beside me and said, "Don't go away, there's more to come."

	"Saved by the bell," I thought to myself absurdly. Then I
realized that the interruption only made things worse. If Linda were
planning to beat my ass and frig herself until she came, she'd be a
lot more strokes away from cumming when she came back from answering
the phone than she had been before it rang.

	There was no way I could endure more caning - I would
literally go insane if Linda came back and started in again, I
thought. Somehow I had to get free.

	Breaking the thong that tied my balls to the bedframe seemed
out of the question; I would castrate myself before the thong broke.
That left only the cord pulling my wrists toward the far side of the
bed. I strained against it, that merely increased the tension on the
thong encircling my scrotum, until I almost screamed with pain and
frustration.

	But the alternative of lying there quietly until Linda came
back and picked up the cane seemed even worse. I braced my thighs
against the side of the mattress, in the hope that would keep me from
sliding forward, and tugged with all my strength. The mattress
squeezed in some, letting me move forward until the pain in my balls
was almost unendurable.

	Just as I was deciding to give up, the hook that held the cord
to the far side of the bedframe broke off and my arms were free! The
cord was still wrapped several times around my wrists, but I gnawed at
one of the coils with my teeth until it slipped loose, and then I had
my hands free as well. I picked for a few seconds at the slip knot
that was sunk deep into the skin of my scrotum, and then realized that
it would be easier to undo the knot at the other end of the thong.

	I had just finished untying the thong from the bedframe when I
heard Linda saying good bye to whoever had called. I snatched the
ankle cords from the floor and the wrist cord from the bed and hobbled
stiffly to a spot behind the half-closed door, trailing the leather
thong from my ballooning testicles.

	Linda gasped in surprise when she saw the empty bed. I should
have been too stiff and sore to move, but my desperation overcame
that. I knew suddenly what I had to do to prevent any further
extortion. In the half-second while Linda was looking around the room
in confusion, I knocked her down with a tackle my high school football
coach would have been proud of.

	Before Linda could catch her breath I had one of the ankle
cords wrapped neatly around her knees and hooked in place, and was
whipping the wrist cord around her wrists. Then she started thrashing
at me with elbows and knees, and it was all I could do to drag her
over to the bed.

	By the time I had the wrist cord - with its one good hook -
fastened securely to the bed frame, Linda had managed to throw her
legs off the end of the bed and was almost on her feet.

	I shoved her back onto the bed, dodged her flying feet, seized
her ankles and dragged her into the position-lying across the bed -
that I'd occupied three minutes earlier. I made sure the remaining
ankle cord was fastened securely around her right ankle before
loosening the cord with which I'd bound her knees. Linda cursed,
screamed and kicked at me as I dragged her backward across the bed and
hooked the right ankle cord to the bedframe, but her resistance only
fueled the fury that had been gradually building up in me.

	I caught her flailing left foot, wrapped the last cord around
that ankle, and pulled her left leg inexorably backward and downward
until I could anchor it to the bedframe as well. Panting, I stood up
to survey the scene.

	Linda's position wasn't quite right, I decided; her ass, even
her crotch, were still on the bed, because I'd started with her wrists
in the same position mine had been in, while her arms and torso were
shorter than mine. I loosened the wrist cord a few inches, then
dragged her backward and took up the slack by tightening the ankle
bonds.

	This time the position looked perfect. I debated a second or
two about whether to leave her bikini top on, but concluded that since
I'd been totally naked, she should be too. I untied the knot in the
middle of her back and jerked the top out from under her boobs,
provoking a yelp of pain in the midst of the ongoing stream of
imprecations.

	There was no question that the bottom of her bikini had to go
- Linda's ass was going to be as unprotected as mine had been. I undid
the tie strings at each side and pulled the bikini between her legs
like a diaper.

	Now I had a pretty good idea of how I'd looked to Linda an
hour earlier. The crack of her ass yawned wide, with its darker
pigmentation spreading to encircle her puckered brown asshole. Below
that, the exterior lips of her pussy, glistening with the products of
her earlier self-stimulation, gaped where my balls had hung.

	The thought of my balls reminded me that I was still dangling
the leather thong. Gingerly, I loosened the slip knot, wincing as the
thong pulled at stray pubic hairs that had been caught in it, and
eased my aching testicles out of the leather noose.

	I walked around to the other side of the bed and tossed the
thong down where Linda could see it. "I'm afraid your ankles will have
to stay put," I told her. "You seem to be lacking the appendages to
make this useful."

	"You son of bitch!" she snarled. "You won't get away with
this. I'll go to the police, I'll go to the newspaper, I'll -, "

	"I don't think so, Linda," I interrupted her. "I don't think
you'll ever want to tell anyone about what you did to me, or about
what I'm going to do to you."

	"What - what are you going to do?" she asked. The belligerence
was gone from her voice.

	"To begin with," I answered, picking up the cane, "I'm going
to let you decide whether this feels as `exquisite' as you
remembered."

	"Please," she whimpered, "not too hard. I didn't use it hard
on you."

	"Right," I said as I walked around the end of the bed. "So I
won't use it any harder than you did." I laid the cane across her ass
and adjusted my stance so I could land the cane in any spot on either
cheek without moving. Linda started to sob quietly, every muscle from
her waist down quivering with dread.

	I decided not to tease Linda the way she'd teased me. I
lifted the cane off her ass, brought it back, and swished it forward
onto the left cheek. Linda shrieked and wiggled her ass helplessly as
a dark red welt rose where the cane had landed. I swung the cane and
gave her a matching welt on the other cheek. Again she screamed and
struggled against her bonds.

	It wasn't until the fifth stroke of the cane that she started
pleading with me to stop, and it wasn't until the twentieth that I
did. By that time, Linda's beautiful bottom was crossed with a network
of red stripes, and her whole body was trembling uncontrollably.

	I laid the cane gently across her ass again. "Now," I said,
"I'm going to ask you a question. If I like your answer, I'll ask
another question; if I don't, your little tush will get ten more
reunions with the cane. And we'll go on that way until I have all the
answers I want. Got it?"

	"Yes," she wept. "What's the question?"

	"That should be obvious - where are my stories?" I demanded.

	"In a safe place, where you'll never find them," she said
defiantly.

	I was amazed; I'd thought she was ready to do almost anything
to stop the caning. My earlier rage had been largely transferred into
the welts that now stood out on her ass, and I had no particular
desire to keep punishing her - but she wasn't leaving me much choice.

	"I don't like that answer," I told her. She stiffened as I
lifted the cane from her ass and raised it. I selected a relatively
unmarked spot on her left asscheek and whipped the cane down hard.
Linda shrieked in real agony, the lips of her pussy opening and
closing as she flexed her muscles against the cords. Nine more quick
hard strokes of the cane, with the same reaction to each.

	Again I asked her the same question, and again she refused to
tell me. By the time I'd given her ten more strokes with the cane,
there was hardly a spot on Linda's ass that wasn't part of one welt or
another.

	I rested the cane on her trembling ass again. "This time," I
warned her, "if I don't like your answer it'll be twenty strokes, not
ten. Are you ready to tell me where they are?"

	"All right," she sighed. "I can't take any more. The stuff is
all in my old briefcase in the closet."

	I put the cane down on the bed and went to the closet. The
briefcase was in the back, between two stacks of shoeboxes. I pulled
it out and backed into the bedroom, no longer conscious of my total
nudity. I put the briefcase on the floor in front of Linda and tried
to open it. Neither latch would open; both had little combination
locks.

	"What are the combinations, Linda?" I asked wearily. She
looked at me speculatively until I got to my feet and picked up the
cane.

	"O.K. O.K." she said quickly. "I was going to tell you." She
gave me the combinations and I set the numbers on the little wheels.
This time both latches released. I opened the briefcase and found the
manila envelope that Linda had been carrying at our first lunch
"date". Inside the envelope were the same printouts of my six chapters
and two computer diskettes.

	"How do I know what's on these disks?" I demanded
suspiciously.

	"My god, you ought to trust me by this time," Linda cried. "I
know when I've been beaten!" It took a few seconds, and then she gave
a hysterical little giggle as she realized what she'd said. "You can
check them on my computer - it's set up where the pantry is supposed
to be." Her voice sounded defeated but there was a glint of triumph in
her eyes that bothered me.

	I made sure each of the elastic cords was holding well before
went out in search of Linda's computer. I checked the disks one at a
time and they seemed to be right. The file names were correct and a
quick scan of the contents looked familiar. I'd shut down the computer
and was heading back to the bedroom when it dawned on me - the
diskettes were a different brand than we used at work! When Linda
first copied my files she would have used disks from the office. She
could have copied them onto her own diskettes and then conscientiously
returned the original diskettes to the office - but the glint I'd seen
in her eyes told me she still had the originals hidden somewhere.

	Tiptoeing back to the bedroom, I glanced through the door.
Linda was still on the bed, straining against each of her bonds. I'd
expected that, but I was pretty sure she wasn't strong enough to break
any of the hooks the way I had.

	She stopped struggling as soon as she saw me. Her tentative
smile of relief changed to a look of alarm as I strode to the bed and
picked up the cane. I took up my position behind her and rested the
cane on her ass.

	"What's the matter? Those are the right diskettes," she
babbled. "Did you have trouble with the computer? Let me go, I'll show
you how... "

From: nogarder@ix.netcom.com(*** )
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Linda Catches Me At Work
Date: 5 Feb 1996 23:33:10 GMT

		       Linda Catches Me At Work
			  The Final Chapter

	"These disks are just fine, Linda," I interrupted. "Now I
want to know where the originals are. And before you answer, remember
the stakes are up to twenty now."

	Five seconds passed in silence. "Those are the only copies I
have," she said carefully. "I erased the originals and took them back
to the office, I swear."

	I looked down at her ass. The welts had sort of run together,
so both cheeks were a nearly uniform reddish purple. "I don't like it
when you lie to me, Linda," I said sadly.

	"I'm not lying!" she protested frantically. "I'm telling you
the truth, I era -, " She interrupted herself with a howl of pain as I
lashed down with the cane. I left a dozen fresh welts on Linda's
discolored rump, and eight more on the backs of her unblemished
thighs. Between screams Linda begged me to stop, assuring me that
she'd erased the original diskettes.

	I finished the twenty and waited for her sobbing to subside.
"Look," she finally gasped, "you can fuck me. You can do anything you
want to me. Just stop caning me, because there's nothing more I can
tell you."

	"We can talk about fucking after I get those original disks
back," I told her. "Now where are they?"

	Again she pleaded that she didn't have them, and again I cut
her protests off with the cane. This time I worked on the insides of
her thighs, moving upward in a steady pattern until, after fifteen
strokes, she could have no doubt that the next one would cut squarely
across her convulsing pussy.

	I paused. "Five more, Linda," I reminded her. "You know where
they're going to be - or you can have them on your ass instead, if you
tell me where those diskettes are. It's your choice."

	"No, please don't, I beg you," she shrieked. "I erased them."

	I wanted to believe her, wanted to stop hurting her, but I was
convinced she was still lying. I shrugged mentally as I drew back the
cane. Linda had made her choice, and now she would suffer the
consequences. The muscles bulged in her thighs as she tried futilely
to close her legs, to shield the most sensitive part of her body, but
the cane whistled cleanly onto its target, leaving a furrow that cut
diagonally across both lips of her pussy.

	The scream that tore its way out of the depths of Linda's soul
was clearly more sincere than anything else that had come out of her
mouth all week, but it took another stroke of the cane in almost the
same spot before she finally gurgled, "All right, I'll tell you." I'd
promised her twenty, so I gave her three more across the ass.

	"I'm waiting," I said, laying the cane down. Linda was shaking
all over as she tried to speak, but I finally understood that she was
saying, "in the freezer."

	Sure enough, there were two diskettes, the brand we use at
work, sealed in a ziplock baggie, hidden between two diet dinners in
the freezer compartment of her refrigerator. A very clever hiding
place, I had to admit - not where anyone would look for computer
diskettes. I didn't bother to check them on Linda's computer; I was
sure she wouldn't have held out on these for so long if they weren't
real, and the last real ones at that.

	I walked back into the bedroom. This time Linda wasn't
struggling. "Will you please let me go now?" she begged.

	"Well, I've been thinking," I said. "We're about even on the
caning, but you're a couple of hundred little love pats ahead of me
with that hairbrush. Maybe we need to even the score before I let you
loose."

	"No," she wailed. "My ass couldn't stand anything more."

	"You didn't seem very worried about what my ass could stand,"
I pointed out.

	"I know. I'm sorry, but please, don't spank me any more."

	"All right," I agreed, "no more tonight. "I'll come back in
the morning and we'll see how the situation looks then. Just to be
sure you're waiting for me, though, I'm going to leave you right where
you are now."

	Linda pleaded with me to undo her bonds, but I ignored her. I
found an extra blanket on the shelf in her closet and spread it over
her shoulders and back - leaving her bottom exposed - said, "Good
night, Linda," gathered up all of the computer disks and printouts,
and turned out the light.

	I dressed in the living room, pocketed Linda's keys, found the
thermostat and turned it up to 85 to keep the derriere next door from
getting too chilled, turned out the rest of the lights and locked the
door behind me. As I got in my car and started the drive home, I
realized that I was leaving with a lighter heart - and a sorer ass -
than I'd had since Tuesday morning.

	Now that this is almost finished, I'm planning to sleep in
tomorrow. Oh, I'll make it over to Linda's, all right, but a couple of
extra hours won't make that much difference. And I don't have any
intention of using the hairbrush on her, because I don't get any
special thrill out of seeing someone else in pain. On the other hand,
the idea of her spending ten or twelve hours, realizing how helpless
and vulnerable she is - and worrying about how her own hairbrush is
going to feel on that already-bruised bare ass - doesn't make me feel
bad at all.

	Good night, Linda, and pleasant dreams.

			  September 28, 1985

	The story continues. I woke up around nine this morning and
took my time shaving and getting dressed - for obvious reasons. My
butt is still the color of raw meat, and aches like hell at the
slightest pressure. By ten I decided that Linda was probably getting
pretty anxious to see me.

	I stopped by a fast food restaurant and picked up a couple of
scrambled egg and sausage breakfasts to go, and drove over to Linda's
apartment. She was begging by the time I got the door unlocked.

	"God, I thought you were never going to come," she complained
as I walked into her bedroom. She was still in the same position as
she'd been when I left the night before, though she had apparently
managed to squirm enough to make the blanket slide off her back and
onto the floor. "Please, let me go - I've got to go to the bathroom so
bad I can taste it."

	I put the breakfast boxes down on the dresser and walked
around behind her. Linda's ass looked about the way mine had, shading
from dark red on the cheeks themselves to a series of pinkish stripes
on the backs and insides of her upper thighs. The lips of her pussy,
already darker than the rest of her skin, were crossed with two
black-looking welts where the cane had done its work.

	Linda groaned as I released the cords that bound her ankles,
and stretched her legs out behind her while I loosened her wrists. She
crawled off the bed and headed stiffly toward the bathroom. I went
with her, but once I'd glanced at the window and confirmed that it was
too high and too small for her to escape, I left the bathroom and let
her close the door.

	She emerged about five minutes later, having done at least
some minimal washing and combing. "I brought some stuff to eat," I
said, gesturing toward the dresser.

	"That's terrific!" Linda exclaimed. "Let me get a robe on."

	"Uh-uh," I responded. "We've got some unfinished business, and
I don't want you skipping out the front door before that's taken care
of. You look just fine the way you are."

	Indeed she did, especially from the front. I hadn't had a
really good view of her boobs before, but the sight was worth the
wait. They were round and full without sagging, and her trim waist and
hips were perfectly proportioned. Perhaps because of the caning I'd
given her thighs, she walked and stood with her legs well apart,
providing a delightful view of her snatch.

	The smile died on Linda's face. "You're really serious about
the hairbrush, I mean, about getting even?"

	"Can you give me any reason why I shouldn't be?" I demanded. I
hadn't changed my mind about spanking her, but I enjoyed the anxiety
in her voice and saw no reason to relieve her worries yet.

	"I guess not," she sighed. "I suppose I really do have it
coming."

	"Let's eat first," I suggested, handing her one of the boxes.
She took it and started to sit on the edge of the bed, but immediately
winced and jumped to her feet again. "I can't sit down," she cried.

	"You can do what I do," I suggested, sliding onto the bed and
lying on my left side, propped up on one elbow with the breakfast box
in front of me. Linda matched my position, lying on her right side.
The top of the Styrofoam box grazed her right tit as she opened it.

	We ate the greasy lukewarm food eagerly without saying
anything more. When we were both finished, Linda gathered up the
boxes, plastic forks and knives, and napkins and carried them into the
kitchen. Again I followed her; my cock stiffened as I watched her ass
muscles ripple, her wide-legged gait exaggerating the transfer of
weight from one leg to the other.

	Linda dumped the breakfast debris and headed resolutely back
to the bedroom. "Thanks for breakfast," she said. "Let's get this over
with."

	She picked up the hairbrush from the dresser and handed it to
me. "You're not going to tie me up again, are you?"

	"Not right now," I answered. "We'll see how it goes." I sat
down on the foot of the bed, but scooted well back from the edge, so
both legs were straight out in front of me. My ass throbbed, but there
was no other way to get Linda into the position I'd decided I wanted
her to be in.

	I didn't have to tell her to lie across my lap. She crawled
over my legs until her battered rump was over my right thigh, and then
eased herself down until her boobs flattened against the bedspread.
"Not too much, O.K.?" she pleaded. "I already can't sit down, and I
don't know how I'm going to make it to work on Monday."

	Her ass twitched as I rested my arm across it. "I don't feel
too sorry for you," I said. "This whole business was your idea,
remember?" Then I lifted her left leg at the knee and swung it
suddenly over my head, pulling Linda closer to me at the same time.
She gave a startled yell and tried to pull her legs closer together,
but they were separated by my body. "Put your head down on my legs," I
ordered.

	Linda moved to comply. "But why?" she wailed. I waited for
those grapefruit-sized boobs to settle onto my shins, just below the
kneecaps, before I answered her.

	"I liked the view last night," I said, "but this is more,
well, personal." It was, in fact, extremely personal. With Linda's
thighs on either side of my waist, her legs were spread almost as far
apart as they had been when she was tied to the bed. I could have bent
down and bitten - or kissed-either blazing asscheek, and her bruised
cuntlips were only inches ahead of the growing bulge in the front of
my pants.

	I stroked her ass and said, "I have some questions for you."

	"Oh, Jesus, not this again!" she sighed.

	"Not that kind of questions," I soothed. "If I hadn't gotten
loose last night, would you have given me the disks back?

	"Probably not," Linda admitted.

	"Just how long were you planning to play the game?" I wanted
to know.

	"I don't know, as long as you went along with it, I guess,"
she replied.

	"Would you really have gone to Mr. Moore if I'd refused to
play?" I continued to massage both of Linda's asscheeks as I spoke.

	"I hadn't really decided yet," she responded. "I was pretty
sure you'd go along, at least for a while."

	"But why me?" I insisted.

	"You were in a bad spot - you were vulnerable," Linda
explained. She was beginning to squirm under my probing hands, and I
could see her pussy lips beginning to swell and darken.

	"I suppose a shrink would say I was getting back at my
father," she continued unexpectedly. "I wanted to please him, get him
to care about me, but nothing I did was ever good enough for him - and
when I did something wrong, he really made me pay for it."

	"Am I the first guy you ever spanked?" I asked, running my
thumbs along the inside of her widely spread thighs.

	"The second," she replied. "I lived with a guy for six months
or so, and I used to work him over pretty good."

	"What kind of hold did you have on him?" Linda was beginning
to push herself backward against my hands, and her cuntlips glistened
as the pressure of my thumbs at the base of her ass spread them apart.

	"I didn't need a hold - he liked it," Linda said
contemptuously.

	"How on earth did you find that out?" I was astonished. "I
mean, did he just tell you he liked it?"

	"Sort of." Linda was breathing faster as I ran my fingertips
down the crack of her ass, across her asshole, stopping just short of
her pussy. "We were sitting in bed one Saturday morning. I was trying
to read a magazine, and he kept reaching over and tweaking my tit. It
really irritated me, and finally I told him that if he didn't leave me
alone I was going to paddle his ass. He kept it up, so finally I
grabbed my hairbrush off the night table, pulled him over my lap, and
gave him ten or twelve good ones. That made him really horny, and we
had a steamy fuck, and the next day he went out and bought me the
hairbrush I have now - the one I used on you."

	"This one here," I said, picking up the hairbrush from the bed
and resting its cool, hard face against one of her hot ass mounds.
Linda's legs squeezed my waist as she clenched the muscles in her ass.

	"Please," she begged, "not too hard. I'm so sore from the
caning you gave me last night!"

	"Not yet," I said, putting the hairbrush back on the bed
beside me. "So, he bought you the hairbrush and told you he liked the
way it felt," I prompted as I resumed massaging the bunched muscles in
her asscheeks.

	Linda's ass relaxed and she said, "Yeah, it got to the place
where nothing else turned him on. I used a belt on him, then the cane,
even tied his balls up the way I did yours, and he loved it all."

	"Sounds like a perfect match," I commented. "Why didn't you
stick together?"

	Linda moaned as I slid my thumb along the slippery length of
her cuntlips. "I hated it," she answered. "I needed him to hurt, the
way I had, but all I was doing was giving him what he wanted. It got
so I never wanted to see his ass again."

	My thumb slid into her heated pussy and she gasped. "Don't!"
she exclaimed. "I'm getting so hot I can't stand it. Hurry up and
paddle me with the hairbrush."

	I slid my thumb in all the way as I picked the hairbrush up
with my other hand and laid it atop her ass. "Are you sure you want me
to do this?" I asked.

	"I deserve it," she insisted. "I used it on you!"

	"I have a better idea," I said. My thumb was still buried in
her cunt as I laid the hairbrush back on the bed and lifted Linda's
right leg over my head, rolling her onto her back. I fumbled one-
handed with my belt and fly and dragged my pants down over my
throbbing erection.

	"I never cum this way," Linda protested, but her pussy sucked
eagerly as my rigid cock offered itself in place of my thumb. Her
erect nipples were the size of gumdrops as I sucked at them, feeling
the walls of her pussy clenching at my thrusting penis.

	Linda screamed and clawed at my back, arching her hips as her
orgasm started, and mine was only a few seconds behind. Despite the
fog in my brain I heard a "thunk" as the hairbrush fell onto the
floor.

	Gradually our bodies relaxed. "My God," Linda gasped, "I never
felt anything like that before!"

	I kissed her mouth for the first time and slid off her. I
pulled my clothes off, dropping them over the edge of the bed, and
then slid off the bed myself. Naked, I fumbled around on the floor
until I found the hairbrush. I picked it up and walked toward Linda's
dresser.

	"Let's leave this over here where it belongs," I suggested.
Linda nodded mutely and stretched a hand toward me as I came back to
bed.

			       The End