Chapter One 

“She wants me to whip her.”

       My wife looked up from her magazine and asked, “Who wants you to whip her, Brian?”

       “Our new neighbor does.”

       “How do you know?”

       “Julie, I can just tell.”

       “So whip her,” she said and returned to her magazine.

       “Julie, it’s not that simple,” I whined.

       She looked up again with exasperation in her face.

       “What’s not simple about it?” she asked.  “She wants to be whipped.  You obviously want to whip her, so do it!”

       “Julie!”

       “What?”

       “The problem is…” I admitted, “the problem is that she doesn’t know she wants to be whipped.”

       “For Christ’s sake, Brian, what in the hell are you babbling about?”

       “She doesn’t know but I’m certain that…”

       My wife put her magazine down and looked at me speculatively.

       “You need my help,” she stated.

       “Um, yes.”

       “What do I get out of it?” she asked.

       “Uh, maybe a servant?”

       “You’ve lost me, Brian,” she said with exasperation, “what does that mean?”

       “I mean I think she wants to be a slave,” I said.

       “Did she tell you that?” my wife asked.

       “No, of course not.”

       “Then how did you get the idea that she wants to be a slave?”

       “Look, Julie, just trust me on this.  I know,” I shouted.  “Now are you going to help me or not?”

       My wife looked at me like I was nuts but I could see the wheels turning.  By the flush rising in her cheeks it was evident that the prospect had opened avenues in her mind.  Her thoughts were cascading down them in a torrent like water over Niagara.  I waited patiently.

       “Oh, uh, yes, of course,” she said when the glaze finally left her eyes, “what’s your plan?”

       “Invite her for coffee tomorrow,” I suggested.

       “That’s your plan?  Invite her for coffee?”

       “Dammit, Julie, stop being so dense,” I bellowed.  “You need to gain her confidence.  You know, talk to her about girl things and then steer the conversation around to sex and spankings.”

       “Brian, are you stupid?”

       “Why?”

       “Steer the conversation around to sex and spankings?” she said.  “Sounds like a ‘guy’ plan to me.”

       “Julie, I saw your eyes a minute ago,” I said, “and I know that the thought of having our neighbor as our slave was setting off fireworks in your body.”

       “So?”

       “So, trust me,” I said, “you’ll see, when you start to hint a little she will jump right on it.”

       “Ok,” she laughed, shaking her head, “I’ll invite her over for coffee tomorrow and steer the conversation around to sex and spankings.”

       Thinking about it later it did seem kind of stupid.  I was sure that I was right about the neighbor but maybe the direct approach would look a bit contrived.  There had to be a way.  I ran endless trial conversations in my mind until I was sick of thinking about it and fell asleep.  At three in the morning I woke up and the perfect plan unfolded in front of me like a red carpet welcoming a dignitary to the VHS awards.

       I contained my excitement until seven when I could wait no longer.  I couldn’t just wake my wife up and tell her because she wasn’t a morning person.  She would be pissed if I just shook her awake so I woke her up the way she liked.  Snuggle a little.  Kiss her neck.  Snuggle some more.  Rub my hands lightly over her back and shoulders.  Kiss her neck.  Let my hands roam a bit more but do not under any circumstances ‘go for the gold’.  That means my hands could stray close to her nipples and her triangle but had to change direction before they touched those all important spots.

       I guess its called foreplay.  Or titillation.   Or perhaps life-lessons of what works and what doesn’t.

       Anyway after a while her body was really hating those changes of direction and she was whimpering her protests into my neck.  Perfect!  Now I could accidently hit her nipple or her clit and get a give-me-more response.  Kiss her neck evolved into kiss her shoulders and then kiss all around those soft sweet breasts but just miss the nipples.  That evolved into kissing them a tad kissing them a lot, frantic kissing and grinding each other’s bodies….   Well, you get the picture, she woke up.

       Karen, our neighbor, came over at nine.  The two girls sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee and eating Crispy Kreme doughnuts.  Actually my wife was avoiding the doughnuts because it was part of my brilliant idea to seduce our neighbor into a situation that I was sure she wanted deep inside but just didn’t know.  At ten I passed by on my way out.  I placed the riding crop on the table in front of my wife and moved toward the back door.

       “I just wanted you to think about what’s coming,” I said, walking away.

       “Brian, that’s not fair.”

       “Julie, we had a deal,” I laughed.

       “Goddamnit, Brian, I tried.”

       “Tonight, Julie, on your bare ass.”

       “Brian, please, I tried.”

       I walked out the door thinking that our scene had gone really well.  I got into my car, pulled around the corner and booted my laptop to catch the action on the webcam in my kitchen.

       Karen was mesmerized by the whip.  She stared at it a long time, stealing glances at my wife from time to time but her focus remained on the whip.   Her cheeks were flushed and she was breathing rapidly.  My plan was working.

       “Julie…uh…what is that for?” she stuttered, indicating the whip.

       “It’s nothing,” my wife said dismissively, “it’s just a game we play.  Do you want a refill?”

       “Julie, he said ‘on your bare ass’.”

       “Karen, it’s nothing.”

       “Julie, I’m not stupid.  He’s going to whip you, isn’t he?”

       “Karen, please…”

       “Look, I know we hardly know each other but I think we are going to be really good friends and really good friends share.  I’m a good listener, Julie.”

       “What a crock of shit,” I thought.  “She’s turned on by the whip and will say anything.”

       My wife was playing her part like she was up for an Academy Award.  She hemmed and hawed and tried to deflect Karen from pursuing the point of the whip but it just turned her into a bulldog.  Karen got her teeth into the subject and wouldn’t let go.  My wife eventually let herself be persuaded.

       “It’s just an agreement I made with him,” she explained, “a stupid agreement to help me lose weight and now he’s being an asshole about it.”

       This was the bait.  This was the great plan that had kept me awake half the night.  I waited for my fish to rise and open her mouth.  I waited for her to place those pretty lips around the hook so it could be set and make her mine forever.

       “Lose weight?” she asked.

       “It’s stupid.”

       “I don’t get it,” Karen blustered, “what does your weight have to do with him whipping you?”

       “Karen, you’re a pretty girl but…”

       “But, what?” Karen asked.

       Well, you’ve got a few pounds here or there that you’d like to get rid of, right?”

       “Ju…Julie,” Karen blustered, “I…I’m fine.”

       “Karen I know you’re fine but… how about your waist…wouldn’t you be happier if…”

       “Well, yes I would,” she admitted, “but what does all of this have to do with that whip?”

       “Are we friends?” Julie asked.

       “I…uh…think so,” Karen sputtered.

       “Ok, here’s the deal but you can’t tell anyone.”

       Karen was slobbering all over herself in her haste to promise.  She had sniffed the bait.  She had mouthed the bait and now it was time to set the hook.

       “I wanted to lose a few pounds,” Julie said and paused, “but I knew I wouldn’t have the willpower to do it myself so I asked Brian to help me.”

       “Help you…how could he help you?”

       “By being my willpower, Karen.”

       “I…I don’t understand,” Karen stuttered.

       “It’s simple really,” Julie said, “I made an agreement with him that he could do different things to me if I didn’t lose a certain amount of weight each week.”

       Different things?” Karen asked.

       “Yes, like whip me for the first infraction and then escalating levels of discipline if I continue to fail.”

       “Does it hurt?”

       “I don’t know, Karen, I’ve been okay until this week.”

       “I’ll bet it hurts…on your bare bottom…oooh,” Karen shuddered, clearly turned on by the idea.

       “Well, it’s a small price to pay I guess as I’ve managed to lose fifteen pounds so far,” my wife lied.

       “Um, uh, do you think…he uh, might…”

       “Might what?”

       “Might help me lose a few pounds also,” Karen whispered as she swallowed the hook whole.

       “Karen, you have to understand that wouldn’t be a game and if you fail the punishments get worse,” my wife said smoothly.

       “Oh, Julie, please can we ask him?  I just know that it will be the kind of incentive I need to finally do something about…  Well, I’m not fat or anything but…”

       “Sure, Karen, we can ask.”

       I was so worked up I was banging on the steering wheel hard enough to almost break it.  Passing motorists probably thought it was another example of road rage.  I was elated.  She had fallen for the bait and it was only a matter of time before that woman was going to be our full time slave.  I couldn’t go back home yet as it would have looked funny but I was too keyed up to concentrate on work.  It was Friday anyway and they wouldn’t miss me.  I drove around for three hours while I worked out the details in my head of how I would lead her step by step into her new life.  Julie called me when Karen finally left.

       After I got home I sat at my laptop and wrote out the contract that Karen would sign.  It looked pretty tame on a quick read but if you read it carefully the escalating penalties were clearly punitive.  I was sure that she would sign and I was confident that I could get her to the first forfeiture.  After that it would be all downhill.  The eager little bitch was on our doorstep that evening at seven.  I watched the kitchen webcam from my den.

       “Hi, Julie,” I heard her say, “I was wondering if you’ve had a chance to um, talk to Brian.”

       “Karen, come on in.  I mentioned it but…”

       “But what, Julie?” Karen quavered.  “Won’t he do it?”

       “Karen, he said yes, but…”

       “But what?” she whined, clearly afraid that things were not going to go her way.

       “He wants you to sign a contract.”

       I could see her visibly relax.  She was completely hooked.

       “Oh, is that all?” she said blithely, “well, of course, that makes sense.  Just to make sure we all agree on the terms and all.  Sure.”

       “I think he has been working on it,” my wife said, “why don’t we go find him?”

       I was ready.  I had gone over the language until the words were blurring in my eyes.  It was perfect.  I had printed out two copies of the contract which I had laying in front of me waiting for her to sign.  I rushed into the living room, sat down and pretended to be reading the latest issue of “Sports Illustrated”.

       “Oh, there you are, honey,” my wife declared, strolling in with Karen at her heels like a little puppy,  “we were just talking and Karen wanted to know about…you know, your weight loss program.”

       “Hi, Karen,” I said.

       “Um, hi, Brian, uh, Julie has been telling me, uh, about how you’ve helped her and I was wondering…”

       “She did mention something earlier but…” I trailed off.

       “Oh, Brian, I understand,” Karen babbled on doing my work for me, “you want a contract so we all agree on how much I’m supposed to lose and when and what happens if I don’t.”

       “Um…”

       “Brian, please,” she wailed, “I’ve thought about this a lot and I’m sure.”

       “Um, ok, well, I did draw something up after she mentioned it.  Just let me get it.”

       I wandered into the den like I hadn’t a care in the world but my heart rate would have caused a doctor to have admitted me to intensive care.  I picked up the two copies and forced myself to wait two minutes before I walked back into the living room.  Karen snatched one copy from my hands and pretended to read it.

       “Looks ok to me,” she said.

       “Uh, Karen,” I said, “you haven’t said how much weight you want to lose.”

       Karen was plainly off in the punishment part of the contract where she thought she would be spanked and had to bring her mind back to the task at hand.

       “Oh, well…um, fifteen pounds,” she said quietly.

       “Karen!” my wife interjected, “you don’t need to lose fifteen pounds!”

       “Honey,” I interrupted smoothly, “you should let her decide.”

       Sometimes I wondered if my wife and I were on the same page.  I know that weight is a sensitive woman issue but the higher the target the better chance that we would end up with her permanently. 

       “Um…I…think then maybe twelve pounds,” Karen stammered.

       “Fine,” I said, seething inside, “twelve pounds it is.  How about three pounds a week for the next four weeks?”

       “Um, sure.”

       “Sign here, Karen,” I said.

       As soon as I had her signature I carried our copy over and put it in our safe.  My mind leaped ahead to the delights I was going to have with poor Karen and it was all that I could do to keep from screaming.

       “Well, let’s weigh you in,” I chuckled.

       The thought startled her.

       “Wh…what?” she mumbled.

       “Karen, how are we going to know how much you’ve lost unless we have a starting point?” I explained.

       It crossed my mind at that point that I didn’t know why I had gotten angry at my wife for convincing Karen to lower her target.  It wasn’t going to make any difference.  I had already rigged the scale in our bathroom to read about five pounds light and planned on turning it up as much as I dared to insure that Karen failed.  We all walked into the bathroom and looked at the scale.

       “Take off your clothes, Karen, so we can get your initial weight,” I announced.

       Startled again she turned to me with a wild look in her eyes.

       “All of my clothes?” she asked.

       “You can leave your panties and bra on, for now,” I said wryly.

       “You need to leave first and then Julie can tell you what I weigh,” she said shyly.

       “No, Karen,” I laughed, “it’s very clear in the contract you just signed that I will be the one reading the scale.”

       She didn’t like it but she kicked off her shoes, pulled her tank top over her head and wiggled out of her jeans.  She was stunning.  I was hyperventilating thinking of when the rest of the flimsy pieces that still obscured her body would be a thing of the past.  She stepped on the scale and wrinkled her nose.

       “That can’t be right,” she said, “I just weighted myself and…”

       “One hundred thirty one,” I said gleefully.

       “But, I just weighed myself this morning and…”

       “It doesn’t matter, Karen,” I lied smoothly, “we will be using the same scale each week at the same time of day so it’s just the relative weight loss that’s important.”

       “I suppose, but really I weigh at least five pounds more and…”

       “Karen, we’re going to use this same scale every week,” I reiterated.

I could scarcely contain my excitement for the week to pass.  I planned on her failing and to make sure on weigh-in day I ran the scale up six pounds.  She would have had to have lost at least nine pounds to meet the target and I doubted she had.

       That Friday evening an elated looking Karen showed up at our door precisely at seven.  I let Julie answer the door while I pretended to be interested in a game on TV.   When Julie brought her into the room I didn’t even look up.

       “Honey,” my wife purred, “Karen is here for her weekly weighing.”

       “Wh…what?” I stuttered.  “Has it been a week already?”

       “Yes, dear,” my wife said dryly knowing how excited I was and how keyed up I’d been all day.

       “So, Karen,” I asked, “how do you think you did?”

       “I can’t believe it,” she gushed, “I actually lost seven pounds!  I was so worried about that spanking that I…”

       “Seven pounds!” I exclaimed, while my heart turned flip-flops, “that’s great!  Let’s just go check and then you can get back to your evening.”

       We traipsed into the bathroom and stood looking at the instrument that was about to bring her down.  No more shyness.  She peeled her clothes off without hesitation and stepped up on the scale.

       “One hundred thirty.” I said.

       “What?  No!  That can’t be.”

       “Step off and step back on, Karen,” I urged, “maybe it read wrong.”

       She eagerly stepped off and got back on.  The scale read the same.  On her own accord she stepped back on and off three more times with the same disappointing result.  She was devastated and I was starting to get aroused.  In just a few minutes that lovely bottom was going to be presenting itself for me to spank and the thought caused my dick to try and break out of my jeans.

       “I don’t understand,” she whimpered.  “I worked so hard.  I was so sure.”

       “One pound, Karen, I’m sorry,” I lied.

       “Brian, please, there has to be some mistake.  I know I lost seven pounds, please,” she implored.

       “Karen,” I said sharply, “there isn’t any mistake.  We used the same scale as last week and you only lost one pound.”

       “But, Brian…”

       “Stop calling me Brian, Karen.  According to the contract you will now address me as Sir or Mr. Barton until you are not in violation.”

       She was lost.  As I suspected she hadn’t read the thing at all.  The look of fear that crept into her eyes was delicious.  I motioned to the bedroom.

       “The first forfeit is a bare assed spanking, Karen,” I said softly.  “I need you to take off those panties and climb up on the bed.”

       “Please, sir, please” she wailed, “I don’t want to be spanked.  I don’t want to play this game anymore.  Just forget that stupid contract.  I want to go home.”

       “Karen, you were warned before you started that this was not a game.  If you could just decide to quit anytime you wanted you’d never really try to lose weight.  I’m sorry that you didn’t make your target this week but you didn’t and that’s that.  Now, get those fucking panties off and climb up on the bed.  If I have to force you the penalties multiply.”

       She started blubbering but pulled her panties off and climbed up on the bed.  She put her head down, sobbing into the bed sheets.  I climbed up beside her so that I had easy access to her ass with my right hand and would be able to reach under her to her tits and pussy with my left.

       I savored the moment by lightly fondling her ass, feeling her tremble under my hand.  She was in for the ride of her life and didn’t know it.  I could hear the labored breathing of my wife behind me.  She was as turned on as I was.

       “Twenty with my bare hand, Karen.  If you put your hands back to protect yourself I will start over.  Are you ready?’

       “Yes…yes, sir,” she sobbed.

***

            I started spanking her slowly.  I wanted it to hurt.  I wanted her to remember but I also wanted her to get turned on.  In between each slap of my hand I caressed her softly, lovingly.  Between each stroke I let my hand stray a little more. 

By the tenth stroke I was lightly touching her nether lips and by the fifteenth I was grazing her bud.  My left hand was inside her bra playing a symphony on her nipples.  She was screaming from my spanking but also for relief but I didn’t give her any.

            When I finished the last hard rap to her lovely ass she was bucking like she was an untamed filly.  I let her buck.  I brought her to the edge and then I stopped.  She wailed.

            “We’re done, Karen,” I laughed, ‘you can get dressed now.”

            She was shaking like she was in a freezing winter wind.  She wanted more but was afraid to ask.  Meanwhile, my dick was threatening to ruin my best pair of jeans.  I wanted her gone so I could get on top of my wife but I had to make sure that Karen continued down my slippery slope.

            “Karen.” I said, “you need to understand that you are now at stage one of your contract.  That means that even if you catch up by next week you will be spanked like today.  If you fail to reach your target for next week you will be at stage two.”

            She looked at me blankly and said, “What?”

            “Karen, didn’t you read the contract?”

            “Um, yes, Br…, I mean yes, sir, uh, I mean I thought I did but…”

            “Perhaps you should go home and read it, Karen,” I suggested.  “I’ll see you next week.  Next week you have to weigh one hundred twenty-five pounds or less or you will be at stage two.  Do you think you can do that?”

            She nodded her head meekly.  She probably thought she could but I was going to do everything I could to make sure she failed. 

            After she put her clothes back on and left, I jumped my wife as soon as she was out the door.  We were both so worked up we went at it three times before the fire went out and we could talk.  Our talk revolved around all of the lovely things we were going to do to the poor girl once she was our permanent slave.

            The week passed like molasses pouring from a jar that had been sitting in an ice bank in Nome, Alaska for a year.  I was climbing the walls by the time that Friday finally rolled around.  My heart felt like it was imbedded in my esophagus when the doorbell rang at seven.  I did my usual pretend act with a book.

            “Honey,” my wife said sweetly as she ushered her into the den, “Karen is here for her weekly weigh-in.”

            “Just a sec, sweetie,” I said without looking up from my book, “I need to come to a stopping place.”

            The fucking book could have been upside down for all that I could see of it.  My mind was focused on thoughts of that pretty ass that was going to be reddened by me in a few minutes.  I couldn’t think straight, but managed to wait out two painful minutes before putting the book down and looking up.

            “Gosh, has it been another week already?”

            “Yes, dear,” my wife said sarcastically.

            “Well then,” I sighed, turning to Karen, “let’s get you weighed so I can get back to this page turner.”

            We all went up to the master bath and I waited expectantly while she took off her shorts and top.  She did look thinner but I had notched the scale up another four pounds.  I didn’t want to lose her.

            “How do you think you did, Karen?”

            “I hardly ate anything at all this week, sir,” she said, “I’m sure I’ve dropped at least ten pounds since we started.”

            “Well climb on and let’s see,” I said.

            She got on and off the scale at least ten times before she admitted defeat.  She had actually lost ten pounds but my tampering the scale said she had only lost three.  She needed to have lost six just to stay even.  She was in a fog.

            “Sir,” she wailed, looking at me, “this can’t be right.  I know I lost at least ten pounds.  I just weighed myself before I came over and…”

            “Karen,” I interrupted, “get those panties and bra off and get on the bed.”

Her next words made it clear that she had been reading the contract.

            “Please, sir,” she begged, “not the cane.”

            “Karen, I don’t have any choice.  It’s for your own good.  If there weren’t punitive penalties you wouldn’t really try.”

            “But, sir! I did try!  I did!”

            “Karen, get on the bed now or I’m doubling the number.”

            She dropped her bra, pulled her panties off and climbed on the bed.  She was already sobbing.  My dick was already throbbing.  I savored the moment.

            “Stage two, Karen,” I whispered while fondling her stunning ass.  “That means a caning every day until next week’s weigh-in.  This week is going to be very painful for you.  If I were you I’d really try to lose some weight this week.”

            “It’s not fair,” she whined, “I did try.  I did lose weight.”

            “Oh, dear, you’ve just earned five more for that little outburst, Karen,” I said mildly.

            “Oh nooooo, please, sir…”

            I ignored her protests.  I was ready for the main course.  I reached under her with my left hand and pinched her left nipple hard.  She screamed.  Then I pulled it down toward the bedspread forcing her face into the pillow.  Her muffled screaming enflamed me.  It occurred to me that I needed three hands for this job.  I needed one to hold the nipple, one to wield the cane and one to be able to play with myself while I punished her.

            “Let me remind you, these nipples get pierced if you hit stage three,” I purred while bringing the cane down on her ass.

            The welt that appeared on her butt and the screech from the pillow drove me crazy.  I gave her ten more to make a nice purpled pattern before I gave her a break.  Using the end of the cane like a dildo I gently probed her pussy.  She responded by trying to move backward to capture it inside of her.  I let her.  I teased the cane in and out until she was almost ready to cum then pulled it out.  The last fourteen strokes were delivered with plenty of time in between each one to have the pain deflate.  By the last one she was sticking her rear end out and begging.  She wanted more.  I knew it!

            I waited for her howling and moaning to completely stop before I released her nipple.  She collapsed on the bed and put her hands to her ass.  I picked up the pillow to hold in front of me as I stood so she would see how turned on I was.

            “Whenever you’re ready you can go,” I said.  “I’m going back to my book.”

            My book didn’t figure in my plans at all.  My wife and I ran out to the garage and climbed into the back seat of our van.  We were naked in less than twenty seconds and foreplay was out of the question.  If this kept up all week my wife’s cunt was going to be mega sore.

That week, Karen reported every night at seven for her caning.  It got to be a ritual.  I’d get up from whatever phony activity I was pretending to do and follow her up to the bedroom.  She would strip.  I would cane her.  My wife would watch and give advice.  We’d wait for her to leave and fall on each other like teenagers.

            On Thursday Karen came early.  It flustered me because I hadn’t been pretending to be busy doing something other than waiting for her.  She didn’t seem to notice.  When we got to the bedroom she turned to me.

            “Sir?” she quavered.

            “What, Karen?’

            “I don’t think I’m losing as fast as I should,” she admitted.  “Couldn’t we, um, renegotiate the contract?”

            “No, Karen, we couldn’t.”

            “Sir, please, I…I’ll do anything you want,” she said batting her eyes and implying that I could sample her charms.

            “Anything?” I asked sweetly.

            “Oh, yes sir,” she gushed thinking she was seeing a way out.

            “Ok,” I smiled, “get your clothes off and lie down on the bed on your back.”

            I could see the confusion cloud her eyes.  My wife was standing next to me and yet it seemed like I had implied that I was going to take her up on her offer.  Surely I wouldn’t do that with my wife watching.  She hesitated.

            “Sir?”

            “Get your fucking clothes off and lie down on the bed, Karen.”

            “But…”

            “But nothing, Karen.  You said I could do anything I wanted.  What I want is to whip your tits and your cunt.  So get undressed and lie down.”

            “But, sir,” she wailed, “I didn’t mean…I…”

            “Now, Karen!”

            She started sobbing.  She lay down on the bed but kept her legs closed and her hands over her breasts. 

            “Spread your legs, Karen,” I said prodding her with the whip.

            She opened her legs and without further encouragement moved her hands to her sides.

            “Karen,” I cautioned, “I’m going to give you one stroke on each breast and then one on your cunt.”

            “Nooooo, pleeease.”

            “Julie,” I said, “hold her hands over her head so we won’t have to repeat any of these.”

            My wife got up on the bed with her crotch just above the top of Karen’s head.  Her skirt rode up and I could see a wet spot on her panties.  She leaned over, captured Karen’s wrists and brought them over her head.  Karen’s hands were resting on the pillow inches from my wife’s pussy.

            I delivered the first cut to her right breast.  It wasn’t full force but it hurt.

            “Oooooooow, oooooow,” she moaned thrashing her legs.  She tried to raise her hands to protect herself but my wife had them pinned.  All she managed to do was drive her fists into my wife’s snatch which was exactly what my wife had been hoping for. 

            The second cut slashed her left breast.  Her fists were pushing my wife to the edge.  I watched the little slut writhe in front of me and knew that I had been right.  She wanted to be whipped and I was going to oblige her.  I waited until I could see them both approaching their own personal bests.  The cut I put on Karen’s heavenly triangle put her over the edge and her fists finished my wife off. 

            When Julie released her hands, Karen thought we were finished and started dressing.  I waited until she had her panties and bra on and was reaching for her shorts.

            “Where do you think you’re going, Karen?” I asked.

            “Uh, home, sir, I thought…”

            “Karen,” I laughed, “that was just the ‘Please, sir, I’ll do anything you want’ part.  Now we have to do ‘the contract says Karen must be punished’ part.”

            “Sir, that’s not fair.  You already punished me.”

            “No, Karen, I didn’t.  I gave you a special treat which you seemed to thoroughly enjoy.  Now get that underwear off and stick your ass up.”

            I smiled inwardly as she whimpered her way into position.

            “Beg me, Karen,” I said as I caressed her succulent buns with the cane.

            “Please, sir.”

            “Please what?” I laughed.

            “Please whip me,” she pleaded, her body shuddering.

            “Whip you?” I asked as if I didn’t understand what she wanted.

            “God damn it, sir, please, I need it.  Please whip me.”

            “Sure, Karen,” I chuckled, “if that’s what you really want.”