Carola Arrives in the Village
Ambrose Bartlett arrived at the appointed hour and gave Hope and her schoolgirl style outfit a nod of approval. She led him into the library, where the bookshelves had been well stocked and several canes, paddles and straps placed in easy reach within a cabinet.
Having seen Marguerite and Jane out, Cassandra left the house for the railroad station, where her sister’s train from Boston was about to arrive.
Carola disembarked in a pale gray suit, white shirt and black spectator pumps, carrying a small gray tweed suitcase and a black envelope purse. Her long, straight, glossy black hair fell forward over one brow a la Veronica Lake. Her lips were dark red, to match her fingernails and her usually pale face today held a delicate blush of embarrassment at needing to avail herself of the assistance of her older sister’s new patron. It was a strikingly attractive face that defied the years and suggested that its owner was thirty rather than forty. Carola’s willowy, size two figure contributed to the illusion. The eye was drawn to her tiny waist, sharply accented by the trim cut suit, then traveled down to the long, sheer hosed legs, which were strong and shapely after decades of scientific weight training. Cassandra’s younger sister’s expression, was, as always, nearly unreadable, as that lady hated to give anything away, even to a sister who had always meant her well.
“Well,” said Carola’s, once settled beside her sister in the sedan, “tell me what I can expect.”
“You can expect me to get you thoroughly stoned as soon as we get to the house,” Cassandra grinned, throwing the car in gear. Finally Carola smiled.
“That sounds delightful but I meant from Mr. Newton,” said the elegant brunette.
“I’m not exactly sure,” Cassandra replied, “but I don’t think you need worry too much. Anthony isn’t sadistic. He just got peeved at the way you treated those girls.”
“Why do these tops always want to spank mistresses?” Carola wondered, looking out the window as the familiar leafy foliage fringing the quaint village streets flashing by.
“Probably because they find them attractive,” Cassandra smiled. “But mainly because they’re not interested in subbing.”
“All high powered men are secret subs,” Carola said with finality.
“I think most men are switches, but there are still some hardcore tops and subs at either end of the spectrum. Do you really hate going sub?”
“No,” Carola smiled, and Cassandra, “not if the man is good looking and rich!”
“That’s what I thought. I’m actually jealous,” said Cassandra.
“Why? What do you mean,” said Carola with a start.
Cassandra confided candidly, “Well, I’m madly in love with him and we’ve only played a few times. Now that Susan is back, I doubt he’ll stop by to be with me again in the near future. He’ll be going back to New York at the end of the summer and I won’t see him again for ever so long.”
Carola understood why her sister was madly in love with her patron as soon as she entered the house. It all seemed very new, and everything within had been chosen in expensive good taste. As they walked through the various rooms and lounges Carola mentally ticked off how much had been spent on the furniture, the floors, the custom paint, the fixtures, the Ray Caesar prints and so on. In the corridor Dru Baxter was assisting William Random to install a network of spotlights to illuminate the framed portraits. William hadn’t seen Carola in many years and they embraced warmly and duly admired how well the other had worn after all this time. Dru blushed, slightly bowed to Carola, whom he recognized instantly as a mistress, and gratefully obeyed Cassandra’s command to go and make sure a guest bedroom was ready for her sister to occupy.
The girls continued on through the house, avoiding only one room, the library, from which cries and whimpers, punctuated by slapping sounds, had issued from the moment they had entered the west wing.
“My number one girl Hope is in there with the owner of Bartlett’s,” said Cassandra. Finally they went out to the garden, where Cassandra offered her sister a pipe.
“He’ll never make the money that he spent on the place back in a hundred years,” said Carola.
“I don’t think he cares. This is his hobbyhorse. You wouldn’t expect someone like Anthony Newton to want to come play regularly in a house that was anything less than beautiful, would you?”
“Who else is going to work for you?” asked Carola, her shoulders finally untensing for the first time since she’d gotten off the train.
“Well, the village is full of scene girls. There must be as many scene people per square foot in Random Point as there are in the San Fernando Valley. Most of them are hooked up with nice men. But the thing is, they’ve all dated each other’s guys in the past and they all like each other enough to want to keep playing on the side. So, I expect the local players will use the club as a private make out mansion. Then, Anthony knows a lot of pros he’s going to invite to visit. You know a mistress named Isabel Bruno?”
“Of course, she’s from New York. She’s a pain in the butt,” said Carola, because Isabel Bruno was popular and exciting.
“Anthony’s been seeing her for years. She’ll be coming out. And that B&D model Teresa Clifford, she’s another one he said he’ll be flying in.”
“She’ll book sessions,” said Carola sagely, for this was true of any young lady who had appeared in scores of videos over the years.
“Then there’s a Boston business woman who needs an outlet for her perversity, I think her name is Marion. She’ll be a once a week whipping girl for sure.”
“You need to give her a sexier name,” said Carola, passing the pipe back with a sudden sense of calm enjoyment. She was almost disposed to be grateful to her sister for letting her into this new world of opportunity.
“What are you going to do about Amanda?” Carola wondered. Cassandra had more or less kept Carola’s niece away from her aunt these many years, for fear that Carola would urge Amanda to adopt extreme diets in order to remain razor thin. Amanda had met her aunt, but not often. When Amanda returned to Random Point to spend the last month before sophomore year in the village, that would certainly change. The niece would know the aunt and the aunt the niece. Cassandra didn’t think it would be a good match up. Her sister would be fiercely and intensely jealous of Amanda’s beauty.
“Luckily, her formidable boyfriend keeps her occupied most of the time. Also, she did a few sessions last year; with that same man you hear beating the hell out of my lieutenant. I think that satisfied her curiosity about sessions.”
Late in the afternoon, Susan Ross arrived at the house with a basket of food from Anthony’s kitchen for his little club staff to share. Susan was introduced to Carola, who closely scrutinized the petite blonde in the khaki shorts, cropped white cotton shirt, high collared urban walkers and crew socks. Still in her 20’s, Susan had nothing to hide. Her goldenrod hair, bound in a high ponytail almost reached her waist and figure was near perfect.
“Oh, he’s so thoughtful,” said Cassandra, passing out the Bahn Mei sandwiches to Hope, Dru, Susan and Carola, who now sat around the large wooden kitchen table with her.
“There’s a coconut chili salad and cucumber soup too,” said Susan, turning to Carola and explaining, “He’s never had even one cook let alone two and he’s really enjoying showing them off.” Making every effort to appear carelessly casual, Susan was surveying Carola every bit as minutely as the older woman had done her. The commercial illustrator immediately noticed large differences between the warm, supple, relaxed Cassandra and her brittle, icy sister. The similarity was their prettiness.
On arriving home about five p.m., Susan began looking around the house for Anthony. She found him in the music room at the piano, working on his new score. She curled up on the closest love seat and waited for him to look up. When he did she said, “I met Carola.”
“What did you think of her?”
“She could give ice lessons on being cold.”
“Ha!”
“Yeah, you can count me out of that scenario where I’m supposed to tie her.”
He grinned, “Don’t tell me she intimidated you.”
“Hell yes, she did.”
“Well, never mind. I’ll take care of her myself,” he replied.
“Tonight?”
“Maybe tomorrow, after she’s worked herself up into a state of nervous anxiety about it.”
The next day Pamela Bartlett invited Hope Lawrence to her studio atelier on the top floor of her husband’s department store. This suite had been designed especially for Ambrose Bartlett’s latest wife and reflected her smart, modern tastes. The girls ate at Pamela’s long table desk. The sleek brunette hostess had ordered up a large Caesar salad and two modest portions of Parmesan flat bread from the excellent in-store cafe. Pamela herself made the former barista an espresso in her own well-equipped pantry and the girls fell to nibbling.
“Your workspace is divine,” said Hope, having eaten enough, getting up to wander around the studio, which even included its own bedroom lounge.
“Hope,” said Pamela, “I know I’ve always been awful to you. The Betty and Veronica thing. You understand, I’m sure. So I have no right to ask you for a favor.”
“Oh, you haven’t been that awful,” Hope laughed, “I do get the Betty and Veronica thing. And we are both in the Venus Club, aren’t we? What can I do for you?”
“Well, it has to do with Ambrose, of course. I know he’s going to be using the new club as his personal bordello from now on.”
“A lot of our close friends will,” Hope predicted.
‘I know, but between his new mistress, you being here and all those new subs he wants to test drive, he’s gonna be there a lot,” said Pamela.
“Ambrose has a mistress?”
“Yes, Polyxena Guzman. I predict she’ll be the first guest slut he brings in.”
“You don’t seem particularly distressed,” Hope observed, thinking that she herself would be greatly alarmed to discover that David had been running after the platinum blonde Dutch woman. Pamela shrugged, then actually flashed Hope the first mischievous grin that Hope had ever seen on the face of the fashion designer.
“I’ve been seeing someone on the side as well,” said Pamela. “He’s very nice and no trouble at all, Dru Baxter.”
“Aw, how nice for him,” said Hope, “he’s such a cute boy.”
“Is he behaving himself at the house?”
“No, not at all. But what do you expect, throwing him into that environment? And furthermore, are you sure it was wise to put him at the command of several women? He could easily become a subbed out little bitch.”
“Oh, I know. He already is one. Didn’t you see how I boss him around? But he’s also nineteen, with all the riotous virility that implies. I’m using him for pure, vanilla sex.”
“I get that. What can I do to help?”
“Well, I don’t want you to tell me whenever Ambrose has been there. That would be betraying a scene confidence and also, if he found out you’d informed on him, he’d book a special session with you just to thrash you.”
“Yeah, I agree. You know your husband well.”
“What I’d appreciate once in a while is an all clear,” said Pamela. “You let me know at what point in a particular week he’s done all the playing he’s likely to do. And then I might breeze by for a quick meet with my boy Dru.”
“I can do that without fail, Pamela,” promised Hope.
On returning to the club, Hope found Cassandra and Carola in the office, each at one of the desks, checking their mail.
“You know ladies, I was thinking,” said Hope, “if Mr. Newton isn’t going to be coming by until this evening, we ought to work on getting Carola a few local sessions today.”
“Did you have someone in mind?” Cassandra asked.
“Well, I can certainly propose it to Dru,” Hope said, with a grin. “He only got a little taste of it in the woods with us. He’s probably burning up for a proper session.”
“You’re talking about that cute boy who helps out around here?” Carola asked.
“Yes,” said Hope, “he needs a spanking.”
“What are the house rates, by the way?” Carola asked.
Cassandra and Hope looked at each other.
“They’re going to be on a sliding scale,” said Hope.
“With special consideration for locals,” Cassandra added.
“Except for millionaires like Ambrose Bartlett,” said Hope; “We charged him six for the hour with me. He didn’t question it, especially after Mr. Newton spent a couple of hundred grand at his store furnishing this place. But he wouldn’t anyway. That’s what he expects to have to pay. Plus he tipped me a hundred.”
“What do you think Dru could comfortably pay?” Carola asked.
“Two hundred,” said Cassandra. “But for a half hour.”
“50/50 split?” asked Carola.
“60/40 your favor but the house will do your tax withholdings on that,” said her sister. “Anthony’s accountant is going to let us know how much that should be.”
“Bless that man!” said Hope. The two fortunate women beamed at each other. Then the infinitely practical blonde said, “We have to be smart when new talent is in town and make the most of our time. Now I just remembered someone else I could call!”
Hope took her phone out to the garden and called Braemar Prep, where her husband was a teacher and an amiable young man named Freddie Johansen managed its computer networks. Hope remembered that at the Venus Club dinner, Freddie’s girlfriend, Alison Albrecht, had stated that her lover was a switch. She had known Freddie, as David’s co-worker and a perpetual guest at Hugo’s parties, for several years and this being the case, didn’t feel he would resent a call of this nature. But when she connected with him on the phone, for the sake of discretion she pretended they needed some help at the new house with their computer cabling and asked if he could come by after the close of the school day. Freddie didn’t know what house she was talking about and Hope quickly explained that she had a new job full time managing a social club with several computers on the same network and his expertise was required in hooking them up. Freddie didn’t question this, as his friends were always asking him to help them with their systems. He took down the address and promised he would be there at four. Hope went back inside and explained what she had done.
“Now, him we’ll charge three for the hour,” said Hope.
“You’re pretty sure he’ll agree?” Carola asked.
“I am,” Hope said serenely.
She found Dru arranging furniture in the schoolroom. He had worked the previous afternoon putting together the school desks and chairs that had been delivered.
“Did you know that Cassandra’s sister Carola, a famous mistress from Boston, is staying here for a few days?” Hope asked.
“I did get introduced but they never mentioned the mistress part,” Dru admitted. “She does look terrifying dominant,” he added with a grin.
“She’s going to be here until tomorrow morning. Why don’t you go to your ATM, take out two hundred dollars and present yourself to Mistress Carola for a session?”
“I could do that?” he flushed with excitement, there being no part of the suggestion he didn’t like. He was living at home with his parents this summer between freshman and sophomore year and had no expenses besides gas.
“Yes, but do it at once. She’s going to be booked at four and then again this evening, so the sooner the better. She’ll be waiting for you in the library.”
Cheerful Freddie Johanson was a big, squarely built yet youthfully attractive man in his late 30’s, who behaved impeccably enough to satisfy the requirements of his demanding girlfriend, a very pretty but somewhat neurotic submissive he had found right in Random Point. Freddie and Alison were invited to scene parties and were acknowledged players. Even so, Hope felt some trepidation when Freddie arrived at the house at the appointed hour.
She met him at the front door and led him straight back to her office. He looked around him as he followed her, saying, “What a beautiful house. You don’t work at the bookstore anymore?”
“No, I work here.” Now they were in the office and she shut the door behind them. “This is a spanking club and there’s nothing wrong with our computers. I just made that up in case that line we were talking on wasn’t private,” Hope explained.
“Did you say it’s a spanking club?” Freddie asked.
“Yes. It’s a club for doing sessions, deluxe, with all the frills. We haven’t officially opened yet. Come to that, we may never officially open. For now you can think of it as your local BDSM social club with visiting pro tops and subs, rentable dungeon space for couples and deep discounts for locals.”
“A club right here in Random Point, that’s a dream come true,” said Freddie appreciatively.
“I thought you’d feel that way, though I hardly know you,” Hope admitted. “The thing is, we’ve got a beautiful spanking mistress from Boston here for just one day and I thought you might like to take advantage of this opportunity to play with her in this fine new facility. We just finished putting together the schoolroom.”
“That sounds so interesting,” said Freddie, “but I don’t have much cash on me. How much would it be?”
“For you, three hundred an hour. You can bring us the allowance tomorrow,” said Hope.
“That’s very nice of you. And it was smart not to mention this on the phone,” he said.
“I hope I’m not putting you on the spot. You don’t have to do this now. Carola will be back. I mean, if you want to think it over,” Hope suggested.
“No, I’m completely up for this. You were absolutely correct to think of me. And the schoolroom would be perfect,” he assured her.
Anthony Newton had called to say that he would see Carola that evening at eight. At seven Cassandra joined her sister in her bedroom to see what she was wearing. Carola had just gotten out of the shower and was wrapped in a light cotton robe.
“I was going to wear those,” Carola gestured to the garments she had laid out on the bed. Cassandra looked at the white leather dress and long line open bottomed girdle for a moment.
“It’s a very cool dress,” said Cassandra. “But are you sure you want to make him work that hard to uncover you?”
“What do you mean?” asked Carola tensely, “I thought he was way into retro.”
“I’m just saying, you’ve got a heavy leather skirt going on and then the girdle is another form of body armor. Seems like he’d have to start with a hairbrush or cane just for you to feel anything at all.”
“Well, what do you suggest?” asked Carola.
“Let me see what else you brought,” said the older sister, looking into the armoire. “Oh, Carola, this is stunning,” said Cassandra; pulling out a raspberry waist cinch corselet with the classic eight garter straps and a fichu of cream tulle edging the cleavage. “And so much sexier than that huge girdle. Wait here a minute, I have the perfect dress to go over it,” said Cassandra, going into her suite for a minute. She returned with a smoky blue and rose print sundress over her arm. “I got it for Amanda but she won’t mind you wearing it first. It’s a Betsy Johnson. And look, it has a darling pink crinoline slip sewn in,” said Cassandra, spreading the full skirted dress out on the bed. “He loved that you wore a crinoline under your dress the day we visited you at your studio,” Cassandra added.
“You won his heart and I pissed him off,” said Carola, “so I guess I’ll take your advice.”
“Need help getting into the corset?” asked Cassandra. Carola looked at her, as much as to say, “Be yourself.” Slipping off her wrapper and taking up the fitted, boned garment, she easily snapped the six front hooks into place in front, then caught up the back laces behind her and pulled them snugly in, tying them in a back bow. Next Carola stepped into a scrap of raspberry G-string and then sat on an upholstered chair to carefully pull on her sheer, beige nylon seamed stockings. Cassandra hadn’t seen her sister undressed in years and was relieved to see that in spite of Carola’s thinness, she still had a curvy bottom that was prettily revealed and framed by the hem of the corset, which girded her hips and the tops of the stockings encasing her shapely upper thighs. Together they selected a medium high pair of black patent leather pumps from the collection of heels the Boston mistress had brought. Then the dainty, torso-hugging dress was slipped on and zipped up the back. The fit was very good and looking at her reflection in a mirror, Carola thanked her sister.
“Where will I be seeing him?” Carola asked. Cassandra led her sister to the room Anthony had requested, the navy blue chamber which had been fitted that day with tall, gold framed mirrors that handsomely accented the burgundy velvet upholstered furniture. The predominant piece was a long, deep, high backed tufted sofa, set against one wall. There were a few high backed, armless chairs in the same material and a spanking horse and whipping post covered in burgundy leather. Carola immediately became pleasurably transfixed by her image in the mirrors that decorated two walls of the playroom.
“Now how can we soften him up?” asked Carola, “does he get high?”
“Not very often,” said Cassandra, “but I’ll bring some wine. And meanwhile, you can smoke a little weed and relax.”
“I guess I might as well,” Carola sighed, following her sister out of the room.
As Cassandra serenely busied herself opening a bottle of Pinot Noir and filling a crystal carafe with water, then delivering these with glasses to the velveteen dungeon, her heart had begun to pound with excitement at the eminent arrival of her patron.
Anthony arrived at eight sharp, immaculately groomed, clad in a light summer suit and carrying a small briefcase. When Cassandra opened the door to admit him he embraced her warmly, locking his arms around her waist.
“Is she waiting?” he asked.
“Yes,” Cassandra replied.
“Is she apprehensive?”
“Yes, very. I put her in a frou-frou dress for you.”
“Nice!” He looked at Cassandra closely, brushing the hair back from her brow before kissing her there. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry we had to stop seeing each other so abruptly, but you understand that with Susan in town, I can’t do that so much.”
Cassandra smiled up at him mildly, her heart once again pounding hard.
“I’ll be here for you when you want me,” she promised, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing it.
“You’re a sweet girl. I’m so glad you came back to us. Okay, take me to her.”
Carola had been perched demurely on the edge of a chair, but she sprang to her feet when the door opened and Anthony strode in.
“Hello,” he said, closing the door behind him. He cast his gaze over her up and down without smiling, but ended by looking penetratingly into her eyes. She instantly dropped her own gaze, a delicate blush spreading across her high cheekbones in her handsome, lightly olive toned face. He put the briefcase down on a table and seeing the open bottle of wine and glasses, went and poured a half glass for each of them. He handed her one, saying, “You know why you’re here, right?”
She sipped her wine, raising her large, dark eyes to him in some confusion. It had been ages since she had done a submissive session and never with a client this powerful. Her mind blanked as she tried to remember what they wanted the submissive to say.
“Because of how I treated Lydia when you visited my dungeon,” she finally decided to say.
“Yes,” he nodded, downing his wine in two gulps and putting the glass down.
“But if you only knew what that girl is really like,” Carola protested suddenly. “Let me show you her Fetlife page. There are pictures of her at The Armory in the most severe breast bondage. And others of her hooked up to monstrous machines. And several with a corrugated bucket on her head!”
“That would only distress me without mitigating your own bad behavior in the slightest,” he replied. “That girl is obviously too submissive for her own good and people like you are taking advantage of her.”
Carola stubbornly folded her arms, saying, “I disagree!”
“You have a great look,” he said, “but I don’t care for the haughty mistress persona. It’s fake.”
“Submissive men seem to enjoy it,” she retorted.
“If that’s the case, why are you broke?”
All mistresses are broke,” she sighed. “It seems to go with the territory. Maybe we spend too much on corsets.”
“Is that what you have on under that pretty dress?”
“Yes.”
“You begin to interest me,” he admitted, smiling at her for the first time.
“What’s in the briefcase?” she asked.
“A pair of stainless steel dildos, six inches long and linked on a chain.”
Carola looked so surprised that he laughed, “Don’t tell me you have a problem being penetrated.”
“I... just didn’t realize that’s where this was going,” she admitted. “A pair, did you say?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll double your allowance,” he assured her. “But I never met a girl who needed to be forced to orgasm more than you do.” Carola not only found nothing to object to in his statements, but the reference to doubling her allowance caused her lips to curve into a smile that she herself was unconscious of.
“Come here,” said Anthony, suddenly taking her by the hand and pulling her towards the long sofa. Unbuttoning his jacket, he sat down and drew her across his lap. “Give me your wrist,” he said, taking it and pulling her arm back to her waist. She turned to look over her shoulder at him but instead became arrested by their image reflected in the large, gilt-edged mirror opposite. Anthony followed her gaze and not letting go of her wrist, with his other hand brushed her smooth, straight, shiny black hair behind one ear, to fully reveal her face.
“I love this mirror effect, don’t you?” he asked. “We look like an A-list couple in one of the better spanking videos.” He patted her through the skirt and crinoline. “I like this,” he said, folding back her skirt and then the stiff, multi layered petticoat. Carola watched with fascination. “Oh, look at that, a corset with no panties on,” he said, running his sensitive pianist’s fingers across her velvety bottom.
“G-string with this type of corset,” she murmured, pillowing her head on her free hand with her face turned to the mirror, enjoying the illusion of still being in her 20’s, that being over his knee created.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Not really, but go ahead, the suspense is killing me.”
Anthony reached under the hem of the corset to pull down her G-string to her stocking tops.
“How long has it been since anyone spanked you?”
“A very long time,” she replied.
“Can you even remember if you ever could take a good spanking?”
“Of course I can.”
“Well, you know you can always say mercy,” he noted.
“At these rates?” she replied in surprise.
“You’re the dungeon dragon, not me,” he pointed out.
“I just thought...” she hesitated.
“What?”
“Oh, since you considered me so cruel that you planned to beat the hell out of me to teach me a lesson.”
“I’ll admit that was my plan,” he sighed, “but what with the dress and the corset and you acting human, I’m feeling less hostile and more sympathetic.”
He felt Carola untense across his lap as she finally looked away from the mirror and down at the dark, polished wooden floor. Then he did begin spanking her small but very nicely rounded bottom, no differently than he would have spanked her sister or Susan Ross. For in spite of his fleeting fantasy of inflicting a severe punishment on a lady he perceived to be heartless, he could not be other than himself and so ended by charming instead of devastating her. Once she was properly warmed up, which she expressed by lying inertly across his lap, he made her get up and got her out of her dress.
“I don’t mind passive girls,” he said, running his hands over the incurving sides of the glove tight waist cinch. “I take it as a sign that they’re relaxed.” Carola didn’t know if she was being complimented or mildly criticized. She made no reply but turned to face him, showing off the bodice top that lifted and thrust her small cleavage forward. “Normally, I love this kind of thing,” he said, turning her around again and beginning to expertly unlace her by pulling on the bow at her waist and beginning to loosen it; “but you’re so slender, all these garments are overwhelming you. I want you out of them all. Then maybe you’ll be less constrained.” As soon as the corset was slightly loosened, Carola was able to pop the front clasps and shed it in one motion, though she held it up against her body until Anthony had unfastened all eight garters.
He smiled at her, “Feels good when you take that off, doesn’t it? Don’t deny it, all my girls corset and they all tell me it feels really good when you take it off.”
Now the corset was laid aside and he made her sit fully nude beside him and put her legs in his lap so he could roll down her stockings and take them off along with her heels.
“There isn’t much to you, is there?” he teased, caressing her waist. “Why do you even bother corseting? It’s beside the point.” He stood her up before him and led her to the spanking bench. There was a level to kneel on and one to bend over. He bent her over now. “You look so much prettier and so much younger without all that gear on,” he said, petting her like a favorite cat. “I can’t believe you’re getting to me like this.”
Carola flashed him a look over her shoulder that showed his kindness confused her. Yet she began to relax just a little more.
“Don’t move,” said Anthony, going to a large, highly polished walnut bureau and smoothly sliding open the middle drawer. “Oh good, it’s here,” he said, removing the sole implement that had occupied that new, cedar scented space, a fresh, nicely trimmed birch rod. “They were selling these as novelties at the Boston Corners trading post the other day when Susan drove in from New York. She cleaned them out of their stock. We had them sent over to the house today and your sister has put one in each playroom. Do you like the birch?”
“Yes.”
“Since you’re sufficiently warmed up, this will be real. Are you ready?” he asked, swooshing the birch and placing his hand on the small of her back. She caught her breath at the sound but she now glimpsed her side reflection in another mirror and watched mesmerized as he raised his hand and let go with the first swat of the multi twigged rod against her out thrust bottom. Again he struck her smartly, raising a bouquet of pink roses across her slim cheeks each time he let fly. As she didn’t cry out in distress he began to swat rapidly, whipping the fragile and ephemeral instrument against her firm, muscular buttocks hard and fast, until tiny pieces of the twigs began to flake off. Finally Carola began to react, not by screaming, but by panting. She gripped the bench with both hands and rode the pleasurably stimulating yet painful sensations delivered by her glamorous client with something amounting to abandon by the unemotional brunette.
“Isn’t there anything you want me to do for you?” she softly asked, turning her large dark eyes towards him.
“What could you do for me?” he asked with interest, laying down the birch and going to open the briefcase.
“I could pleasure you with my mouth,’ she suggested. “I’m very good at that.”
“Are you trying to distract me from forcing you to have an orgasm with these? Or just trying to be honorable?” he brought the shiny stainless steel phalluses back for her to examine, showing her the small bottle of sheer lubricant he had also placed in the briefcase.
“Neither,” she replied, “I just know I would come faster if you filled my mouth with your cock at the same time you were masturbating me. That would focus me completely and it would be hot.”
“It’s a good idea,” he agreed, “filling you in every possible way.” He was also relieved that she had come up with a way for them to enjoy each other completely while avoiding classic sex. He didn’t think it right to cheat on Susan with any more ladies at the moment and he didn’t want Carola to be able to tell Cassandra that he had made love to her too. Opening the bottle of lube, he began to coat the shiny toys. Carola continued gazing at her own reflection until he blocked her view.
The balmy morning after her sister’s scene with Anthony, Cassandra drove Carola back to the station to catch her Boston train. They left plenty of time to stop in the nearby patisserie to enjoy espressos and croissants. Carola seemed pleased and more at ease than Cassandra had yet seen her since coming back east.
“Did it go okay?” Cassandra asked tentatively.
“Yeah, yeah, it went great. Thanks for the hook up,” Carola said, the blood rushing to her normally pale face. Cassandra’s heart contracted with vicarious excitement as she inferred from her sister’s embarrassed yet happy expression that she had been intimate in some way with the composer. “He’s a dreamboat. It wasn’t only the best paid session I’ve ever had, it was the best session content wise.”
Cassandra smiled but was glad that Carola was going back to town.