by little miss blair

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa, NonConsensual, Reluctant, Lesbian, Spanking, Humiliation, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Do we always know what ignites our passion...


Copyright┬ę 2006

As I was having my morning coffee, a knock on my back door startled me. Being new to the neighborhood, I couldn't imagine who it could be at six in the morning. I felt a sense of relief when I recognized the woman who lived next door.

"Hello neighbor," she said cordially as I opened the door. "I was beginning to think you didn't exist... I've been trying to catch you at home for a couple of days. Since you're new to the neighborhood I wanted to welcome you."

I held the door open. "Come in," I invited. "What can I do for you? I only have about ten minutes before I leave for work. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, yes, that would be nice," she gushed. "My name is Carol, by the way. I live right next door to you."

"Yes, I know... I mean I know you're my neighbor. I've seen you out in your yard. I'm Gretchen. Glad to meet you."

"Anyone who gets up this early for work must work in the city," she chided me. "It's six in the morning!"

"Yeah, I know," I sighed. "But, you know... the train... takes awhile..."

She took a sip of coffee. "I just happened to be up and noticed your light on. As I said before, I tried to catch you at home several times... you must keep long hours?"

"I work for a mortgage company," I said. "We were working long hours, but it's beginning to slow a bit lately. Are you one of those lucky housewives who gets to stay home with her children?"

Carol took another sip of her coffee. "Oh no, not me. No children, no husband. But I do work... I'm a photographer... I work out of my home. Work when I want too... well that's not exactly true. I have deadlines occasionally, but for the most part I pick the times I want to work. The great thing is I'm not running in and out of the city everyday. I couldn't do it. Trains too crowded... and the stand still traffic on the freeways... no way."

"Well, I don't have any choice," I said. "I have to work and it was the only decent job I could find. But I like living in the suburbs, a get-a-way from the rat race, especially on weekends. That's why I skimped and saved to buy this house."

"I know what you mean," Carol heartily agreed. "This is a nice quiet neighborhood. Not like the city. What a rat race living there. "Hey, what time do you get home tonight?"

"About six, why?"

"How about coming over for dinner tonight, six thirty or so. I'll make us a nice get acquainted meal. How does that sound?"

"That's very nice of you. Should I bring anything... wine maybe."

"I have wine," she said enthusiastically. "Just bring yourself."

"I'll be there," I said, "and I appreciate your hospitality. I don't want to sound like I'm running you off but I've really got to go. If not, I'll miss my train."

"I'll see you tonight then," she said as she arose to leave. "Have a nice day."

I arrived home a little before six. I decided to change clothes before going next door. I thought how neighborly it was to be invited to dinner. As long as I lived in the city, I never even knew my neighbors names! And it certainly was going to be nice to eat something other than a TV dinner... my normal meal of the evening.

After changing, I walked next door. Carol answered the door in a knockout dress, a red, low cut, with two thin spaghetti straps holding it up. It was so short I could see the top of her thigh high stockings!

"Wow," I gasped as she held open the door. "Was I supposed to dress for dinner too?"

"No, oh no," she laughed. "I had some business to take care of today which required more than a T-shirt and cut-offs. I can change if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Oh no," I said emphatically. "It's a beautifully dress. I wish I could wear something like that."

"Oh, it's not an expensive dress," she said. You could afford this..."

"No no," I said, correcting myself. "What I meant was I wished I had the nerve to wear a dress like. It fits your personality... me... I would be too self conscious. I'm sure you don't have a problem with that."

"You have a great body," she said. "Why in the world would you be self conscious?" By the way would you like a drink?"

"A glass of wine would by nice," I said.

As she poured the wine she repeated her question. "Why would you be self conscious?"

"I don't know," I answered. "I'd just feel so out of place. I've always had a problem wearing anything too revealing. My mother was rather strict about my dress when I was young. Maybe that's why... I don't know."

She handed me a glass of wine, ushering me into her living room. The room was very inviting... so comfortably furnished I felt right at home.

"Listen Gretchen," she said. "With your body and looks... believe me, you'd have nothing to worry about. What are you twenty two, twenty three years old?"

"Thanks," I said beaming. "I'm twenty nine. Believe me, I don't feel twenty two. And since my divorce... uh... sometimes I don't feel very attractive."

"Why would a divorce effect how you feel about whether you were attractive or not?" she asked.

"Because he left me for another man if you can believe that. My mother warned me... I remember her saying, "Gretchen, something wrong with that man" but silly me, I married him anyway. Turned out she was right."

"Well shouldn't let it effect you," Carol said. "Believe me, I'm sure he was like that way before you marred him. And, in my opinion, you shouldn't let your mother influence how you dress... not now, anyway."

I laughed. "I'm sure you're right. When I was in High School I was a cheerleader my Junior and Senior years. I wore the longest skirts on the squad. I took a lot of good natured teasing."

Carol laughed. "How about let's eat. I hope you like it. It's a recipe that Paula from down the street gave me. You'll like Paula when you meet her. In fact you'll probably meet most of the women in the neighborhood here. Since I'm the only single woman around here, most of the women drop in occasionally just to get away from their husband and kids. Their oasis, so to speak."

After dinner we had another glass of wine. She began asking me unusual questions... like how I was getting along financially... did I ever feel a need to make extra money.

"Why are you asking me about my finances?" I asked. "That's kind of personal, don't you think?"

"I'm sorry," she said apologetically. "Just that... well I'm always on the look out for extra models. Something for you to keep in mind. Another glass of wine?"

At work the following morning, my boss called me and four other employees in to his office. We were all laid off due to a slow down in work. Something about rising interest rates and a slump in the housing market.

I actually understood... we had been extremely slow for a couple of weeks. It didn't make it any less frightening for me. I didn't want to lose my new house and it worried me... how was I going to make my mortgage payments?

I spent the afternoon in the office calling other mortgages companies with no success. Everyone in the Home Lending business was cutting back. By the end of the day I had a knot in my stomach and a splitting headache.

Just before punching out for the last time, my boss came around to give me my final paycheck. I could have kissed him for the unexpected gift. He gave me three months severance pay! With that check, and what I had in savings, I figured if I was conservative with my money, I had enough to last me for at least six months. Knowing I had some breathing room certainly helped alleviate that big knot and the pounding in my head.

Saturday morning, Carol was knocking at my back door again. I yelled for her to come in.

"How is it going?" she asked as she poured herself a cup of coffee. "Haven't seen you around for a couple of days."

"Things could be better," I said dejectedly. "I was laid off from my job. I've been going thru the help wanted ads but there isn't much out there now."

"I'm so sorry," she said sincerely. "That's a tough break. Especially after buying this house and all."

"Yes, well I can last for a little while. I should be able to get something somewhere. Sooo... what are you doing today? Going shopping or something?"

"No, as a matter of fact I have to work this afternoon. I have an all afternoon photo shoot to do."

"Well, I'm glad your still working," I said sarcastically. I quickly apologized. "I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself."

"Forget it," she said, "and if you wouldn't feel offended, I could probably help you out with a little work. At least it's something to consider... to think about it. You certainly don't have to make a decision right now."

"Really," I said. "You mean the photo thing you were talking about the other night?"

"Yes, that photo thing. It pays pretty good."

"Like... like how much... how much is pretty good?" I asked curiously.

"I could pay you $500.00 for a two to three hour session," she said. "There's varying degrees of payment... for example, videos pay more than still photos and... well content makes a difference also."

"You have to be kidding," I stammered. "$500.00! That's more than I was making a week. Okay... what's the catch? That's a lot of money for only two hours work. What kind of pictures do you take? Is it for advertising, catalogs or something?"

She laughed. "Not quite," she said. "I take nude pictures... fantasies... mostly fetish stuff."

She noticed the puzzled look on my face. "You don't have any idea what I'm talking about do you?" she said.

"No... but all I needed to hear was the word nude. You've got to be kidding! You're taking... you're taking nude pictures right next door to me? Pornographic pictures?"

"Hey, it's pays good, Gretchen. Don't be too quick to judge. And listen... I made the offer, you don't have to do it. I just thought..."

"I could never, ever pose nude," I said emphatically. "I guess I should appreciate your offer though. I just can't believe you're doing it right here... in the middle of this nice neighborhood!"

"Well I don't advertise it Gretchen. It's in the privacy of my home. Anyway..."

I was still curious. "Who do you sell them too... I mean do you sell to magazines?"

"I have sold to magazines," she said. "Usually though, I sell to private parties thru my web site. They e-mail me, place an order, usually something special... something they can't find anywhere else."

"I could never do it," I reiterated. "No way. I don't know how any girl could pose like that. Do you have a studio... you know... props... ?"

"Yes, I have a great studio in the basement," she said proudly. "I've been doing it for three or four years... and I love being my own boss. Like I told you the other day... it beats driving into the city everyday and living by the clock. I set my own time when I work."

I poured us another cup of coffee. Although I knew I would never pose for her, it was titillating to listen to her talk about it. Fetishes... fantasies... I didn't have a clue what she was talking about.

"Listen," she said, "Why don't you come over this afternoon and watch. You might find it interesting. I have a short, three hour shoot to fill an order. And afterwards I'll take you out to dinner. How's that sound?"

It did sound interesting... and what would it hurt. "Sure, why not," I answered. "Certainly sounds more interesting than sitting around here brooding. And you're on for dinner. A good restaurant always cheers me up."

After lunch I walked next door to Carol's. She and another young woman were sitting in the kitchen drinking wine.

"Come on in," Carol said invitingly. She introduced me to Paula. "Paula lives down the street. "She's my model for today."

Carol handed me the bottle of wine. "Here, make yourself useful," she said. "We have to get downstairs so Paula can get herself prepared."

We all walked downstairs to the basement. I was impressed. One end of the basement was set up like a living room, completely furnished with a sofa, chair, coffee and end tables. The other end was set up as a bedroom. She also had what looked like a small dungeon room, iron bars and all. She even had a small, fake kitchen.

And camera's... there were cameras everywhere. Still cameras, video cameras... and lights... all kinds of lights. She had one hell of a set up. It appeared very professional to me.

Paula went off to a small dressing room to prepare. Carol began setting up her equipment. Apparently it was to be a still camera shoot.

In a few minutes Paula appeared, dressed in a plain cotton dress and heels. Carol instructed her to act housewifely. She posed in the kitchen fully clothed. I became extremely uncomfortable when she lifted the hem of her dress, showing her panties. Tease shots, that's what Carol called them. As she slowly undressed, it was hard not to appreciate the fabulous body she had.

Carol, taking pictures like mad, shouted out instructions..."lie across the table... spread your legs..."

When Paula removed her bra and her firm tits fell into view, I gasped. I glanced over at Carol... she was staring at me with a strange look on her face. I was embarrassed.

Paula disappeared into the dressing room again. When she re-appeared it was hard to believe she was the same girl. She completely transformed herself from a housewife to a typical young teenager coming home from school. She was braless, completely filling her tight white sweater. The rest of her clothing, a dark blue skirt and knee socks, reminded me of a schoolgirl uniform. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail.

Carol had her lie down on the bed, the cheeks of her ass peeking from under her cute little skirt, her panties all lewdly bunched up in the crack of her butt. She was so sexy, dressed as a little girl, I thought pictures like this must surely be illegal.

As before, she eventually removed her clothes, one piece at a time. Carol must have taken two hundred pictures of her.

After the set, they took a break. We all retired to the fake living room where I poured the wine. I was extremely uncomfortable with Paula sitting next to me, clad only in her white knee socks. I found myself staring at her large breasts, her nipples extended and hard. I became self conscious of my own nipples growing erect. I didn't dare consider one thing had anything to do with the other.

"I offered Gretchen a job posing," Carol said to Paula. "She thinks she's to shy to pose in the nude. She has a hell of a body though, don't you think?"

"She'd be great," Paula said. "You should give it a try, Gretchen."

"No way, I couldn't do it," I protested. "But I'm certainly impressed with you. You're really great at it. And you have a fabulous body. It's unbelievable how young you looked in that second set. I would think pictures like that might be illegal."

"Oh, no, don't use that word around here," Carol said laughingly.

Paula, once again, went into the dressing room. This time she came out in thigh high leather boots, a leather bra... so tight her breasts were spilling out. She posed for about ten minutes with a whip in her hand.

Carol spoke up with a suggestion. "You know Gretchen, I could kill two birds here if you would pose with Paula. And you don't even have to take your clothes off. I'll pay you $100.00. How does that sound?"

Hundred dollars... fully clothed! By now the wine had drowned some of my moral inhibitors.

"What would I have to do," I asked.

"Come here, let me show you," she said.

She pulled a short rope from the ceiling and hooked the ends around my wrist. She then pulled the rope, raising my arms straight above my head.

"There, that's all there is to it," Carol explained. "Paula will act as if she's whipping you... all you have to do is squirm around, show some pain on your face. Can you do that?"

"I'll try." I said. I didn't think I sounded very convincing.

As Paula stood behind me, Carol, clicking away, gave me instructions to move my hips around.

"Act like the crop is whipping your ass," she shouted at me. "Move around... make believe it hurts."

I tried to follow her instructions. I guess it wasn't good enough for her. I could tell she was getting angry.

"You have to show some pain in your face," she shouted. "It has to look realistic. Tears would be good."

"I'm just not good at this," I said. "Just let me down... you'll have to get somebody else."

"You're good enough, honey," she said. "All you need is some incentive. Believe me, you'll thank me for this later."

She nodded to Paula. Whack! Paula whipped me across my buttocks. I screamed out in pain.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I screamed.

Whack! Another blow from the whip. Real tears began to flow. My hips and ass were moving just like Carol wanted... and it wasn't an act.

Carol was snapping away as Paula lashed me four or five times. It hurt terribly and... and I cried like a baby.

Finally... finally it was over. Paula helped me out of the rope.

"I can't believe you had Paula do that to me," I sobbed. "That whip really hurt."

"But I got some excellent pictures." Carol boasted. "And you made a hundred dollars for fifteen minutes work. Does that help make the pain go away?"

I didn't answer. She had a point... a hundred dollars. Not bad for a couple of whacks across the ass.

But I had another dilemma, one that money couldn't explain. Why were my panties soaking wet!

Carol's choice of a restaurant was excellent, a laid back seafood place that specialized in Halibut. Fried, broiled or baked, they served it to your taste. We didn't talk about the photo shoot at all, mostly personal things, things I hadn't thought about in years.

When we returned home she invited me in for one last glass of wine. I knew I was over my limit, but tomorrow was Sunday... actually it didn't matter... I didn't have a job to go anyway. One more drink turned into several as Carol continued pouring... I couldn't seem to empty the glass.

Carol returned from the bathroom and sat next to me on the sofa. "You know, I got the distinct impression you enjoyed our little photo session today Gretchen. Am I wrong?"

"I thought it was interesting," I said laughingly. "And Paula was very nice. I liked her. I liked her a lot."

"That's not what I'm talking about," she said. "I'm referring to the little part you played. I had the feeling you enjoyed your participation more than you let on."

"Why would you think that?" I said defensively. I could feel my face flush with embarrassment. "Getting my butt whipped. Who would enjoy that?"

She picked up a camera from the coffee table and began snapping pictures of me.

"Stop it Carol, I giggled. "Your embarrassing me. I don't like my picture taken, especially when I'm not prepared. I look a mess right now. Anyway, you can't sell pictures of me fully clothed."

"I could with you hanging from that rope," she said. "You have that look, that submissive look that porno lovers adore. Let's go downstairs and I'll hook you up and take a few of you just hanging there. I'll give you another $50.00. How about it?"

"You'll give me another $50.00 to hang from that rope again! Are you serious?" Against my better judgement I considered her offer. The wine certainly lowered my inhibitions... and a total of $150.00 for the day was tempting.

"You're certain," I said. "No nude, just hang there with my clothes on. That's all."

"Yes, that's what I said," she reaffirmed. "It won't take more than twenty minutes."

"Okay, let's go," I said. "I can do that. By the way you haven't paid me for todays session yet. Now you're going to owe me $150.00. When do I get paid?"

"I'll pay you tonight... before you leave... I promise. Is that good enough?"

As we walked downstairs my body was trembling in nervous anticipation. I knew I was about to do something against my better judgement. There were men who were going to buy pictures of me... for what? So they could look at them and masturbate? It was obscene. It was also a little exciting.

Carol quickly set up her camera and lights, I pulled down the rope. When she was ready, she hooked the rope to by wrist and pulled my arm's in the air. She pulled me a little higher this time... my feet barely touching the floor.

She snapped a few pictures as I tried to simulate a girl in distress. For some reason I couldn't stop giggling.

"I'm not paying for giggles, ' Carol barked. "This is what I'm paying for." She picked up the whip and thrashed me across my butt.

I was stunned... and hurt.

"Oh, god Carol, don't do that again. Please, it hurts too much. Just keep your damn money and let me down from here. I can't do it the way you want."

She whipped me three more times. The pain was excruciating. I screamed for her to stop.


Tears were streaming down my cheeks, my buttocks were on fire.

"AHGGGGGGGGGGGGG," I shrieked when she thrashed me twice more.

She hurried back to her camera, snapping pictures of my misery. I was crying uncontrollably. The harder I cried the more pictures she snapped...

She approached me again. I began to whimper like a little girl. "Please, Carol... please don't hit me any more. I'll do what you want... please, no more."

She un-snapped the waist band of my skirt, allowing it fall to the floor. I was standing there in my panties and nylons. I could see a light on one of the video camera pointed at us... it was running!

"Oh god baby... I've been looking forward to this," she hissed. "I knew you were one sexy cunt the first time I laid eyes on you. And your mound... jesus christ girl, you have a mound to die for! You're worth every penny I'm going to make off of you."

I was absolutely appalled. "What are you doing?" I sobbed. "I'm not consenting to this. Please, I'm begging you... let me down from here."

I couldn't stop crying. Ignored my pleas, she touched me... stroking me between my legs, I tried kicking her... anything to get her away from me. I freaked out, thrashing at her with my feet, screaming at the top of my lungs. Within seconds I was spent, barely enough strength to stand on my toes, the rope burning my wrist from the strain.

I stood there, shamefully, while she fondled me. She nuzzled her face up to my neck and began licking me, moaning, still stroking my crotch. That's when the most frightening thing of all happened... I could feel myself responding! I tried to resist but it was useless. She was very skillful... and the shame I felt was undescribable, especially when my hips lewdly picked up the rhythm of her stroke.

She knelt in front of me, her warm breath caressing my thighs. Pulling my panties aside, she embarrassed me further by discovering my pussy was sopping wet. Her tongue touched my slit. I gasped for breath. I spread my legs shamelessly for her invading tongue.

"Oh god," I moaned as she lapped my creaming cunt. "Please, don't do this to me... let me go..."

"I know you like it you slutty bitch," she murmured breathlessly. You like your cunt being eaten don't you?"

"Oh god, yessss... I like it... please, please stop... oh no... don't... YESSSS, GODDAMN YESSSSS," I screamed out. LICK MEEEEEEEEEE, PLEASEEEEEE."

My body shuddered as she assaulted my pulsating clit... I was gushing. I wanted her to stop... I wanted my body to stop responding... I couldn't. My hips continued humping her face, the pleasure washing over me, again and again.

Arising, her face and lips dripping with my sticky juices, she pulled my lips to hers as if to kiss me... she spat in my mouth! I swallowed it eagerly... trying to lick her clean with my tongue.

The heated moment finally passed. She pulled away, releasing the rope from my wrist. I fell to the floor.

"Come up stairs when your ready," she said as she walked away.

She turned off the camera, removed it from its easel, and took it with her. I lay there on the floor... knowing this had to be the most humiliating moment of my life. How could I ever face her again. She literally beat me into sexual submission... I finally put on my skirt and walked upstairs. My panties were soaked... I could smell my own sex!

She was sitting at her kitchen table sipping on a glass of wine. I didn't say a word, walking past her... straight out the door. I didn't want her money... I didn't want to ever see her again.

At home, I l curled up on the couch for... it seemed like hours, and cried.

I was awakened by a knock on the door. Momentarily confused, I tried to recall why I was sleeping on the couch. Suddenly, the memory of the previous night came to me.

As I arose to answer the door, I could feel my panties sticking to me. A reminder of my shameful act.

It was Carol at the door. "I tried your back door but didn't get an answer," she said.

She didn't wait for an invitation, slipping past me into the house. "Here, I have the money I owe you... $150.00... and an additional $200.00 for the video last night. Not bad, huh. $350.00 for less than an hours work yesterday. See, I told you you could make good money with me."

I sighed. "Listen Carol, would you excuse me... I'm not feeling well."

"I'm sorry honey, what's the problem? You don't look like you slept well last night."

I didn't want to talk to her... I kept quiet. She moved towards the door. "Listen baby, I'm having another photo session this afternoon if you want to come over. You acted like you enjoyed yourself so much yesterday I thought maybe you might want to help out again today."

"Enjoyed myself?" I said incredulously. "You think I enjoyed myself? You raped me... you pulled my skirt from me and raped me."

"Whoa," she said with mock surprise. "That isn't how I remember it. And you had better be careful about accusing someone of rape. That's a serious accusation. If you want to apologize to me, the photo shoot starts at two. Think about it."

I looked at the $350.00 on the coffee table. I felt like a whore. I ran to the bathroom and vomited. Sitting on the bathroom floor, my head buried in the commode, I was sure this was the lowest point in my life.

Two days later, after much soul searching, I called a realtor acquaintance and placed my home for sale. I couldn't live next door to Carol any more.

With great reluctance, I moved home with my mother. I knew she would welcome me with open arms... she never wanted me to purchase a home and live so far away from her in the first place.

It didn't take me long to find another job. In fact, it was a better paying job than I had before. And my house... it sold quickly. It was a sad day for me. It was my first house and loved it.

Four months later, as I walked to a little coffee shop for lunch, I glanced at one of those newspaper racks selling underground papers. There, on the front page, a picture of a woman whipping another female. I have no idea what possessed me... I dropped fifty cents in the rack, quickly grabbing the paper and cramming into my purse. I felt so guilty I glanced around to see if anyone was watching me. I didn't remove it till I was in my bedroom that night.

I stared at the front page picture for a long time. Turning the page, and ad on page three caught my attention.


I read and re-read those five words over and over. I didn't understand why reading it excited me, or why I would contemplate calling the number.

I seemed to be feeling horny every day... and masturbating didn't seem to quell it. I also didn't understand why I had absolutely no interest in men.

That weekend I told my mother I was going to Atlantic City with a friend from work. She didn't question me...

In actuality, I went into the city and checked into a hotel. I spent the day window shopping... actually walking around, trying to work up the nerve to call the number from the paper. Around four in the afternoon, back in my hotel room, I dialed the number.

I hesitated when a woman answered on the first ring. "Yes, can I help you?" the voice asked.

"Uh... uh, may I speak to Margo?" I asked timidly.

"This is Margo speaking. Can I help you?"

"Yes... I... uh... I wanted to find out what you charge for your services. I read your ad in the paper."

"You feel like you need to be disciplined" she asked in a firm voice. "And do you wish to see me next week, tomorrow... or today?"

"Today... uh... I mean tonight," I whispered. "I'm in the city for the weekend. I thought I might want to meet with you if it's not too expensive."

"What's your name?" she asked.

"Gretchen," I said.

"Are you a slut, Gretchen?"

"Nooo... I'm nothing like that, I answered, feeling offended. "I'm sorry, maybe... maybe I've made a mistake."

"Five hundred dollars," she blurted out. "Six hundred and fifty if I have to come to you. By the way, what hotel are you staying at?"

"At the Biltmore," I said, immediately sorry I revealed my location to her.

"Well, what will it be Gretchen? Your place or mine?"

"I think I'll pass," I quickly answered. "I didn't realize it would cost so much. I'm sorry I took up your time." I quickly hung up the phone.

I never considered her price would be so high. I just couldn't bring myself to pay that kind of money for... for something I wasn't even sure I was looking for...

After showering and dressing, I took the elevator down for dinner at the hotel dining room. Being seated, I looked around. I was the only person in the entire room sitting alone!

After a pleasant dinner, I sauntered across the lobby to the hotel bar. I was a little depressed, my loosely laid plans no longer viable. There were only eight or nine people in the bar... apparently not a hot spot on Saturday night. I moved to a stool at the end of the bar, not wanting to stick out like a sore thumb sitting alone at a table.

I was just about to order a second drink when a woman approached: "Is this seat taken," she asked?"

"No... no it's not," I said, glancing her way.

She was absolutely beautiful... dressed in a gray business suit... like a business executive trapped in the city for the weekend.

She ordered a drink. "I'm Margo," she said very forthright..."I think we spoke on the phone earlier this afternoon."

I didn't know how to respond. Did she misunderstand me on the phone? It was an awkward moment to say the least.

"No, I didn't misunderstand you on the phone," she said as if reading my mind. "But I had a free night and thought I'd come downtown and check out the confused young girl from the suburbs. You are from the suburbs, aren't you?"

"Yes, yes I am," I mumbled. "But how, how did you find me."

"It wasn't all that difficult," she said as matter of fact. "I knew your first name and what hotel you were staying at... money did the rest. You know, a few bucks to the doorman... the desk clerk..."

"What do you want?" I asked. "I already told you I couldn't afford..."

"Oh, don't worry about that," she said. "I'm not looking for money from you. Just curious, I guess. You don't mind, do you? I mean," as she glanced around the room, "it doesn't look like there's an exciting night in store for you. I thought we could have a few drinks... you know, maybe get acquainted. If I'm making you uncomfortable, I'll have my drink and leave. Do you want me to leave?"

"No, I guess not. I'm still amazed you went to such lengths to find me."

"It was nothing, really," she said. "Believe me. I'm certainly glad I did. You're nothing like my usual clients. They tend to be several years older than you. What are you, twenty three, twenty four?"

"Yes, around that," I lied. "What do you do with your... you know, your... uh... clients?"

"What ever they want. They're all unique. Well, that's not exactly true. They do have one thing in common... they're all rich, or at least well off. Money isn't a problem for them."

"That's really weird," I said incredulously. I would have never thought rich people would..."

"Well, it's true. But enough about my clients. What about you? Why did you call me? Do you have any idea what I do.?"

"No, not really. You know, I'm really uncomfortable talking about this. I don't know why I called you. I'm not a freak or anything. In fact, I'm about as normal as anyone can be. I guess the mystery of your ad intrigued me."

She ordered both of us another drink. "Are you a lesbian, Gretchen? Have you ever had sex with a woman?"

"No way," I said defiantly. "I'm straight. I've been married. I'm divorced now, but I've always been straight. Why would you ask me a question like that?"

"Doesn't it stand to reason?" she said, taking another sip of her drink. "I mean, after all, you called a woman to discipline you."

I couldn't argue with her logic. I guess it would appear that way. But if I were a lesbian, I think I would know it. Maybe Carol thought I was a lesbian... maybe that's why she raped me.

"So, what do you do Gretchen? I mean what kind of work do you do? You do work, don't you?"

"Yes, I work. I work for a financial institution. I'm not a bigwig or anything... just one of the lowly workers."

"That's interesting. Do you like your job? Is your supervisor a man or a woman?"

"Yes, I like my job... I mean it's okay. My boss is a man. Why... why would you ask that?"

"Just curious," she said. "Listen, do you have a wet bar in your room?"

"Yes, I think so," I said with some uncertainty. "There's a tray with those little liquor bottles... you know, like the ones they have on planes."

"Why don't we have a drink in your room where we can be comfortable. Wouldn't you like that... being more comfortable?"

"Uh... I guess. Sure, we can do that. Why not. By the way, this isn't something you're going to charge me for is it?"

She laughed. "No, I'm not going to charge you. I told you, I came here strictly out of curiosity. And I've found I like you... that's all."

When she slid off of her stool, I was immediately intimidated. She was at least a full head taller than me. Entering the elevator, I felt small and insignificant standing next to her.

The closer we came to my floor, the more uneasy I became. I didn't know what to expect. Were we just going to have a friendly drink or was she planning on doing something to me?

Entering the room, I turned to ask what she would like to drink. She moved up close to me, her hands fondling my breast thru my blouse. I stood there, unable to move. I was embarrassed... not wearing a bra, I knew she could feel my nipples growing hard. She pinched them between her fingers, twisting them till the pain was excruciating. I wanted to pull away from her... I didn't. I stood there till the pain brought tears to my eyes.

"Why are you hurting me?" I blubbered.

"To let you know who's in charge in this room," she said. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," I whispered. "But you didn't have to..."

She pinched them again.

"Please," I whispered. "I'm sorry... if I offended, you I'm sorry."

She walked across the room and sat down in one of the two tufted chairs. I stood there confused... not knowing what was expected of me. My emotions were conflicted... I was scared... and excited. I didn't know why. What was wrong with me!

She removed her suit jacket... her blouse so sheer I could clearly see her breast, large and full, and her dark areola were absolutely the largest I'd ever seen.

"Hang this up," she ordered. I quickly retrieved the jacket and hung it on a hanger.

"Do you like my breast?" she asked.

"I... I guess so," I said meekly.

"Well, you must. You haven't taken your eyes from them since I removed my jacket."

I hung my head shamefully.

"Tell me, Gretchen... did your mother spank you when you were a child?"

"No, never," I sniffled. "She never touched me. She was strict but she never ever spanked me."

"Have you ever been spanked?" she asked. "By a teacher... or anyone?"

I thought it odd, her question. What did it have to do with... with anything? But it brought back a memory... something I hadn't thought of in years. Junior High...

"When I was in the eighth grade I had a teacher who spanked me," I murmured. "It seems so long ago... I can't even remember why she spanked me. I must have done something wrong."

"So, it was a female teacher who spanked you, huh." she said.

"Yes... Mrs Albright. She was a new teacher... young... really pretty. She was my favorite teacher that year. I loved being in her class. I can't remember why she..."

"How did she spank you, Gretchen? Did you bend over a desk... did you lie across her lap?"

"Across her lap," I said as the memory rushed backed to me. "I would lie across her lap and she would... uh... she would pull up my skirt and spank me with her hand. And then..." I hesitated to say any more.

"And then what? You were going to say something else. What?"

"She was so nice afterwards. After spanking me she would apologize. She would tell me how sorry she was she had to spank me. My bottom would be on fire and she'd rub it gently, all the time telling me how sorry she was."

"What else would she say? Did she tell you how nice your ass was... how soft and round... how pretty it looked?"

"Yes... yes, she did! How would you know that! She would caress me till the sting went away. Caress and rub me gently... her fingers sliding down into my crack... Oh my god... I remember... her fingers slipping into my butt crack, down into my..."

"She fingered your cunt didn't she baby. She fingered you to an orgasm... an orgasm for a thirteen year old. It must have been so pleasurable... a young teacher you admired giving you pleasure you never experienced before. She made you cum!

"Oh god... yes... yes, she did. How did I forget that? Her fingers caressing my crack... into my pussy. It was so dirty... mom would have been so mad if she had found out about it. I never told anyone... not my mother or anyone because... because I wanted it... I wanted her to finger me. I'd do something bad so she'd have to finger me again... lying across her warm lap... cumming... God, how did I forget that all these years?"

"Have you been bad today, Gretchen? Have you done something today you need punished for... that you want to be punished for?"

It was incredulous. To suddenly remember... to bring back long suppressed images from my childhood... and suddenly being treated like a child again...

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