by Maggie Ryan
Master Sloan stepped forward and was joined by Miss Rodgers and Miss Torrance. Grace tried not to fidget as he read off the next name, Miss Garrison. She was one of the women who’d kept her hand up as to having spanking experience, and went to stand before Master Conner.
“Miss Wilson, you’ll come with me,” Quentin said, taking the other experienced woman. From the woman’s instant smile, Grace knew she was extremely pleased. When he called two more names, splitting them between him and Conner, Grace felt her heart begin to pound.
“Miss Kennedy, please go with Master Conner, and Miss Hensley, you’ll be—”
“No!” Gretchen interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“I just meant that I wanted to go with you, sir. It’s not that I don’t think he—”
“You’ve been given your assignment, Miss Kennedy…” Conner interrupted only to find himself interrupted instantly.
“But—”
“I’ll switch,” Grace said. As Quentin’s eyes swiveled to her, she flushed but continued. “I mean, if she wants…”
Quentin shook his head. “This class is not about what a submissive wants, Miss Hensley. It is about learning to take orders and obeying without regard to what your personal choice might be. If either of you can’t obey the first order you’ve been given, then perhaps this isn’t the class for you.”
Gretchen instantly moved forward to join the group with Master Conner. Grace took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, sir,” she said, stepping forward to place herself in Quentin’s hands, trying to ignore the little smirk she saw on Miss Wilson’s lips. So much for team unity and support. As Quentin nodded towards Master Conner, she also prayed that he was remembering they’d called a truce.
Chapter Eight
Once Master Conner had practically snatched the file folders that Quentin held out and taken his group to the other corner of the room, Quentin turned his entire attention to the three women in front of him. “Miss Hensley, if you’ll look at your classmates and tell me what you see?”
Grace looked at the two women and flushed. Of course. “Sorry, sir,” she said and then assumed the standing position she’d abandoned when joining the group.
“I asked you to tell me what you see, Miss Hensley.”
Grace took another look, her eyes roving up and down the two other women, understanding that he hadn’t just meant that they were in the proper pose. When she reached their feet, she looked back at Quentin, and almost moaned. “They are both wearing really high heels, sir.”
“That’s correct. What size shoe do you wear, Miss Hensley?”
“What? Oh, um, a six.”
When he didn’t speak or acknowledge her answer, she felt her face heat. “A size six, sir.”
He nodded and she watched him walk to what first appeared to be a piece of furniture where a buffet could easily be placed. He squatted and opened one of the doors. Returning, he held out a pair of heels. “Don’t worry, I assure you they’ve been sanitized.” He also held out a pair of nylon booties, the disposable type used to try on shoes in a store if you’d forgotten your socks.
“Um, I don’t need those, sir; I’m wearing hose.” He tucked the booties into his pocket and she released her position to take the shoes, toeing off her ballet flats. She was sure he wanted to say something about her continued lack of grace as she balanced on first one foot and then the other in order to put the heels on. Instead, he just reached out and steadied her as she tipped to the side to put on the second shoe. “Thank you, sir.”
He just nodded, released her arm and stepped back. “Please remain in line but kneel.” Grace sank to her knees, again flushing when she lost her balance and had to brace herself with a hand. She fought the urge to lift her eyes when Quentin’s legs disappeared after bending to pick up her flats. The shiny pair of boots soon returned as he placed a chair down and then took a seat.
“Eyes to me,” he said and Grace did so. “I’m going to give each one of you a spanking.” Did he actually pause or did it just seem that time stood still for a moment as if to allow them to assimilate what he’d just said? “You’ll each receive a dozen swats.”
Okay, that’s not many. Right? How bad could it be? Grace dared to relax until he continued.
“I realize you are all thinking that doesn’t sound like much, and certainly not enough to be considered as a punishment. Let me assure you that you are wrong. You’ll discover that quantity doesn’t necessarily matter when the quality is delivered properly. You’ll each take six with my hand and then six with the paddle.” Grace’s heart moved into her throat as he slowly untied the leather that held the paddle at his side. She then jerked and gave a small gasp when the sound of a woman squealing came from a different corner of the room. It took her only a moment to realize that the woman’s voice had been joined by another, much closer this time. Her head turned to the left to see Master Conner’s hand lifting to deliver another swat to the woman over his lap. She noticed Gretchen watching, her face looking a little pale.
“Miss Hensley, your attention is to be on me.”
She snapped her eyes back and met his. “Sorry, sir.”
He nodded and addressed the three. “A submissive is only to follow the commands of the Dominant she is currently serving. In a club situation, you’ll be surrounded by people in various activities. As much as you might want to watch, unless given permission or ordered to do so, you are to keep your eyes lowered and be ready to respond to any request given by your Dominant. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they all answered, and Grace wondered if the other two were already resenting her for having to listen to a lecture.
“Good. In this situation, I want the two witnessing the spanking to observe. Miss Wilson, I can tell that this isn’t your first experience in a D/s situation. Not only because you kept your hand raised with my question on spanking experience, but because you have not once stumbled in assuming either of the positions introduced tonight. Can you tell me why you felt a need to take this class?”
“I used to be in the lifestyle, sir. However, two years ago, the Dom that I wanted left. I took a break until I realized that my need to submit couldn’t be denied. Though I’ve never had formal training, I’ve played here… I mean, in various clubs in New Orleans, and I’ve had friends who’ve trained here at Plaisir. Your reputation is one of excellence and I decided to take the class before returning to the scene in order to be more appealing as a proper submissive.”
“Thank you. Your experience will benefit your classmates. Please rise and come stand at my right side.”
Talk about sucking up, Grace thought and then felt instantly ashamed. The woman had been asked to explain her obvious experience. Grace was honest enough to admit to herself that she felt a twinge of jealousy as the brunette gracefully rose, immediately moved her hands to her back, and then took the few steps necessary to reach his side. God, even taking less than a half dozen steps she managed to appear as if she were gliding across the floor. She looked positively regal standing there. Not a muscle twitched and her eyes remained on Quentin until he spoke again.
“Lift your dress to your waist and then bend and place yourself over my knee.”
The moment she did so, another glaring difference practically slapped Grace in the face. The woman was not only wearing high heels and lingerie far sexier than the panties she was wearing, but sheer stockings hugged her shapely legs, accentuating the defined muscles of her calves and thighs—stockings, not panty hose. It wasn’t until she heard her name being called that she lifted her eyes from her lap.
“Is there a problem, Miss Hensley?”
She desperately wanted to say yes and ask to be excused to go to the bathroom… not to use it but to rip off her hose. Unfortunately, even if she could grab her purse and run upstairs, she didn’t own stockings, and she’d look ridiculous asking for those nylon booties after stating she didn’t need them. Just barely managing not to sigh, she said, “No, sir.”
“T
hen keep your eyes on me as you were instructed.”
“Yes, sir.”
She watched as Miss Wilson waited until Quentin’s eyes moved to hers before bending forward without a single wobble, and only when her stomach was across his left knee did she move her hands and plant her palms flat on the floor, her toes touching the floor behind her.
The photographer in Grace noted that it was quite an erotic picture. Her tummy flipped again as Quentin reached for the waistband of the white, lacy thong, seeing the woman lift herself slightly to allow him the room necessary to pull the panties down to rest at her knees. Swallowing hard, she watched as Quentin lifted his hand and brought it down with a solid thwack that almost caused Grace’s determination not to react to go out the window. A red handprint instantly appeared on the bare flesh and yet Miss Wilson made no sound. Swat after swat was delivered in a slow, deliberate cadence, alternating between her two buttocks. Grace didn’t take a breath until the half dozen had been delivered and Quentin bent to the side and picked up the paddle he’d placed on the floor next to his chair.
The first stroke made a totally different sound than his palm had. It also caused the first movement from Miss Wilson as her fingers curled from their place on the floor. Again, each smack was delivered slowly but precisely, as if Quentin was making sure each one was not only accepted but had made an impression. It wasn’t until the next to last that Miss Wilson’s foot right foot lifted from the floor and she gave a soft but audible moan. When at last the spanking was over, Grace took another breath.
“Very nicely done, Miss Wilson,” Quentin said, resting the paddle against her now mottled bottom.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, her voice sounding a bit breathless. After returning her panties to their previous position, Quentin helped her off his lap and she lowered her skirt and returned to where the other two were kneeling and sank into position, again, flawlessly.
God, will I ever be able to do that? Grace thought, and then watched as the woman next to her—Joanne, she thought her name was—rose with a slight hesitation at Quentin’s order and was soon in the same position, skirt up and blue bikini panties at her knees. Even though Grace had just witnessed a spanking, every single swat of his hand and every stroke of his paddle were just as engrossing as the first time. Was it normal to find the scene spellbinding? Shit, was it normal to feel her panties dampen even more? Though Joanne was far more vocal and a bit squirmier when the paddle connected with her butt, when she was helped up, Quentin praised her as well.
Grace felt her heart skip a beat when his beautiful grey eyes met hers. “All right, Miss Hensley, it’s your turn.”
Praying she wouldn’t embarrass herself or her classmates, she rose to her feet and though a bit wobbly, she did manage not to use her hands. Once she reached Quentin’s side, she felt her face heat as she had to give her skirt a few hard tugs to get it up over her hips, and then wanted to melt into the floor when she saw Quentin’s eyebrow lift at the revelation of her pantyhose.
“I’m-I’m sorry, sir. I-I didn’t think…”
“Do so in the future, Miss Hensley.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, not daring to shift her eyes to see the reaction of the two other women. She hesitated, not sure if she should push her pantyhose down, but when he gave her small shake of his head, she took a breath and laid herself across his knee. God, it was as solid as a tree trunk, the leather of his pants soft against her tummy.
“Hands on the floor, Miss Hensley.”
“Oh, right,” she said, reaching for the floor and realizing that doing so was a longer reach than she’d considered. Her feet no longer touched the floor behind her. She again cursed her short stature and wondered if she should apologize. Before she could, she felt fingers at her waist and when nothing further happened, she blushed and then lifted her hips as he pulled her pantyhose down.
Why didn’t he take my panties down at the same time? It would have been a lot less embarrassing. With that thought, she understood it was intended as a lesson. If she’d worn the proper attire, she wouldn’t be holding the awkward lift that required she wiggle back until her feet reached the floor to allow the leverage needed to lift herself. Finally, her very unsexy yellow boy shorts were at her knees, and when he lifted his leg a bit, she took the nonverbal hint and wiggled forward to return her palms to the floor. It was only then that she realized she felt something pressing against her hip. Her face heated when she understood that it was Quentin’s cock, and another gush of moisture flooded her sex. Would he notice? Would he find it necessary to point out that it was abnormal for submissives to become drenched from nothing more than witnessing spankings? Her questions were interrupted when she felt him lift the hand that had been resting on her bare bottom.
Oh my God! From the very first swat, she understood that his hand was just as hard as the steel grey of his eyes. When the second blow landed on her right cheek, she whimpered, and the third had her biting her lip. Neither of the women before her had cracked within three strokes, and he hadn’t even picked up the paddle yet. Forget the few swats her previous boyfriends had given her. With her ass quickly beginning to burn, she understood those had been nothing but little taps.
“Ow!” she yelped, not one but both feet kicking up, actually coming into contact with his lifted arm. When she felt a weight over her legs, she was mortified by the realization that he’d placed his right leg over hers. Good lord, I can’t even take a spanking without needing additional instruction, even if it is silent. Bet you’re wishing you’d let me swap places, aren’t you? Another swat from his palm cracked against her ass, not only pulling her out of her thoughts, but reminding her that she couldn’t even keep a correct count, having thought the hand spanking was done. Closing her eyes, she tried to breathe as deeply as possible when he once again bent to pick up the paddle.
Please, God, don’t let me make a total fool of myself. Don’t let me fail on the first freaking day. Okay, it might not have been very smart to add a curse word to her silent prayer but when she sensed his hand lifting, she hoped that God would understand.
She practically bit her tongue when the first stroke landed, the fire she’d thought was hot flaring into the inferno Quentin had referred to earlier. She couldn’t help it, her hips jerked to the side as if trying to throw off his aim and yet, being the Dom he was, he delivered the next stroke, and the next, and the next, with unfaltering precision. By the time he’d given her the last of the ‘mere dozen’ strokes, she was desperately fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill.
Her heart hitched when she felt a slight touch on her sex. She almost moaned when it disappeared and he patted her blazing ass as if to get her attention. Had she really felt anything or had her mind just desperately wished for him to touch her? She appreciated his help as he held onto her arm, pulling her up until she was standing, her wobble causing him to keep his hand on her arm until she regained her balance. “Good job, Miss Hensley.”
Why did his words cause her heart to swell? It wasn’t as if he’d stated “very nice” or “nicely done,” as he had with the others. Still, she couldn’t help but feel proud—after all, she had survived. Tugging her skirt down gave her another reason to go shopping as soon as possible as the tight fit seemed to trap the heat of her well-roasted rear.
“Than-thank you, sir,” she said and, at his nod, returned and only by the grace of God managed to sink into the kneeling position without falling flat on her face.
Chapter Nine
Quentin looked at his three pupils and said, “Eyes down, ladies.” He was pleased when each set of eyes instantly dropped to the floor, not missing the fact that one set, the green ones that reminded him of the swamp’s living foliage, were filled with tears. He also didn’t fail to notice that it hadn’t been until he had Grace over his knee that his cock had hardened. He’d spanked countless women in his lifetime, and though each one had been an erotic experience in submission, very rarely did his cock instantly turn into a r
od of steel before he’d even delivered the first stroke. Had the little artist even noticed? Had she also been aware that his fingertip had grazed the seam of her sex, finding her so very wet? Shit, had the other two women noticed? His hand had seemed to move of its own accord and it had been hearing her slight gasp that had him remembering where he was, what he was supposed to be doing. Forcing his mind away from the question of why this woman had him wanting to do far more than touch, he took the time to look around the room, noticing that every woman was kneeling and not a single one was whispering, much less giggling.
As he met the eyes of his staff, he nodded. He felt a surge of pride. Not in the men who were heading the class with him, but in every single woman who’d remained. He’d half expected to see at least one bolting for the door. Finally, feeling his erection subside, at least enough to allow him to stand, he did so. After returning the chair to its place, seeing the other men doing the same, he spoke.
“Very well done, ladies. Please rise and form a line up front again.” Soon, ten women stood, all in the proper position of attention before him and the other men. “Eyes to me.” When he had their attention, he continued. “Ladies, I applaud each and every one of you. You not only survived your first spanking, you did so with dignity. I hope to see you all back in class tomorrow. Remember to practice moving from standing to kneeling, and please remember the clothing requirements.” He managed not to grin when he saw Grace’s face flush. He’d never even considered a woman might wear pantyhose. Then again, he was accustomed to experienced submissives that either wore stockings with or without garter belts, or simply went barelegged. He saw no need to add the qualification now, as he was sure if another woman had made the same choice, their trainer would have either told her to wear stockings the next time, or she’d have been just as conscious of her wrong choice as Grace had been.
