Reformed Characters

by Sarah Veitch

  He stuck his tongue out at her for a brave two seconds. 'This is my only dress shirt so God knows what I'll wear when I see Luce again tomorrow night.'

  In the end, he settled for a white T-shirt and tight black cords. 'You're borderline,' the same short-haired bouncer said, looking at him critically. She cast her hand around at the neatly dressed older couples. 'This dining club has a quality reputation. Just don't let me down.'

  'What d'you reckon I'm going to do - strip?' Don muttered hot-facedly.

  'The way you wiggled about in your seat last night I reckon that's just about possible,' the authoritative woman replied.

  So she'd been watching him. Don felt a small and completely unwanted thrill spread through his scrotum. Surely he couldn't be attracted to this creature who looked like she downed six pints every Saturday and lifted weights? He was normally drawn to slender girls with waist-length hair and small pert breasts like the detached beauty Luce.

  'What would you do if I took all my clothes off?' he blurted in an effort to unnerve the female bouncer.

  'I'd pull down your pants,' said the woman, 'and roast your arse till it was the brightest shade of red.'

  On his third and final visit to see Luce, Don found out just how red his naked arse could get. He'd worn his suit to get past the bouncer's assessing gaze, but changed into his leather jacket and matching jeans in the Gents restroom. Then, determined to have a memento of Luce's visit, he hurried to the front of the dining hall, ignoring the other diners stares. 'Luce,' he called softly, starting to raise his Polaroid camera. Then two impossibly strong female hands grabbed him around the waist and carried him bodily away from the stage.

  When Don's breathing had recovered a little he was able to see that it was the bouncer who was holding him over one brawny shoulder. 'What are you going to do with me?' he muttered throatily.

  'I'm going to strip you and then I'm going to give you the spanking of your young life,' the butch woman replied.

  She had to be joking. Don kept his fingers curled tightly around her black jacket as she carried him backstage. Within seconds she strode into a cosily-furnished room and dumped him on the carpet.

  'Prepare to be punished,' she said.

  Christ, she really did sound serious about this. 'If you touch me, I'll phone the police,' he muttered.

  The woman smiled coolly. 'No, I'll have phoned them first to report you for a breach of the peace. I've a club full of witnesses. I wonder if your employer will still want you after you've been to court?'

  She had him now - and she knew it. Don's gaze took in the settee, the armchair, the footstool and he wondered which of them she'd make him bend over, how much her huge thick palm would hurt.

  'Couldn't I just say sorry?' he mumbled, looking up into her pitiless dark eyes. Her body was that of an embryonic Sumo-wrestler. That self-same wrestler shook her head. 'It's too late to be sorry now that you've risked the club's unblemished reputation and also my job.'

  She led Don over to the settee, sat down on it then hauled him over her lap in one fluid movement. 'Now,' she said matter-of-factly, 'shall you pull your leather jeans down or shall I?'

  'You wouldn't,' the twenty-one year old challenged. To his surprise he felt slightly turned on at the prospect of this woman slowly stripping him.

  'Watch me,' the implacable bouncer said. Don wriggled with a mixture of anticipation and dread as he felt her undo the metal button and zip of his leathers then edge them ever-so-slowly over his bottom. He hoped that his maroon cotton underpants were clinging tightly to his upturned cheeks. 'Everything's coming down,' the woman continued and he squirmed as she dragged his trousers completely from his buttocks. He quivered some more as she hauled off his slip-on shoes in order to throw his leathers onto the floor.

  'Surely I can keep my Y-fronts on for modesty's sake?' he mumbled into the floral chintz cushions. Then he felt his underpants being dragged determinedly down.

  His leather jacket met a similar fate. Only when he was dressed simply in his waist-skimming T-shirt did the large angry woman stop denuding him. Don swallowed as she edged even its unprotecting thinness slightly further up his back. 'I don't like anything to get in the way of an arse when I'm leathering it,' she said matter-of-factly, 'I like that arse to know that there's no escape.'

  'This is madness,' Don muttered, aiming for mastery - but his voice sounded like that of a five year old. Hell, he felt all of five, for he was small and slender and this woman was wide and tall and had at least twice his strength.

  'No, this is richly deserved punishment and long overdue judging by the paleness of your soft flesh,' his punisher said.

  Don gasped as the full force of her palm collided with one nether cheek. He was just inhaling again when she spanked the other buttock. Within seconds she had established a rhythmic hard tattoo which hurt his helpless little spheres. 'Ah, ow, too much,' he muttered, trying to get his hands back to protect his virgin contours. But the woman just grasped his right wrist with her left hand and held it to the front then continued to whack.

  'It really hurts,' Don whined, continuing to reach back with his left arm which was much less effectual. In answer the woman slapped hard at the backs of his fingers and he whimpered and quickly removed the offending hand. 'Keep them at the front or I'll have to tie them there,' the bouncer continued, spanking and spanking and spanking. 'And I suspect you feel helpless enough as it is.'

  'I do,' Don croaked as she slapped on and on and on. He fancied that his buttocks must by now be a glowing vermilion. He longed to cup them in his relatively cool palms for just a second, to guard them from each spank. Instead he contented himself with grasping hold of the arm-rest of the settee as if it was a lifeline and kicking his little legs the little he could. 'I really am sorry about the camera,' he mumbled as his roasting continued. 'I'll never take an illicit photograph again.'

  'Oh, you're not being thrashed for that yet - I'm just smacking you for cheating on the dress code,' the bouncer said, at last letting her right arm drop. Don uncurled his fingers and exhaled relievedly as the cruel slaps temporarily ended. But she started to pinch and knead his soon-jerking buttocks instead.

  'You mean you're planning to spank me more?' Every centimetre of Don's disarmed posterior was already stinging. It was hell for him, wriggling like a grounded eel across her lap.

  'No, a spanking's just for minor misdemeanours in my book,' the woman said, tracing a finger down the crevice between his cheeks till his testes tingled and he howled like a coyote. 'Now I'm going to leather you with my belt.'

  'You do that and I'll tell the management,' Don warned, unwilling to have his sore curves tenderised further.

  'In which case I'll tell the management that you were rude, that you didn't follow the dress code, that you smuggled in a camera and illegally approached the stage.'

  'That still doesn't mean that I'll allow you to belt me.' Don shivered at the vision of a hard strap being wielded by this even harder creature.

  'Are you sure about that? If I tell Luce's manager about your misconduct you'll never be able to attend one of her concerts again.'

  'But that's not...'

  'You'll also be barred from running her local fan club,' the bouncer concluded, using the tip of one finger to play with his secret tunnel until he squirmed and puckered up with the shame of it. 'So what's it to be t- a life without this singer you profess to love so much or a bloody sound thrashing from me?'

  For a full humiliating minute, Don skulked across her lap as he thought it through. At the moment a good part of his weekend was devoted to Luce for he wrote the local fan club newsletter and photocopied it and mailed it to the others. And it was a hobby which earned him lots of official photos and occasional perks like tickets to her last three shows.

  'Okay, you win. I'll take a whipping,' he mumbled, then breathed hard and fast as she toyed with his extremities again.

  'I think the punishment stool will display you to your best effect.'

  The t
wenty-one year old listened to the bouncer's casual words and wondered if she did this all the time, put young men strictly through their paces. He supposed that number one fans like himself often went too far in their efforts to meet their idols - and it was the bouncer's job to make them toe the line.

  Still he couldn't acquiesce without a verbal fight. 'I'll bet you're getting off on this,' he said shakily as he eased himself from her lap. The stool was low and wide and had four sturdy legs and he dragged his feet as he walked apprehensively towards it.

  'Well, I'd rather be listening to Luce's encore than teaching you obedience, but given that you're here and half-naked I'm determined to make the most of it,' the muscular female said.

  'I didn't mean to... to do everything wrong.' Don realised he'd run out of excuses and that the woman wasn't persuadable. 'Go easy on me - you don't know your own strength,' he added before resignedly curving his belly over the waiting wood.

  The movement nicked his T-shirt up further under his stomach and reminded him of his partial nakedness. This reminder was further emphasised by the way that the stool fully thrust his buttocks into the air like a small scared sacrifice. 'You won't be able to hold that position for long without feeling dizzy so I'll only give you four stripes with my thick belt,' his punisher said.

  Don twisted his head around as she approached his rear. 'And after that I'll be free to go?'

  'After that you can indeed take your stripes home and admire them in front of the mirror,' the slightly amused looking woman said.

  God, but she seemed to like taunting him. Don gritted his teeth and promised himself that he would take all four strokes without crying out - but when the leather bit into his soft curves he forgot his vow.

  'Ah!' he yelled, almost catapulting over the stool in his effort to escape the hellish torment.

  Now, the naughty schoolboy doesn't get to go home till teacher's finished with him,' the woman murmured and he felt her large hands pulling him back into the centre of the wood.

  'Let me at least rub the pain away,' he pleaded, squirming about in an effort to lessen the belt's firm ardour. He felt vastly relieved when she said that he could.

  'But just for thirty seconds,' she said coolly. 'After all, it's supposed to be punishment.'

  'You think I want to touch my bum for its own sake?' Don muttered, his cheeks flaming to presumably match the colour of his tender contours.

  'Oh I'm sure you regularly touch yourself and have dirty little thoughts,' the woman said. Then she slapped at his hands. 'Naughty, naughty. I said that these little hands could just cup your cheeks for half a minute. It's time to take them away from your punished arse.'

  'Please, just a minute longer,' Don whispered, rubbing furiously at the over-all spanking and single striping. In answer he felt strong fingers encircling his wrists and pulling his soothing palms away.

  'Keep them at the front or I'll start leathering you all over again,' the woman warned in a taut voice.

  Don whimpered but kept his fingers free of his flesh and instead took hold of the stool's lower bar and held on tight. 'Please don't repeat the stroke,' he whispered raggedly. 'Oh, Miss, please.'

  'Then tell me that you're going to be a good boy.' Don tried to find the words in some part of his humiliated psyche. 'I'll be a good boy, Miss. I'll behave.'

  'Let's hope so,' his punisher said. He could tell from her movements that she'd picked up the belt again. She walked in front of him, doubling it between her hands then slapping it gently against her own heavy thighs. 'It's gone very quiet. I don't hear you, boy,' she said.

  Don knew that she wanted him to ask nicely for the next stroke and then to thank her for it, but some small act of defiance kept him from meeting her expectations. 'That's because I didn't say anything,' he said.

  'Oh, you'll howl soon enough,' his tormentor replied, walking slowly and methodically behind him. Don felt his haunches start to twitch. But they didn't stop there - they scrunched up and shivered of their own volition as their owner waited to sample the searing strap again.

  After an interminable moment that self-same strap was laid on. This application went lower than the first and seared the indented area just above his thigh backs. Don groaned but tried to keep his body compliantly in place.

  'Halfway there,' the woman said. She sounded regretful.

  Don's spirit revived somewhat. 'And what'll you do after that for sexual kicks?'

  'Mm? Oh I get my kicks from other women. It's just that Luce has a large male following, and being one of her roadies I end up punishing men.'

  'And you don't enjoy it?'

  The bouncer smiled then disappeared behind him again. Don shifted about nervously on the wooden contraption. 'On the contrary, I love it, boy. It's what I do best.'

  She wasn't kidding, Don thought as she laid on a hard stroke three. It half-overlapped with the previous stripe and made him jerk about like a marionette. Why on earth did they use the phrase third time lucky? It took him a long time until he was ready to accept the fourth and final lash.

  'Please give me the fourth stroke, Miss,' he whispered contritely, keen to get his ignominy over with.

  'Do I hear a naughty boy asking for a red hot bum?' came a familiar voice - Luce's voice. Don looked up with new dread to see that his heroine had entered the room and was staring at his thrice-striped haunches.

  'He's the one who pointed the camera at you,' the bouncer said.

  'So it was a camera - I was scared for a moment that it was a weapon,' Luce said with a delicate little shudder. She was wearing a black satin dress with a cleavage-hinting deep V-neck. 'The stage lights make it so hard to see the crowd.'

  'Well, they were a seated and exemplary crowd - apart from this ruffian who runs your local fan club. So I thought it only fitting that I take it out on his seat.'

  'Don't mind me,' Luce said, pulling one of the chairs closer so that she was a few feet behind Don's all-too-bare red bottom. He whimpered with shame and tried to put his hands back again to hide his peripheries.

  'I've warned him about this already,' the bouncer said, strongly pulling his safeguarding palms away and slapping his fingers.

  'Should I go to the front and hold his hands together, Val?' the songstress asked in an expectant lilting voice.

  'Oh no, then you'll miss the spectacle of his little bum squirming about then jerking when I finally thrash it,' the older woman replied.

  'I have to admit that I'd like to see that bit. It must be - what - six months since you've punished a naughty grown up boy like this,' the object of Don's night and day dreams said softly.

  'Don't mind me,' he muttered, then received the fourth leathering from - what had Luce called her? Val - for his pains.

  When he'd finished writhing about over the stool, he asked Val meekly if he was free to go.

  'I'd like to examine his arse if I may,' Luce said casually to the bouncer.

  'Be my guest. He deserves a good dose of humiliation,' the Amazonian woman explained.

  'Can't I keep a little dignity?' Don mumbled from his wooden station, still unable to believe that this was happening. He stared down at the carpet then looked longingly at his discarded underpants and leather jeans.

  'If you'd wanted to be dignified you wouldn't have sneaked into this club in your silly toy boy clothes or tried to take your little snapshots,' the bouncer replied then smiled at Luce.

  Her words seemed to make the younger woman take charge. 'Boy, get onto the floor on your hands and knees,' she said coolly. Keen to get free of the stool, Don obeyed. 'Good dog. Now move your arms downwards until you're resting your head on your elbows,' the songstress said.

  Don did so. He had a horrible feeling he knew what was coming next - further exposure. 'Now stick your bottom high up in the air so that I can inspect it for as long as I wish.'

  'And if I don't?' Don whispered raggedly.

  'If you don't then you'll never be given the honour of licking me to orgasm,' Luce said.

  Wit
hin seconds all of the energy in Don's system had rushed to his groin and his knees sagged inwards and his arms wouldn't support his head. He cupped his groin to hide its fierce lengthening from the watching women and closed his eyes in mingled excitement and shame.

  'You're not maintaining the position,' Luce said coldly, and with effort he rallied again. Reminding himself of how often he'd dreamed of pleasing her, he pushed his nether parts cooperatively high into the air. He felt - and knew he must look - ridiculous but when he turned his head sideways and glanced at Luce, she smiled back at him encouragingly.

  'Is that what you want?' he murmured huskily, hoping that her answer would be merciful.

  'That - and to whip you soundly,' the nonchalant songstress said.

  'But I've already been punished,' Don protested, risking another glance backwards.

  Luce's mouth immediately curved down and she looked daggers at the bouncer. 'Couldn't you have waited until I got offstage?'

  The older woman shrugged and shook her head. 'He was being so uppity that he needed immediate correction.'

  'And now I've apologised,' Don muttered from his ignominious position. He moved his knees a little but Luce immediately tapped his raised bare bum.

  'Keep it high for me,' she said, 'so that the flesh is nicely tautened.'

  'Yes, Mistress,' Don mumbled, wishing that he could bury his embarrassed face between her smooth warm breasts.

  Without warning, Luce ran a finger down the sensitive crease of his arse. The twenty-one year old moaned with desire and pushed his lower body back to encourage further contact. To his mixed relief and shame, Luce repeated the gesture again and again. Soon he was a whimpering, wriggling creature, his every thought focused on where she teased him and on the sensations consequently heightening between his legs.

  'Does the dirty little boy want to come?' she whispered excitedly.

  Don groaned his lust. 'Oh yes, Mistress. Yes, Mistress.'

  'Val - let him rub against your hand whilst I whip him,' the invincible and lovely Luce said.