Tales of Pleasure and Pain

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  That surprised her, but she didn’t answer.

  “I’d think you’d be a little more courteous to me given your present financial position. I’m not a bad sort at all. I can be compassionate to one who earns it.”

  “You’ll have your money; I can get it from friends until mine comes in.”

  “Good, that would be fine, when?” It was clear I was going to need to pin her down on this.

  She looked distracted. “I don’t know.”

  I breathed deeply, trying to regain the composure I was fast loosing; she had a way of arousing passions in me I didn’t realize were operating. Devious, malicious thoughts appeared in my head, I was getting off thinking of holding this over her head … what lovely possibilities the idea had. It was certainly was worth a try to scare the living daylights out of her.

  “I’ll extract my price Morgan,” I warned, not really sure myself what I meant.

  “How’s that?” she asked.

  “I don’t really like your attitude,” I said very calmly, “I don’t like your arrogance, in fact I’m not sure there is much about you that I do like. It wouldn’t bother me at all to send you packing.”

  For the first time, she looked worried. Probably because I was threatening the last shed of security, that I had kindly provided for her.

  “Listen,” she said, “I’m sorry if I’m a little edgy right now, I do have a job coming up the end of the week, and I will be able to pay, but you can’t throw me out.”

  She was almost pleading, that pleased me.

  “I can throw you out Morgan, and I will, I won’t tolerate your nasty attitude. If you don’t have the money, there are other kinds of prices you can pay.” The more I spoke the more I gathered my courage, of course it helped that Morgan was exactly what I thought she was, a fake, all that haughtiness just a convenient cover.

  “What kind of prices are you talking about?” she asked, there was still a hard edge in her voice, though I had her curiosity.

  I don’t think it was until that moment, that I really knew exactly what I was going to say; but all of a sudden it was perfectly clear.

  “What are you getting at?” she asked. I could see she was nervous.

  I stared at her enjoying the thought of watching her squirm. This would be a lesson she wouldn’t forget.

  “I’ll give you two weeks, Morgan. You bring your past due rent and the rent for the next month on time, and everything will be fine with me. But if you’re short, just one little dime short? I’ll take it out with your flesh.”

  “What does that mean?” her eyes were wide as a frightened cat’s.

  “You want to stay here, you pay the price, and you’ll pay with that perfect bottom of yours.” I looked at her sternly; she was nearly cowering on the spot.

  And before she could say a word, I turned abruptly and walked out. I was churning madly inside; what a delicious triumph! I was wholly exuberant in a dark nasty way. I had an explicit premonition, a savory fore taste of what was to come; it was a novel threat, and it would be an interesting wait.

  Two weeks later, there was a call from Morgan on my answering machine. She was prompt, I’ll give her that. But not particularly courageous. I’d envisioned her at my door; but she had chosen a seemingly safer route to communicate her continued lack of sufficient funds. I smiled as I listened to her hard edged voice.

  “I am leaving you last month’s rent in your box; however I will be two weeks yet for this month. I trust that will be satisfactory.”

  Satisfactory my foot!

  My determination had only grown in the preceding weeks, I wanted nothing better than to teach the little brat a lesson, as much for her attitude as her late rent.

  When I went to see her about seven that evening, she answered her door as smugly as ever, inquiring why I should be knocking at this hour. “I thought I told you on the phone all you need to know.”

  “Are you forgetting our conversation? I made myself very clear.

  She looked at me for a moment as if she had no idea what I was talking about. “Oh!” she finally remembered. “You said something about extracting a price?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You were very vague, and this whole business is ridiculous. You’ll get your money in two weeks.”

  Apparently she didn’t remember “everything” I’d said; either that or she was choosing to forget.

  “No Morgan, I was not vague, I told you, if you didn’t have it all by today, you could pack your bags or I’d take the price out of your bottom.”

  I watched as her eyes widened in horror. Standing there in black bike shorts and an old faded red sweatshirt - she’d cut out the neckline so it fell off her shoulder - she still looked stunning.

  “How about I come inside,” I suggested.

  She stepped away; she let me enter the room. She looked like she was in shock.

  I sat down on her wicker couch. Perusing the room, I notice what a lovely job she’d done decorating. It was really quite beautiful, the wide windows covered in a cotton floral chintz to match the pillows on her wicker couch and chair. Unfortunately she’d cluttered the place with clothes and underwear strewn everywhere.

  I was a little nervous myself, thinking of what I planned to do and I appreciated a moment of repose.

  “Why don’t you sit down,” I suggested as Morgan remained a watchful safe distance from me.

  She complied warily, not saying a word.

  I really expected her to have some snappy retort, but I guess I left her speechless.

  “I’m not here to play games with you Morgan,” I said. “And I meant what I said about taking out of your bottom. It’s a simple trade-off.”

  She was confused. I loved watching her squirm. It was about time someone taught her a lesson in humility.

  “You’re going to punish me?” she asked. She was refreshingly naive with her query.

  “In a manner of speaking,” I answered, “I assume you don’t want to be thrown out at 6 a.m. tomorrow morning?”

  She looked terribly disconcerted. “I have to stay, I have to work tomorrow.”

  “Well that’s good,” I said, “Then come here, and remove your shorts.”

  She looked at me appalled.

  “Don’t think about it Morgan,” I said gently, “Bare your bottom, it needs to be punished.”

  “You’re going to spank me?” she asked.

  “Only til your bottom is very red, and it hurts so much that the tears are running down your cheeks.”

  Her body jolted at my words. Her eyes softened just a bit as tears were already forming in her eyes. She was already softer than I’d ever see her. I suspected deep down inside that Morgan needed and maybe even wanted discipline.

  I watched as she pulled the shorts down over her abdomen, and further til they dropped to the floor. From that moment on, she was mine, all mine.

  She edged her way towards me reluctantly.

  “Over my knee,” I said. Her bottom was covered only in the thinnest filmy thong panty. Her ass cheeks were full and round and quivering. As she laid down across my lap, her pussy against my thighs was so hot, the heat burned through them. Apparently I’d stirred something in her… .

  I began to slap her soft mounds with my hand. I slapped hard and joyfully listening to her cries of protest.

  “Oh God, this hurts!”

  “Of course it does,” I exclaimed.

  She didn’t squirm as much as she seemed to bore into my body with hers. The slaps were repeated, one after another, over and over, my hand didn’t seem to want to quit at all, they relished every blow to her bouncing ass, and relished the way the soft olive cream skin began to turn to bright pink and then to a vibrant red. I wanted the sensations to last a long time, I wanted her to remember this moment, and the very valuable lesson she was learning.

  “God stop,” she panted.

  “Hush,” I insisted, her ass was flaming, the brightening red of her skin compelled me to continue

  �
��Oww, ow please!” she pleaded. But her protests didn’t sway me; I was obsessed with making her hurt; with making the pain intensify until her haughtiness was extinguished…

  “Oh Roxanne, please stop! Ow, ow ow” Each smack brought another anguished cry.

  I paused several times, just long enough to allow the pain to subside and let her think that I was finished. But then I started again, with renewed fervor.

  “Can I expect my rent on time Miss Cavanaugh?” I said, as I laid a resounding thwack on her bright rear.

  “Yes Roxanne,” she cried.

  “And no more problems with your surly attitude?”

  “No Roxanne, Ouch!”

  At last I gave her bottom several finishing slaps, and she collapsed against my lap, exhausted.

  “Get up Morgan,” I said, gently. I helped to push her to her feet. She was quivering. She tried to pull her shorts back up. “No, leave them down, haughty little girls need all the humiliation they can get. I want to see how bright those ass cheeks are, turn around.”

  She turned to let me see how lovely her rear glowed.

  “Go look in the mirror my dear. I think it would do you good to see what you look like with a well punished bottom.”

  She walked to her full length mirror, and appraised the damage I’d done.

  “You know Morgan, you’re much softer, much more pleasing right now than I’ve ever seen you.” I was telling the truth, with her arrogance at least temporarily gone, she was really beautiful. A soft glow seemed to permeate her entire body.

  She reached around to her ass, still very bright red, and rubbed it gingerly as she looked at her naked bottom.

  “It will hurt for sometime,” I offered. “How does it feel?”

  “It’s hurt terribly, it’s hot,” she said. I could see it wasn’t easy for her to speak, as humiliated as she must have felt.

  She turned and walked back to me.

  “You understand and if I need to, I’ll do this again.”

  She had no strength, perhaps no desire, to object.

  “Come here,” I said gently, we stared at each other for very long time. I held her hand as if she was a submissive child that needed comforting. I felt very maternal, realizing that I was indeed teaching her a very valuable lesson is personal relations, which she needed in the worst way.

  I knew the haughtiness remained. It wasn’t all gone, certainly it would return when the hurt had died away. But I hoped that my method of discipline had made an impression on her.

  “Next time Morgan, if there is a next time … and I certainly hope there won’t be, don’t doubt I’ll an even nastier punishment.”

  I slapped her raw rear end.

  “Ow!” she said and pulled away.

  “Oh no Morgan, I don’t want anything but sweetness from your pretty lips, you understand?”

  “Yes Roxanne,” she said so submissively I thought perhaps she was really understanding. “You’ll have your money on time,” she confirmed.

  “You say that as if you don’t want to repeat today’s lesson?”

  “I don’t like being spanked, who would?”

  “I’m not so sure you don’t like it,” I commented, “I do know you need it, and I’ll promise you one thing …”

  She looked at me with that wide-eyed curiosity. She was so off-guard, so vulnerable.

  “Next time I’ll find an instrument more punishing than my hand, and … you’ll have an audience. I can’t possibly let your correction be mine alone to witness. It’s far too delightful to go unshared.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” she blurted out, that hard edge threatening to burst out of her again.

  I just smiled, picked myself up off her sweet little wicker chair, with the lovely floral cushion and the cozy pillows, and walked out her door, not bothering to look back. I conjured in my imagination that wonderful aghast look that was certain to be all about her face. That was enough.

  “You should have seen her,” I told Lacy, “all that smugness wiped away, she was lovely.”

  “Lovely?” Lacy flashed back sarcastically, “I don’t believe you.”

  “You just have to know how to get the better of her,” I said.

  Lacy looked at me suspiciously.

  “She gonna have her money next time, or are you going to have to spank her again?”

  “I told her if she didn’t have the cash, I’d punish her in front of an audience, how’s that?”

  “God, I want to watch!”

  “Good, I thought you might like it.”

  “Can I beat that little rear of hers til it’s rosy?” she asked.

  “That’s my job,” I reminded her. I didn’t intend to share that part with anyone.

  “She hates me, you know. I’d love to get her, I mean really get her. You know she always saying these little things to me in the bathroom. Comments about my weight and my hair, everything.”

  I looked at Lacy thinking how silly it was for her to be jealous of Morgan Cavanaugh.

  “You need a little more confidence in yourself Lacy, you’re as attractive as Morgan, just in a different way.”

  “Yeah, a short fat pudgy way!” she pouted.

  “You be careful young lady,” I warned. “Or I’ll have to spank you too.”

  She didn’t take me seriously, even though I was completely serious. Once having broken the ice as it were, I didn’t have any reservations about taking another of my boarders over my knee if their behavior warranted it. It seemed like a perfectly logical solution to some of problems I was having with them.

  For a couple of weeks life was rather pleasant around the boarding house. But that was the calm before the storm. Little by little, nasty quips, snide remarks and clever put-downs, began to dominant any conversation between Morgan and Lacy. It was usually around dinner time, turning our peaceful mealtime into prickly confrontations.

  Most of my boarders had busy schedules and finding at time when eight women could sit down together for a meal was next to impossible, so I made things simple with “eat on the run” meals. Even so about six o’clock every evening, I seemed to have at least five or six women in the kitchen eating. Even Morgan appreciated this little aspect of home, though she was the least likely to be found with a plate of food at the dining room table. Usually she’d steal away with her repast and eat in her room; yet never before she had shot a few snotty remarks to Lacy or whoever bothered to listen.

  After several weeks the “cat fight” became so spiteful, I was tired of it, so were the other women in the house. It was time to do something about it.

  Calling both Lacy and Morgan into my office I thought we’d have a little “chat.” I wanted to be objective, and the truth was, despite the fact that I liked Lacy a lot more than Morgan, I was as sick of her antics, as I was of Morgan’s arrogance; and I wanted to be certain that both women knew exactly where they stood.

  “Do either of you have any idea why I called you in here?” I asked. They were both standing in front of my desk, Lacy with her arms crossed in front of her, refusing to look in Morgan’s direction. Morgan was staring out the window, looking very disinterested. I would have laughed at how ridiculous they looked, except that I wanted to be sure and get my point across. “Do you?” I repeated.

  “I have no idea,” Morgan said with her typical conceit.

  “How about you Lacy,” I asked.

  “Roxanne, I can’t believe you’d call me in here like this.” She was drumming her foot like a petulant child.

  “Well, let me spell things out. You’re both acting like babies. And I’m not putting up with it anymore. Your sharp remarks at dinner, and in the bathroom and anywhere else you two happen to find yourself, are immature and annoying!” They both looked bored with my lecture. “So,” I continued, “Let me tell you what is going to happen.”

  Both women turned to me, as if there were at least a little more interested.

  “If I hear either one of you snap at the other again, or at anyone for that matte
r?” I looked at them both very intently. “I’ll bring you in here with the other one present and I’ll spank your bottom until it’s sore as hell. Do you understand?”

  Both women looked at me with a little more respect.

  “And if there is a second infraction … I’ll gather everyone in the house to watch.”

  “You have no right to do that Roxanne,” Morgan protested.

  “Really? Don’t you remember the little discussion we had a few months ago, Morgan? You comply with my rules and my punishment or you’re out. And we both know that there are very few places that will take you with your record, except for maybe one of the low cost projects downtown.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she seethed.

  I knew that was a particular fear of Morgan’s, being reduced to living in a tenement, with “that other class of people” as she called them.

  She had nothing to say to that.

  “Now, you both walk out this door, put smiles on your faces and not one nasty remark, not one!”

  Morgan turned on her heel and was gone in an instant.

  Lacy lingered.

  “You had to do that in front of her for the show, huh?” she asked.

  “No Lacy, I meant it just as much for you as I did for Morgan.”

  Lacy stared back at me, and tried to say something several times, but obviously the right words just didn’t come to mind. She could see I was serious. I had no intention of backing down just because we had such a close relationship.

  Lacy and Morgan quelled their little drama, apparently both realizing I was dead serious. I thought that Lacy was a little more reserved with me for a while, though things seemed to return to normal before too long.

  However a few weeks later, something odd occurred that really stunned me. I couldn’t believe it was possible… .

  The situation unfolded when Morgan bumped into me in the hallway. She was making her way back to her room from the bathroom, not looking where she was going.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You’d better watch what you’re doing.”

  “Yeah, you know,” she looked at me through a vague kind of fog that was typical of Morgan when she was off in her own world. “You know, I’ve lost several things, I can’t figure where they are.”