[Note: this is the third chapter in the B. B. and Tom series and would make more sense if you have read the first two chapters. They may be found in the MMSA Stories: archives under the author's name.]
O'Donnell's Saloon was bustling, at least for a Sunday night. Friday nights you couldn't find a place to stand in the bar after seven and dinner reservations required a commitment a month ahead of time. We had arrived--uncharacteristically for us--early but even then we found Roger and Sean settled onto the large leather upholstered stools on the far end of the bar. Apparently these two never rested since both were wearing the mid-town business uniform of dark suit, white shirt, silk tie, and minimal gold jewelry. The knot in my stomach tightened as Tom pulled me along in his wake to meet them. I had recanted my interest in pursuing this and went only because Tom insisted.
"Hi, Roger, I'm Tom, and this is my friend, B. B., whom you've already met." Tom extended his right hand as Roger stood up and offered his. "And your friend, Sean, and I have already met." Sean also stood up with a genuine looking smile and offered his hand, first to Tom, then me.
"No hard feelings, I hope," Sean said as I shook his hand. "At least I hope you had as much fun after I left you two as Roger and I had the day before when we first met."
"No serious damage," I replied. "Tom thinks I look good in stripes anyway, and the ones you gave me were really quite nice, thanks."
"Want to order a drink here while I check to see if our table is ready?" Roger left for the dining entrance without waiting for an answer and Tom ordered the usual vodka tonics for us and a second set of stingers (how appropriate) for Roger and Sean. After conferring with the hostess, Roger waved and bid us follow. I picked up our drinks, Sean theirs, Tom paid off the bartender, and the three of us wound our way through the crowd to follow the hostess and Roger into the dining room. "Sean told me he had a most enjoyable time with you two shopping," Roger said, his eyes meeting mine over the top of his menu. "Much more fun," he said, "to be the shopper than to spend the time in the fitting room." There was a bit of tension and nervousness around the table. Although the four of us had shared something extraordinarily intimate, we really did not know each other.
"He did give me the thrashing you suggested when we got home. Thanks a lot!"
"You're certainly welcome. And anytime Tom's going to be out of town for a while and you feel you could use another, I'd be more than happy to give you all you want and maybe a little more than you'd like," Sean replied. "Roger here can tell you I can spank with the best of them, right Roger?"
"No argument from me," Roger agreed. "There isn't anyone in the group can paddle better than you, Sean. And no one knows that better than me."
"The group?" I asked.
"Yes, we have a very informal group of about fifteen to twenty people--mostly couples but a few singles--who share our interest," Sean explained. "We really only get everyone together a few times a year but many of us get together with another couple or two at least once a month or more. It's all very informal and unstructured, but quite closed and careful since we don't need any problems. Probably the only truly common bond is that we all love to shop at the Grotto Emporium on Wells Street."
"How does one join?" Tom asked. "The group, I mean, if B. B. and I were to . . .."
"All you need is three people from the group to sponsor you, then you go through a initiation party, and that's about it. You don't really 'join': you just become familiar to the rest and do something by which they know they can trust you share their interests sincerely. Since you would already have both Roger and me as sponsors you would only need one other and could become part of our group. It does take a little time to be sure we know newcomers. There is always the concern for being compromised since we all do have careers and lives to worry about."
"Initiation?" There was an idea which Tom liked.
"Sure. Only in this case you get to plan your own initiation and after it's over you're in. We've have some very creative, unusual initiations, that's for sure." Sean looked over to his companion. "Roger, why don't you tell them about your initiation." That was an order, not a request, and Roger blushed pink.
The waitress interrupted our conversation and left little choice but to order even though we had not the slightest interest in the menu at present. We dispatched her quickly with four Sunday Evening Specials and another round of drinks. As soon as the waitress left, Sean pressed him again.
"Roger, I think you were going to share something about your--our--initiation into the group."
"Well," Roger began, "Sean devised a lottery and auction for the evening's entertainment with us as the prizes. First we held an auction where anyone who wanted to could bid for either of us, and the proceeds would go into the group's treasury for future parties. If you wanted someone to spank, you bid for me; if you wanted someone to give a spanking, either to yourself or your partner, you bid for Sean. The bidding went on through several rounds until the highest offer was made. One of the guys in the group won me and another successfully bid for Sean. Then we held a lottery to determine what kind of spankings would be given in the initiation. Each of the two who had won the auction chose a folded slip from a hat which specified that Sean would use a leather strap and I would be spanked with paddle. Finally the two auction winners spun a roulette wheel to determine how many and it came up twenty-two for me and forty for Sean. Not real original to the scene, I suppose, but what the heck."
By this time Tom and I were hanging on every word as Roger told the story of their entrance in this group and Sean was clearly enjoying his telling of the story as well. This was as erotic as the Emporium shopping trips and perhaps more since the promise it held for the future was delicious.
"Go on, Roger," Sean urged, "I think they would like to hear how it all came out."
Boy, would we!
"This particular evening we were meeting at a place well out into the country and the party had moved out onto a back deck and patio next to a swimming pool. Since it was mid-July it was hot and still light until nine or so. Sean decided he would go first so he took the strap from our host, pulled up a chair on the pool deck, and waited for his 'victim.' Bob, who had bid highest for Sean's services brought his partner, Pat, forward and the rest formed a circle around the three of them. Sean yanked Pat down across her lap and Bob--with Pat protesting -pulled his pants down. Sean laid forty good licks on with the strap, urged on by the whooping and cheering of everyone watching. When Bob and Sean finally let loose of Pat he made one headlong leap and landed in the pool, clothes and all, to cool his scalded backside!"
"And then what happened, Roger?" Sean asked coyly.
"Then it was my turn," Roger replied, a blush rising from his neck through his face.
"And?" Sean insisted, with a look that meant business.
"Once again it was show time, and this time I was the co-star. Bryan Kirby had outbid everyone else for the opportunity to whale on a new member and he decided to string it out a bit, wanting to get his money's worth. First he sent me into the house to get the paddle and then, when I brought it to him, he had me take my pants down and bend across the back of the chair Sean had used spanking Pat. At least he did allow me the modesty of keeping my shorts on. But he took his good time paddling, that's for sure, and demanded that I keep count for him. By the time swat number twenty-two completed my initiation, I had done a dance that entertained everyone! Then I joined Pat in the pool and, after a friendly wrestling match the two of us ended up stark naked. That's when the host turned on the underwater lights. We soon had a lot of company and a general grab and grope session had everyone hooting and laughing."
"But I distinctly got the idea that you two switched from what took place at the Grotto the first day I saw you."
"I always experience something before I use it," Sean replied. "You know the old saw about walking in the other's moccasins: before I lay into him I want to know what it will feel like on the receiving end. Roger was shopping for himself, the pervert, weren't you? Although I will say we have on rare occasions switched, as you put it, and I enjoy the receiving end almost as much as the giving. Roger, however, is not really into giving."
"Veritas," was all Roger had to offer to this revelation. Even after all he had revealed this apparently embarrassed him.
"So I did have it right in talking with you on the phone instead of Roger, didn't I? It's Roger who had better be on best behavior just like B. B.," Tom offered. "And B. B., like Roger, was introduced to something new from that little shopping trip to the Emporium, but he didn't seem to like it much. Since Roger has been so forthcoming here, B. B., I think you should share a little, too. B. B., too, got a special treat when we got home from shopping the Emporium the other day, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir," I mumbled, matching Roger's response to Sean's taunt. Tom was sitting directly across the table from me and still shooting me daggers with his eyes.
"Let's have a little fun while we're waiting for dinner," Sean said, looking directly at Roger. "Here's what you are going to do to entertain us while we dine tonight, Roger. First you excuse yourself and go into the men's room and remove your briefs. Then when you return here you give them to B. B. as a memento of this little party and then you sit down, discretely take out your dick, and stroke it till its nice and hard. Once you get it hard, B. B. will check you and when he is satisfied, one brownie point for you. Go!"
Silence.
"Excuse, me, please," Roger said as he got up to leave the table.
The waitress arrived with our main entrees and began to fill the table just as Roger came back from his errand to the men's room. He stood patiently, waiting, till she completed her delivery and left. Then he slipped back into his chair and passed his tightly folded briefs to me under the tablecloth. I smiled and tucked them into my pocket. Roger looked straight at me but his hands remained under the table and all of us enjoyed knowing what was going on.
"When you think you're ready to pass inspection, let me know, will you, Roger?" I teased. "And if you have any trouble getting ready for inspection maybe I can give you a hand." Giggle, giggle.
While the three of us began to eat, Roger continued to work at his assignment under the table. Given the _s_e_x_ual tension around the table, it didn't him long.
"Whenever you like, B. B.," Roger said, looking at Sean with a smile.
I set the bread stick I was munching down on my plate and discretely reached down under the heavy linen tablecloth with my right hand. Roger continued to smile as I began to stroke his rigid _c_o_c_k_ while he dipped into his finger bowl and wiped his hand on a napkin.
"Very well done, Roger. You pass inspection," I announced quietly. "Should I make him come in his napkin?" I asked, looking at Sean. My eyes told Sean I was serious.
"That wasn't part of the deal," Roger protested.
"No, it wasn't," Sean agreed.
My right hand reappeared and Roger shifted around on his chair as he tucked himself back inside his pants. Then all of us started in on the entrees which had sat waiting throughout this titillating hors d'oeuvre.
"Now it's your turn, B. B.," Tom said. "Make your trip to the men's room and when you come back you can give your Jockeys to Roger for a keepsake."
"Excuse me, please," I whispered, blushing deeply. "Be back in a minute. . . ..."
The three of them continued to wade through the antipasto and the bread sticks while I ran my little errand. I returned and discretely slipped the balled up wad of my briefs to Roger under the table.
"Now I think it's only fair if you will open your zipper, spread your knees and let Roger see just how wet you are from all this activity."
My hands disappeared beneath the heavy linen tablecloth and, after a little shuffling and wriggling, they reappeared. Now Roger slipped his left hand under the table and enjoyed turning the tables on me. It was clear after a few seconds he was doing more than checking: his cold fingers began to milk me as he stroked my erection.
"Please, Tom, pleeeease," I pleaded. "If you don't stop this . . .."
"You'll cum right before our eyes?" Tom replied in a whisper. "Oh, all right. Enough for now, Roger." And Roger's hand returned to view as he dipped his fingers into the bowl and washed them ever so slowly.
"Tell us a little more about this group you mentioned," Tom asked. "It sounds like fun."
"We really do enjoy it, don't we Roger?" Sean replied. "And in the three or four years we have been involved we have really gotten into some interesting situations. Roger mentioned Bryan Kirby earlier when he was telling you about our initiation. Bryan is one of the few unattached people and someone who has become a very close friend since that first encounter. He's a tiger, he is. And Roger has been on the receiving end of his paddle more than a few times. About two weeks ago we got together with Bryan, one other single, and a couple from the group and had a Las Vegas night."
"Didn't really get rolling until midnight," Roger continued as Sean began to work on his Sunday Evening Special. "We had blackjack, roulette, strip poker, too much to drink and munch, and even a special show about three a. m.! All this with Bryan as the 'master of ceremony' taking every opportunity imaginable to get out the paddle. And, as often as not, he had Sean's able assistance."
Tom, Sean, and I continued to wade through the seafood platter in front of each of us.
"Bryan is insatiable," Sean concurred. "And between Bryan, Jay, and me we saw to it none of them--Roger, Neil, or Fred--was able to sit comfortably for the next day or two. Sometimes I wonder, though, who is the more insatiable: Bryan giving it out or Fred taking one lambasting after another! I mean the guy nearly got down on his knees and begged when Bryan told him to ask for it the last time he paddled Fred's ass."
"And all this with an audience." Roger commented. He was clearly intrigued and, no doubt, still sporting that erection I had inspected a few minutes earlier. Ever so discretely I let my right hand slide down under the heavy linen table cloth and gently stroked the dew off the tip. Roger never flinched.
"An audience replete with ribald catcalls, shouts of encouragement, and anything else you might expect from people who had been partying all night long," Sean said. "The first time around Bryan took Fred into Roger's office but left the door open so we could hear every word and every splat when the paddle cracked across his backside. An hour or two later, Fred was the first to tap out in a poker game and Bryan didn't even bother to take him to the office: he made Fred bend across the table and walloped him a second time. Then, during 'show time' Bryan had him doing a striptease dance number which concluded with him nude and kneeling on the couch bent across the back, wriggling and bumping and grinding his bared ass as an invitation to yet another good paddling. Bryan took his sweet time and must have paddled him fifty times before Fred asked for a little mercy. Another fifty before he let him off."
"Does Bryan do any 'consulting?'" Tom asked. "I might like to employ his services sometime. Might be fun, don't you think, B. B.?"
"I'm sure he does, and would be willing to do it pro bono, as my lawyer friends would say," Sean replied. "But if you think you'd like a consultant sometime, let me be the first to offer you my services. You certainly know of my abilities from our shopping excursion at the Emporium, Tom. And I'd like nothing better than to take B. B. down a peg."
"And why do I need taking down a peg?" I asked, not particularly liking where this conversation was headed.
"Just a bit of the haughty, I would say, B. B.," Sean replied. "I was just offering my services to your partner. No need to get concerned." He smiled. "But I think you might enjoy a taste of the cane, don't you? Nothing too severe, say just three good cuts or so for an introduction, . . .."
"Gentlemen!! Please," Tom broke in. "You had best stop while you're ahead," he said directly to me. "And yes, I would like to have you--and Roger--come over sometime so we might plan our initiation into your little group. And do bring your cane along, please, Sean. I think a few strokes might have a most salutary effect on B. B., make him appreciate how lenient his punishment is when she gets a spanking from me."
"I'll look forward to it, then," I said, matching Sean's smile. "Always nice to have a new experience."
"I shouldn't push it, if I were you, B. B.," Roger whispered in an aside only I heard. "There's really nothing quite like a good caning, even just five or six strokes. And Sean knows the secret of using it to best effect. I know from first hand experience."
We had all nearly completed work on the seafood platters and our waitress had arrived to offer desserts and liqueurs. We passed and ordered four expressos.
"And what is the technique, Sean, that works so well. Or can't you reveal trade secrets?" Tom pressed the conversation on to continue to embarrass me.
"The simple answer is in using the wrist and a light stroke, more of a good quick flick rather than a full armed whack. You can really use the flexibility and the tip to extraordinary effect, just the last six or eight inches will leave a weal still visible a day or two later. But that's really just the mechanics technique: it's the overall anticipation and ritual that works wonders."
Our waitress delivered the expresso and the bill.
"Ritual?" Tom asked.
"Well, not in the heavy sense that ritual can mean, but ritual to increase the anticipation. As I'm sure you and B. B. have discovered, the really erotic fun in spanking is not so much in the heat applied to the posterior as it is in the mind before a single smack is given. That's why you likely have an erection even as I talk--I'm sure Roger, here, does--and why B. B.'s slacks likely have a nice wet spot right now. We have a good number of variations on the basic ritual where Roger is required to report to the study and wait for me. Then, when I decide he has had enough time to get worked into a real stew I punish him with whatever I have told him to get out. The desk in the study has several choices including a cane. He is required to stand in front of the desk, take his slacks and briefs down, and then bend across the top of the desk for caning.
First, however, I see to it he has a bit of a lecture and a little more time to contemplate what is to come with his bared arse just waiting there for the cane. And I have been known to take a full five minutes to give out just six or eight strokes, haven't I, Roger?"
Roger nodded his agreement, his eyes down on his coffee and his face somewhat flushed.
"Actually, I think he likes me to take my time. I'm not sure he could stay in place for a half dozen given one on the other. And if he does move out of place he gets an extra for each time it happens. That could go on a long time." Sean laughed. "That's what ritual means in this context. And when his punishment is concluded, he had better not show any hostility or grudge or he'll get seconds, won't you, Roger?"
Again, Roger concurred with a silent nod.
"Sounds like your office is a good place to avoid," Tom said. "But I think B. B. might like to visit sometime, wouldn't you, dear?"
"Oh, I'd just love to," I answered with as much sarcasm as I thought I could likely get away with. "Sounds like my kind of place."
"And I'd be delighted to show you the ropes, B. B.," Sean replied, with an unnecessary emphasis on "ropes." "Perhaps you should bring your tart-tongued partner over for a session in manners sometime, Tom. Sarcasm doesn't become him. But it's amazing how fast one learns manners when the point is underlined with a cane."
We had finished the expresso and, with a crowd waiting for tables, the waitress began to exert subtle pressure by repeated visits to see if there was anything else we required. So we decided to yield to the crowd and end this introductory evening somewhat prematurely with a promise to get together again soon at either our place of theirs. But as we waited for the parking valet to retrieve our car, Roger asked why we couldn't join them right then for the nightcap we had foregone at O'Donnell's. "As much as I'd like to I really do have to get an early start tomorrow since I'm flying to Atlanta for a conference," Tom answered. "By the time we could get out to your place and then drive back to ours it would be midnight if we only stayed an hour or an hour and a half. And I need more than five hours of sleep to survive tomorrow." Tom looked at me.
"I'm afraid it will have to be another night," I agreed. "I'm not leaving town or anything, but I have a pretty hefty schedule tomorrow as well. But thanks for your offer." Saved from what I was sure Sean had in mind for me: a show and tell visit to the study and a taste of the cane. But this was only a reprieve, I knew, and that taste was sure to come the first time we visited them. Well, if Roger could take it, so could I.
"We'll just have to look forward to a next time, won't we, Roger," Sean announced rather formally. "And, truth be told, I'll savor the anticipation of next time," he added, looking directly at me. This man had a fixation! "But remember my offer, Tom, if you think he might use a little lesson in manners some time. I'd be delighted to take him to charm school to refresh his memory on proper behavior and attitude--not that he isn't charming already!"
"Gosh," I gushed with a girlish lilt, "I haven't been to charm school since my coming out party!" This was pushing my luck, but I like to live on the edge. "Thanks again for a wonderful evening," I added, reaching to give Sean a somewhat formal handshake before getting into our car.
"Good night, Tom," he said as gripped my hand hard. "And I'm looking forward with great anticipation to the first time I have you across the desk like some young schoolboy." he whispered into my ear before letting me go. "You won't be talking so smart when I get through adjusting your attitude." He let go of my hand. "Good night, B. B.," he said with an ominous smile.
Tom pulled into the early evening Loop traffic and I felt my heart pound for a minute or two before either of us spoke.
"What'd you think?" he asked. "I really enjoyed dinner and I wouldn't mind getting together again."
"And I'd like to get my underwear back, thank you," I replied. "I just about came all over his hand when he checked me out under the table! Another two or three minutes and I think I come have really embarrassed him, too!"
"But we're not really into _s_e_x_ swapping, or anything like that. I don't know if that's what they were implying with the group thing, but that I don't need. Tonight is as far as I go, I guess. How about you?"
"Agreed," I replied. " But I don't think even they usually play the kind of games we did tonight. That was something Sean dreamed up on the spot, I think. And I have to say it was incredibly erotic for me. Especially not being able to see anything and all this going on in a posh restaurant in prime time with lots of people around totally unaware."
"I wasn't sure either for a second or two. But 'no risk, no payoff' as they say on the street. I wonder what Roger thought of the whole thing."
"And on top of the stroking," I added, "it was the most erotic dinner conversation I've ever had--and with near strangers at that."
"Roger and I hadn't even met until tonight. But he didn't seem to mind. Or if he did, he has the good sense not to make a scene. It sounds like they have a mini-mansion in the country from the description Sean gave."
"Well, we'll just have to see it for ourselves, won't we."
"And when we take the grand tour I get the feeling you're going to get a close up view of the infamous study," Tom said. "Sean definitely has an interest in getting the opportunity to give you a good hard spanking, for some reason. I'd put a washcloth into my pants, if I were you, when we do visit them. And I wouldn't push that smart aleck attitude you like to affect when you're looking for a licking--Sean may be more than you bargained for. You seem to have forgotten your visit to the Grotto the other day already. And you were complaining about his 'heavy hand' after that one!"
"We'll see, won't we," I answered with as much bravado as I could. He was right, I knew, and just thinking about Sean standing behind me with a cane as he surveyed my bared backside before taking his pleasure brought a lump into my throat. He looked like he enjoyed dishing it out and had enough experience to make it memorable. And the closest I had ever come to a caning was to watch "Tom Brown's Schooldays" on Masterpiece Theater.
Tom turned into our driveway and slowly cruised around the building once before parking in an empty space some distance from our reserved carport slot.
"How about doing what all lovers do when the hormones take over," he said as he shut off the engine. He reached over in the dark, took my hand, and guided it to his stiffened penis. While I unzipped his pants and popped him out into my hand, he began to massage my own erection.
"You really want to come all over your suit pants?" I asked, stroking him harder. "Why don't we just go on up to our place so you have a proper place for this thing?"
"Because I want the excitement of sitting right here in the parking lot and not knowing whether someone might walk by and see us or drive in next to us," he whispered into my ear as he unzipped my slacks.
I planted my feet into the floor mat and raised up ever so slightly, just enough for him to slip my pants down over my knees. When I settled back down onto the seat he explored my balls with his hand.
"Play with yourself," he ordered softly. While I continued to massage his erection with my left hand, I slipped my right down between my legs and began to tease my self into a thrusting rhythm.
"Just remember," he whispered into my ear as I began to climax, "Sean isn't the only one who's going to have a little fun. At some point I expect he will certainly reciprocate and then you can have the titillation of watching me give Roger a good paddling." Tom knew that vision would send me over the edge and it did. "And I can tell you I am looking forward to having him take his pants down for a good dose of my razor strop." I could see the picture as clearly as if I had a video recording playing on television: Tom standing there, lump in his pants, with the strap, and Roger with his slacks and briefs down around his ankles, bent over waiting for that first lick, and Sean and I quietly watching with enormous tension and erotic anticipation. My legs felt as if they had become detached in the extraordinary climax which swept through me in unending waves. Tom was not far behind and even in the dark I saw him spurt up toward the instrument panel he emptied his balls to my commanding hand.
"What do you think our parents would say if they could see us now?" I asked in the warm afterglow of the impromtu and exhilarating _s_e_x_.
"Well, I don't know what my old man would say, but I know what yours would say. The same thing he said when you came home from the senior prom two hours overdue and without your underwear: 'Get the strap, B. B., and go to your room: you're going to get a whipping.' That's how all this lunacy started!""
He knew exactly what that comment would do to me and it brought a second orgasm, one of those so intense they actually hurt.
"Whose fault was it that I was two hours late? And who took my pants off and lost them in the course of the night? It was you who should have been punished, not me. And if I remember right, you didn't get anything for that night."
A patrol car suddenly appeared, cruising slowly through the lot like a sharp looking for prey. We both began to scramble to get our clothing back in place and by the time he spotted us, stopped his car, and came over to Tom's window we were fairly well presentable.
"Evening, folks," he said with a somewhat cautious tone. "Do you live here or are you just visiting?"
"We do live here, officer," Tom replied, "and we were just finishing a conversation. If you like, I would be happy to show you my driver's license--it has our address on it."
"Thanks," the cop said, "but as long as you live here and aren't having any problems, that won't be necessary." He shined his flashlight into the car and look at me to see if there was a problem. "We just like to make sure the area is safe for people at night."
"And we do appreciate it," Tom said with some enthusiasm.
The cop walked back to his patrol car and we quickly got out, locked up, and headed for the door of our building. He waited to see if we indeed did have a key to get in and once Tom opened the door, he pulled away.
"Just like old times," he said.