The ride home through the early rush hour took about an hour and forty-five minutes but seemed to me to last three hours.
"Tom," I thought to myself, "sometimes I wonder about the things I do for you." Actually, on second thought, in this case, to me.
Then I alleviated the aggravation somewhat by concentrating on replaying the scene I had witnessed between two people known to me only as Roger Cummings and Sean. Were they even lovers? There was a possibility, of course, that Sean may have been another's lover: remember Sir Stephen and The Story of O? Could this be Roger Cummings and "S?" Would Tom even believe the half hour I had spent with Roger and Sean in a private salon at the Grotto Emporium? And I knew I had to make the return trip with Tom. If I told him the "Story of S" would he try to repeat it with me in the fitting room and him out shopping with another customer or two. That thought brought me too near cumming. Then I hit the speed bumps on the way into our complex and looked up to the windows on the fourth floor: they were lit. Tom was home and waiting for me. I walked up to the door somewhat stiffly, let myself into the lobby, checked our mailbox, and then keyed my way onto the elevator and punched four.
"Welcome," he said as he opened the door for me just before I got to it. "I watched you walk across the parking lot. You have a cramp in your leg or is something else wrong?"
"No, Tom, just a long ride home," I answered, "nothing's wrong. But you're right in thinking something happened to me on the way home. I don't know if you'll even believe it, but I'm sure you'll find it interesting." After hanging my jacket in the hall closet, I kicked my shoes off and followed Tom into the living room.
"Let me get a drink and then you can tell me all about it. I thought you were going to stop by the Emporium and bring something special, B. B."
"Oh, I did, Tom. I did. An experience and a story you won't believe."
"Now, tell me all about your shopping trip," he said. "And you can stand there with your pants down and tell me since you are going to get a lickin'! I told you to buy something special and you came home with 'an experience and a story'?! Well, you tell your story with your pants down, B. B., cause your going get a whipping when you finish."
So for the next fifteen minutes or so I stood there on display for any lucky voyeur to enjoy while I related the story of Roger and Sean at the Grotto Emporium on 42d Street. Deciding that honesty was the best policy, in this case I gave Tom every juicy detail and watched the lump straining in his pants as I wove my erotic tale.
"And Roger's card is in your wallet?" he asked when I had finished.
"Yes, you want it?"
"Please."
I dug Roger's card out from my wallet, then waddled over to Tom and handed it to him. He turned it over while examining it and found that Roger had written his home number in pencil on the back, something I had not noticed.
"You really thinking we should consider getting together with them?" I asked with some incredulity. This was fun, exciting, erotic--but had gone far enough for my tastes.
The sly grin coupled with no answer let me know there was something coming which I might regret. Tom stood up, took me by the hand, and then led me out to the kitchen where he pulled a chair over to the telephone. Then he sat down and once again pulled my across his knee. When he started to dial I knew what was coming.
"Hi, this is Tom," he said. "We haven't met yet but you met my room mate wife this afternoon at the Emporium over on Wells Street."
There was a brief silence, then: "Yes, that's him. Listen, I was wondering if Sean is there and if she is, could I speak with him?"
Another brief silence.
"Yes, I'm Tom, his room mate. And I wanted to tell you that I will be taking him shopping there tomorrow afternoon at three. I'd like you to join us--and reverse the tables on B. B. if you like. Whether Roger knows or not is entirely up to you. And I think you might enjoy this before you hang up."
Tom's right palm flashed down across my buttocks with a loud "smaaaack!" He was holding the receiver with his left hand and spanking with the right. I got about two dozen in rapid fire order. Thirty seconds after the spanking started it was over, but what a spanking!
"I'll look forward to meeting you tomorrow, if you can make it, Sean. But if not, I'll give Roger a call sometime this weekend to try to make arrangements for us to go out to dinner and get better acquainted."
Then he hung up the phone, stood me up for the second time, gave me one last, ferocious swat, and told me to go into the bedroom and prepare for the rest of my punishment.
From experience I knew Tom would wait at least a half hour before coming to the bedroom. He would expect to find me kneeling nude on the bed with my face to the mattress and my pink backside arched up waiting for his pleasure. After a quick shower I went into the bedroom and assumed the position. As I waited I wondered what would be his choice this time. Sometimes he chose to give me yet another spanking with the hair brush or his belt, sometimes he would require that I play with myself until I came, sometimes he demanded that I suck his erection before he mounted me from behind.,
"Nice to see such obedience, B. B.," he said as he came into our playroom. "All those training sessions seem to have finally convinced you that there is true pleasure in subservience. You've been such a good boy today I'm going to give you a special treat: you pick the ending for today's session."
I looked back between my knees and saw him standing there enjoying the view. His offer so took my by surprise I really didn't know what I wanted--he had always supplied that.
"I can pick any finish I like?"
"Any finish you like," he said. The bulge in his trousers told me he was badly in need of some relief himself.
"Then," I said quietly and with more than a little trepidation, "take your belt off and give your boy the strapping he deserves." (Had I really said that?!)
He did. And then he took his pleasure and jerked me off as he came, me collapsing first and then Tom cumming with spurts onto my back.
"Now," he whispered into my ear, "you'll have to start thinking of some reason why you have to leave work early again tomorrow."
"That's easy," I answered, "I'll just need to go back to have the phantom crown I supposedly had put in today adjusted because my bite is off." Somehow, this little charade in sneaking away from the office for an hour or two enhanced our indulgence in sin.
When we returned to the Grotto Emporium the next afternoon, the same clerk who had checked me out the day before was still working the day shift at the counter. "Hey, Tom! Welcome back! And welcome to your friend, too. Since you know your way around, go ahead--enjoy!"
Tom followed me through the main part of the emporium, a large high ceilinged room tastefully decorated and filled with a potpourri of magazines, books, costumes, videos, and "specialty items." Both the furniture and decor was of a Victorian style which seemed at once to both clash with and fit the contents of the many shelves and display cases. I led Tom down the hallway past the salons for the fetishists and back into the delightful room where I had spent most a delight filled afternoon yesterday. It was a few minutes past three and Sean was already there, waiting for us to join him. Once again he was dressed for LaSalle Street, and again a silk tie set off the conservative linen suit. Roger was not in evidence.
"Nice to see you again," he said, offering his hand in greeting. "B. B., isn't it? And you must be Tom. I'm Sean."
"Yes," Tom replied, shaking his hand with a slight bow. "Roger couldn't make it?"
"Roger wasn't invited," Sean returned, a large smile breaking across his face. Intriguing comment, that, and delivered with all the openness of a sphinx.
"But he did appreciate your calling him last night, as did I. I trust you had an enjoyable evening?" The question was addressed to me.
"About as enjoyable as your afternoon, yesterday," I answered smartly.
The smile returned to Sean's face. I looked around at all the possible weapons at his disposal and wondered what I had just volunteered for: above that smiling mouth the eyes were cold grey flint.
"Why don't you go ahead into the fitting room," Sean said, his smile still broadening. "I'm sure we can find a few things here you might like, B. B.." He had picked up a thin riding crop from the display next to her and was tapping it suggestively on his palm. Just what I needed after last night, a horsewhipping from some total stranger.
I made my way through the other cases and disappeared into the fitting room. I hung my coat on the hanger on the back of the door, sat down on the French provincial chair, and listened to Tom and Sean exchanging banalities only strangers would utter. It wasn't long before they became more familiar and began to converse as much for my hearing as anything else.
"How do you usually spank him, Tom," Sean asked coyly. "Take him cross you knee? Wallop him with your hand? Or maybe take him to the bedroom for the belt?" He was enjoying this, just as I had the day before with him in my place and me brousing the cases with Roger.
"Whatever seems most appropriate at the time," Tom answered truthfully. "Here's a beauty." A loud "smack" followed.
"You could warm his buns up quite well with that one," Sean said. "Would you like me to try that one out for you and see what kind of response it gets?"
"No, I think maybe this one is even better."
I wondered where they were, by the hairbrushes or the paddles.
"Ooooh, this is it, Tom. This is it," Sean fairly cooed. "This paddle should have his name engraved on it. May I try it out?"
"May you? You can try out anything you like, Sean. You're supposed to be doing the shopping and helping me. Please, do see how it 'fits'."
The door to fitting room opened and there stood Sean, a highly polished wooden paddle in his right hand. He looked almost regal in that suit and tie. And the smile on his face sent a message that he was about to be served. Sean closed the door and I stood up, saying nothing.
He sat down on the straight backed padded chair, motioned me to stand in front of him, and took my pants down. Then he pulled me down across his knees and set the paddle on my back. He gently rubbed his hand across my briefs and I clenched my cheeks knowing what was coming next.
"This is a beauty," he enthused again. "The kind of paddle you've dreamed your _s_e_x_iest dreams about, B. B., isn't that so?"
Did he really want an answer to that?
"When I ask a question, I think it only polite that you have the courtesy to answer, B. B.." Crack! He brought the paddle down hard and caught me just across the apex of my cheeks. It hurt.
"Haven't you dreamed of a good paddling, B. B.. A paddling from Tom if not from me?" Smaaaack!
"Yes, yes!" I replied quickly, hoping that was enough for this try out. "God, that stings."
"You might pray to God, but you would do better to talk to me, B. B.."
A third hard whack underscored that comment and then I found myself back on my feet standing in front of him, my hands rubbing my scalded buttocks. With mirrors on all three walls, it was not possible to avoid the ludicrous view of me with my pants hobbled around my ankles and the lump clearly showing in the front of my briefs. Sean stood up and moved toward the door, then turned back as he left.
"Take those slacks off and hang them up, will you B. B., so we can try a few other things. They would just be in the way."
I did as ordered, hanging my pants on the door. With the warmth still radiating from my backside I stood behind the chair and waited Sean's return. Once again I surveyed the mirrors all around me and found the view erotic.
"Made him dance, that's for sure, Tom," Sean said as he and Tom continued to have their fun shopping while I waited in suspense on the other side of the fitting room partition. "But a little too hefty, for my taste. Might cause bruises. I much prefer something which stings but can be used much longer to prolong the enjoyment. For both of us, of course." Sean was having his revenge. "Does he like the strap? I know he was most keen Roger should get one of these yesterday."
"Once in a while I've spanked him with my belt," Tom answered. "But these . . . I don't know." He had to have been looking at the tawses I had coveted the day before.
"Now here's one that might leave a good impression," Mararet offered. "I think I'd like to try this one: would that be all right?"
"You can try anything you like, Sean, really. But I do want to purchase at least one or two things before we leave and I'd like you to select, if you will. That one looks like it could get his attention."
The door opened a second time and I found myself face to face with Sean, a sinister black leather strap in his right hand hung nearly to the floor. After closing the door--pointless since everything could be heard through the partition anyway--he moved the chair to a corner of the room and turned me around till I faced the mirror on the back wall.
"Bend over and grab your ankles, B. B.," he ordered.
I did as he asked and looked back through my knees to see him take his position behind and off to one side before raising the strap over his shoulder. My eyes closed, my teeth clenched, and my knuckles turned white around my ankles in anticipation. All that stood between my already pink backside and his strap was a thin pair of Jockeys.
Craaaacck! Sean whipped the strap full across my already warm buttocks painting a neat inch wide purple stripe. He waited a good thirty seconds-- presumably for some kind of reaction from me which I was determined not to give him--before laying a second nasty stripe just below the first.
"Which do you prefer, B. B.?" he asked in a low, soft voice. "The paddle or the strap?" He was having fun now.
""Neither!"
"That's too bad," he said, whaling the strap in a third time, still lower. "Because I sure don't want you to leave here dissatisfied. I"ll try again. Maybe I can find something you like yet." A fourth lick came in right under the fleshy part of my cheeks and brought me upright.
When I looked into the mirrors I saw he had already left me to my misery. The sting was unbelievable and there were several silent tears trailing down my face. "What an asshole!" I thought. I expected him to enjoy turning the tables, but this was something I would remember a long time. And if the chance ever came to see Sean on the receiving end again, he would regret this episode.
"He still isn't satisfied, Tom," Sean said, the smirk in his voice coming through the partition loud and clear. "You have a room mate who is very difficult to please. But I told him I was willing to keep trying until we can come up with something which pleases you both. Ever tried a cane?"
"No, we haven't," Tom answered. "But as enticing as all those British cp magazines are to see and read, the cane seems a bit too severe for me. There are some nice birches here, though, and this riding crop is intriguing."
"Intriguing indeed. I must say I've never given Roger a good birching and, for the life of me, I really don't know why a bunch of twigs tied into a bouquet would hurt? Connoisseurs of spanking that they are, the British do know about these things so they must be effective."
I heard the repeated "swishing" sound as he--or he--apparently was trying them out in the air.
"What are these, Tom?"
"Nettles," he answered. "You put them in the britches and the sting is supposed to be ferocious. Another British custom among the many they have devised for prolonged punishments. Quite effective, especially when worn against the skin after a good spanking."
The unmistakable hiss of a cane being whipped through the air followed. "Please, dear God, not that," I prayed. "Anything but that." Only once had I actually taken just three strokes with a cane and I never, never wanted to feel that fire again.
"This one," Sean enthused, "this one is it, Tom!"
The door opened a third time and there stood my linen-suited tormentor with a riding crop in his hand.
"Maybe you'll like this one," she said, smiling. "This time you'll take those Jockeys down for me before you bend over and grab your ankles. We'll see if you like the taste of a horsewhip on your bared arse."
I turned my back to Sean, pulled my briefs down to bare my scarlet backside and my raging erection. Then I bent over and touched my fingers to the floor. This time he stood closer to me and rested his left hand on the small of my back while he took aim.
When nothing happened immediately I opened my eyes and looked back between my knees to see the door wide open with Tom watching on the other side.
"You're wearing a lovely set of stripes today, B. B.," Sean said, making me wait still longer. "And such color coordination: white, pink, fuchsia, and magenta. See what you think of this one." The crop whistled and snapped home across my abused ass with a crack sharp as lightning severing a limb from a tree.
The view from their side must have been lude, at the least. My feet wanted to dance, my hips were writhing side to side, my back was arching, and I was squealing barely under my breath.
"This is the one, isn't it, B. B.?" Sean laid a second lash across the tops of my still white thighs.
"Oh God, pleeeease?" I pleaded. "PLEASE!"
"I thought so." Smaaaaack! "You may stand up, but before you get yourself dressed, I have something for you to tuck into your briefs." Sean left the room and returned in less than a minute with a small sprig of the nettles. He still also carried the riding crop.
"Put your briefs on and then I'll help you get these put in properly."
It was impossible not to try to rub some of the sting out of my well spanked backside and I did just that for a minute or so while he watched in some amusement. The pain erased any modestly I would ordinarily have felt standing there half nude in front of a near stranger, my _c_o_c_k_ still fully erect. But I did scoop my undies up off the floor and pulled them up.
"Turn round, then," he said. And he pulled the waist band back and began to stuff the prickly nettles into the crack between my cheeks. "There, that should do it, shouldn't it, B. B.?"
I bit hard into my lip determined not to give him the satisfaction. He handed me my pants and I quickly stepped into them.
"Tom says this will be just fine," he said, handing me the riding crop. It was braided soft leather over a thin rod of some sort and had a triangular leather lash attached to the business end. "He said you should take it out to the main counter, pay for it, and wait for us there."
Sean went through the door of the fitting room with me in his wake. I was startled to see another couple in the salon. How long had they been out there? Had they heard that last licking Sean had just given me? And where was Tom? He had apparently disappeared. The two newcomers--a young woman and an older man--were standing just inside the door and both looked up from their browsing. I walked through the salon rather stiff legged carrying the riding crop with which Sean had just tatooed some purple triangles on the backs of my legs. Sean stopped short and I nearly ran him over.
"We're quite through with the 'try out room' if you would like to use it," he announced to the shopping couple. "B. B. here has found just the thing, haven't you boy?," he asked ever so sweetly, his eyes boring into mine.
"I would say you found it, not me," I answered in somewhat of a low hiss.
"Now, now," he replied. "You wouldn't want me to have to take you back there for a lesson in manners in front of these strangers, would you? Because I get the feeling you're about due for a good hard whipping, B. B.." He was enjoying this immensely.
"I'm sure Tom will see to that, thanks to you, Sean," I replied, not backing down, but hoping that he was bluffing.
"Then I'll see to it he gets the message. Now you go out and wait for us as I told you to do."
Before Sean could prolong this embarrassment I slipped past him and started down the hall toward the main part of the store. As I passed the room with the models clothed in leather and rubber I saw Tom investigating something on a display against the back wall. Sean was coming behind me so I continued on my way but he stopped off to join Tom. About five minutes later they came up front and Tom purchased a pair of leather restraint cuffs which, I assumed, I would be wearing soon. He and Sean picked me up from a video monitor I had been watching--a spanking video, what else?--and the three of us left the emporium together. Before he left us out on Wells Street, Sean fired one last shot in revenge for his humiliation of the day before.
"Roger and I both really hope that the four of us can get together for dinner some time soon. We would both be quite disappointed if you didn't call," he said, his remark directed to Tom. "And, " he added as though it was an afterthought, "I promised B. B. you would take him home and give him a good thrashing, Tom: he really would like that. He told me so." Then he ducked into a waiting cab and slammed the door.
"Well, what do you think?" Tom asked, watching Sean's cab disappear into the Loop traffic.
"I think Sean came in his pants is what I think. He may enjoy the receiving end as much as I do, but he also enjoys giving it out. Remember yesterday? I told you they switched! It wasn't enough that he gave me a hard spanking, Tom, he stuffed nettles in on top of it just so I would have a 'reminder,' as he put it."
"No, B. B.," Tom said, motioning for a taxi to the train station. "The nettles were my idea."
"Thanks a lot!"
"You're welcome."