The Paddle Club: A Fun, Romantic and Erotic Spanking Novel (2 page)

Suzanne sat on the edge of the bed and remembered her first date with Michael as she pulled the black lace stockings up her long, slender legs fastening them with her garter belt. They had gone to a very expensive, five-star restaurant near the marina and following the superb meal, walked along the beach talking and holding hands. Michael was funny and kind. He was older than Suzanne, ten years older, but he was slender and fit. He had a kind, almost boyish quality. That date, the first of many, ended with a gentle kiss.

She put on a black lace bra and stood as she pulled on a pair of matching panties, pulling them up over her garter belt. Sitting down on the bed again, she continued her mental replay of her relationship with Michael. She remembered how his optimistic outlook disappeared when he lost his job through no fault of his own. He had been blamed for another man’s incompetence.

As he searched for a new job his hostility grew until, by the time he finally found a position his whole personality had completely changed. It got even worse once he was working again at a more menial job; his deep bitterness was mixed with a fierce and hard-hearted determination to move up the corporate ladder. The combination of bitter ruthlessness and fear of failing had completely robbed him of the simple joys in life.

Even their dates had changed; there were no more simple walks along the beach or picnics in the park. Now all their dates were business related social functions. Michael liked having a poised and polished Suzanne on his arm at these affairs. He thinks of me almost like he does his expensive watch or his gold signet ring, Suzanne realized, as though I’m an expensive status symbol. A trophy girlfriend. How did I ever let him get away with that kind of behavior? She wondered, disgusted with herself.

Suzanne then pulled on her dress, a sexy but very modest piece of blue satin that was not very tight but clung to her slender waist and hugged her well-rounded buttocks and her large, firm breasts. The dress was not especially low cut, but it was still in some ways, very lush and sensuous.

The color brought out the vibrant blue of her eyes. Her long, straight, shiny black hair was piled on top of her head, and she wore no make-up except blush to emphasize her high cheekbones and lipstick to bring out her full, perfect lips.

She was ready. One more time she sat on the bed and thought about Michael. She hoped against all hope that her willing participation tonight would show him that they still had a relationship worth saving. Extremely nervous and very frightened, she almost felt like an old-fashioned bride on her wedding night, facing the unknown for the first time. She looked very sensuous and at the same time, elegant. Her height, at 5’9” was tall enough to give her an almost queenly air in the silky formal gown.

In spite of her nerves, her natural grace and poise added to the total picture of regal serenity. She had a bearing of gentility and maturity that completely masked her lustful nature and her wicked sense of humor.

Smiling to herself she remembered the first long phone call she had received from a member of the club. The man, who had identified himself as James, was the club’s host for the initiation. His voice was exceptionally kind and his manner surprisingly reassuring.

James told her about the club, and explained about tops and bottoms. He told her that for some reason their club had an unusually high percentage of members who would switch from one to the other; he called it going from topping to bottoming. The members were generally monogamists, not into wild orgies, and he explained that nothing would happen to her against her will. He gently spelled out what would happen at the club’s initiation, and gave her explicit instructions on what she was to wear and how to act.

He gave her code words to use if she wanted things to stop or just to slow down, and told her the code words were for her protection. She should challenge herself to avoid using them, if at all possible, but to shout them out when she felt she needed to. No one would think the less of her. He also assured her that there would be no blood and she would suffer no real injuries.

He made sure she had no illusions or hidden surprises waiting for her at the club’s initiation but told her that her lover, Michael, would indeed be on the receiving end of a surprise, a big one. The surprise was almost the last thing James told her as he explained the club to her. His explanation was strangely reassuring.

James concluded the call by recommending a couple of erotic books featuring S & M and by saying, “Don’t get so nervous, it’ll be fun, a little scary maybe and a little painful certainly, but still fun. Not at all like those books.” He laughed softly, “I’ll bet you even like most of the people in the club. We really aren’t as weird as you probably think we are. Remember, I’ll be there to make it just as good as I can for you, okay?” James told her most of the details about the surprise they had in store for Michael. If his voice and manner hadn’t been so warm and courteous and even somehow strangely reassuring in spite of the very painful plans he had in store for her, Suzanne probably would have backed out of the whole affair. Even though she hadn’t realized it, James was the third reason she had agreed to go to the club. Even over the phone, he intrigued her.

Michael, ever the perfectionist, arrived precisely at eight o’clock. He used his own key to let himself in, and walked up the stairs and right into Suzanne’s bedroom. Suzanne turned to study him. He had become a stocky man, now about thirty-five. He looked out of his element standing there in his tuxedo. In spite of a spare tire beginning to form around his waist he was still a fairly attractive man. His boyish charm had vanished, leaving behind a man who was handsome in a dark, brooding sort of way. He had an aquiline face, with short, dark brown hair, brown eyes and thin lips. He hid the bitter aspects of his nature under a facade of expansive good humor.

Since his gradual transformation into a mean-spirited and merciless man, his favorite hobby was criticizing and baiting Suzanne. He seemed almost disappointed that she was ready and waiting for him, and that she had followed his instructions perfectly. She had left nothing for him to criticize, and that was the worst sin of all. He vowed to make her pay and had the perfect means to torment her. Just to irritate Suzanne, Michael had her pull up her dress and look at her own ass in the fulllength mirror.

“Take a good look at that pale butt before the club members get their hands on it. It’s going to be so red and hot, I can hardly wait. I bet it will hurt like hell. In fact, if I close my eyes and use my imagination I can almost see the welts right here.” He put his hand on her ass and he taunted her cruelly, with no hint of his former affection.

Suzanne wondered to herself why she didn’t just dump this loser, but almost against her will she found herself walking down the stairs with him. When they got outside she noticed a long, white limousine waiting for them. “The club sent it to pick me up,” Michael boasted. Big shot!

“It’s picking me up, too, Michael,” Suzanne muttered under her breath.

The limo driver turned out to be a kindly looking older man about sixty. He was short and chubby. He had merry green eyes and wavy, snow white hair. The man introduced himself as Jerry and said he was a member. He held the door very formally as they got into the car. As Suzanne got in he gave her a lusty swat on the left cheek of her buttocks. Even through the dress the swat made her bottom sting and tingle.

“Sorry, Miss. I got ahead of myself.” He sounded completely unrepentant then laughed at the surprise on her face, and winked. “Maybe later you can pay me back for my dreadful impertinence.”

She sank back into the plush velvet interior of the limo. Michael got in beside her. The upholstery was burgundy and the rest of the interior was rich wood paneling with gold trim. The limo was fully stocked. It had a small bar with champagne and tall, crystal fluted goblets. There was a television, a phone and a small drawer filled with condoms. In addition to the champagne, a shelf above the bar had a bottle labeled “Spanking After Care Lotion” on it. The sight of the lotion and the thought of its possible use made Suzanne’s mouth feel dry. During the ride to the club headquarters her butt tingled on the spot where the cheerful chauffeur had slapped it.

When they arrived at the club Suzanne had a brief glimpse of a large brick building, with white trim. There was a covered porch that ran the whole length of the front of the building. It was also painted a gleaming white. There were several wrought iron chairs and wooden swings on the porch, and a well-manicured lawn surrounding the long, curving driveway. The gardens in front of the porch were planted with colorful flowers, mainly roses, and there was a trim hedge around the property. The limo let Suzanne and Michael out before it pulled right into a large, enclosed garage. Several club members came out of the clubhouse to greet the new couple. Suzanne noticed immediately that they were a very diverse group. She saw people of all ages, from early twenties to late sixties, and all sizes from thin to fat, mixed racially between White and Hispanic. Were there any members of the other races, Blacks or Asians, she wondered vaguely in a corner of her consciousness, or does a club like this practice racial discrimination?

Suzanne relaxed a little as she realized that the members all seemed to be very friendly and normal, even ordinary. Most of them acted very cheerful and welcoming. Secretly she was glad to see that none of the members present were wearing any weird black leather outfits, with shiny silver studs or carrying whips.

A stranger seeing the group would think they were gathered for an elegant ball since they were all dressed formally in lovely evening gowns and well-tailored tuxedos complete with white tie and in some cases, even tails. As the group moved into the clubhouse, several women were chatting so cheerfully with Suzanne that she almost forgot what was going to happen inside the brick building. Almost but not quite.

Suzanne and Michael were ushered into a large room. It was lavishly furnished in an expensive manner and with great attention to the tiniest detail. The room seemed to be leftover from another period. It should have looked tacky but instead, it had grace and charm. The walls had dark mahogany wainscoting, with plush red and gold velvet flocked wallpaper. There was deep, plush, chocolate carpet on most of the floor, with a large expanse of gleaming hardwood. Three large crystal chandeliers and crystal and brass wall sconces lined the walls of the room. At one end of the long room there was a raised platform, and at the other was a gleaming mahogany bar with brass trim. The bar was complete with bartender, a slender young man with a mustache who was wearing a white shirt and red suspenders with red garters on his shirtsleeves.

Suzanne later learned that the door beside the platform led to a professional, modern kitchen capable of serving large formal banquets, and a laundry room complete with linen closet. There were about two dozen soft, padded and comfortable chairs with deep velvet cushions.

The chairs were a far step up from the ones Suzanne usually found at clubs or symposiums. These chairs were definitely not the usual tacky, metal folding chairs she was used to finding at lectures, club functions or even the stackable chairs favored by some of the better hotels in their banquet rooms.

Seeing her appraisal of the chairs, Jerry, the chauffeur, came over to stand beside her. “We like to have very comfortable chairs. All our surroundings are very nice, of course, but we need the comfortable chairs because our bottoms are usually a little, umm, tender before the evening’s over.” He grinned at her discomfiture as he walked away.

On the platform at the front of the room there was a microphone and three plush armchairs for the host, James, and for Michael and Suzanne. Off to one side there was what could only be described as a whipping bench. Suzanne shuttered as she looked at it, chills running down her spine. The bench was about four feet long and almost waist high. It was thickly padded with plush, red velvet and furnished with several velvet straps.

A tall, gleaming brass bucket next to the bench held several assorted canes. The canes did not look very harsh. They were just lengths of slender bamboo, of varying thickness, from very thin to as broad as her thumb. Some had a crooked handle and some were just straight. How Victorian, Suzanne thought with another shiver, remembering the books she’d read at James’ suggestion.

There were two more padded benches in the room; they were both lower and narrower than the bench on the dais. Those two benches were on the main floor, between the platform and the first row of the chairs facing it.

Off to one side of the dais there was a Victorian love seat. All three benches and the love seat were padded and upholstered in the same red velvet. Along one side of the room there was a hallway with several doors that, according to Michael, led to small, private bedrooms. A staircase led to still more bedrooms upstairs, and downstairs to a play dungeon and a storage area.

“Boy! I can hardly wait to drag you into one of those bedrooms and fuck you with your bottom red and on fire!” Michael was wildly enthusiastic. “I can just imagine your pain as I pound your burning ass into the mattress.”

At Jerry’s suggestion, Suzanne and Michael were seated in the special place of prominence on the raised platform, facing the group of about thirty club members. Just then James, the host for the evening, came in and introduced himself. “Hello, I’m James. You must be Suzanne.” He held out his hand and when she reached out her hand, he didn’t shake hands with her but instead held her hand in a long warm grasp. “I’m sorry to be so late, it’s really inexcusable I know, but I got tied up at work.” He winked, “Unfortunately that wasn’t literally, it was only a metaphor.”

Suzanne was pleased that the man she had spoken to on the phone turned out to be as warm in person. He was also a very good looking man about thirty years old, with short, curly blond hair. He was tall, with a slender yet athletic build and the most amazingly soft, friendly blue eyes. Giving Suzanne a cheerful smile, he revealed a dimple in his left cheek before stepping up to the microphone. He started the meeting with an announcement that besides bringing such a lovely, prospective member for the club – he turned and gave Suzanne a warm look – Michael had been kind enough to volunteer to whip some of the regular members. He would do it now, before Suzanne’s initiation. Several club members, mainly women, lined up next to one of the padded benches. There was a tall brass bucket, like the one on the platform, filled with canes. A small, ornate table off to one side held several paddles and straps.