The Bottom Line (17 page)

As I thought these thoughts I heard the lift doors open. I walked over to the triangle, took off my dressing gown, placed the paddle in a convenient position and leaned against the webbing.

 

 

 

I had met Jack, sad to relate, in a sex shop near Cambridge Circus. It was my first ever visit to such an establishment and I was very nervous, half-expecting to be mugged, chloroformed or - worst of all - recorded for ever on a security video to which the police and my friends would be offered instant access. In fact it was nothing like that. The shop itself was very bare, but the walls were lined with video cases, magazines and other admittedly tawdry impedimenta. I felt as though I should be wearing a shabby fawn raincoat.

Eventually I located the type of video I was looking for, a corporal punishment video, featuring young ladies of startling proportions and a promising variety of weapons. It was outrageously expensive and I was trying to pluck up courage to ask the bored-looking proprietor, sitting behind the high counter smoking and taking no apparent interest in his customers, whether I could have a look at part of it, when a voice said over my shoulder, ‘I shouldn't get that if I were you. It's on offer at half price just down the road. You want to ask Ronnie behind the counter if he's got anything Danish this week.'

I turned to face my interlocutor. He was a man in his early thirties, of average height and totally unremarkable in appearance. ‘Are you an expert, then?' I asked, feeling very pleased with myself for being so bold.

‘No, I'm not an expert, but I've been ripped off too, in my time. If you have time for a coffee I'll tell you what to look for.'

‘Well, I'm not sure...' I began, but he was having none of it.

‘Come on,' he said, ‘there's a coffee bar just round the corner. We can sit outside and I'll fill you in.' I must still have looked very hesitant because he continued, ‘Look, I'll tell you what. You pop round to
la Dolce Vita
, order two cappuccinos, sit outside where everyone can see you and I'll be with you in two minutes. If you're interested you can buy me a coffee; if not, I'll pay for the two of us. Okay?'

I nodded agreement and walked out of the shop, relieved, found the coffee bar, ordered as requested and sat outside, watching the world go by. My new friend turned up very quickly, introduced himself as Jack and handed me a small package. ‘You'll like this,' he said. ‘When you've watched it you can either send it back to me - I've put my address inside - or send me what it cost,' and he named a sum half the advertised price. I fished out the bit of paper with his name on to find he lived in the East Midlands, a mere thirty miles from the town where Barbara lived.

We chatted about this and that as we drank our coffee and eventually agreed that it might be interesting for four of us to meet, Barbara and me, Jack and his wife, Sharon. I said that Barbara and I would want to know exactly what he had in mind, since we were definitely not interested in any swapping. ‘No, not swapping,' he said. ‘You wouldn't get me to swap my Sharon for anybody, but we might experiment a bit when you've looked at the video.'

It was some time later when I boarded the train, video safe in my briefcase by now. That evening Barbara and I watched it together and were overwhelmed. Although it was basically just a pretext for showing cp scenes, it did have quite a good storyline about two couples who met by accident, found a mutual interest and decided they could all learn from each other and widen their experience in a memorable and enjoyable way.

Barbara in fact was keener on the idea than I was. Long before the video had finished she was naked and across my knee being soundly slippered as we continued to watch, and then squeezed me off between her breasts before demanding that I finish her off in turn with half a dozen from the tawse that she'd made specially.

We argued some time about the wisdom of contacting Jack and Sharon, but I gradually accepted that there was little risk and agreed to send the video back to Jack and suggest dates when we might meet. It took some time to complete the arrangements but eventually we decided upon a date, and so it was that Barbara and I found ourselves driving, one Saturday evening, to a motorists' lodge on the dual carriageway, only a mile or two from Jack's house.

The idea was that he would collect us from our overnight lodgings and take us to meet Sharon. We would spend the evening as a foursome and then Barbara and I would have a taxi back to our lodge, stay overnight and drive back to her place the following morning.

One Saturday evening, therefore, Jack collected us and took us to his place to meet Sharon, a youngish but buxom lady with an angelic smile. After I had handed him a bottle with a request that he put it in the fridge, we chatted in a desultory fashion for ten minutes or so, all of us perhaps slightly nervous and wondering how to start. After we'd exhausted the weather, family histories, jobs and interests there was an awkward silence until Sharon took the initiative.

‘Do you think we ought to make a start?' she asked, the sweet smile unchanging. ‘After all, we all know what we have in common, don't we?'

‘Well,' I replied, fishing for the right words, ‘I think there are one or two things we have to decide first, aren't there?'

‘You mean like who does what to whom, how hard and in what order?' Barbara picked up.

‘That's right,' said Jack. ‘I've been giving it some thought. Why don't you have a look at this?' He led us into a bedroom off the hall. On the bed was quite a range of instruments from an innocent slipper to a vicious-looking whip. ‘There ought to be something there for all tastes, I should think.'

‘I think we should draw lots and take turns,' Sharon suggested, ‘so that we're all in the same position. I mean, I don't know what you two like but as long as we stick to a few simple rules, nobody should go over the top.'

Barbara and I nodded in agreement. ‘Tell us what you mean by drawing lots,' I said.

‘What we thought,' explained Jack, ‘was that we could have three rounds, as it were, with everybody punishing and being punished in each round. Are we going for all three combinations or aren't you comfortable with that?'

Barbara looked at me. We'd discussed this on the way over. ‘We'd prefer not to have male-to-male,' I said, ‘but we like the idea of swapping partners. That means no female-to-female either, I suppose.'

Sharon looked slightly disappointed, I thought, but Jack smiled. ‘Good,' he continued. ‘That's what we hoped you'd say. Why don't we start with an exchange round, then have what you might call a family round and finish with another exchange? We'd need four weapons in each round and we'd have to agree on how many strokes and how the weapons are graded.'

Barbara meanwhile was fingering a long tawse with a short wooden handle and a strap split at the end into five strands. ‘I want some of that,' she said. ‘I don't care how we arrange things, but I want to finish with that.'

Sharon chuckled in agreement. ‘Yes,' she said, ‘that's my favourite, as well. The weight's perfect and the spread's just right. Mind you, you know you've had it if you get that across you.'

There were a few more similar comments but gradually the shape of the evening was agreed, with eleven weapons picked out and graded in one group of three, allowing for a hand-spanking being included, and two groups of four. We returned to the living room where Jack produced a pack of cards, still secure inside its cellophane wrapper. He handed the pack to Barbara. ‘Open this,' he said, ‘and then take out three complete suits.'

Barbara did as she was asked and handed the suits to me.

‘Ace high, high wins, I assume?' I said. There were nods all round so, once I had shuffled the suits, I placed them face down on the coffee table and invited Sharon to cut them, after which we each took a card from the first suit. When we turned our cards over Sharon had drawn the two of diamonds, Barbara the five, I the jack and Jack the king.

‘Aren't you the lucky one?' he said to me. ‘You give Sharon a hand-spanking for starters, then I thrash Barbara with a wet glove, Sharon slippers you and Barbara takes her revenge on me with the spatula. Lay it on good and hard, won't you? Sharon loves a good spanking.'

‘That's fine,' I said, ‘but we haven't decided on how many strokes.' I was privately wondering whether we should be there at all. It was unreal, sitting around in our casual clothes just as though we'd met for an evening of bridge, calmly talking about who would punish whom and how.

‘Ah,' jumped in Barbara, ‘I've been thinking about that. I think we should have an agreed total to work to and then draw all three suits. When we've finished each of us can decide how many strokes we want to take in each round.'

‘Sounds fine to me,' Jack agreed. ‘So how many do you suggest for the total, and ought we to agree that you get most strokes in the first round and fewest in the last round when we reach the serious hardware?'

We agreed on two-dozen strokes each, then reached for the second suit of cards, the one that would determine the family round. When the cards were turned face up Sharon looked at Jack and groaned. ‘Doesn't that mean that you're going to punish me with the hairbrush?' she asked, and Jack nodded. ‘I've always thought the hairbrush a much more serious weapon than most people seem to realise. Still, we agreed on the rules. I don't have to take a special, do I?'

‘Oh, I think so,' he answered. ‘After all, I think we should give Graham and Barbara value for money, don't you? And the special really is special.'

I began to ask just what it involved, but Jack put a finger to his lips. ‘Just you wait and see,' he said to me. ‘You'll love it and you might even learn something.'

The rest of the draw meant that Barbara was to use the carpet-beater on me, I was to give her a paddling and Sharon had earned the right to give her husband a good belting. I stretched my hand towards the final pile of cards, but Jack stopped me. ‘This is where it gets serious,' he said. ‘I think we should agree that anybody who can't take it has the right to stop. Suppose we agreed that we ignore all cries and shouts but if anyone says “stop” we stop immediately?'

‘It's fine by me,' I said. ‘We don't want any serious damage, after all.'

Barbara glowered at me. ‘You won't catch me saying stop,' she said. ‘I can take anything you can give me, or him,' she added, looking at Jack.

He beamed at her. ‘I'm sure it won't come to that,' he said, ‘so why don't we cut the cards and see what we have to face in the last round.'

We picked up our cards for the last time, Barbara last. When we had all finished we slowly turned them face up, seeing that Barbara had drawn the ace of spades and would face a whipping with Jack's cat o' nine tails. I would start the last round by tawsing Sharon, who would then use the crop on me. Jack had drawn the right to be caned by Barbara, knowing that he would then have the right, in turn, to use the cat on her.

‘All we have to do now,' said Jack, ‘is decide how many of each we receive and we can get started. I think we should all do this by ourselves and then write the result down, so that nobody colludes with anybody else.' He handed a pen and a sheet of paper to each of us and we scribbled away in silence for a few minutes. We had just handed our sheets to Jack so he could write down the batting order, when Barbara spoke.

‘Who decides what position we take the punishment in?' she asked. ‘After all, it can make a lot of difference, can't it?'

‘Yes, it can,' nodded Jack, ‘but I really think the person dishing out the punishment should decide what the position is. There's this room, there's the single bedroom that you've seen, and you can go anywhere else that you've a fancy to. If you want any special equipment we may be able to provide it; it depends on what you want.'

There was a murmur of general agreement over the right to dictate positions, and then we broached the rather delicate subject of preparations. Barbara and I, again, had already talked about this and agreed that she, relatively uninhibited these days, would have few problems but that I would almost certainly face the embarrassment of stripping off to reveal an erection. The very sight of her curves would trigger the inevitable reaction and I didn't see how, with both her and the buxom Sharon to goggle at, I could avoid having to reveal a member standing proudly to attention.

Whether Jack was having the same anxiety I couldn't tell, but nobody seemed to want to be the first to make a move until Barbara said to Sharon, ‘Why don't we go and strip in the bedroom and leave the men to get their kit off in here?' Sharon nodded agreement and Jack shrugged his shoulders, so off went the two ladies, clearly on their way to becoming quite a team.

‘Better do as she says,' said Jack. ‘You have a lady there who knows her own mind, haven't you?' he went on, as he unzipped his fly and dropped his trousers. We could both hear giggles coming from down the hallway.

‘Too true,' I agreed, thinking that she hadn't always, as I too got down to my underwear. After that it was quite easy. I couldn't help noticing that, whereas my prick was long and relatively slim, Jack's was short and stout. Anyhow, we sat down in positions of semi-concealment and, a moment or two later, in came Sharon and Barbara, both wearing dressing gowns.