Hooker

Part 3

Hooker

Part III

	"Why did you do that to my mother?  She really liked you and you made
her cry," Gretchen demanded.

	Damn, just like her mother.  She had a problem, so here she was on my
doorstep and in my face.  Unlike her mother, however, her bicycle was on the
porch.

	"Why did I do what, Gretchen?  By the way, does your mother know you're
here?"

	"No, she doesn't.  Why did you take those pictures.  Why'd you mail them
to her?"

	"She showed you those pictures?"

	"No, but I saw her when she opened the envelope.  I know where she keeps
stuff."

	"So you looked at them."

	"Yeah."

	"First of all, you need to know that I didn't do either of those things. 
I didn't take the pictures, nor did I mail them to your mother."

	"But I thought..."

	"Gretchen, I'm in those pictures.  How could I have taken them?  And why
would I mail them?  If I'd taken them, your mother would already know about
them."

	"I figured you had a secret camera rigged up."

	"What about the one in front of your house?  It was taken from across
the street."

	"Oh...yeah."

	"I think you and I should have a talk.  Would you like to come in?"

	"Okay."

	I opened the door and led Gretchen into the house.

	"Wow.  Mom said this was cool."
	"Have you had lunch yet?"

	"No."

	"Would you like a sandwich?"

	"Okay."

	I fixed Gretchen a sandwich and got her a glass of milk.  This gave me a
few minutes to figure out what I was going to say to her.  I decided I'd better
deal with the pictures right off the bat.

	"Gretchen, sometimes adults do things that aren't necessarily what they
appear to be on the surface..."

	"You don't have to talk to me like I'm a little kid.  I'm fifteen.  I
know about sex and stuff."

	"Yes, I suppose you do, but I want to make sure that you understand
about what's in those pictures."

	"I understand.  I like to be tied up, too."

	"I see.  And have you ever been tied up?"

	"Only twice.  You have to be careful about who you let do it."

	"That's wise.  Once you're tied up, you may not have a whole lot of
control over what happens."

	"That's the whole point, isn't it?"

	Gretchen was right.  I shouldn't be talking to her like she was a little
kid.  In some ways, she was more worldly and sophisticated than her mother. 
Nevertheless, she was a kid and there were some things I could say to an adult
that I couldn't say to her.  Besides, we were talking about her mother.  I was
going to have to walk a fine line in this conversation.

	"So you're not offended or frightened or angry about seeing pictures of
your mother like that."

	"It's sort of creepy, seeing my mom chained up, but I know she likes it. 
I think all girls do."

	"That may not be the case.  Don't judge other people by what you like,
but you're right about her."

	"I thought so.  I mean, it's weird because it's my mom, but she looks
really cool in the gown with the collar and everything.  I wouldn't mind if
somebody did all that to me..."

	"Gretchen, this is not an appropriate conversation."

	"...except for the blow job," Gretchen continued, unabashed, "That's
sort of disgusting.  I don't think I'd want to do that, but I guess maybe if I
was tied up I wouldn't have a choice."

	"She got a picture of that?  Oh, god, I don't believe she got a shot of
that."

	"Who?" Gretchen demanded.

	"Who what?"

	"You said you couldn't believe she took a picture of that.  Who?  Who
took the pictures?"

	"I don't know for certain," I lied.  Gretchen was sharp.  I'd made one
tiny slip up and she had pounced.  I didn't want her to know Gayle had taken the
pictures.  She would quite likely take action of her own once she had a target. 
She had already told Gayle to go fuck herself, not to mention coming to confront
me.  What would she do if she was really pissed?

	"Yes, you do.  You said 'she' and that means you know who it is.  I bet
it's Ms. Robbins.  It is her, isn't it.  It's Ms. Robbins."

	"Gretchen, let's not go jumping to conclusions."

	"You didn't say 'no'.  That means it's her.  That bitch!  I'll make her
sorry."

	"Gretchen, calm down.  You'll do no such thing."

	"Why not?"

	"Because Ms. Robbins goal is to take you away from your mother and put
you in foster care.  Do you want that?"

	"No."

	"Then you can't do anything that will help her.  You can't do anything
that will give her ammunition she can use against your mother.  You've got to be
well behaved and well adjusted.  Remember when you told her to go fuck herself?"

	"You heard about that?"

	"That's the point.  I heard about that.  So did a lot of other people. 
You did a lot of damage to your mother's position with that episode."

	"Oh...but I've got to do something.  Somebody's got to do something.  We
can't just let her get away with it."

	"I'm working on it.  I'll have the lawyer call your mother in the
morning.  I'm working on other things as well.  It would be easier if your
mother would talk to me, but things being as they are, I'll do what I can."

	"I don't get it.  Why is mom mad at you if you didn't take the
pictures?"

	"Because I made the pictures possible.  I'm the one who tied her up.  If
I hadn't done that, there wouldn't be any pictures."

	"That's not fair.  You didn't know there was anyone sneaking around with
a camera."

	"True, but irrelevant.  Despite your advanced age, you're still a child
and rational.  One of these days, you'll develop female logic, then you'll
understand.  Until then, just take my word for it."

	"I don't get it.  Is that a slam or is it supposed to be a compliment? 
Maybe you better not talk to me like an adult."

	"The fact that you recognize that speaks to considerable sophistication
on your part."

	"You're still doing it."

	"Sorry."

	"So are you and my mom going to get back together?"

	"I don't know.  That's up to her.  What do you think?"

	"I'm supposed to answer the phone.  If it's you, I'm supposed to say
she's not home."

	"Doesn't look good, does it."

	"Well, if you don't, you could tie me up instead."

	"Gretchen, if you ever say anything like that to me again, I'm going to
run away from you very fast and you'll never see me again--after I tell your
mother.  Now apologize."

	"I'm sorry."

	"Thank you.  I'm sure there are boys your own age for you to be
interested in."

	"They're all dorks."

	"We all start out as dorks.  Some of us get better, some get worse. 
Your job is to figure out which is which.  Judging from some women, that's not
easy to learn."

	"You're doing it again."

	"Sorry."

	Something occurred to me which I should have thought of earlier. 
"Gretchen, where does your mother think you are?"

	"Out."

	"When does she expect you back?"

	"I don't know."

	"So she doesn't know where you are or when you're coming home.  She's
worried about you, isn't she."

	"I guess so."

	"Call her right now."  I handed her the phone.  "Tell her where you
are."

	"Do I have to?"

	"Yes, you do.  If you don't, I will."

	"Okay."

	Gretchen dialed the phone.  "Hi, mom.  It's me...yes, I am...I'm over at
Bob's...Mr. Canfield's...no, no it was my idea...I'm alright...yes...okay...here
he is."

	"She wants to talk to you."  Gretchen handed me the phone.

	"Hello, Rachel."

	"What is my daughter doing over there?"

	"The same thing you were doing the first time you came here.  She came
to give me a piece of her mind."

	"I want her home right now."

	"You want me to drive her?"

	"No, she can ride her bike."

	"Okay...hang on just a minute.  Gretchen, the bathroom's in there,
through that door and on your right.  Go...  Now, back to you.  Rachel, we need
to have a conversation."

	"I am not talking to you."

	"This isn't about us, it's about Gretchen."

	"I'll take care of Gretchen.  You stay out of it."

	"Rachel, she's seen the pictures."

	"What!  How could you?  I'm calling the police..."

	"I didn't show her.  She saw yours."

	"But how?  I hid them."

	"When she gets home, I want you to call me.  Send her to her room,
unplug her extension if she's got one, do whatever you have to do to make sure
she doesn't overhear, then call me."

	"You did this to me and now you're doing it to her and you expect me to
call you?"

	"Rachel, I didn't do this.  Now snap out of it and act like an adult. 
You're her mother.  Be her mother.  As such, you need to have this conversation. 
It's about Gretchen and you need to hear what I have to say."

	"But...okay, I'll call you."

	"Promise?"

	"I promise."

	"Good.  One other thing, don't ground her or decide what you're going to
do about today's escapade until after you've talked to me."

	"You still talking to my mom?" Gretchen wanted to know as she returned.

	"I'm sending her off now," I told Rachel.  "Call me."

	"She's gonna call you?  Are you getting back together?"

	"I don't know.  Now, it's time for you to head home before you're in any
more trouble."

	I saw Gretchen off, then waited for the phone to ring.  It took about 45
minutes, but finally it rang.

	"Hello, Rachel.  Have you talked to Gretchen yet?"

	"I could hardly face her, knowing she'd seen those pictures.  I sent her
to her room."

	"Where to start...okay, first thing you need to understand is why she
was here.  Remember the first day you showed up on my doorstep?  She did the
same thing.  She was demanding to know why I'd sent you those pictures."

	"But you didn't send them."

	"She knows that now."

	"But how did she find them?  I hid them."

	"Rachel, you can't hide things in your house.  Kids always know the
place way better than you do.  Every nook, cranny, crawlspace, everything.  The
only thing you can do with stuff like that is lock it up.  And use a combination
lock.  They'll find a key."

	"How will I ever face her again after she's seen me like that?"

	"That's the other thing we need to talk about.  She doesn't hold them
against you.  She understands."

	"How can she understand?"

	"Something you need to understand about Gretchen--she's fascinated by
those pictures.  She feels a bit weird because it's her mother in them, but they
turn her on.  She told me she likes being tied up."

	"Oh, no."

	"Wrong reaction.  It's okay for you but not for her?  She's your
daughter.  Don't be surprised if she likes some of the same things.  If that's
what turns her on, then that's what turns her on.  You can't change it.  All you
can do is teach her not to surrender herself to someone who's stupid or evil,
and that covers a major chunk of the population.  You have to talk to her about
that."

	"How can I talk to her about that?  I feel like such a hypocrite."

	"But you're not.  In an odd sort of way, she's gained a new respect for
you.  You can talk to her about that with a credibility you never had before. 
You know what she said?  She said you looked really cool in your gown and
collar."

	"She said that?  I can't believe she said that.  How could she think it
was cool, seeing me in chains?"

	"Rachel, believe me.  She asked me to do that to her."

	"You didn't!" Rachel shrieked.

	"Of course I didn't.  The point is that she asked someone to tie her up. 
Gretchen isn't as shy as you are.  She knows what she wants and she's at that
hormonal age.  She confided that she's already been tied up twice."

	"When?  What happened?"

	"Rachel, calm down."  She was verging on hysteria.  "Calm down and
listen to me.  I didn't ask for details.  She did say it's only been twice
because you have to be careful who you let do it.  She's smart."

	"I can't let her do that.  She deserves better."

	"Tell her that and you will be a hypocrite.  She's seen the pictures."

	"But I don't want that for her."

	"That's her decision, not yours, and it's already been made.  Think
about your own case.  How old were you when you realized you were turned on by
the idea of being tied up?"

	"As far back as I can remember, but it seemed shameful to want that.  I
was always so embarrassed by it."

	"I've noticed.  It's one of your sexier qualities."

	"Let's keep the subject on Gretchen."

	"Right.  Okay...there are four points I wanted to get across.  First,
Gretchen is very protective of you.  She came over here on her own to chew me
out for making you cry.  She thought I had sent those pictures.

	"Second, as a result of seeing those pictures, your daughter has
revealed her own sexual preferences.  You're better off knowing that than not
knowing.

	"Third, now that you know that, you need to discuss it with her.  She's
too young to be engaging in sexual activities, but since she's already been tied
up a couple of times, she's obviously been involved in some level of horse play. 
You'll be better off and better informed about her activities if you discuss it
with her rather than censure her.  It will be harder for you than for her.  It
doesn't embarrass her the way it does you.

	"Lastly, she knows it was Gayle that sent the pictures..."

	"You told her?"

	"No, she figured it out on her own.  I told you she's  smart.  You need
to talk to her about that as well.  You can't have her seeking revenge on her
own.  She might do something that would provide Gayle with some major
ammunition.  Make sure she understands that, but don't cut her out of the loop.
If she doesn't feel like she's involved, she might decide to act independently.  
And that's all I have to say."

	"I need to think about this.  It's a lot to take in all at once."

	"It's really all the same thing, but it's a big lump just the same.  One
more thing, call John in the morning and tell him about the pictures."

	"Oh, god, I can't tell him about that."

	"He already knows.  I told him the minute I got my set."

	"She sent them to you, too?"

	"Yes, but I didn't know at the time you'd gotten a set.  He needs to
know that.  Call him.  I know it won't be easy, but you have to do it.  He's not
judgmental and he can help.  If you love Gretchen, you'll put aside your
embarrassment and call him."

	"Alright, I'll do it."

	"Good.  And call me if I can help.  If that's a problem, call me as
Gretchen's mother, rather than as Rachel.  Understand?"

	"I understand."

	"Speaking of Gretchen's mother, you'd better go have that conversation
with Gretchen."

	I got another beer and went to sit on the front porch, hoping my head
would stop spinning.  At least now I was pretty sure things couldn't get any
worse, although I wouldn't have backed that opinion up with money.  In some ways
I felt like things were better.  I was glad for the conversation with Rachel and
was hopeful about patching things up.  I was also glad to have spent part of the
afternoon with Gretchen.  She was quite a young woman in her own rite and I
hoped she would be successful in her quest for a non-dork.  She was going to be
quite a handful.  He would probably want to keep her tied up for a number of
reasons.

	I dragged my mind away from the subject of Rachel and Gretchen and
returned to the problem at hand.  Gayle had made her move.  Unfortunately, I had
no counter move.  Perhaps I should wait for her to make yet another move, but I
didn't like that idea.  What would her next move be?  The only way to find that
out would be the hard way.

	The next day, for lack of alternate ideas, I decided to pay Jacqui
another visit.  Maybe I could get her to say something useful.  I sat at the
same table I'd occupied the last two times.  Jacqui's eyes widened when she saw
me.  She did an about face and had a hurried conversation with one of the other
waitresses.  The other waitress came over and handed me a menu.

	"I thought this was Jacqui's table."

	"Today it's my table," she informed me.

	"Could I be seated in Jacqui's section?"

	"Her section is full."

	The place wasn't even half full.  I ordered a light lunch and tried to
watch Jacqui without staring too rudely.  She still wore her collar and she
moved oddly, as if it hurt.  She had a party at a table near me, but when she
was at that table she would always manage to keep her back to me.  I tried twice
to make eye contact, but each time she looked away.  She was frightened.  I
finished my meal and left.

	When I got home, I gave John a call.

	"John, have you heard from Rachel?"

	"Yes, she called me.  She told me she got the pictures."

	"So what can we do about it?"

	"Not a lot.  I told Rachel I could probably stir up some sort of legal
ruckus, but it would involve making the pictures public.  You can imagine what
Rachel said to that."

	"Yes, I can.  So that leaves us no options?"

	"It leaves me no options."

	"I see.  Thanks for the advice."

	"Anytime."

	My final comment to John was genuine, not sarcastic.  I had known John
long enough to understand when he was trying to tell me something he would be
ill advised to put into words.  He had said that he had no options.  He did not
say that I had no options.  I was going to have to deal with Gayle on her own
level.

	I got a beer and sat on the front porch, letting my mind pick around the
edges of the problem.  I had an idea, but I didn't really like it.  I was
letting my mind wander, hoping something else would come to me.

	I finished the beer and went back in for another.  This was bigger than
a one beer problem.  As I headed back outside, the phone rang.  It was Rachel.

	"Bob, I need to talk to you."

	"And who am I talking to?  Is it Rachel or Gretchen's mother."

	"It's Rachel, although Grethen's mother may have a few comments, too."

	"I'll enjoy talking to both of you.  Did you have your talk with
Gretchen?"

	"Yes.  We both learned something.  She really likes you.  That counts
for a lot with me."

	"Hence the call from her mother?"

	"Not entirely.  Rachel has her own feelings."

	"I see.  And what is Rachel feeling?"

	"Rachel would like to see you again."

	"That would be nice.  How about Friday?"

	"Friday's fine.  Gretchen has an overnight at a friend's house."

	"Good.  So do you."

	The conversation with Rachel left me feeling almost light headed.  I
tried to return to the problem of dealing with Gayle, but it was no good.  My
mind kept going back to Rachel.  It didn't matter anyway.  My mind was made up. 
I would indeed deal with Gayle on her own level.

	Friday I picked Rachel up at her house and took her to dinner.  We
discussed her conversation with Gretchen.

	"I know it's hypocritical, but I don't want that for her.  For that
matter, I don't want it for me, but I can't help what turns me on."

	"Neither can she."

	"I know, but I'm afraid for her.  She could get hurt."

	"I wouldn't worry about it too much.  It's not all that easy for a young
woman to get someone to tie her up."

	"I hope you're right."

	"I am.  When was the last time anyone did that to you?"

	"Never, but I never asked, either."

	"Why not?"

	"I was ashamed of what I wanted.  It was just too embarrassing to ask
for that."

	"Tonight that's going to change."

	"How?  I didn't have to ask you."

	"We still have the contents of your last envelope to deal with.  When we
get to my house, you're going to ask to be punished and you're going to tell me
what punishment you wish me to inflict."

	"Bob, no.  Please...I just can't."

	"You can.  If I'm going to give you what you want, you're going to have
to ask me for it."

	"Please, Bob.  Don't make me do this."

	"You're having no problem begging at the moment.  I suggest you save it
for when it might do some good."

	Rachel looked down at her plate and didn't speak.  I pushed my fork off
onto the floor and bent to pick it up.  I used the opportunity to wrap my hand
around Rachel's ankle.  I slipped her shoe off and pulled her leg out straight,
resting her foot in my lap.  My hand remained tightly wrapped around her ankle. 
I ran the tines of my fork gently over the sole of her foot.  Rachel stifled a
screech and jerked her foot, but her ankle remained tightly imprisoned in my
grasp.

	"Rachel, look at me."

	She looked up, but didn't meet my eyes.  I ran the fork over the sole of
her foot again, causing her leg to jump.

	"Rachel, I said look at me."  Her eyes locked onto mine.  "You're going
to do as I require.  You will do as you're told."  I tapped her foot with the
fork to emphasize my point.  She nodded.

	"That's not good enough, Rachel.  I want you to tell me that you will do
as you're told."

	"I'll do what you tell me."

	"Failure to comply.  You were instructed to say you would do as you are
told."

	"I will do as I am told."

	"Thank you."  I signaled the waiter for the check, paid, and led Rachel
outside.

	"Rachel, before we get in the car, you have a decision to make.  This is
the only decision you are allowed this evening."

	"Let me guess."

	"You don't need to.  You can choose to go home with me.  If you do, I
will require your exact obedience and punish you when you fall short.  If you go
with me, you will not be allowed to leave.  If you prefer, you can choose to go
to your house and you will suffer none of these things, but you will spend your
night alone.  This is your only opportunity to make that choice.  If you go with
me, you will stay until I allow you to leave.  Choose."
	"Take me with you."
	"Done."
	It was a quiet ride to my house.  I was much relieved that my gamble had
paid off.  I had hoped that Rachel would come to a greater acceptance of herself
through her conversation with Gretchen.  For my part, I had come to the
realization that I required a level of submission from Rachel that I had never
before required of anyone.  This had partly to do with changes that had occurred
within me since Meg's death, but also had to do with my perception of the basic
nature of Rachel.  Something within her cried out to be possessed.
	Rachel was almost too quiet.
	"Having second thoughts?"
	"Maybe."
	"It's too late for that."
	When we arrived at the house, Rachel stood quietly in the entry hall as
I locked her in her collar.  I stripped her down to her underwear and secured
her wrists behind her.  After leashing her, I led her upstairs to a full length
mirror.
	"What are you going to do?" she wanted to know.
	"You're going to tell me what I'm going to do, but not yet.  Open your
mouth."  I gagged Rachel and turned her to face the mirror.

	"Rachel, I want you to watch the woman in the mirror.  What can she be
thinking ?  Is she frightened, do you think?  Perhaps she's aroused."  Rachel
shivered as I ran my hands lightly down the back of her neck and along her
shoulders.  "See how she reacts when she's caressed?  How is it that she came to
be standing here before you, hands bound behind her, in her gag and her collar? 
Why did she surrender herself to this?  What's to become of her?  You will
decide.  She has failed to do as she was told and now she stands there awaiting
your judgment.  When I return, I will remove your gag and you will tell me what
her punishment will be."

	I walked away and left Rachel before the mirror.  When I returned about
15 minutes later, she was standing as I had left her, still watching the woman
in the mirror.

	"Have you decided?" I asked.

	Rachel nodded slowly.  I removed her gag.
	"Well, what's to be her penalty?"

	"She needs to be spanked," Rachel said in a quiet detached sounding
voice.

	I led Rachel to the basement.

	"Where are we going," Rachel wanted to know.  She had never been to the
basement and didn't know about my special room.

	"You'll see when we get there."  I led her down the hall and into a room
at the far corner of the basement.  The principal feature of the room was a pair
of floor to ceiling posts, spaced about three feet apart.  Stretched between the
posts, about three feet off the floor,  was a pair of wide boards, one above the
other, each with three semicircular cutouts, one large flanked by a smaller one
on each side.

	"What's that for?"

	"That's where she will receive her spanking," I told Rachel as I removed
her bra.  "It's time.  She should place her neck in the stocks."

	Rachel slowly walked over and placed her neck in the pillory.  I took
her hands and placed each wrist in the appropriate notch then closed the stocks
on her neck and wrists, locking it in place.  Rachel wiggled her hands about
experimentally, but her wrists were firmly held.

	I squatted in front of Rachel, placing my hand under her chin and
tilting her head back so I could look into her eyes.

	"It's time now, Rachel, but she has to ask me.  That's your job, to beg
me to spank her.  Then it will be my job to make her beg me to stop.  Now, do as
I require."

	"Please, spank her.  She needs to be spanked."

	"I know she does," I said gently.  "Tell her she can scream if she needs
to.  She won't disturb anyone."

	I stepped behind Rachel, got her panties off, and bound her ankles
tightly.  I had brought a rattan cane to the basement.  It was one of a pair I
had purchased for use on Rebecca.  I had never used it on anyone I was serious
about so I was a bit dubious about using it on Rachel.  The only other person
who had felt it had been Dr. Ann, who, like Rebecca, had screamed herself nearly
unconscious during her encounter with it.

	The first blow resulted in a sharp intake of breath from Rachel.  She
was silent for the second, but the third produced a loud shriek.  By the fifth
the tears were flowing and she began to beg.  She begged continuously through
the next three and by the tenth all she could say between sobs was
"Please...please...please."

	I squatted in front of Rachel again and wiped her tears with a white
handkerchief.  "Tell me, Rachel, has she learned her lesson?"

	"Yes."

	"And what is it that she's learned?"

	"She has learned to do as she's told."

	"I'm glad to hear it.  Tell her she must ask me to continue."

	"Oh, please, no.  It hurts too much.  She can't stand it.  Please, don't
hurt her."

	"I'm sorry, Rachel, but she has not learned to do as she's told and you
have lied to me.  She will not be released from here until she has learned and
when we go upstairs you will choose an  envelope."

	I gave Rachel five more strokes, which brought renewed tears and
desperate shrieking.  I returned to the conversation.

	"Tell me again, Rachel, has she learned her lesson?"

	"Yes."

	"Are you sure?"

	"Yes, I'm sure, I'm sure."

	"You know what I require.  She must ask me to continue."

	"Please continue her spanking."

	"No, Rachel, she must speak for herself.  She must tell me she will do
as she's told.  Do you understand?"

	"Yes, I understand.  I will do as I'm told."					

	"Good.  Now you must ask me to continue."

	"Please, continue my spanking."  She began sobbing quietly.  I stepped
behind her and gave her another three strokes.
	I released Rachel from her stocks and held her.  "Thank you, Rachel, you
did as you were told."

	When she stopped crying, I locked her wrists behind her and led her up
to the bedroom.  It was too soon to choose her envelope--there were more
important things to attend to.  I bent her over the footboard of the bed and
plunged into her.  Rachel moaned and thrashed.  When she had subsided, I took
her to bed.  I noticed she chosen to sleep lying face down.

	In the morning we got up and showered, then I made Rachel choose an
envelope.

	"Do I have to?" she asked.

	"If you intend to do as you're told."

	Rachel selected and envelope and opened it.  She extracted the card,
read it, then handed it to me.


SPANKING WARRANT

Upon presentation, you will surrender yourself
to the bearer to be securely bound and soundly spanked.


	"Does that mean what I think it does?" Rachel wanted to know.

	"Yes, it does," I said, pocketing the card.

	We ate breakfast, then I took Rachel home so she would be there in time
to fix lunch for Gretchen when she arrived.

	On the way home, I did some shopping.  I spent the rest of the day
preparing for the evening's activities.

	Once it was dark, I drove over to Gayle's house.  I had located it
shortly after I had caught her spying on Rachel by simply looking in the phone
book.  There was a listing for a G. Robbins.  I had driven to the address listed
and seen the red Dodge was parked in the driveway.

	On this occasion, I parked over a block away, then walked to Gayle's. 
Besides the red Dodge, there was another car in the driveway.  I assumed it was
Jacqui's.  I couldn't tell much by looking at the house.  The shades were pulled
on the front windows and the front door had no window.  There was an alley
behind the house.  I walked to the end of the block and back up the alley.  The
back of the house was dark.  I entered the yard and walked around the outside,
checking the windows.  All had shades or curtains drawn and were opaque.  I did
hear music faintly through the windows at the front of the house.  I returned to
the rear.

	The back door had a window about two feet square.  The curtain hung such
that there was a gap in the center and I had at least a limited view into the
room.  I wasn't able to see much through it.  The kitchen was dark and there was
a very faint light coming through the door into the next room.  I was afraid I
was going to have to leave empty handed.

	I decided to make one last effort.  I slipped a credit card into the
door jamb.  When I felt it make contact with the bolt, I pushed and felt it slip
back.  Gayle had an old fashioned slip latch on her back door.

	Fortunately, the door wasn't too squeaky and I crept in fairly silently. 
I latched the lock in the open position so I wouldn't have to fumble with it in
case I needed to leave in a hurry, then closed the door.

	I could hear noises coming from the front of the house and headed toward
them.  As long as I was silent, I didn't think they'd notice me.  I made my way
carefully through the dining room, trying not to bump into any furniture.  At
the other end of the dining room, I stood behind the door frame and looked into
the living room.

	Gayle lay on the living room floor with her legs spread wide.  Jacqui
knelt between Gayle's legs with her face in Gayle's crotch.  Gayle had her hands
on Jacqui's head, pulling her in tighter, while Jacqui's arms were bound tightly
behind her.  Jacqui's ankles were bound tightly as well.  Gayle was alternately
moaning and berating Jacqui for the inadequacy of her efforts.

	The camera I had brought was an old twin lens reflex made in the
sixties.  I'd chosen this particular device not only for the large format, but
because it had a leaf shutter which was almost completely silent.  The film
advance, as well as everything else about the camera, was manual, so I had total
control over what it did and when.  I didn't want a camera that might decide on
its own to use the flash--not a problem with this camera, it didn't have a
flash.  I got a couple shots of the scenario in the living room.  Both women
were naked and there would be no doubt as to their gender in the pictures.

	I took two shots of this particular pose.  The one disadvantage of the
old camera was that I only got twelve shots per roll, so I was going to have to
ration them.  I had originally intended to shoot through the window so I had
brought plenty of film, but I couldn't risk reloading inside the house.

	Gayle started flopping and moaning harder in an obvious orgasm.  When
she finally quieted down, Jacqui came up for air.

	"Did I say you could stop, cunt?" Gayle shrieked.  She leapt to her
feet, put her foot on Jacqui's butt, and pushed her down flat on the floor.  She
grabbed a rod or cane and began beating Jacqui savagely on the butt and thighs.
	Jacqui rolled away from the blows and this drove Gayle to greater fury.

	"Don't you try to avoid me, you stupid cunt.  You hold still when you're
being whipped.  You're spending the night in the box."

	"I'll do better.  I'll hold still.  Please, don't put me in the box. 
Please, don't," Jacqui pleaded.

	"You're damn right you'll do better.  Now, on your knees."

	Gayle grabbed a handful of Jacqui's hair and pulled her to her knees. 
She started dragging Jacqui toward the dining room.  Jacqui was trying to walk
on her knees, but with her ankles bound, her progress was slow.  I retreated
into the kitchen.

	Gayle got Jacqui into the dining room and the pair passed right through
the spot where I had been standing.  I got two good shots of Gayle dragging
Jacqui by the hair, then they went through a doorway in the side of the dining
room.

	The front bedroom was being used as a combination bedroom and dungeon. 
I watched obliquely through the doorway as Gayle led Jacqui to a corner of the
room where a rope dangled from the ceiling.  She attached one end of the rope to
Jacqui's wrists and began hauling on the other end.

	Jacqui was dragged to her feet.  Gayle continued pulling the rope until
Jacqui was standing on her toes, bent over with her wrists pulled high behind
her, and then tied it off.

	Gayle then continued whipping Jacqui.  It was much more severe than
anything I had ever administered.  Jacqui was utterly helpless and exposed.  She
tried unsuccessfully to stifle her wails.

	"Shut up, cunt.  If you were good for anything I wouldn't have to go to
all this trouble."

	Jacqui seemed to be in real distress and for a brief moment I considered
intervening, but decided that would be foolish.  Once the police dragged me off
for breaking and entering, Jacqui would probably receive worse than she was
getting now.  I contented myself with recording the event.

	Gayle finally took Jacqui down and knelt her next to the bed, then lay
back on the bed before her and pulled Jacqui's head into her crotch.

	Gayle had what appeared to me to be a much more satisfactory orgasm this
time.  This may have been partly due to increased efforts on Jacqui's part, but
I think it was mainly due to Gayle having gotten herself turned on by whipping
Jacqui.  I got a couple shots of this, but Jacqui was mostly concealed behind
the bed and all I could get of her was the top of her head rising above Gayle's
crotch.  I did have Gayle in the picture, though, which was my main concern.

	"That's better, cunt.  Now, in the box."
	"Don't put me in there.  Please, don't put me in there.  Didn't I do
okay?  Didn't I please you?"

	"Not the first time, you didn't, so you go in the box.  Open your
mouth."

	Gayle gagged Jacqui, then untied her ankles and led her to a small cedar
chest at the foot of the bed.  She opened the lid and Jacqui stepped inside. 
Once she was standing in the box, Jacqui squatted, then sat down.  Then she lay
back with her head at one end of the box. 

	"Legs," barked Gayle.

	Jacqui  raised her legs in the air.  Gayle bound her legs at the ankles
and again at the knees, then she stuffed Jacqui's legs into the box, closed the
lid, and locked it.  From within the box, I could hear Jacqui trying to beg
through her gag.

	"Quiet, cunt," Gayle yelled at the box.  "And remember, any mess you
make you're going to lick up in the morning."

	The last shot on my roll was of Jacqui sitting in the box.  Now that she
was locked in, Gayle was less distracted than earlier.  I would need to be
utterly silent in my exit.

	I managed to exit without incident except for one small problem.  If I
released the bolt on Gayle's lock, there would be no way to close the door
silently.  I left the door unlocked when I departed.

	I was troubled by what I had seen.  I had only talked to Jacqui twice,
but this evening was inconsistent with the personality I had observed.  She had
seemed outgoing, friendly, and a little brash.  I knew she was sexually
flexible--bisexual and either dominant or submissive depending on circumstances. 
Nevertheless, the cowering submission I had seen this evening didn't fit.  The
other thing that was noteworthy was that I hadn't seen any love here.  Jacqui
was there to serve Gayle's needs, which seemed to include belittling Jacqui for
her efforts.  Unless Jacqui was a very different personality than I had
surmised, I didn't see that she had derived any pleasure from the activities. 
Nevertheless, she was there, so she must be getting something out of it.  This
evening was consistent with her demeanor when last I had seen her, although she
wouldn't talk to me on that occasion.

	When I got home, I went straight to bed, still pondering the paradox of
Jacqui.  There was no corresponding mystery surrounding Gayle.  She had remained
true to form as one hundred percent bitch.  No redeeming qualities that I could
detect, although I suppose everyone has some.  I fell asleep still considering
the situation and had a dream which seemed to be about the Salem witch trials,
in which Gayle was a hypocritical accuser and Jacqui and Rachel were burned at
the stake.

	The next morning (Sunday), I gave Rachel a call.

	"You were mean to me," Rachel said.
	I paused a few seconds before I replied.  Because of what I had
witnessed last night, this stung more than it ordinarily would have.  Just the
same, I was convinced I hadn't taken her anywhere she didn't want to go.  Unlike
Jacqui, Rachel's spanking had been followed by a major orgasm.  At the very
least, Rachel had been complicit in her ordeal and certainly deserved a major
share of the blame if blame was in order, which I didn't think it was.

	"You're confused," I told her.  "It was that woman in the mirror who
chose your punishment.  If you have a complaint, you should find a mirror and
complain to her.  I would be curious to know what answer she gives you."

	"You know me too well.  How do you do that?"

	I had wondered about this myself.  Rachel had told me no one had ever
tied her up before.  Could this be true?  How could she have lived so long
without someone else seeing the need in her?  I suppose I might have missed it
myself if she hadn't been handcuffed the first time I saw her.  She herself
didn't count that incident as having been tied up and I understood why, but just
the same she had reacted to it in a way that had caught my attention.

	"I look at what I see," I replied ambiguously.  "Do you have any real
regrets about what we did?"

	"A couple, I suppose."

	"Such as..."

	"I'm embarrassed by what I admitted about myself.  Even now, I can
hardly bring myself to say the word 'spanking'.  I'm uncomfortable that I asked
you to do that to me.  You were very sly, having me ask in the third person.  It
provided the detachment I needed to be able to do it.  Then at the end you
shifted me back to first person and I was trapped.  I'm a little angry that I
did that, but again I'm not angry with you so much as myself and what I see as
my weakness."

	"We all have needs, and all needs are weaknesses.  I think the
difference between a need and a weakness is whether you see it as having been
fulfilled or exploited.  I'm feeling a bit embarrassed by my own needs.  I like
to tie women up and spank them.  Sometimes I wonder what that says about me as a
person.  So what about it, were you fulfilled or exploited?"

	"Some of both, but mostly fulfilled.  That's what frightens me, that
what you made me do was so fulfilling."

	"And the other regret?"

	"Gretchen."

	"Why?  What about Gretchen?"

	"She knows what happened."

	"How does she know that?"

	"She figured it out.  I sat down a little too carefully and she said
'You got spanked, didn't you'.  I told her it was none of her business.  You
were right about her.  I always knew she was smart, but she's growing up so
fast.  I'm always underestimating her, always a step behind.  Just the same, it
worries me that she knows I was spanked.  It's even worse now that I know that's
what she wants."

	I talked to Rachel a bit longer.  I didn't offer any suggestions about
Gretchen.  I didn't have any.  The main thing I wanted from the conversation was
to see if Rachel was coming to terms with her inner self.  She had needed to
talk about it and the conversation helped.

	I made arrangements to see Rachel the next weekend.

	"One last thing," I told her.  "Is Gretchen in earshot?"

	"No, she's in her room, reading."

	"Then tell me what you will do."

	"I will do as I am told."

	"Good.  I'll see you soon and I will expect you to."





To be continued in Part IV



Copyright 2002                                      
By Harold

Haroldx@eudoramail.com