FFE

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GEORGE WASHINGTON!!!

Hello everyone.  I haven't been back here since last week - they go so darn fast, I forget but this week I had an excuse.  PK gave me her cold and between, sneezing, hacking and blowing my nose, I just couldn't do any writing.

I finally remembered that tomorrow was Monday and I didn't have a story.  Well, let me tell you, this took a turn I never expected.  Funny how that happens.  I loved some of your suggestions about FFE - the truth is I no longer remember what I had in mind when I wrote the first part of the story. How  about Fantasy for Everyone?  Sound good.

Hope you all had a good week and without further ado.  First part here

Think whatever you want, Don, along with Queen Gertrude and William Shakespeare. This part of the conversation is over.   Oh good, here comes the food,” she said.

Don had that knowing smile on his face that made Katrina want to slap him silly.  ‘What was it about this man that made her react this way.’  She’d have to think about this later, right now she was hungry.

Their conversation for the rest of the evening was normal.  They walked back to the parking garage together and said good night. Just two colleagues who had shared a meal. 

Katrina went home and got ready for bed.  Once in bed, she picked up her latest Harlequin romance and lived vicariously through yet another heroine that was way too big for her britches and would be brought to heel by the big burly hero.  She loved reading these types of  stories and had been doing so for years.  Did she want this in real life? She wanted the fantasy, not the reality and she didn’t know how to separate the two?

Was Don offering her a chance to find out and was she being too obstinate to consider his offer or even truthfully answer his question? “Forget about it,” she told herself.  No way - with a co-worker, especially Don.  She was a newbie and loved her job. “Never sleep where you eat,” was something she’d heard all her life.

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One night after reading one of her steamy romances about a BDSM club, she decided to Google if there was one in her area.  She found a website and searched until she found one that didn’t sound too far out and yet was far enough away so that she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew.  Laughing to herself at this last thought, she threw caution to the winds and wrote down an address.

“How does one dress for these types of clubs?” Checking some websites, the dress code seemed to be whatever you felt comfortable wearing.  In the end, she chose a lacy black bra and thong, a short flirty skirt with an off the shoulder white blouse and a pair of her highest pumps. 

She’d had a couple of glasses of wine before driving to the club to calm her nerves.  She realized she should have called an UBER but it was too late now.  At the door of the club, there was a bouncer checking ID and once inside, being a first time visitor, had to complete a questionnaire, a consent form and sign a waiver absolving  the club from any lawsuits that could arise from the club’s activities. Being a first time visitor and novice to the scene, an escort was assigned to show her around. She was limited to the first floor as a non-member but there was more than enough activity happening to overwhelm her senses. She took time out to sit at the bar and peruse her surroundings before making any choices.

She was having an involved conversation with the bartender when he stopped and said he had to get back to work,  “boss is coming.” he told her.

Katrina looked over toward the staircase and saw the man coming toward them.  He was dressed  all in black - a fitted turtleneck, slacks that were tailored to showcase his physique and wore a black mask that covered his eyes.  Katrina could feel the waves of authority rolling off him as he approached.

“Good evening, Sir.  What can I get you tonight.” The bartender asked.

“The usual.” He replied and turned to her.

“Good evening, I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

Nervous as hell, she managed to stammer out.  “No, this is my first time.”

“I thought so.”

“Do you know all your guests personally?”

“In time, but first timers are usually a little nervous, stick to the bar area and don’t know the protocol for answering questions.”

“I see, and what is the proper protocol for answering questions?”

“Your reply to me should always include a “sir.” Katrina managed to stifle a giggle.

“That will be excused as this is your first visit.  Usually, an infraction of that sort calls for punishment.  That is why you’re here isn’t it?”

“What infraction was that?” Katrina asked cheekily.

“Again, another infraction.”

Katrina, fortified with several glasses of wine before and during this visit, lost her initial nervousness and was becoming more and more irritated with this jackass.

“How can I have an infraction when I don’t even know what you’re talking about?”

“You didn’t listen and I think perhaps you don’t belong here  Let me show you to the door before you encounter someone not as patient as me.”

“I think you’re right.”  Getting up from the barstool  her heel caught in the lower rung and she almost fell to the floor.  The ‘jackass’ managed to hold onto her, preventing the fall, but in the process, her hand accidently moved his mask askew as he attempted to right her. 

“I guess the jig is up,” he said as he fully removed the mask.   “Hello, Katrina.”

There, standing in front of her, was her nemesis  - Don Kostas.

She was tongue-tied and glad for the subdued lighting because she was sure she was as red as a beet.

He looped his arm around her shoulder.  “Let’s go into my office.  I’m sure you have questions.”

She allowed him to guide her to his office.  The office was a room behind the bar and was surprisingly small and bereft of any of the trappings she would have expected.  He sat her on the couch and he took a chair opposite her. 

“Would you care for something to drink, although I think you have had enough alcohol already.”

She looked at him, still not over the shock.  She noted that his air of dominance was not as prevalent as when wearing the mask, but still more so than at FFE.

“So, Katrina.  Why exactly are you here?”

“You”

“Me, that can’t be.”

“Yes, you.  This is embarrassing.”

“Come now, not nearly embarrassing as it would be having this conversation at FFE.”

“You’re right about that but that’s what started this whole thing.  I’m a reader of steamy romances and have been for forever.  It all sounds so wonderful in print, but I’m not sure I want fact, just fiction.  The club seemed like a good place to find the answer.”

“And did you?”

“I learned one thing.  I’m not a Sir type of gal. So, I guess this club scene is not what I’m looking for.  I guess, I just want someone to play with me in a real life scenario.”

“I offered you that option and you most definitely turned me down.”

“Yes, but I turned you down as Don Kostas, my colleague at FFE.  If you were to offer me the option as  ‘The Masked Man’ of  ‘Wink’, I might just change my mind.” 

“So, if I were to ask you right now if you want to pursue a spanking relationship with “The Masked Man’ you’d take me up on my offer.”

“I think I would, yes.  But not here.”

“Then where?”

“At my place.”

They arranged a date for the following evening.  Nervous as a cat all day by the time the doorbell rang, she was at a fever pitch.  Opening the door, she welcomed him in.  He was dressed in well-worn jeans that fit him in all the right places and a white button down shirt with sleeves already rolled up.  He carried a duffle bag in one hand and a Chinese carryout sack in the other.

“What should I call you?  I don’t think I want to call you Don, it would seem too weird and I sure don’t want to call you “The Masked Man?”

“How about Martin?  That’s my middle name.  What do you want me to call you, surely not Katrina.”

“No, just pick a name.  I don’t care.”

“Okay, Miranda.  Do you want to eat first or…?

“I don’t think I could eat right now, my stomach is way too jittery. So where do you want me?

“Let’s go over some things first.  You want a real life experience, is that correct?” Miranda shook her head yes.

“Okay, then you’ll need a safe word.  If, at any time, it gets too much you say the word and I’ll stop.  I want to warn you though if I stop, that’s it, so don’t use it unless you are absolutely sure you’re don’t want any more.  Understand.” 

Miranda nodded her assent. 

Martin sat down on the couch and called Miranda to him.  “I want you to lay across my lap.”  She did as he asked and he moved her around until she was comfortable.

“I’m going to begin by warming up your flesh.  These warm-up spanks will be delivered over your panty clad bottom.  Once the real spanking begins, I will remove your panties and you will be getting a bare bottom spanking.  Do you want a lecture as you’re getting spanked?”

“Whatever you think Martin.” 

“We’ll see how it goes.”  Miranda felt the first blow right in the middle of both cheeks.  Before even having a chance to process the first smack, Martin’s hand fell again and again in a staccato fashion peppering both cheeks, upper and lower.  Miranda sucked in her breath and tried reaching back to shield her now heated bottom.  Martin promptly grabbed both of her hands in a vice-like grip and admonished her that wasn’t allowed, ever.  He continued the assault and when she was sure she couldn’t take anymore, he stopped long enough to pull down her panties.  The spanks rained down on her now bare bottom and she couldn’t believe how much protection those thin little panties had granted.  Martin’s hand was like a machine, hard and fast he delivered one spank after another.  This hurt much more than she ever imagined, but she didn’t want it to stop either.  She was sure flames were coming off her ass and still the spanks continued.

“Do you think you can behave like a good girl now?”  She shook her head.

He stopped spanking, at least, she thought he had.  Her backside was throbbing. She felt him helping her to stand.

“Do you need to stand in the corner to think about why you were just spanked, Miranda.”

“No.”  When she answered, he pulled up her panties and yoga pants, slapping her bottom when he was finished.  She jumped.

“So what did you think, Miranda?

“I think those books are both over and underrated.”

He laughed and started taking the take-out cartons out of the bag.

See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.