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Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: A novelette and three short stories in this mini-collection from a celebrated author of bondage tales. From the text: He liked the look of Sally's broad, round buttocks, spilling wantonly from the measly confines of the outrageously tiny shorts. He enjoyed the way they wobbled slightly as her body flexed rhythmically, idly drawing the little net across the pool. He especially enjoyed the thought of spanking those glorious sun-kissed orbs. Jay Lawrence's stories are "First rate, of a literary standard not often encountered within the erotica genre!" Fallen Angel Reviews
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: May 2010

2 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [49 KB]
Words: 9341
Reading time: 26-37 min.

Spanking Sally

Mr. Wilberforce would not have called himself a fussy man, but he did like everything to have its place and to be in it. Inside the house was easy enough. Every space, nook and cranny was his.

Towels naturally gravitated to the towel drawer. Socks were where they belonged. He had trained his daily help to iron his shirts the way he liked them and hang them in order of prestige -- from casual through business to dress. His suits went to the cleaner to be pressed. He took pleasure in shining his own shoes to a luster of perfection.

The kitchen contained the ingredients he wanted where he wanted them. He never ran out. He knew his way round the grocery store blindfold. He could even predict where the next shuffle of goods would leave the balsamic vinegar or the teriyaki sauce.

Mr. Wilberforce was in charge inside his house. His garden, however, suffered from neighbors. Not that they deliberately invaded his garden or purposefully damaged its symmetry. They just overflowed on occasion from their own territory. This was a neighborhood without fences or walls, so it was easy enough to stray.

The wind caught grass cuttings and blew them onto Mr. Wilberforce's patio. Barbecue smoke found its way into his bedroom. Toys and bicycles migrated to the fringes of his lawns.

Mr. Wilberforce could handle grass on the patio. He was handy with a brush. He enjoyed a good barbecue. And thoughtlessly abandoned bicycles could be quietly wheeled back to their own enclave. He could handle most things. But not all.

On this evening Mr. Wilberforce met his bete noire. He was dressed, for a formal dinner at the Business Club, in tuxedo, bowtie and brilliantly shined shoes. His face still stung slightly from a close shave. As he went to lock the back door he glanced out of the window. And froze.

Slowly he started to move, through the door, and into the garden. Stunned, he stared at the pool. Two footballs floated at the shallow end. A child's garden rake bobbed at the deep end.

These invasions he could deal with. The other invasion spelled long hours of labor to return cherished order to his life.

A thin film of grass cuttings turned the pool a delicate shade of summer green. Mr. Wilberforce shuddered.

"Sorry!"

He heard the voice of Sally the next door neighbor approaching.

"The wind caught the cuttings before I got the lid on the bin. Don't worry, the robot filter gizmo will clear it."

Mr. Wilberforce turned to look at Sally.

"The 'robot filter gizmo' is in the shop being repaired. It got indigestion after the last load of your escapee cuttings! This lot will have to be cleared out with the net. I don't suppose you'd like to do it?"

"No sir! I got enough to do keeping my own place in order. It won't take you long."

"It will take hours. It is hardly neighborly of you to spread your garden waste in my pool then walk away."

Sally placed one hand on her hip. She was wearing tight denim shorts and an outrageously skimpy cotton top. She tossed her head to clear her thick blonde hair from her eyes.

"So smack my ass!"

Mr. Wilberforce stiffened. In fact, to his surprise, he stiffened in more ways than one.

"Must you be so vulgar, Mrs. Roberts? This is not the Bronx. This is Connecticut."

Sally threw her golden mane back and laughed so hard that Mr. Wilberforce could see her tonsils. They looked very pink and healthy. As did the full, plump pair of breasts that squeezed voluptuously from the plunging neckline of the tiny top. Mr. Wilberforce stiffened even more. So much so that he had to shift his weight from one shiny shoe to the other in a vain attempt to adjust his comfort. Sally caught the action and a knowing, taunting look entered her eyes. Slowly, deliberately, she ran the tip of her tongue over her full pink lips. Mr. Wilberforce's cock twitched and he jumped as if from an electric shock. Sally pouted theatrically and tried to look contrite.

"I really am sorry, Mr. W. I know how meticulous you are. I'll just take that little net over there and put things right for you."

Mr. Wilberforce watched as Sally swayed over to the very edge of the swimming pool and picked up a small child's fishing net, left behind by her brood. Slowly, sensuously, she bent forwards and began deftly skimming the surface of the water to remove the grass clippings. Mr. Wilberforce gasped. A sizeable expanse of Sally's broad, plump bottom was exposed by her almost unnecessarily gymnastic position. Her sturdy tanned thighs were spread wide, thong-clad feet planted firmly on the tiled pool rim. A small tattoo of a rose began just above her left ankle and coiled its way upwards towards the back of her knee. Her calves were strong and smooth. Mr. Wilberforce's cock throbbed.

"How am I doing? How does it look from where you're standing, Mr. W?"