“Very good, sir,” said the chauffeur, enormously relieved. Dennis looked down and was horrified to read a note that Susan had scribbled for him to read.
“Get him to talk about me!” it read and Dennis visibly recoiled. But Susan persisted in pointing at the note until Dennis finally stammered, “I don’t think Miss Susan likes to make use of the Bentley, Sir.”
“Then put her in a cab if she wants to go out,” Newton told him. “And make sure there’s plenty of wood in her fireplace too.”
Susan smiled, touched.
“I will, Mr. Newton.”
Sixteen minutes later, Dennis pulled to a stop in front of the elegant old apartment building where Anthony was picking up his date.
“I’ll find my own way home,” said Anthony, getting out of the car. Dennis immediately pulled away from the curb. Susan waited until he’d gone a quarter block before scrambling up on the seat with cramped arms and legs.
“Go around the block and park just short of the building. I want to see them come out,” Susan ordered.
“Must I, Miss Susan?”
“I asked you to, didn’t I?”
“What if he sees us?”
“Make sure he doesn’t.”
Dennis circled the block and parked on the opposite side of the street. Then they waited.
“Perhaps he won’t come out at all,” said Dennis.
“It’s dinner time. They have to come out to eat,” Susan told him. And sure enough, within 5 minutes, Anthony emerged beneath the bottle green awning with a sleek brunette in her middle thirties. As the uniformed doorman hailed them a cab, Susan had ample time to absorb every detail of the slender beauty’s skirt suit and overcoat ensemble. The hat, gloves, purse and spectator pumps were perfectly coordinated. White skin, black hair, red mouth, and patrician nose. Susan observed the gracefulness of her shoulders, neck and instep. The woman had a propensity to smile and laugh good-naturedly that lent additional appeal to her well-bred appearance. Everything about her was sophisticated. Susan shuddered at the thought that this paragon of confident femininity should also be inclined to play at B&D.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Dennis?” Susan observed as Anthony handed her into a cab.
“Quite nice,” the driver agreed.
“Have you dropped him off at her place before?”
“I don’t feel I’m at liberty to reveal that information, Miss Susan,” said Dennis firmly.
“I see,” replied Susan coolly.
“Where to, Miss?”
“West 72nd Street and the park,” Susan said, folding her arms and staring out the rain streaked window.
“I’m sorry, Miss Susan, but you’ve put me in a very awkward position,” Dennis explained.
“Dennis, stop over dramatizing,” Susan recommended.
Deeply shocked at this harsh accusation, he nevertheless marveled at her discernment.
“I think you’re a conceited boy who’s being difficult because his mistress doesn’t pay enough attention to him,” Susan added incisively. At this pronouncement Dennis flushed a frightful shade of red.
“I’ve taken Mr. Newton to that address once before,” the twenty-four year old Londoner caved in to the forcefulness of his employer’s twenty year old girlfriend.
“And did he ever bring her home with him?” Susan demanded.
“Not that I know of.”
“Thank you, Dennis.”
They did not exchange another word until after Susan came down from the Majestic apartments with her textbooks and a valise. As before, she climbed into the front seat beside him, a gesture he could not fail to note with a throbbing heart.
“Home, Miss Susan?”
“Yes, thank you, Dennis.”
Susan observed the color come and go in the young man’s smooth, clear face as she said these few words to him. Impulsively she touched his thigh.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Dennis.”
“Don’t give it another thought, Miss Susan,” Dennis replied, and then added, with painful shyness, “I want to serve you better.”
Susan rewarded Dennis with a smile, aware that she had just acquired her first slave.
Anthony Newton arrived home around midnight and discovered Susan asleep on the overstuffed sofa before his bedroom hearth. She was dressed in a luxurious slate blue silk-satin gown set with matching mules. Her long hair hung about her shoulders in wheat-blonde waves. She awoke with a start the moment his light step crossed the threshold.
“Still here, are you?” he sat next to her on the couch. She shrunk back but he seized her little wrists and drew her across his lap with the ease of arranging a dinner napkin. “I told you what would happen if I found you here tonight, you horrible girl!”
Placing one hand firmly on her waist, Anthony smoothed the dressing gown down over her round little bottom then drew back his free hand and brought it down resoundingly on one cheek, then the other, until he’d administered at least three dozen sound smacks to the seat of her robe. Susan bit her lip and did not argue, though she couldn’t help but kick her little feet each time his hand came down.
“So you think that you can leave and come back whenever you like, do you?” he demanded, continuing to spank her harder still. Susan wriggled on his knees and tried to shield her bottom with her hand, the wrist of which he grabbed and pinned to the small of her back firmly before continuing. “No you don’t,” he told her, pulling the smooth layers of satin gown and robe up to her waist to reveal her already blushing bottom. After laying it bare he surveyed it for a long moment, holding her in place while she held her breath. But before striking her, he wound his hand in her hair and carefully but coolly made her look at him.
“You deserve to be punished, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Susan replied in a voice that caused him to release her wheaten hair and pause to arrange her perfectly across his lap.
“You’ve treated me quite badly, and for no good reason,” Anthony said.
“I deeply regret that,” she cast an appealing look back at him.
It was becoming increasingly difficult for Anthony, with this adorable package of compliance prone across his knees, to remain even mildly disgruntled, no less angry.
“You’re just a spoiled little girl,” he told her, taking a firmer hold on her waist before applying his palm to her bottom for twelve to fifteen minutes. Holding her in place, Anthony spanked her with metronomic precision, never altering his rhythm and always bringing his hand down hard after skipping two beats in between smacks. Penetrating heat combined with an ever-increasing sting caused Susan to jerk and wriggle across her man’s muscular thighs. Little whimpers began to escape her lips as the spanking continued, with the tempo increasing to one beat between smacks. Susan began to feel very sorry indeed for her behavior and felt the justness of the discipline. Anthony had never been anything other than charming and indulgent toward her, treating her like an adult and a friend although she was only a silly child not even through her undergraduate degree. Handsome, popular, even-tempered and enormously adept at seduction, Anthony had nevertheless reserved the first place in his heart for Susan and she had seemed to disregard the importance of this. Susan felt foolish now, as though she’d almost thrown away her most precious possession, the love of a truly exceptional man. Every slap struck a resounding cord in her tender soul as she luxuriated in the punishment that would expiate her error. Impressed by her silent acquiescence,