MY FIRST PARTY
By Randy Lee
I got out of my car, collected my purse and workday tote bag, and walked toward the steps to my second-floor apartment, pointing the remote behind me to lock the car. I hadn’t taken five steps before sweat beaded on my forehead and was about to trickle down my face. I unlocked my mailbox, retrieved my mail, and started up the stairs.
“Hi, Randy. I’m sure glad the weekend is finally here.”
I paused, turned, and saw Sandra Barnes, my three-doors-down neighbor, who was climbing the stairs a few steps behind me.
“Wow, me too,” I agreed. “This has been a real rough week at work. As if just being busy weren’t enough, there’ve been so many difficult customers and just as many difficult bosses to contend with. I’m really looking forward to being able to relax.”
“I’m with you there,” Sandra replied. “I’m going to a party later. Just the thing to wind down from a hectic week.
I reached the top of the steps and looked down at her. “I’ll think good thoughts about your head tomorrow,” I offered.
She looked puzzled as she reached the top. “My head?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
I explained, “You know, a hangover. I don’t drink anymore, but I still remember what it feels like the next morning.”
Sandra paused. Searching for the right words, she said, “Um, well, it’s not that kind of a party. In fact, there’s no drinking at all.”
“A party with no drinking? Well, that’s a new one on me.”
Sandra cocked her head and looked away for a moment, her brow knit in concentration. A smile played at the corners of her mouth as she again looked in my direction. Hesitating briefly, she said, “You and I are pretty close. Come over to my place for a minute. I’ll explain.”
I followed as she walked to her door. Unlocking it, she invited me in. We plopped our gear on the sofa, and she said, “Have a seat. Want some tea?”
“Yes, please,” I said. “It’s hot out there. Tea would really hit the spot.”
“You got that right,” she agreed. She opened the refrigerator door and reached for a pitcher of the most refreshing beverage on earth, setting it on the counter. She took two large tumblers from the cupboard, added ice from the freezer bin, and filled the glasses with tea, setting one in front of me and the other across the table. She returned the pitcher to the fridge and sat down.
I looked at her. “Okay, now what’s so top secret?”
As before, Sandra hesitated, evidencing the same suggestion of a smile, but her gaze was steady. “It’s a spanking party.”
My eyes must have gotten as big as saucers. “I beg your pardon??!!”
“You heard right,” she reassured me. “I belong to a group of people who get together once a month for a spanking party. Some of them spank, some get spanked, and some do both. Some people, especially new ones, do neither.”
I realized my jaw was nearly on my chest. “Sandra Barnes, do you mean to tell me there are people out there who like to be spanked? I mean, people besides me?”
Now it was her turn to stare. As close as we were, as much as we knew about each other, she was as surprised as I was. “Are you saying you’re a spanko, too?”
“Spanko? I’ve never heard that word before.”
“It’s short for spankophile. It means someone who likes spanking, either giving or getting or both,” she explained. “So which are you, a Top or a Bottom?”
“Top or Bottom?” It sounded like English, but she was speaking a foreign language to me. “What does that mean?”
“A Top is a spanker. A Bottom is a spankee. A Switch does both.”
“I guess I’m a Bottom. I like to be whipped. Spanked, you call it. So ‘Switch’ doesn’t mean what weapon is used?”
“Oh, no. Many Tops spank with their hands. Some use paddles or belts or other toys.”
“Toys!!?? If somebody came at me with a paddle, ‘toy’ is not the first word I would think of.” I thought for a few moments. “Although I have had a belt and a riding crop used on me. It was kinda rough, but I wanted it. And I liked it.” By way of clarification, I added, “There were always bruises.”
“So you’ve done it more than once,” Sandra asked.
“Yes, a number of times. Maybe twenty times.”
“But ‘toy’ wasn’t the word that came to mind?”
“No. It was not a game. It was consensual, but not sensual.” For a brief moment I was lost in memories of a former time.
Sandra brought me back to the present. “Were you always the one that received the spankings, or did you sometimes give them.”
“I was always on the receiving end, so to speak.”
Sandra smiled an acknowledgement of the pun. “At our parties, our aim is to have fun. We do this because we enjoy it. Bottoms enjoy getting spanked, and Tops enjoy spanking them. If it gets unpleasant, the Bottom says so, and the Top changes tactics. Either that or the Top is asked to leave. Well actually, told to leave. It’s a rule.” She was quiet for a minute. “Wanna come to the party? I could make a phone call and see if it’s okay. I’m sure it will be. You don’t even have to play if you don’t want to.
“Play? Is that what you call it?” I asked.
“Mm-hmm,” she affirmed. ‘Play.’ That’s what you do with ‘toys.’ I bet you would enjoy it. No one will coerce you into doing anything you don’t want to do. You can just be an observer. I think you would be surprised how much fun you’ll have.”
“Where does this take place? I’m imagining a dungeon somewhere.”
Sandra laughed. “No, it’s not a dungeon. This group meets at the home of some members, a married couple. More like a mansion, really. This house has eight bedrooms, six bathrooms, two large living rooms, and the usual den, dining room, kitchen, etc. And a four-car garage and ten acres. And indoor and outdoor swimming pools, one of each.”
I was amazed. “Wow, Sandra. That sounds like quite a mansion, all right. “Yes, I’d like to go. If there is a fee involved, I’ll gladly fork it over.”
She answered, “There’s a fee for the party, and there’s a one-time fee for membership in the group.” She told me the amounts. “And they do require cash.”
“Not a problem,” I said. “I happen to have that much on me. What do I do? I’ll need to change clothes.” I got up to leave.
“I’ll get hold of one of the people in charge and get it all set up. You go shower and get something to eat if you want to. They’ll have munchies at the party. Either way, brush your teeth. Be back at 7 and we can ride together, or you can follow me. The party lasts till 2 in the morning, but I usually leave about 11. Oh, and just wear something vanilla.”
“You mean white?”
Sandra laughed again, this time at my lack of knowledge. “No, it just means ordinary. Not a costume or anything suggesting spanking.”
“Oh. Okay.” I’m sure I looked confused, but not as confused as I felt.
“Take your tea. You can bring the glass back later.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Dazed, I grabbed the glass and my tote bag and went out the door, heading for my place.
I walked the thirty-odd steps to my apartment, thoughts spinning around in my mind like it was a blender. Okay, Randy. What have you gotten yourself into this time? Well, she said I could just observe. She said I don’t have to participate. What did she call it? ‘Play?’ This is the strangest thing I’ve ever heard of. But an hour ago, my craving was the strangest thing I’d ever heard of. Yeah, an hour ago, and a year ago, and twenty years ago. This may just be what I’ve been looking for all this time.
I unlocked my apartment door and went in, relocking the door behind me. I parked my tote bag and purse in their usual places and headed for the bedroom, kicking off my shoes. A long, satisfying drink of tea went a long way toward slaking my thirst. I padded around in socks, shedding an article of clothing every few steps. These I gathered up and tossed into the dirty-clothes basket in the corner. I stopped in front of the closet, whose doors were always open unless company was coming, and gazed at my wardrobe. Vanilla. What’s vanilla? Ordinary. How about dark slacks and a casual top? Yeah, that would be fine. I reached for hangers containing navy pants and a blue and white flower-print shirt with a straight hem and hung them on a hook on the bathroom door. I went to my bureau and opened the underwear drawer. If I just observe, I’ll keep my clothes on. But if I change my mind, am I going to undress? Will I keep my panties on? Should I choose attractive undies? Will anyone care? Probably not. I took panties, a bra, and socks from the drawer and laid them on top of the bureau. Then I went into the bathroom, reached to turn on the shower, and stripped off my remaining garments. Having shampooed my hair that morning, I decided it wasn’t necessary to do it again, so I put on a shower cap. Checking that the water was warm, I stepped into the back of the tub and closed the sliding door. I quickly scrubbed all over, using the bath brush on my back. Turning under the shower head to rinse off the residual soap, I contemplated what the party would be like, noting that my body was already intrigued by the idea of a whipping. I turned off the water and slid the door open, pulling a towel from the towel bar on the outside of the door. I took the shower cap off and shook it, replaced it on its hook, and stepped out onto the bath mat. I dried off, hung the towel back on its bar, and went into the bedroom. After the warm shower, another swallow of tea cooled and refreshed me. I drained the glass, wiped the moisture off the outside of it, and stuck it in the top of my purse so I would remember to take it when I returned to Sandra’s.
I put on the undergarments and outfit I had selected. With black oxfords, I was dressed. I decided to forgo makeup except for my eyebrows, which were getting paler with the passing years. Brushing my teeth was the last item on my to-do list. With that accomplished, I studied my face in the mirror. Randy, have you absolutely lost your mind? Well, Sandra’s going. I’m not any crazier than she is. No, I guess you aren’t. But you gotta admit, this is the zaniest Friday night of your life. So what? What’s life without a little drama, especially high-spirited, fun drama? Satisfied with my preparation, I gathered my purse and the empty tumbler, turned off lights, and locked my apartment door behind me.
I walked to Sandra’s door and knocked. A lusty “Come in” sounded from within the apartment, so I knew that my friend was not far from the door, most likely in the kitchen. Letting myself in, I saw that she was dressed much like I was.
“Your outfit’s just fine,” she said. “See? You’re already learning vanilla.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “Here’s your glass.” I set it on the counter in the kitchen. “You make great tea. So everything is all set for me to go to the party?”
“Sure thing. What do you want to take to drink? I have bottled water, ginger ale, and diet cola. And, of course, tea.”
“Water would be good. Thanks.”
“You’re quite welcome. Getting spanked is thirsty work,” she joked. “Not that you necessarily will.” She reached into the fridge and brought out four bottles of water, placing them in a lunch-sized cooler. “Okay, looks like we’re all set.”
“All right,” I said, moving toward the door. “Can I carry anything?”
“Nope, I got it.”
I opened the door and went out. She followed, locking the door behind her. We descended the steps in the bright Texas sun, which at 7 p.m. was still hotter than West Hell.
When she got to the bottom of the steps, Sandra asked, “Do you want to ride with me or take your own car?”
“I’ll accept the gracious invitation to go with you,” I said, joining her on ground level. It’ll help me not to be so nervous. Besides, I don’t expect to get bored and want to leave.” I smiled, and she laughed. “So how far away is this place?”
“It’s only about 9 miles. You’ll be surprised where it is.”
We left the parking lot and headed toward downtown. After a few blocks, Sandra turned right, in the direction of a city park. She drove around it and continued on a four-lane street toward the outskirts of town. We passed the high school and then a shopping mall. A few miles later, we came to what was known as the “hospital district,” a rather pretentious moniker for the area surrounding the town’s only hospital. It was new, however, and two generous endowments had provided for creating and maintaining state-of-the-art equipment and leading-edge technology in several specialties. The facility had the potential to become a showcase for modern medicine, though on a small scale.
We drove past the emergency entrance, and Sandra observed that there were no ambulances and only one police car. I voice the hope that it would be a slow night for ER personnel. Beyond the hospital grounds, on both sides of the four-lane road, were recently constructed housing developments with interesting architecture and lawns that were well cared for. A mile or so later, Sandra turned right, into a drive flanked with beautifully maintained shrubbery and flowers in an array of colors. We approached a tall gate, and Sandra drove up to a call box to gain access to the property. I imagined we were about to enter a gated community containing expensive dwellings. Sandra pushed a button, and a male voice said, “Good evening.”
Sandra replied, “Hello, I’m Sandra. Elements.”
The voice answered her, “Hello, Sandra. Proceed.” The gate moved slowly to the right, allowing us to enter. Sandra drove through the gate and followed a road wide enough to be two-lane, on each side of which was an expanse of newly mown grass. As the road wound and curved toward a large structure some distance in front of us, I realized that this was not a gated community; it was a gated HOUSE. I was looking at the ten-acre grounds of the mansion. I thought of the lyrics to a Broadway song, “What a setup! Holy Cow! They’d never believe it if my friends could see me now.” As we got closer, it was evident that part of the lawn to the side of this dwelling had been designated as a parking area. Even without marked boundaries, drivers had parked their vehicles in surprisingly even rows, with enough space between each two cars to open the doors fully.
We reached the end of the grassy parking area, where Sandra pulled in beside a dark red sedan. “Well, I see Allen is already here. He’s the one I called to make sure it was okay.” She shifted the car to PARK and turned off the ignition. “I would suggest you leave your purse here. That way you won’t have to keep up with it. Besides, there’s probably not anything in it that you’ll need. Oh, wait: You will need your driver’s license and money. I’m just taking my car keys, and I keep ‘em in a pocket.
“Sounds good to me,” I replied.
“Good. We can put them in the trunk.” I opened my purse and got out my driver’s license and the cash I would need. Then we got out of the car, Sandra unlocked the trunk, and we put our purses in it. She closed the trunk and locked the car. We turned toward the front door of the house. “Are you nervous?” She asked.
“A little. Well, maybe more than a little.” I admitted.
Sandra chuckled. “So was I, the first time I came to one of these parties. It won’t be strange for long. In no time at all you’ll settle in.”
We reached the front porch and went up the steps. Sandra rang the bell. The door was opened by a tall, slim man with dark hair just turning silver at the temples. On his green golf shirt was a name tag that said “JOHN,” beneath which was a solid blue circle. “Hi, Sandra,” he boomed, hugging her as he pulled her inside. I followed, and he closed the door. He leaned down to kiss her cheek and then looked at me. “This must be the friend Allen called me about.”
“Yes, indeed,” Sandra replied. Turning to me, she said, “Randy, this is John, the master of the house.” She gestured toward me. “John, my friend and neighbor Randy.”
He took my hand in a gentle handshake. “So pleased to meet you, Randy. Sandra tells me you’re new to the lifestyle.”
“Yes,” I agreed, having no idea what he was talking about.
My neighbor rescued me. “What he means is the Spanko lifestyle. Yes, Randy’s new to the lifestyle, but not the fetish. She was into spanking some years ago but just didn’t know other people were. She’s never been to a spanking party before.”
“Well, you’re certainly welcome, Randy,” John said warmly. “We have a real friendly group. Let’s get you registered, and there’s some information we need to make note of. Come along.” He led Sandra and me to the kitchen, where a woman sat at a table with a notebook and pen, a sheet of self-adhesive name tags and a sheet of different-colored adhesive circles with some missing, and a locking money box. “Evelyn, we have a new member. Sandra brought along her neighbor. It’s been cleared with Allen.” The woman had printed “SAN” on one of the name tags and stopped to greet us.
“Yes, he told me. That’s great!” she said to John. To me, she held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Evelyn.”
“I’m Randy,” I answered, gripping her hand briefly.
“Have a seat,” she said. “Did you bring your driver’s license?” She continued printing “DRA on the name tag and attached a red circle under the name.
“Yes. I have it right here,” I said, digging into my pocket. I handed it to her and sat in a vacant chair.
Evelyn alternately looked at my driver’s license and the page of her notebook, writing down the information she needed. “Do you know about the fees?”
“Yes,” I said. “Sandra told me. Is this the right amount?” I asked, handing her the bills I had stashed in my pocket.
“Yep, right on the nose,” she confirmed. “Glad to have you here tonight. What’s your position?” she asked, reaching for another name tag.
Again ignorance silenced me, and again Sandra came to my rescue. “She’s a Bottom, but tonight she’s an Observer.”
After printing my name on the tag, Evelyn peeled a green, self-adhesive circle from a sheet and placed it carefully under my name. “There,” she said. “You’re officially an Observer. And Sandra, here’s yours.” After peeling the backing off them, she handed us the name tags, which we pasted to our shirts.
“Well, let’s get you introduced around,” John said to me. “Come this way.”
He led us into a large, high-ceilinged living room where several small groups of people sat on sofas and in armchairs, chatting on different subjects. He went up to each group and introduced me. I heard the sound of flesh hitting flesh in an adjoining room. “Now I’ll introduce you to my wife,” John said, leading us in the direction of the sound. Only two people were in the room, a woman with her dress up over her back and her panties down around her knees, and a man across whose lap she was lying as he repeatedly spanked her with his hand. Her arms were folded under her head, her chin resting on the uppermost hand. “Hi, Honey,” she said cheerily, followed by “Ow, Keith,” as she looked back at the man.
“Aw, did that hurt?” said her punisher, rubbing her bottom gently.
“Hi, Joyce,” John greeted his wife, planting a kiss on her hair. “I want to introduce our new member, Sandra’s friend Randy. Randy, this is my wife, Joyce.”
“Hi, Randy. Forgive me for not getting up,” she apologized, “but I’m a little indisposed at the moment.”
“Oh, that’s quite all right,” I said, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Then John instructed, “Now, Keith, you know Joyce only likes to be spanked when she deserves it and when she doesn’t. And she only likes it hard or harder. Keep that in mind, will you?”
“Sure ’nough, John,” Keith agreed, smacking Joyce more forcefully, which made her bury her face in the bedspread.
“Jnmm?” she said, the sound muffled by bedclothes.
“Yes, dear?” her husband answered.
She lifted her head toward him and observed, “You’re not helping.”
“Okay, Hon. I’ll just run along and do some more introductions.” He patted her shoulder gently in parting.
As we moved toward the door, John explained, “Don’t worry, Randy. She loves it. Joyce and I have been married for 34 years, and we’ve known Keith for 20. He knows she likes it hard, but he won’t overdo it. She’s in good hands. Or undergood hands, you might say.” I chuckled.
We followed John out into the living room. Ever the tour guide, he suggested, “Let’s go upstairs and see what kind of action there is. It’s usually a lot.” As the three of us trooped up the grand staircase, I thought how bizarre the scene was that I had just witnessed. A guy was spanking another guy’s wife, and she and both guys were as happy as larks.
We got to the top of the stairs and heard a variety of sounds of hitting going on. In the first room on the left, there was a queen-sized bed. Three of its sides contained women who were being spanked, two by men and one by a woman. The two Bottoms being spanked by men were prone on the bed while their Tops were standing up and using leather implements of differing types on their bare buttocks. On the far side of the bed, the woman Top had her victim across her lap, spanking her with a rather small, brown-and-tan-striped wooden paddle that brought repeated flinches and protests.
“Ouch, Vivian. That hurts,” she wailed.
“Of course it hurts, Kim. It’s a spanking. It’s punishment. It’s supposed to hurt. How many is that?”
“Twelve,” Kim answered. She sniffled.
“And how many are left?”
“Thirteen.”
“Very good,” Vivian acknowledged. “Hold still.” She swung the paddle again, causing Kim to flinch. And again.
I looked at one of the other women. The man spanking her was using a doubled-over strap that made a loud slapping sound. The woman’s panties were pulled up so that both cheeks were exposed and fabric was between them. She was lying still and looked quite serene. “Hi, John,” she greeted our guide. “Have you played yet?”
“Hi, Lani. No, not yet. Right now I’m showing our new member around. Randy, this is Lani. Lani, Randy is a neighbor of Sandra’s. They’ve lived three doors down from each other and been pals for five years, and today they learned something new about each other.”
Lani smiled at me. “Hi, Randy. I hope you have a good time. This is a great bunch of people. I see you’re an Observer tonight. That’s fine. No one will make you do anything you don’t want to do.”
“Thanks,” I replied. “It’s certainly different. I’m not used to any of this.”
“That’s okay. All of us attended our first party once upo—OW, Curtis! Is that what you were trying to get me to say? All right, you got your wish.” To me, she resumed, “As I was saying before I was so painfully interrupted, we were all new and going to our first party once upon a time. Soon, you’ll be an ‘old hand.’ ”
“Thanks for the encouragement,” I answered. Seeing that John had turned and was moving toward the door, I said, “See you later.”
John said, “The woman doing the spanking in there is Vivian. She’s a Top, and she’s Kim’s Domme. I imagine Kim got herself into trouble, although being her Domme, Vivian can spank her anytime she wants to, for whatever reason.”
We moved down the hall, peeking into different rooms as we went. We passed one room where a man wearing a T-shirt stood beside the bed, bent over with his hands flat on the bedspread. I saw that his pants and undershorts were down around his ankles. A woman was using a switch of some kind on his bare bottom with much force and just as much accuracy. Several parallel lines marked the skin, and she was in the process of adding another one below them. “Eight,” he counted.
I asked John, “Another Domme?”
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “Laura is a Top, but I think she’s just giving Eric what he likes. He likes it when his Top makes him count. They’re both regulars at our parties, but I don’t think they have a Domme/sub relationship.”
“What was she hitting him with?” I wanted to know.
“A cane,” John said. “It looked like a Delrin cane.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Canes were originally rattan. Delrin is a synthetic material that resembles rattan in weight and size, but it’s virtually unbreakable. It’s very bendable, though.”
John then suggested that we go back downstairs to socialize some more. At the head of the staircase, I noticed a table with snacks on it, including cheese and crackers, a fruit plate, and cookies. John grabbed a few grapes, Sandra and I each took a cookie, and we started down the stairs. When we got to the first floor, I saw another table with similar snacks on it that hadn’t been there earlier. I snagged another cookie.
John turned to me. “Well, what do you think so far, Randy?”
“It’s all so strange,” I said. “I had no idea this kind of thing existed. It just never occurred to me.”
Sandra, who had been quiet all during our brief tour, voiced her agreement. “I never knew it existed, either, until I got into the same kind of conversation you and I had today. It’s opened up a whole new world for me.”
John said, “That’s true for all of us. Our group can be found online, but you have to know where and how to look. If you just google ‘Elements,’ you’ll pull up the periodic table! You can’t find us by accident. You have to be looking.”
“Speaking of which,” Sandra said, “I’m going to hunt up Keith. We have a ‘play date’ scheduled. I’ll see if he’s finished with Joyce.” She moved toward the first room we had visited.
“Randy, why don’t you wander around and mingle?” John suggested to me. “You can ask questions and get to know some of the people. And remember, if you decide you want to be more than an Observer, and your bottom needs a Top, there are several available, including me.”
“Thank you, John. I know you’re making such a gracious offer out of the goodness of your hand—I mean heart,” I replied, grinning.
“Ah, now I see you’re getting into the ‘swing’ of things,” he retorted. “See you later.” He followed in the same direction Sandra had gone, just as Joyce was coming out of the room. She reached up to hug her husband as he put his arms around her. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” she answered. “After I get a drink and rest for a while, will you do me next?
“My dear, I would do you anytime, anywhere, and love every minute of it,” John lovingly assured his wife.
As they started walking into the kitchen, I went to the room where Sandra had gone. She was on the near side of the bed, her slacks and panties down to her knees, lying across Keith’s lap. He was just about to begin spanking her.
I decided to go back upstairs. I paused at the foot of the stairs for a cracker and cheese and then continued up to the second floor. In the room we had visited earlier, Lani was hugging Curtis, her Top, and thanking him. The other man and the woman he had been spanking were gone. Vivian and Kim were sitting on the far side of the bed, where Kim had lain earlier. She was crying, and Vivian held her, smoothing her hair and softly talking to her. I left the room and moved down the hallway, exploring. The man who was being caned earlier was now lying prone on the bed, being whipped with a belt. I heard him say “nineteen” as I walked past. The next room I came to was vacant, but the light was on. Proceeding down the hallway, I came to a room occupied by six women. Three were Tops, and the other three were Bottoms. The Bottoms were on the near side, the foot of the bed, and the far side, and the Tops stood over them, each holding a leather strap. One of the Tops was instructing the women about the spankings they were going to receive. It looked like some sort of ritual, because the three Tops were dressed alike and the three Bottoms were naked. I was both frightened and mesmerized.
I went back downstairs to the room I had just left, where Keith was spanking Sandra with his hand. Her chin rested on her hands. She was absolutely still, though it seemed he was hitting her pretty hard. I asked if I could come in, and Keith said, “Sure. You can watch all you want. You want to come over here so you and Sandra can talk?” He indicated an open space on the bed close to her head.
I moved over there and asked Sandra how she was doing.
“Fine,” she said. “It feels wonderful. This is an excellent way to release the tension of the work week. Have you come across anything interesting yet?”
“Oh, it’s all interesting,” I answered. “So interesting, in fact, that I’m getting very jealous. I’m going to have to become an un-Observer. I want a whipping so bad I can almost feel it, and the ‘almost’ is driving me crazy.”
“I know that feeling well,” Sandra sympathized. A light bulb seemed to go on in her eyes. “I know what you ought to do. Go upstairs and find Allen. He was supposed to have taken three gals upstairs right before we got here. Maybe he can work you in. You’ll like his style. He starts slow and easy, which would be great for you since you haven’t played in a while. Then he gets harder and a little faster, but the way he does it it’s easy to take, even if you’re not used to it. We always recommend him to new Bottoms.”
“On your expert referral, I’ll do just that. Thanks, Sandra.” I turned and left the room, heading for the stairs. I snagged a few grapes and marched purposefully up the staircase. I knew that this Allen person wasn’t in any of the rooms I had looked in earlier, so I went beyond those doors to the next one on the left. I could see two women sitting on the bed, and I could hear spanking happening. Stepping into the room, I saw that the man had the other woman—the third one—across his lap, spanking her somewhat forcefully. Her slacks and panties were down around her knees, and he was spanking her bare buttocks. She squirmed a little with each blow but didn’t make a sound. He looked up to see who had just walked in, and he froze in mid-spank.
I froze in mid-thought. Allen. Allen Saunders, M.D. My gynecologist! I blurted out, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m Randy. Sandra suggested that I see you for a spanking because I’m new. Allen, right?” I had never in sixteen years of being his patient called him anything but Dr. Saunders.
He beamed. “Yes, that’s right. I’m pleased to meet you, Randy. And I’m pleased that Sandra would refer you to me.” ‘Refer.’ Doctor talk. ‘Refer me to him.’
I could see that he was going along with it, so I would do the same. “So I can just make myself comfortable and wait?”
“Sure, sure,” he said. “Hop up here and wait till Jenny and I are done here.” He patted the bed behind where he was sitting. I went around and climbed up beside the other two women.
One of those said, “We’ve already played. We’re just waiting for Jenny. Sort of the Three Musketeers.” I nodded understanding.
After four or five minutes, he stopped spanking Jenny and asked, “Well, how was that?”
“Very nice,” she replied. “I feel great.”
He helped her climb off his lap and stand up. He reached for her panties and pulled them up to the proper level as she adjusted her legs to assist. Then he caught the waistband of her pants, first with one hand and then the other, and began pulling them up, while she again wiggled to accommodate his movements. He stood up, and they hugged affectionately. She thanked him for spanking her and he told her how much he enjoyed doing it. She went around the bed and sat close to me.
Dr. Saunders—Allen—said, “I’ll take a short break to rest and get some fluids in me, and then you and I can start, Randy.” ‘Fluids.’ More doctor talk. He went into the bathroom and turned on the water at the sink. “He was washing his hands between patients!” Oh, for the love o’ Mike.”
He reached for a hand towel and stood in the doorway of the bathroom looking at the other women and me, drying his hands like some TV surgeon in the OR. He replaced the towel on a rack and came back into the room. “Okay. You ready?” he asked me.
I felt extremely awkward. “Hold on, now. Wait just a doggone minute. I happen to know you’re a married man. I don’t have any intention of pursuing this activity with a married man. That kind of scandal holds no attraction for me.”
He frowned. “I see what you mean. It could be a really messy situation,” he acknowledged. “That is, if my wife weren’t sitting right here.” He indicated Jenny.
She extended her hand. “Jenny Saunders, RNP. Pleased to meet you.”
I looked from him to her, and then back at him, and back at her, sticking out my hand like a zombie. My chin was on my chest for the second time that day, as Jenny briefly gripped my hand, grinning like a possum.
Matter-of-factly, Allen asked, “So do you want me to spank you or not?”
“I guess so,” I stammered.
“Well then, I think it would be nice to invoke an age-old tradition I just made up. I think you and I should go from room to room, upstairs and downstairs, and invite everyone to gather in the downstairs living room to witness your first spanking here among the ‘Elements.’ ”
“Everyone?” I squeaked.
“Well, sure. Why not?”
My mind raced. “What makes you think you can get away with that?”
“Get away with it?” Allen asked. “Who are you going to tell? My wife is right here.”
“What about the hospital? Surely you don’t think they would condone this behavior on the part of one of their prominent doctors.”
“Oh, I doubt I’ll get into too much trouble. John is the CEO of the hospital, what used to be known as the hospital administrator. Now, let me make it clear: You will not be forced to take a spanking from anyone, Randy, but if you want to be spanked by me, those are the terms.”
My last argument had disintegrated. It was tempting to say I didn’t want to be spanked at all, or to ask that someone else do it, but by now the seed had been planted in every fertile mind in the house. I wanted it, and this was the only way I was going to get it tonight. “Okay.”
“Okay what?” he tortured.
“Okay, A—.” The name didn’t want to leave my throat. “Okay, Allen. Will you please spank me?”
“Atta girl.” Then he whispered, “Such a good patient.” In a normal voice he instructed, “Come along, and we’ll rally the troops.”
Dr. Saunders and I went from one upstairs room to another, informing all occupants of the spanking that was going to take place downstairs. I was eager, but at the same time I felt trapped. When we had covered the second floor, we went downstairs and made the rounds there.
When everyone had been apprised of the latest goings-on, Dr. Saunders led me to a sofa that was the center item of the grouped furniture. As if suddenly remembering the detail, he said, “Oh, there was just one more term I forgot.”
Resigned to my fate, I asked, “What’s that?”
He paused to get the full benefit of the word. “Strip.”
I figured it didn’t make any difference now. “Might as well. You’ve seen me like that before.” I began unbuttoning my shirt.
As he sat down, a chorus started chanting as if it were a TV show, ‘Ran-Dy, Ran-Dy, Ran-Dy.’ My shirt was off. Down came the pants. The chanting was getting a little irksome.
I put my hands on my hips and asked, just loud enough to be heard, “Why’re alla y’all lookin’ at me like I’m fresh meat?” They burst into laughter as I removed my shoes, bra and then panties. I lay across Dr. Saunders’ lap. To him, I said, “This is the strangest day of my life.”
