From: ginger30@aol.com (Ginger30)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking
Subject: Lovely Clara
Date: 17 Dec 1994 17:05:32 -0500
Message-ID: <3cvnbc$bpb@newsbf01.news.aol.com>



                                         Lovely Clara

Chicago 1903

 It was only her fourth night on, but already Clara made up her mind she
loved her new job.  Never had she made so much money or lived so well. 
The Everleigh sisters had given her one week to get used to their way of
doing business before beginning her duties... and it had taken nearly that
long for Clara to merely learn the lay of the house.  With all of its
parlors, salons and private dining rooms, the Everleigh mansion was a maze
of opulence.  
 All twenty women who worked for the sisters were given bedrooms of their
own in which they kept their personal belongings.  Since these rooms were
also where the girls worked, each was furnished in the same exquisite
taste that marked the rest of the house.  Clara's little room was done in
a Turkish motif which she didn't understand or recognize but  appreciated
nonetheless.  She especially loved the goose-down bed where she'd spent
the previous evening cavorting with an elderly gentleman.  She'd taken Ada
Everleigh's advice to heart: it was much better to encourage one man to
purchase your entire night than take on several callers in a row.  It was
an easy thing to arrange since Clara was the youngest girl in the house,
barely sixteen, and exceedingly lovely.   Tonight, her skin glowed with
good health and her golden hair sparkled under the newly installed
gaslights.  Clara glided into the blue salon, adorned in a loose garment
of lace and red velvet which would have cost her father six month's pay.
 "Clara, come here."  Minna Everleigh called.  "I'd like to introduce you
to Mr. Dayton."
 The girl moved forward with a practiced roll of her hips, leading with
her loins in an inviting manner.  She moistened her lips with the tip of
her pink tongue and studied the man before her.  Oh, she was a lucky girl
tonight indeed!  Mr. Dayton was younger than the other gentlemen in the
room by at least ten years and he was clearly wealthy as the cut of his
fine black evening coat attested.
 "Good evening, Clara."  His voice was a caressing baritone, resonant with
good breeding.  Suddenly Clara felt ill equipped to capture this worldly
man's imagination.  She nodded while keeping her gaze pinned to the
diamond stud winking in his immaculate white neck cloth.  
 "As I said, this is Clara's first week with us," Miss Everleigh offered
by way of explanation for her employee's sudden attack of shyness.  She
needn't have worried since Mr. Dayton found Clara's blush charming.  In
fact, it suited his tastes entirely.  He made the proper arrangements with
the Madam, (a word Minna Everleigh abhorred), took young Clara by the arm
and led her upstairs.
 "Which is your room, puss?"  Mr. Dayton inquired when she stopped short
in the upstairs corridor.
 "I'm sorry... I usually use the back staircase."  She mumbled in
embarrassed confusion.  "I think it's over there."
 Before she could turn the corner, he caught her hand and held it up with
a smile.
 "What's funny?"  She asked, trying to glimpse the fingers trapped in his.
 "You have a child's hand."  He explained.  "Look, your knuckles are
nothing but a row of dimples.  No, sweeting, don't pull away.  I meant no
offense."  His voice was husky and warm.  "You're a baby girl all over and
I like it."  He traced a knuckle across her rosy cheek and tweaked her
firm little chin.  "Now, show me the way."
 When Clara stepped forward, Mr. Dayton gave her a smart smack on the
bottom causing her to gasp.  It was a shocked school girl noise and it
pleased him.  He made a mental note to commend Miss Everleigh later; Clara
was as young and unsophisticated as she'd promised.
 Once in the Turkish bedroom, the gentleman poured himself a drink while
Clara stood awkwardly to a side, plucking at her dressing gown.
 "This isn't your first night at this?"  He asked.
 "Oh no, my fourth."  She said with some measure of pride.  
 "As many as that?" His dark eyes glittered with an emotion Clara couldn't
name.   "You must be very experienced then."
 "Yes.  Yes, I am.  Very experienced."  She agreed quickly.
 Mr. Dayton swirled his brandy and hid a smile.  Few men seek a jaded girl
to bed... and so, a seasoned courtesan knows to feign innocence even when
it's long gone.  But this chit, well, she was adorable in her naivety.
 "How old are you?"
 "Eighteen, sir."
 "Don't lie to me, sweeting, I don't like it."  His tone was casual but
Clara did not miss his undercurrent of warning.
 She cleared her throat delicately.  "Miss Everleigh said--"
 "Miss Everleigh also told you to please your callers, did she not?"
 The girl blinked in confusion.  "Y-yes, sir, but--"
 "Well, it pleases me to be told the truth," He stated firmly, "So, we'll
try this again.   How old are you, Clara?"
 "I'm sixteen." She answered miserably, convinced he'd return her
downstairs and choose a more worldly partner for his evening's pleasure.
 "Wonderful.  Are you sure you wouldn't like a glass of something?  Sherry
perhaps?"
 She shook her head.  "I don't like the way it tastes."
 Ah, unrequired honesty, even better.  Mr. Dayton was enjoying himself
more with each passing second.  She certainly was lovely, even if not the
most stunning woman he'd ever encountered in the Everleigh house.  Clara's
nose was too small to ever mark her a classic beauty, however, with her
bright hair, luxuriant skin and tiny waist, she was quite a fetching
little piece of baggage.  And she was little.  She came no higher than his
chest, however, she could not be called petite.  Her bones were sturdy and
her curves ripe.
 "Should I take my clothes off now?"  She asked since his imagination
seemed to be divesting her of them anyway.  Clara was anxious to excel at
her new job.
 "If you like."  Mr. Dayton leaned back against the chest of drawers. 
Despite, his careless pose, the girl knew he was watching her every move. 
She unfastened the pearl buttons of her dressing gown in silence.
 "Do you know what I like to do with the girls of the Everleigh House,
puss?"
 Her head snapped up at this.  What he liked to do?  Whatever could he
mean?   There was only one thing men ever liked to do with women.  Did he
think her a complete clothead?  As she opened her mouth to speak, he cut
her off.
 "Yes, I enjoy that too, what you're thinking... but not until later."
 "Later?"  She queried, a small wrinkle of consternation appeared between
her finely arched brows. "But what will we do first?"
 "What I am going to do, Clara... is give you a spanking."  He watched
with well concealed excitement as her pretty mouth fell open with
surprise.
 "But..."  Her breathing slowed and her thoughts collided as hot feelings
of disgrace poured through her body.  "Have I done something wrong?"  She
finally squeaked in confused misery.
 "Oh no."  Mr. Dayton assured her.  "You've done every thing right."
 "But then wh-why are you going to p-punish me?"
 Oh, this was getting better and better.  Mr. Dayton drank in the sight of
Clara's baby hands twisting with worry.  "Because it's going to give me
great pleasure, dear."  He set his brandy aside and strolled toward her
with the gait of a panther.  "And that is your job, isn't it?  To give me
pleasure?" 
 Her bluebell eyes widened with his every step.  
 "Answer me, Clara, isn't that your job?"
 She nodded grudgingly and for the first time, she noticed he was truly a
handsome man.  Before she'd seen only his elegant clothes and heard his
educated speech.  His being handsome, however, did nothing to set her at
ease, in fact, it made this whole encounter worse. 
 "The gown."  He commanded with a slight tip of his head.
 "B-but what about..."  She couldn't complete the thought.
 "Don't fuss, Clara, you will get your spanking.  In good time.  Now
remove your robe."  His tone brooked no disobedience.
 She  hurried to undo the buttons and let the velvet slide down her pale
arms to pool at her feet.  She was wearing naught but a lacy white
camisole and pantalets.  Through the thin cotton, Mr. Dayton could see
where her black stockings ended mid-thigh.  "That's enough for now."  He
pronounced as he traced a warm fingertip across the swell of her young
breasts and up her throat until he could feel her pounding pulse just
behind her ear.  "Have you had your bottom paddled before, love?"
 Refusing to meet his eyes, she nodded and fought off the urge to gnaw at
her lower lip in trepidation. 
 "Who did it?"  His tone was conversational.
 "My pa."  
 "Not your mother?"
 She shook her tumbling curls.  "My ma died when I was young.  So, it was
just my pa and me....  He was a good pa."  She felt obliged to add.
   Mr. Dayton strolled past Clara to the small dressing table, tossed down
his evening jacket, spun the chair outward and settled into it.  "Turn
around, dear."
 She obeyed. 
 "Did he punish you often?"  Mr. Dayton kept his features schooled into
mild curiosity.  He did not want the skittish miss to know the extent of
his desire, which was growing with every embarrassed shrug and squirm she
made.
 "Just when I was bad."  Her voice was throaty with chagrin.
 Mr. Dayton didn't mind her hedging.  He'd get all of her stories out of
her eventually.  If she was a smarter or more seasoned girl, she'd use her
memories to keep him coming back and requesting only her.  "I can't
believe you were ever a bad girl, Clara."
 "Oh, but I was!"  She sputtered in burst of honest emotion.  "Once, I
laughed at old Annie across the street with a hundred cats.  I called her
names."
 "And what happened?"  Mr. Dayton prompted with a demeanor of a priest.
 "Pa got very angry.  He dragged me off the stoop to our rooms downstairs
and walloped me good."
 "Explain in detail, please."
 Now, Clara remembered her discomfiture.  But she answered him, albeit
haltingly, despite her roasting cheeks and dancing heart.  In a way, it
felt good to talk about her pa and things that had happened.  None of the
girls in the house had the slightest interest in the experiences of a shoe
maker's daughter.
 "Pa scolded me somethin' awful."  She said in her breathy voice.  "He
told me I was a wicked, unkind girl.  And I was."  Her blue eyes were
bright with the memory.  "Pa didn't like to punish me.  He only did it
when he had to."
 "Did you fight him?"  Mr. Dayton wanted to know.
 "Oh no.  I had it coming.  I bent over his work table, right where he
told me to."  She laid over the end of the bed in demonstration, her arms
outstretched, her pert bottom upturned to make a perfect target.
 "Did he lift your skirt?"
 "Yes, sir."
 "Did he lower your pantalets?"
 "No, sir."  Clara straightened again in embarrassment.  "I never had any
before now."
 "So your bottom was bare?"
 The girl fidgeted and studied the coverlet.  "Yes, sir."
 "Go on."  Mr. Dayton commanded.  Clara shot a look through downcast
lashes to where he sat with one leg crossed over the other, polished and
cool.  His voice, however, was quite warm.  "What happened, Clara?"
 "He... then, my pa spanked me."
 "How?"
 "With a piece of leather, the kind he cut soles from."  She rubbed her
backside unconsciously... adorably.  "He spanked hard, real hard.  I had
blisters when he was all done."
 "And you never teased old Annie again."  Mr. Dayton finished for her.
 "Nor anyone!"  Clara said with such emphatic sincerity that he was hard
pressed not to laugh.  Instead, he stood, picked up the chair and moved it
to the center of the room.
 Clara grew very still as she watched Mr. Dayton remove his neck cloth and
methodically roll up his shirt sleeves.
 "Where's your pa now?"  He asked.
 "Passed on."  She said with resignation.
 "Is that why you came here?"
 "Oh no."  Clara spoke while her luminous gaze took in his strong arms and
broad hands.  "I worked in a button factory on the line.  Miss Everleigh
found me there."
 "And you decided that it would be better to live in a fine, big house
than continue where you were." 
 "I gets three good meals a day here."  Clara defended.  "And I'm not
doing anything that I didn't do before."
 "So you weren't a virgin when you arrived here."  Mr. Dayton took a seat
in the chair.
 She gave an inelegant snort.  "I let Georgie Sparks have a time with me
when I was but thirteen.  He even went to my pa and asked if we could be
married.  Pa near bout killed him."
 "Was your father angry with you as well?"  He asked as he drew Clara
closer to his right thigh.
 She swallowed as his deft fingers untied the ribbons on her pantalets and
tried to cover her giddy feelings with words.  "Yeah, pa was real mad."  
 "He 'walloped' you that time too."  Mr. Dayton tugged her drawers down to
her knees, revealing milky white thighs and a sweet gold triangle of
curls.
 "Yes."  Clara admitted softly.
 He patted his knee and Clara hesitated only briefly before laying herself
down in a position that she'd mistakenly thought she'd outgrown.  She gave
a small sigh.  The Everleigh sisters had warned her that she might not
enjoy everything a gentleman requested of her.   Clearly this was going to
be just such a session, because Clara didn't like spankings.  If Mr.
Dayton whacked her bottom near as hard as her Pa used to, she could expect
to be sore for days. 
 The gentleman adjusted Clara to his satisfaction... so that her pretty
backside jutted upwards, just over his right thigh.  He admired the fresh
expanse of naked flesh presented for his use.  With searing tenderness,
his fingers stole across the velvet skin of one pale buttock.  
 "Clara... lovely Clara,"  He murmured with appreciation.  "Your bottom is
so precious, so white, so fat.  I had no idea you were hiding such beauty
under your skirts."
 His words made the girl burn with shame.  That she had not once felt this
emotion during her sexual escapades of the previous nights, was suddenly a
puzzle to her.  Here she was in a position that screamed familiarity.  Her
belly pressed down on hard thighs, her bottom on display -- goosepimpled
and vulnerable -- her hands braced on the bar of the chair...  all this
felt exactly right.  With new clarity, she knew she had been a bad girl
who deserved to have her bottom attended to.  Clara was not a particularly
contemplative being, so once she was struck with this guilty notion, she
didn't question fate's decision to send Mr. Dayton her way.
 Mr. Dayton may as well have been a mind reader when he asked,  "Your
father wouldn't approve of your present occupation, would he, Clara?"  
 "No, sir, he wouldn't."
 Mr. Dayton massaged the fidgety girl's bottom with a warm palm.  "In
fact, if your father were alive today, he would probably spank you for
being here, wouldn't he?"
 "Oh yes, sir.  He would."  Clara pressed her thighs together and lifted
her hips in preparation.  Her bottom deserved a good smacking and she knew
it -- her new found conscience demanded it. 
 But Mr. Dayton wasn't going to be rushed into anything.  He pinched her
buttocks, each in turn, enjoying how quickly her skin pinkened.  
 Clara sucked air and shifted her weight.  Oh, she did wish he would get
on with it.  He pa had never taken his time.  When a probing finger slid
into her cunny, she gasped.  She'd so convinced herself she was receiving
a paternal spanking, Clara had forgotten entirely that this was a sexual
encounter.
 Then, her gentleman caller asked, "You're not enjoying this, are you,
little Clara?"
 "No, sir."  Came her miserable response.  "I don't like spankings."
 Mr. Dayton removed his finger from her tight little pussy and returned to
caressing her quivering nates. "That's too bad, puss, because I do.  I'm
going to like spanking you very much."
 That made her shiver, despite the heat Mr. Dayton's palm was creating
with the rubbing and squeezing.  When he tucked his fingers inside of her
yet again, Clara moaned aloud.  Not from desire but from worried
expectation.
 "Oh please, sir..."
 "Please what, dear?"  He asked with amusement.
 "I'm ready, sir."  She whimpered with the utmost sincerity and thrust up
her hips yet again.  "Please give me my spanking."
 Her bottom twitched in anticipation and he took pity upon her.  With a
well practised gesture, Mr. Dayton lifted his right hand high over head
and brought it down with such force and speed as to make a resounding
SMACK onto Clara's poor wiggling backside. 
 "OHHH!"  She shouted in gratitude and pain.
 Again, Mr. Dayton raised his arm and again his palm connected with
Clara's spongy flesh.
 "OH, MR. DAYTON!"  She cried.
 And so the spanking progressed.  At first, Mr. Dayton confined his blows
to the lower portion of Clara's young bottom, following a slow methodical
rhythm which had her squirming and shouting with each smack.   Several
times, she forgot herself in her distress and called him papa.  Mr. Dayton
didn't mind, in fact, it only heightened his ardour.
 When he increased his tempo and target area to rain down hard slaps all
over her bounding nates, Clara began to wail her misery.  Mr. Dayton loved
the raspy sound of her voice and the frantic kicks she made even though
her tangled pantalets hampered her somewhat.  Never once did she let go of
the bar of the chair.  Some one had trained her well.  Or else it was her
guilty conscience which kept her from trying to block the blows.
 The girl's bottom was bing cherry red and she swung it from side to side
in feverish pain.  Mr. Dayton never missed his mark though.  His palm
landed with unerring aim and gravity.
 "OWW!  OH, SIR!!  AHH!  PLEASE, SIR!!"
 "OH CLARA!"  He shouted back with gusto, enjoying every single slap he
administered.  "Your bottom is mine!!"  SMACK!  THWACK!
 "YES SIR!  AWW!"  
 Never had he had such a willing and supple fanny over his knee.  Never
had he delivered such a blistering punishment and yet, had a girl so
willing to take more.  She raised her bottom each time, awaiting every
blow with writhing patience.  His arm grew heavy to lift, his hand was on
fire, and still, Mr. Dayton spanked on.  He wanted to give this saucy
behind every smack it required.  He grunted with exertion until between
her throaty yowls and his heavy breathing the spanking had all the sounds
of copulation.  Including Mr. Dayton's own cry of, "JESUS, CLARA! 
(SMACK!!)  YOU ARE MY NAUGHTY GIRL!  (SMACK!)"
 To which she cried, "Yes, sir, YES!  I AM!!"  Forcing him to a crescendo
of slaps, punctuated by his own triumphant cries and her long open mouthed
bellows.
 Until, after the last and particularly stinging smack, Mr. Dayton reached
down and ripped Clara's pantalets from her legs.  He then turned her over,
scooped her into his arms and strode to the bed, where he dumped her
unceremoniously.  He did not bother to undress but merely ripped open the
buttons of his trousers, pulled out his stiff cock and fell on top of the
girl.  She was wild for him.  Clara wrapped her legs around his hips and
shouted out her pleasure as he pounded her into the mattress.  But even
that wasn't enough for the enflamed girl; she grabbed his buttocks and
pulled him into her body harder, in a manner so aggressive, so bold he'd
never known any woman to employ it, lady or whore.  It was this gesture of
hers that made him come... like a beast... like a madman.  
 Moments later, as he lay on her exhausted, unable to catch his breath,
she shoved him off and ground her small fingers into her clit.  Within
seconds she found her release but as he watched this shocking
demonstration, Mr. Dayton felt his own desire stir again.  This time he
turned Clara over so that he could reach around and rub her nubbin himself
while fucking her and admiring his rosy handy work.
 At four o'clock am Mr. Dayton descended the huge central staircase and
found Minna Everleigh still in the blue parlor.  He handed her a personal
check made out for an amount which had her heart in a flutter.  She looked
up to him for explanation.
 "I'm taking Clara from you."  He said in a flat voice.  "I will be back
tomorrow with a carriage for her and her things.  She'll stay with me
until we find her a townhouse of her own.  One I will put in her name.  I
trust this covers any inconvenience I've caused you."  He indicated the
check.
 Minna nodded.  There were more factory girls where Clara had come from. 
In the Everleigh house, Clara was replaceable but clearly not to Mr.
Dayton.  When he took his leave, Minna rushed upstairs to congratulate the
girl on her catch and advise her on how best to handle her new situation,
emotionally and financially.  



Footnote:  The Everleigh Club, run by sisters Ada and Minna, was truly a
part of Chicago history.  It was considered the most elegant brothel in
the United States at the turn of the century.