From: ginger30@aol.com (Ginger30) Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking Subject: Reunion Date: 27 Mar 1995 14:01:49 -0500 Reunion Newport 1870 He knew her the instant he saw her, despite her widow's garb, despite the eleven years which had passed since their last meeting. She was more beautiful than Edward remembered, though he would never have guessed that possible. "Would you like an introduction?" asked the elderly lady at his side. "Thank you, Mrs. Sherborne," he murmured politely, "But I think not yet. She seems to be engaged at the moment." He glanced again across the manicured lawn. "Well, you just send me the wink, I'll I see what I can do," his hostess whispered conspiratorially. At twenty-four, wealthy, handsome Edward Holst was the catch of Society. It was a coup to simply have him attend her house party this weekend, but if Mrs. Sherborne could also claim to have made his match, she would be the toast among New York matrons. "Miss Thomsett is a lovely girl," she added with a sly nod before turning her attention to another guest. Mr. Holst smirked at his hostess's mistake. Yes, Patsy Thomsett was pretty but she was young and a no more than a pale little buttercup compared to the full blown blossom of womanhood to whom she was speaking. Edward's eyes drifted to the female who'd haunted his memories and fantasies for over a decade. When Madeline Guernsey (nee Vale) tucked a stray curl back into the dark twist of hair at the nape of her neck, Edward's breathing deepened. The lady's white hand was quick and deft in its movement, a hot little fact, he well remembered as he did almost every detail from that one summer she lived with his family. She'd been twenty-three years old, at least that was what she'd claimed, though the Cook scoffed that Miss Vale was not a day over eighteen, if that. At the time, it hadn't been Madeline Vale's age which concerned Edward, but his own. Thirteen year old boys, in his estimation, were too old to need governesses and really, Miss Vale was there to oversee his younger sister, Emily. He was corrected on that point almost immediately. "Help me pack up your trunks, Teddy," the governess commanded. "We leave for Saratoga in the morning." "I don't pack my things, the maids do it," he disdained while on his way out of the nursery with a ball in hand. She intercepted him at the door, grabbed him by an ear and spoke in a low, threatening hiss. "Take that tone with me again, young man, and you will find your train ride tomorrow exceedingly uncomfortable." "You can't punish me!" the boy shouted, while struggling to free himself. "Oh no?" Her green eyes glittered with the amusement of a cat. "Your father is of a different opinion. He suggested I take a hickory stick to your bare bottom if you do not mind me. Shall we take the matter to him now for clarification?" Edward stared at her in stunned, horrified silence. Miss Vale tightened her pinch on his ear. "No?" "N-no," he finally managed. "Then understand this, little Master Holst. You are my charge, as is your sister. If you give me the slightest aggravation, you will be a very sorry boy with a very sore bottom. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" "Yes, Miss." Was all he could say as his cheeks burned in angry humiliation. He could not even meet her eyes, he was so diminished by the encounter. Which wasn't to say that Edward hated Miss Vale. Oh no, in fact, standing so close to his vexed governess made him aware for the first time, that her skin gave off a warm, buttery scent. That evening in bed, young Edward fondled his small cock and imagined being taken over her lap for the promised spanking. It caused an interesting mix of sensations to smoke through his lean body, flaming desire chased by hot shame. The boy brought himself off with a moaning gasp just as his door opened and the object of his fantasies glided in. As he lay desperately still, Miss Vale stroked his cheek and wished him a good night. As an afterthought she added, "You feel flushed. Are you alright?" Edward assured her that he was and, the moment the door closed behind her, he off on a second trip to ecstasy by imagining her cool hand sliding across his entire body the way it had his face. It wasn't until weeks later he actually discovered what that lovely white hand was capable of. He'd been smart with her once too often and very much on purpose. That night she walked into his bedroom, without knocking, and showed him a switch his father had given her permission to use. Madeline explained in a glacial voice that either Edward accepted his punishment on her terms or his father's. "What are your terms?" he asked sullenly, though his blood churned like the sea. In answer, Madeline set the whippy green branch aside and pulled a chair into the center of the room. "Since this is the first time I have to punish you, Teddy, I will not be severe." She held out her hand and like a sleepwalker Edward came to her. With a quick yank, she drew his night shirt up and over his head -- before the boy had time to realize what she was about. He stood before her utterly naked, appalled and furious! When he curled back his lips to protest, Madeline jerked him by a wrist and sent him sprawling over her knees. She pinned him with her strong left arm and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Fight me, Master Holst, and I will whip you with that hickory stick until your bottom bleeds." Edward froze in position. Not because of her threatening words, but because he was suddenly aware that her full breasts pressed into the center of his back while she bent forward. His shocked pleasure only lasted a second for soon she straightened and set about positioning him so that his ripe young bottom was a perfect target for her warm hand. Miss Vale was in no hurry, for she took her time lecturing him about every small misdeed he'd committed since her arrival. The list was long and it was accompanied by pinches and pats to his squirming buttocks. When his new governess assured him he would be receiving a good spanking this evening, the first jolt of lust coursed into Edward's cock, his balls tightened and his buttocks clenched. Whether Miss Vale noticed, he could not guess and he was close to not caring. He grasped her left calf, partly for balance and mostly because the opportunity presented itself. It was a good thing Edward did, for when her palm swung down on his small boyish bottom, he nearly shot off her lap from pained surprise. Who would have guessed such pretty hand could pack such a wallop! Of course, Edward had been spanked before, but always in an impersonal way. Either his father laid him across the bed for a thorough belting, or his tutor bent him over a desk and applied a wooden ruler to his backside. Edward had never found anything delightful about those episodes. But here was a woman, who was also bent on correction but encouraging exactly the opposite from the boy over her knee. Her warm lap, her breathy grunts of exertion, her hot, stinging palm, her smell all made for a thrilling experience for young Master Holst. But soon his delight began to wear. If the spanking had stopped just as his buttocks reached searing point, Edward would have waddled into bed, savoring the memory. But Madeline was intent on punishment and her flashing palm did not stop when the naughty boy began to cry. She continued her thorough whacking until Edward's entire seat was attended to, from the base of his spine all the way down to mid-thigh on each leg, including the area inside each buttock. For this last indignity, Madeline pried open the howling boy's thighs with her left hand and spanked with the right between his bottom cheeks. Soon, she finished the smacking but not her discomfiting treatment of him. "While I have you in this position, young man, I'm going to see if you are clean all over," she pronounced just before sucking one long index finger and sliding it into his tight bumhole. Edward raged at this affront, kicking and hollering and she stroked her finger in and out. Her pumping encouraged a rhythm he could not resist, and although at that moment he despised her and her utter power over him, Edward came into the folds of her skirt with a shuddering cry. It was the first episode of many that summer. Each of Miss Vale's punishments humiliated and infuriated the boy, mostly because he came for her like a trained puppy every time she set him over her knee, though, he didn't think she was aware of it. Edward was very careful to disguise his lusty cries as sobs of distress and his gyrations as attempts to avoid her blows. And if Miss Vale ever noticed the wet patches on her skirt, she never mentioned them. But now Edward was an adult and his thoughts on this were very different. He was convinced that the lovely woman who'd left the Holst family after only one summer of employment well knew what she was about when she took her young charge over her knee. The garden was beautiful, the weather perfection, and the party was proving to be great fun, even if she knew next to no one, Madeline Guernsey acknowledged. Her friends, the Sherbornes, had been right to insist she travel north and join them for the summer. When and if she was ever ready, it would take her no time to find a second husband here. Even at this moment, she had the distinct sense of being stared at. Madeline did not find this disconcerting because she was used to it, however, it was a bit odd considering how she was dressed. Gentlemen usually conducted themselves with the utmost propriety around widows still in black. Had she moved on to lavender, she might have been viewed as approachable, but certainly not yet. Perhaps the interested party knew that she'd clung to her widow's black long past the usual mourning period. Madeline Guernsey was not in the market for a new husband just yet; she rather liked the freedom widowhood afforded her, both financially and socially. She chose to ignore the prickles dancing down her spine and pinned her green eyed gaze on the innocent girl before her. "Where are you staying?" she asked Patsy in a sweetly husky voice, however she did not listen to the debutante's answer. Someone was circling her. She could almost see him as he moved into her peripheral vision. Once again, she chose to ignore him but it didn't work. The young whip positioned himself not thirty paces behind Miss Thomsett, right over her left shoulder where Madeline had no choice but to notice him as he blazed an overly familiar look in her direction. "I love Newport," she told Miss Thomsett as she twirled a violet between her fingers. "But my favorite summer spot is Saratoga Springs though I've only been there once." He looked like the devil himself, with that black hair and those lean features. Handsome, yes, quite... no wonder he was so forward in action and manner. But he was definitely her junior by several years and that, if nothing else, ought to prevent the cad from studying her with such insolence. "Oh dear, I believe my mother is waving at me." Miss Thomsett shot a worried glance toward the large house. "You better see what she wants." "Yes, it was lovely talking with you, Mrs. Guernsey." As the girl stepped aside, the blasted fellow wasted no time. He sauntered forward with an ease and grace that only comes from life long privilege, Madeline thought uncharitably. She turned to follow Miss Thomsett toward the other guests, but a warm hand on her elbow prevented it. The young widow glanced in surprise at the long, strong fingers which held her. This sort of boldness was inexcusable and she was just about to say so when he spoke. "Hello, Madeline." His voice was exactly what she'd expected, the devil's own aural caress. "Have we been introduced?" A shadow of a smile passed over his lips. "Not lately." "Then I have no desire to speak with you, sir," Madeline admonished, though she had to tip her head up to meet his look. "Your behavior is a scandal." "And you are still a scold." Her rosebud mouth spilled open in surprise. "And yes," Edward continued, "I would have guessed you had no 'desire' to speak to me, dear. Afterall, I am no longer a helpless schoolboy." If he had not still been holding her by the elbow, Madeline Guernsey might have collapsed on the ground from sheer bone-jarring horror. She had never even heard of a person being so insulting. Gasping, she blurted, "How dare-- Teddy!" Realization hit like a two-by-four plank across her solar plexus. It was a glorious thing to see, Edward thought with a grin. "My, how you've grown," Madeline finally managed to stutter, trying desperately for some semblance of normal conversation. The man before her was not feeling quite so civil. "Yes, sweet Nanny, I've grown," he purred with all the pleasure of a beast on the hunt. "In ways that I think we ought to discuss." He turned to lead her away from the garden but Madeline refused to move. "You have not grown into a gentleman, that is for certain," she snapped. "If you are thinking to seduce me, you better--" "Tsk. Dear, what a vulgar thought. But then, I shouldn't be surprised, should I?" That elicited another gasp from her and Edward suppressed the urge to laugh. Never had he such license to pique a beautiful woman. "What do you mean by that offensive statement," she demanded. "I think you know, Madeline," Edward said, infuriating her further with the use of her given name. "I merely thought you'd like to discuss this away from curious and uncharitable ears. I've heard you are scouting out a second husband; I'm quite certain you would not want any of these eligible bachelors to know about your winning ways with young boys, now would you?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "You can not prove anything." Not realizing she'd just handed him her guilt gift wrapped. "No, I can't," he said blandly down to her enraged countenance. "However, completely unfounded gossip has been known to ruin many a match. And imagine how your choices would diminish simply from having your past status as a governess bandied about. A lusty, inappropriate governess, notwithstanding." "What do you want?" she asked between clenched teeth. "You can't need money." "An hour of your time, beauty." Edward propelled her toward the lake where he knew there to be a small, private boathouse. The lady went forward unprotesting, if furious and bewildered. The moment the door closed behind them he said "Take off your clothes" in a voice so polite and amused he could have been asking her to pass a box of chocolates. "I won't." "You will and you know it, so let's drop this show of pretty resistance." Madeline stood stubbornly in the center of the room, hands clenched to fists at her side. Since her engagement to a wealthy man eleven years ago, she had mastered every situation she had ever found herself in. Now this archfiend of a young man was ripping that from her and she hated him for it. There was an lantern on a shelf nearby. Perhaps if she could circle round to it, she could bring it crashing down-- "Don't even consider it, Madam." His amusement gone. Edward moved in close, never taking his eyes from hers. "Let us talk plainly, shall we?" He continued despite her pressed lips. "Many years ago you humiliated me, aroused me and molested me. I intend to repay the favor this afternoon. Now if you allow this little settling of old scores to take place, I give you my solemn word that I shall never approach you again. I also assure you, I will take our past adventures to the grave. But if you don't do as I say--" "Slowly or quickly?" she interrupted. "Hm?" "How would you like me to strip?" Already, Madeline was unbuttoning her gown. A smile curled over Edward's mouth. "Why quickly, of course. If I wanted a bawdy performance I would have stayed in New York for the weekend." "I despise you," she announced as she roughly pushed the bodice of her dress down. His eyes appraised her full bosom with warm appreciation. "No more than I did you eleven years ago," he murmured. "You hated me?" she asked in surprise as her gown shushed to the floor. Madeline had been so young and so selfish that summer, she'd never really considered him as more than an exquisite young body at her disposal. "Only when you made me come." His white teeth gleamed in the shadows. "Then?" she gasped. "Not when I spanked you?" "Others punished me, school teachers, my parents. Only you made your control of me absolute. The chemise." He tipped his head toward her underclothing and she continued to disrobe. "Have you thought about it a great deal over the years?" She wanted to know as she pulled loose the ribbon on her slip. "Every time I took some lovely girl over my knee and made her kick and squeal." Madeline's eyes lit up like stars; her full mouth broke into a lusty grin. "You've spanked someone? Who? A maid? Prostitutes?" As if in bargain for his stories, she ripped open the chemise to expose her perfect breasts, pink tipped and tight with excitement. "You are a naive chit." Edward stepped forward and tweaked one of her stiff little nipples. A jolt of pleasure seared through her belly to her cunt and the lady tipped her head back and stared into his lazy golden eyes. "And no doubt a faithful wife," Edward smirked while continuing his rough handling of her right breast. "I was," she said without offense. "My husband was old and rich. He had me watched." "And what will your next husband be, Nanny Vale?" "Young, poor, virile and obedient." Edward laughed with wolfish amusement. "You are a rare woman, Madeline." "What is it you want, Mr. Holst?" "Your ass," he replied bluntly, as he dropped his hand to the waistband of her pantalets and tore them open. She did not flinch when the thin material fell to her ankles and she stood before him, wearing no more than her gartered black stockings. His eyes feasted on her nakedness and still she said nothing, did nothing. It was outrageous that a gentleman should behave this way with a lady, but Madeline knew that all convention between them had been put aside. For the next hour, she was his slave and there was a freedom in that; she could give over to her base instincts, those that she'd hidden for so long, and this man would not be shocked or appalled. He'd already known her at her passionate worst. She did not recoil when he unfastened his belt buckle, though when he pulled it from his waist, her pupils dilated. "Are you going to whip me?" "You know that I am." Was his casual reply as he tossed his jacket aside and rolled his shirt sleeves. "I shall hate it dreadfully." "Yes, most likely," he agreed and then dragged forward a small chair. "Bend over and hold onto the seat." "Oh, can't you take me over your knee?" Madeline suddenly pleaded, dropping her indifferent manner. "It's much more intimate that way. It's how I always spanked you." Edward smiled at the memory but repeated, "Bend over the chair." "No." Madeline said crossly. "I want to go over your knee." She would have stamped her foot for good measure if he hadn't slipped a hand up her spine and tangled his fingers in her hair. With a nimble movement he found the large silver hairpin and pulled it out and her curls down in a tumble. Edward dropped the hairpin on the floor and gave a small push to the center of her back. Madeline stumbled forward. "Hold onto the chair, Madam, or we will continue this outside," he warned. She tossed him an evil look and he raised a dark brow. "You don't think you deserve to be punished?" "You can hardly blame me for something I did at eighteen." "Can't I?" he asked softly. When his stare became too intense to bear, she dropped her eyes in guilty admission, remembering all the occasions she'd forced "medical attention" on him with prying fingers and excited curiosity. She'd also demanded he bathe in front of her just so she could grow exasperated and knock the soap from his hands, insisting upon doing the job herself. The angry flush of his cheeks thrilled her almost as much as his quick-to-respond cock which she brushed against many times that summer -- accidently-on-purpose. "I can blame you and do, Madam. And I will enjoy applying this belt to your white ass which, I assure you, will be a far kinder revenge than spreading tales of your misplaced sensuality." Madeline said not another word but took up the position he insisted upon. Her hands gripping the edge of the wooden seat, her hair spilling about her face like dark silk. Edward pressed a palm to the small of her back, forcing her to drop her belly and lift her bottom. She kept her chin up, however, giving her the look of a thoroughbred race horse, haunches high, skin sleek. The young man stepped back, his belt wound once round his palm. "My dear, this will hurt me more than it will you," he mocked as he lifted his arm. The smooth, rounded buttocks before him twitched only once before his belt descended with wicked speed. The woman rocked to her toes on impact, hissed, shuddered and resumed position, all without a backward glance. He smiled at her pride and swung his arm again, savoring the meaty thwack which echoed through the small boathouse. This time she groaned softly as she did for the next several blows until finally, the belt forced a yelp from her luscious mouth and then a husky cry. Edward kept up his pace without ever breaking a sweat. The same could not be said of Madeline whose body gleamed with a wet sheen that caught the afternoon light as she twisted and writhed under every crack. "No more, Teddy! Please, no more!" He ignored her, just as she had ignored him years ago. The polished leather made quick work of her soft skin, mottling it with scarlet stripes until her shuddering twin mounds were one entire throbbing shade of crimson. The lady's bottom did not remain still for all this, though she did not rise from her bent position; she shook her hips with a sob after each smack as if trying to release the pain. And when Edward's whacking increased in speed, making reaction to individual strokes impossible, Madeline tossed her head, her eyes wild, and while yelling shrilly, she rocked forward as if trying to outrun the blows. Her fanny quivered and wobbled, as did her breasts which swung freely between her arms. Then the lady's head drooped, her tears puddling on the seat of the chair, and finally, after one particularly vicious smack, she shot upward, grabbing her bottom. It was the reaction Edward had been waiting for. "Get back in position, Madeline," he commanded. She twisted back to look at him, her eyes large and wet, her hands still pressed to her tormented flesh. "Please, Edward," she cried. "I can't-- no more. Please." He took a menacing step toward her and she quickly turned and bent forward again, grasping the chair. When she heard his belt hit the floor her body heaved in relief. "Stay in position, Madeline, but take hold of your bottom again." She did as he instructed. "Now, spread your cheeks for me, wench, and let me see that pink slit of yours." She did not move. "I-I can't do that, Edward." He stepped forward and kicked her feet apart. She nearly fell flat on her nose from the loss of balance, however, he grabbed her hips and held tightly. As he leaned over her body, the front of his trousers pressed to her hot ass. "Do as I tell you, woman, or I will fuck you in a way that I promise you will hate." Tears stopped up her nose and blurred her vision and yet, Madeline never felt more alive. Her cunt was wetter than she'd ever known it to get, and that she could tell simply from what was smearing down the inside of her thighs. It was as it had been that summer in Saratoga and never since. She pulled her ass cheeks wide apart, just as he ordered, and he stepped back to admire the view. "Can you imagine what I see, Madam?" She shook her head. "What was that?" "No, I can't imagine it." She spoke aloud. Edward nudged her feet even wider apart and, with his hand pointed to the floor, he slapped up between her thighs, smacking her swollen pussy lips, once, twice, three times. Madeline let go of her buttocks and cried out in excited pain. Bracing the chair again, she lifted her hips, arching her back like a cat in heat. Now Edward dug four fingers into her sopping quim and shoved them in and out as if fucking her. Finally, he could wait no longer and he fumbled with the buttons on his trousers. Once Madeline realized what he was doing, she stood with a cry. "No!" "What?" He was truly surprised. This woman was drenched to her kneecaps with her own juice and she wanted him to stop? "You can not take me until you've kissed me." She turned clutching her hair to her breasts, eyes bright with annoyance, looking like some pagan goddess. Edward fell in love at that very moment. As his heart lurched in his chest, he grabbed her, dragging her to him, and kissed her as though he would suffocate her with it. Once he started, he could not stop, his lips were as sensitized as his cock and her mouth was so wet and sweet that he lost himself in it. It was she that forced her hands between their crushed bodies and unfastened his trousers. And it was she that backed him against the wall and slid down his hard stomach to catch her lips on his engorged organ, sucking it down the back of her throat with an abandon of a whore. "Ah God!" he cried as she pulled it in and out of her mouth only to stop short an instant before he came. "I thought you were going to take me." Her eyes glittered up at him with a satisfaction he well recognized. "I'm going to murder you," he choked as he took her from beneath the arms and dragged her to her feet. "That was a pretty trick, minx." "One that the wife of an old man has to know." She referred to her oral pleasuring of him not its abrupt halt. Edward spun her to the wall and she threw up her hands to brace herself against it as he grabbed her by the waist and thrust himself into her. Now it was her turn to cry out to the heavens. His large cock felt so intense, so good; she was faint with the sensations but he continued to pound into her from behind and she to push backward, meeting him with every stroke. He slid one hand around to grab her mound of curls and grind his fingers into her clit. Her nipples brushed the rough wood of the boathouse wall when she swayed forward as they both began to climax. He, loud and triumphant, her, low and guttural. When Edward came to a shuddering finish, he pressed her forward, biting the nape of her neck and now sinking the fingers of both hands into her wet, pulsating pussy. She rubbed her forehead into the wall and marveled at the muscular chest crushed to her back. "Shall we marry this week or the next?" Madeline would never forget the moment or his tone which tickled the hair on her neck. She struggled to turn in his arms but he would not allow it. "Not until you answer me," he said as he nuzzled her shoulder. "I-" "Yes?" "I'm older than you," she finally managed while studying a knot hole in front of her nose. "Yes," he agreed. "But that won't keep you from my knee." His cock slipped from between her legs and pressed a last wet kiss to her scorched ass. "But I don't want to spend my life over my husband's lap!" she cried. "I will not be subservient to anyone ever again!" "Tsk. We can take turns, my bossy girl." With that, he released her. She spun quickly and so caught the flash of vulnerability in his eyes. Madeline smiled then, a slow, wicked, triumphant smile and crossed her arms over her chest. "I want four days of the upper hand and you may have three." He slipped his fingers under her arms and jerked her to him. "I will be most happy to give you four days of my upraised hand, pet." "That isn't what I meant, you--" He silenced her with a kiss and mentally tipped his hat to the fates which had put his beloved governess back in his path.