Subject: New story: Rate of Exchange (M/f)
From: Kent Stoneking <kentls001@worldnet.att.net>
Date: 30 Jun 1999 21:56:51 -0700
Admittedly, this one came from my "dark side" again. If you'd like to see the George J. Churchwad drawing that inspired it, go to: http://www.ultspank.com/nobbin/esg083.jpg
* * *
Peering anxiously out her window, Fiona sat nervously as the jumbo jet taxied towards the terminal. In just a few minutes, she'd meet her American host family.
Fiona thought back to when she'd first heard from Student Exchanges International. At first, she couldn't understand why they were interested in her; exchange positions were usually only offered to the top students, and Fiona sat squarely in the middle of her class. She put the question directly to Mrs. Casterleigh, the SEI representative who interviewed her in her Liverpool home.
"Why, Fiona!" the woman replied. "You're just the type of girl the Hazelmans - I mean, SEI is looking for!"
Fiona found this explanation rather lacking; nevertheless, the prospect of spending a year with an American family (and away from her parents, with whom she'd been increasingly feuding) overcame her doubts. Mrs. Casterleigh made all the arrangements, and Fiona found herself winging over the Atlantic, towards a country she'd heard so much about, but never dreamed she'd actually visit.
The jet rolled to a halt; Fiona collected her carryon luggage and joined the crowd shuffling towards the exit. As she came off the plane, she spotted a couple holding a printed sign bearing her name.
Fiona's first impression was size. She'd often heard Americans were big, but she never imagined anything like this! Mr. Hazelman stood well over six feet tall; Mrs. Hazelman, although noticeably shorter than her husband, also easily topped the six-foot mark. They dwarfed Fiona, who barely stood five feet two. He wore a well-tailored business suit; she, a conservative calf-length dress. Both appeared to be in their mid-40's.
She slowly approached the giant pair. "Mr. and Mrs. Hazelman?" she inquired shyly, suddenly tongue-tied. "I'm - I'm Fiona Appleton."
"Well, well, well," Mr. Hazelman boomed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Fiona!" He shook hands energetically, his massive paw covering Fiona's hand up to her wrist. When he'd finished, Mrs. Hazelman stepped forward. "We're very pleased to have you with us," she said, reaching down to embrace the girl, who found herself momentarily unable to breathe.
"Likewise, I'm sure!" Fiona replied, straightening her blazer and skirt. She looked around the area, then back at the Hazelmans. "I understood you had two children?" she inquired.
"Ah, yes. They're at home. They're being punished. You'll meet them soon enough," Mr. Hazelman explained.
Punished? Fiona didn't like the sound of that. She hoped the misbehavior of the Hazelman children wouldn't cast a damper on her welcome.
"Well, let's get your luggage and get you home and settled in. Customs is this way," Mr. Hazelman declared, leading Fiona down the concourse.
As the trio walked, Mrs. Hazelman asked, "Is this your first time in the States, Fiona?"
"Yes, Ma'am," she replied respectfully.
"This is our third year of hosting an exchange student," Mr. Hazelman chimed in. "Last year, we had a girl from Japan, and the year before that, a girl from Sweden."
"Always girls?"
"Oh, yes." The Hazelmans exchanged amused glances. "Always girls."
They cleared Customs with no difficulty. Fiona soon found herself loaded, luggage and all, into the back of a massive midnight blue Lincoln town car. Mr. Hazelman headed the auto out of the airport and into the countryside.
Fiona, enjoying the comfortable ride, lolled in the back seat, chatting with the Hazelmans about her flight and her life in England. After a while, the car turned off the highway onto a country lane. Fiona suddenly realized the nearest town was several miles back. "You certainly live in a remote area," she remarked.
"Yes, dear," Mrs. Hazelman replied. "We do value our privacy."
"It must take forever to get to school," Fiona mused. "Will I ride a bus?"
"Our children get schooled at home," Mr. Hazelman answered.
Puzzled, Fiona asked, "But ... I thought ... I'd be attending a typical American school?"
"Believe me, Fiona, your time with us will be an educational experience you'll never forget!" Mr. Hazelman laughed, his wife echoing his chuckle.
Well, this was a bit of a disappointment, Fiona thought. She'd been looking forward to American high school. But, it was a little late to back out now.
She sat quietly as the car left the main road for a narrow, winding, one-lane path into a wooded glen. A short drive led to a wrought-iron gate. Mrs. Hazelman produced a remote control from the glove compartment and pointed it at the gate, which slowly swung open. It closed behind them with a loud clang, which (for some reason) sounded to Fiona like a tomb door slamming shut. Then her first sight of the Hazelmans' mansion drove that image from her mind.
Like the Hazelmans themselves, their house was overwhelming large. Fiona couldn't imagine only Mr. and Mrs. Hazelman (and their two children, she reminded herself) living in such a huge residence. Privacy shouldn't be difficult to come by in that much space, she thought.
Mr. Hazelman stopped in the circular driveway, directly before the front door, and climbed out. Fiona did the same, then turned back to the car. "My cases?" she inquired.
"We'll get them later, dear," Mrs. Hazelman said. "Come on into the house; we have a few things to discuss."
Fiona followed her hosts into the foyer, where Mr. Hazelman took her blazer and hung it up in the hall closet, and from there into an opulently furnished living room. The Hazelmans took seats on an overstuffed sofa and sat for a moment looking directly at Fiona, who felt uncomfortable under their steady gaze.
Finally, Mr. Hazelman broke the silence. "That's a very attractive outfit," he observed. "Is that your school uniform?"
"Yes, sir," Fiona replied, looking down at her white long-sleeved blouse, navy blue tie, blue-and-green plaid skirt, white anklets, and black loafers. She'd always thought the uniform rather drab, and found Mr. Hazelman's interest curious.
"Turn around once," Mr. Hazelman commanded. "Let's get a good look at you."
Her unease growing, Fiona slowly turned herself around, until she was facing her hosts again. "Yes, I really like that skirt," Mr. Hazelman commented. "Now, let's see what's underneath it."
What? "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. Lift up your skirt. I want to see what kind of panties you're wearing."
He couldn't be serious. "I'm not going to do that!"
"Fiona," Mr. Hazelman cautioned, "didn't the SEI representative explain that we'd be acting as your parents while you're staying with us?"
"Yes, but -"
"And, as your parents, we expect total and complete obedience. So, lift up your skirt."
"But ... it's not proper."
"What isn't proper?"
"For you ... to see me ... in my knickers."
Mr. Hazelman sighed. "First of all, Fiona, you're in America now. We call them `panties', not `knickers'. Secondly, I expect all my children to obey my commands, and you're my daughter now. And I don't like repeating myself!"
"I'm not your daughter, and I'm not showing you my knick - my panties!"
Turning to his wife, Mr. Hazelman said, "That's a shame. Her first day here, and she's already earned a punishment."
"Yes, such a naughty girl she is," Mrs. Hazelman responded, clucking her tongue. "Perhaps a sore bottom will help her mend her ways."
Fiona couldn't believe her ears. First they asked her to expose herself, now they were talking about spanking her! "I'll not stay here!" she shouted, heading for the door. Mr. Hazelman intercepted her before she'd taken three steps and, with one mighty shove, propelled her backwards across the room into an easy chair. Never having felt such strength before, Fiona found herself momentarily breathless.
Mr. Hazelman stood directly before the girl, then looked down and smiled. "Navy blue," he said over his shoulder to his wife. Fiona realized her skirt had flown up, leaving her panties exposed. Blushing furiously, she hastily pulled it down.
"Fiona," Mr. Hazelman said calmly, "it's time you knew the truth. You're not going back to England. You're ours now, and you'll be staying here for a long, long time. So you might as well get used to it."
"That's kidnapping!" Fiona cried.
"We prefer to think of it as adoption," Mr. Hazelman answered.
"You won't get away with this!"
"Why not? What's going to stop us?"
"The authorities have records of your names and address." The sick feeling in Fiona's stomach worsened at the Hazelman's smug expressions. "Those aren't your real names, are they."
"No, but they'll do for you. There are some things you're better off not knowing. You can continue to think of us as the Hazelmans. Unless, of course, you'd rather call us `Mom' and `Dad'."
Fiona would rather bite her tongue off. She grasped at any straw. "Student Exchanges International is a well-established firm! They must have done a home inspection! They'll know where you really are!"
Mr. Hazelman's grin grew even wider. "You're right, Fiona, Student Exchanges International Inc. is a well-established firm with tight standards and excellent records. But your visit was arranged by Student Exchanges International Ltd, a much smaller company that's only done a few placements. Three, to be precise."
"But what about Mrs. Casterleigh?"
At that very moment, another woman wearing a modest black dress with a white apron entered the room. "Excuse me, Sir, Ma'am? What time will you be wanting dinner?" she inquired.
"The usual time. But there'll only be the two of us, I'm afraid. Fiona, here, is going to be punished."
"Oh, that's a shame. And on her first day, too," the woman replied, shaking her head as she left the room. Fiona stared open-mouthed after her. The Hazelman's maid was the person she'd known as Mrs. Casterleigh.
"See, dear? We've got all the bases covered," Mr. Hazelman intoned. "Now, about your punishment -"
"What kind of monsters are you?" Fiona exclaimed.
"We're not monsters at all. In fact, we're an extremely charitable couple. It's not everyone who'd take in a stray little girl like you."
The emphasis on the word "little" stirred something in Fiona's memory. She was just what the Hazelmans were looking for ... now she knew. Her scholastic abilities had nothing to do with it. She'd been selected especially because of her size.
Mr. Hazelman stepped behind Fiona's chair, grasped her upper arms, and easily lifted her to her feet. "Get her skirt, will you, dear?" he requested. Fiona squirmed and struggled as Mrs. Hazelman approached, but couldn't get free. Within seconds, her skirt had been removed, leaving her in her blouse, tie, panties, shoes, and socks.
"And now," Mrs. Hazelman stated, "we've got another little surprise for you. Something that should help you feel more at home." She crossed to a corner bureau, opened a drawer, and removed a large leather-soled slipper. Fiona gasped at the sight.
"You've felt the slipper before, haven't you?" Mr. Hazelman laughed. "Well, you'll become very familiar with it here. Up you go!" He spun Fiona around and scooped her up over one shoulder, clamping his arm around the back of her legs to hold her in place. Fiona hadn't been manhandled like this since she was a toddler, and she hung momentarily paralyzed, her tie dangling uselessly before her.
Taking the slipper in his free hand, Mr. Hazelman left the living room. Fiona pushed herself upwards enough to see him head up a long, curved staircase. She kicked her legs feebly, drawing a sharp swat on the buttocks and a curt "Hold still!" from her captor.
Mr. Hazelman soon reached the top of the stairs and entered the first doorway. He carried Fiona into a large, dormitory-style room, with several beds arranged in a neat row. Two of the beds had occupants. A petite blond girl lay on one, an equally petite Asian girl on the other. Both were spread-eagled face down, their arms and legs securely fastened. Each wore only a white, sleeveless top reaching to the small of her back; the girls' bare rumps bore fresh welts and bruises. At Mr. Hazelman's approach, they lifted their heads; cloth gags filled their mouths.
"These are my other daughters," Mr. Hazelman explained to Fiona. "Ingrid, Miyoko, say hello to your new sister." The two made pitiable mewling noises through their gags.
"There'll be time for proper introductions later, after you're all done being punished," Mr. Hazelman continued. "Speaking of which -" He sat down on one of the vacant beds and, in what was obviously a practiced maneuver, positioned Fiona face down across his lap.
"No! NO! Let me go!" she screamed, struggling with all her strength ... but to no avail. Mr. Hazelman quickly twisted both arms behind her back and pinned her kicking legs between his. "This resistance will only make your punishment all the worse," he informed the helpless girl. Slowly and deliberately, he lowered her panties to mid-thigh, then raised the slipper.
Downstairs, Mrs. Hazelman neatly folded Fiona's skirt and placed it in the cupboard with the other girls' clothing. It would be a long time before Fiona would need her skirt again.
The tall woman pondered for a moment where to go for next year's girl. Italy, perhaps. She'd heard there were certain regions where the females ran to the smallish side.
Yes, Mrs. Hazelman concluded, a nice little Italian girl would make a lovely addition to the family. Softly humming "O Solo Mio", she went to the kitchen to check on dinner as the sounds of spanks and squeals echoed down the stairs.
