Shadow Lane Volume 4: The Chronicles of Random Point, Spanking, Sex, B&D and Anal Eroticism in a Small New England Village. Eve Howard

invitation to see West Side Story himself, so he would surely understand.

      Peter had never seen Jessie in a merrier mood. Once they entered the theatre it was all he could do to pull her away from the lobby cards for Frontier Gal. He noticed her staring at one in particular, the one with the spanking of Yvonne de Carlo. This publicity still seemed to mesmerize Jessie. Suddenly she turned to meet his eyes and blushed.

      “That looks like a such thrilling scene,” she explained, allowing herself to be lead away by the hand. Peter pondered this remark while House of Wax unfolded for them in 3-D. During the intermission they walked outside and Jessie smoked a cigarette. Peter bought her a lemonade and a paper of cotton candy for the next movie. The moon was up and dead leaves rattled through the windswept village street. “This weather makes me tingle,” she confessed.

      “Something about the wind does stir the blood,” Peter agreed, encouraged by the open expression of her animal spirits. Her obvious fascination with the spanking photograph was not lost on Peter, who was a highly intuitive man. He had wondered why she had been so eager to see a western from the 40’s with no big stars. All week she could not hide her excitement at seeing this particular movie. Now he understood why. She was for some reason fixated on the spanking scene!

      Jessie never removed her eyes from the screen during Frontier Gal and was rewarded with the unexpected spanking of the stubborn, six-year-old daughter by the handsome cowboy daddy halfway through the film.

      “Wasn’t that darling?” she whispered to Peter at the conclusion, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye with her handkerchief. Peter smiled at her and patted her tiny gloved hand.

      “You’re darling,” he told her.

      By the end of the film, watching her reactions and remembering certain snatches of conversations they had had, Peter was firmly convinced that Jessie had a spanking fetish. This pleased him no end, from both an erotic and a practical point of view. Faking an interest in the beat poets had him skating on thin ice, but when it came to a subject like spanking, he felt confident of delivering the goods. It was also heartening to realize that in spite of her liberated views, Jessie still entertained an old fashioned respect for the dominant male.

      Peter took Jessie back to her apartment in a state of enchantment. When she invited him in for a bottle of wine, he did not demur but followed her immediately up to the third floor of the Victorian triple-decker house where she rented a sprawling apartment.

      “Is a male visitor at this hour going to be a problem?”

      “Goodness, no. My landlady is an artist with two lovers,” Jessie replied, letting them in.

      Peter lit a fire while she brought in the wine and glasses.

      “Let me see that,” he grabbed the bottle, read the label critically, then uncorked it and let it breathe.

      “Is it okay?”

      “Oh yes, excellent choice.”

      “You’re just being polite.”

      “If it gets you tipsy, I’m satisfied,” he candidly admitted.

      “Oh, Peter, you certainly don’t have to get me tipsy to take advantage of me. Not you of all people.”

      “Is that so?”

      “Yes, but I have a confession to make.”

      “A confession?”

      “Yes, Peter. I did something today of which I think you might disapprove and it’s been troubling me.”

      “Oh?” Peter was mystified but very happy to learn that his approval mattered to Jessie. “Tell Peter, you’ll feel ever so much better,” he encouraged her.

      So Jessie stammered out the news about her upcoming date in Boston with Mr. Albrecht. Peter had not seen this coming and felt momentarily shaken. Mr. Albrecht was younger, slicker, presumably more savvy, better dressed and earned more money than Peter. Moreover, Peter feared the vice principal’s ruthless masculinity and cruel Richard Widmark lips would touch a cord in the latent masochist which would make her his slave in record time. Except for the fact that at this particular moment, he and he alone knew the secret to her heart.

      “Peter?” she asked at length, “Aren’t you going to say anything? Are you upset with me?”

      “No, dear. Of course not,” said Peter kindly. “It’s not as though we have an understanding.”

      “But, we might have an understanding some day,” she suggested, accepting a glass of wine.

      “I’m sure you know that’s entirely up to you, Jessie.”

      “Oh, I wish I hadn’t said yes to that theatre date!” she declared, “But if I break it off now I’m sure he’ll be offended.”

      “I suppose we don’t want to offend Lionel,” Peter reflected seriously.

      “But I certainly don’t want to offend you either!”

      “Oh, don’t worry about me,” he reassured her. “I wouldn’t think of rushing you into a commitment when we’ve only known each other six weeks.”

      “Oh, Peter, you’re so understanding.”

      “Jessie, may I speak quite frankly without offending you?”

      “Of course.”

      “For the sake of your reputation at school, soft peddle the free love stuff while you’re out with Lionel.”

      “I will,” she agreed thoughtfully, “or else he might think I’m easy and try something.”

      “Jessie, he’ll try something in any case, but if you manage to look like the injured party rather than the - forgive me - sexy little piece that you are, you’ll find it easier to control the situation in the long run.”

      “Do you really think I’m sexy, Peter?” Jessie glowed with pleasure and unconsciously wriggled in the tight, lacy one-piece foundation garment.

      “I think you’re naughty,” he replied. Jessie blushed at this accusation, wondering where it would lead.

      “Me? Oh no!” she demurred, her heart throbbing with anticipation.

      “No? You don’t think it’s naughty to practically have an understanding with one man then make a date with another?”

      “But, you said you weren’t upset about that, Peter.”

      “I’m not upset, but I do think that we’d both feel much better if I were to give you a good spanking for making that date.”

      Jessie sat absolutely speechless while he took her wine glass away, removed his jacket and rolled his sleeves to the elbow. She had never felt such a blissful sensation in her life as the first moment he turned her over his knee. Peter had a comfortable lap and large hands, one of which curved around her small, corseted waist, to hold her firmly in place while the other rested dormant on the rise of her perky bottom. She could feel how large his hand was as he rested it on the seat of her skirt, almost covering it, for Jessie was rather slim hipped. He patted her lightly, sending thrills through her entire body with the touch of his hand.

      Then he began to spank her, quickly and rhythmically, on either cheek, with a firm, sound stroke that caused a startled little “Oh!” to escape her lips the first few times his palm came down. The sounds she made thereafter were confined to pretty sighs and whimpers as the spanking progressed. Jessie had no desire to struggle away from her captor as the girls did in the movies. It felt too delicious to do anything but lie across his lap like a good little girl and take her spanking.

      Peter had intended to stop after 20 or so swats, as they’d seen in the movie that evening, but when he saw how transported the spanking left Jessie, he carried on in the same style for a good twenty-five minutes, until he could feel the heat rising through her skirt. From the sounds she made and the way she wriggled and ground against him, Peter was certain that she was deriving