Reform, Chapter Five

Chapter Five

And Then the Lawless One

I looked for a good angle for an angel for six weeks, but nothing coming. These accounting records were a chip at the big table, and I needed something good to bet on. Once I had an angle, I would need Matron to leave her office for what I’d know would be long enough for me to burgle. Wasted opportunities. In six weeks she did this five times, the fifth taking an act of the Federal Alliance.

Matron bounced out of her office in all her tall blonde glory, as happy as I’ve ever seen a demon, and waited with her hands on her hips, smirking at the door into my little ad hoc accounting firm. And in a man walked Ashley St. Croix. I don’t mean to be elitist, but she looked rather like a rube.

She was in oil stained overalls, a brown cotton shirt, and primitive sandals. One thing stood out as big city life—the neck cuffs. If you’ve never had the pleasure, a neck cuff is an iron collar around the neck with rings. These rings are connected to wrist cuffs, forcing your elbows high into the air, your wrists chained to your neck in the back, your elbows high above your head. Very difficult to refuse to comply in such an outfit. Also, of course, uncomfortable, but Ash looked fine as always. Even amused.

The guy wore a kick ass black business suit. He was FA Praxis for sure, because no other (and honest) member of the constabulary could afford that austere garb. Praxis was issued nice, tax payer bought, stuff. He wasn’t much taller than Ash, not bulging, but his face gave me the impression of a lithe body made of steel. His eyes looked as if they glowed blue. I had to remind myself that I was a lesbian now, and that I was in a serious relationship with a jealous and punitive lesbian whom I wanted to snuggly with minutely and forever. Not that she spanked me hard anymore, but she was learning the cane and I could tell she was the type of lesbian that would whip the crap out of a cheating snuggle bunny. I’d actually be offended if she didn’t castigate my ass in a jealous rage, as I was her love slave and a high-end top-flight love slave at that, as she was my snuggle bunny, and pretty and the smartest most awesome person in the whole wide… sorry, back to what’s interesting to you.

‘Miss St. Croix.’ Matron Gregor was lofty. ‘So kind of you to join us to continue your education. Agent, are those barbaric cuffs really necessary?’

The agent had been cool. I could see him looking at everything in the room without moving his head, categorizing and memorizing, looking for potential clues and threats like DDU spies with long knives lying and laying in wait. After being asked whether the cuffs were necessary to contain the frail female in his custody, the agent’s head sank as he let a long lungful of frustration out.

He turned to my friend Ash with a stern but not unkind face. ‘Normally? No.’ Ash popped her eyebrows and looked around in mock embarrassment.

‘Well, agent… agent?’

‘Free Range Agent Joel Taggart, Ma’am.’

‘Well Agent Joel Taggart, I don’t think we’ll need those brutish cuffs anymore. Please remove them.’ Agent Taggart gave out a silent laugh while handing a folder to Gregor. It was more of a low “huh” with a little rasp to it. He kept his other hand on Ash’s collar.

‘Please sign the transfer orders first, Ma’am.’ She did. ‘Please note, both of you, that we’ve implanted a tracker that will alert us if she crosses a state line. That, also, is normally not necessary.’

Agent Taggart checked the signatures, then folded the folder and put it snuggly in a sneaky pocket on the inside of his coat. Cops and criminals dress alike, as I had the copy of the key to Matron’s office door Ash made in my own secret pocket.

He stood behind Ash and pulled a ring of keys out of his pocket. He stopped a moment, thinking very hard, then walked around Ash to face Ash, his head bouncing a little bit the way people do to build themselves up to parachuting out of a functioning airplane. She looked back like the innocent lamb she wasn’t. He shook his head(I doubt he got what he wanted) then walked around and freed the Kracken.

His hands around her neck collar, I could see he wanted to strangle her.

Ash didn’t make a big thing about rubbing her arms which must have ached. It was more like an idle scratch of a bored person.

‘Thank you, Agent Taggart. I can handle it from here. Miss St. Croix, I’m sure you know the procedure.’

‘Right.’ Ash walked by her and into her certain doom like most people walk to the register of McDonalds Plus to order a hamburger with uber-sized fries and a Coke. Was it “uber” still? It went from “Super”, to nothing, to “Extra”, to “as much as you want” to “more” to “More” to “Super” again, and at the time I was thrown in the clink it was “Uber” but hell it could be some Samarian word now for all I knew. Of course now I know it’s “Full”, but to this day I don’t know what it was then. I should wikipedia it.

Matron was too thrilled to insist Ash called her “ma’am” or “matron”. After all, she was restricted to the thirty-six cuts of the cane, and she already no doubt planned to make the best of each. I was sorry for my friend, but not scared, as I knew she liked the challenge of the cane, being, you know, batshit crazy. There was no cure, so I decided to just go with it.

‘Ma’am,’ the Praxis man said. ‘I understand you have to process her now, but there are a few things I need to discuss with you, so I’ll wait here.’ Matron didn’t like that. It was a tiny flash storm I would have missed if I hadn’t been looking right at her through the corner of my down turned eye. I’m sure Taggart caught it too, but he acted as innocent as Ash wasn’t.

‘Of course, Agent Taggart. This will just take a few minutes.’

‘Free Range Agent Taggart.’ He said it with a smile, mildly, and I suspected a little proxy war of words for position raged before my very eyes. I didn’t get it, not knowing rank, but I suspected. Ash smiled at the addendum, but made sure Free Range Agent Taggart didn’t see it. Hmm…..

The man from Praxis sat down in one of the plastic waiting chairs I’ve ever only seen reform girls sit in awaiting for the cane. It was comical. I only looked at him with my eyes. His hair was just slightly too long to be short, and it was obvious that a hairbrush would be both ineffectual and unneeded. His hair was light and beautifully chaotic yet orderly at the same time. Oh shut up! I’m doing the best that I can, people. That’s how it looked. It looked pretty irresistible, but in a way wholly different than my Snuggle Bunny’s perfect hair. His was perfect because it wasn’t perfect, and again, shut up.

My hair was down behind my adorable ears, by the way.

CRACK!

‘So,’ he said. ’You do the accounting around here.’

Er… this man had the power of life and death. ’No, sir. I just check it. It’s part of my re-habilitation. Other students share the assignment sometimes.’

‘Oh? That’s not normal, is it?’

‘Tests-’ CRACK! ’Tests show I’m optimized to be an accountant.’

‘Yeah, those tests. They’re getting better all the time at predicting a person’s aptitude. Still, they’re always wrong.’

CRACK!

He continued. ’Funny, my test advised I become a gardener. Pulling weeds is the joke. So anything funny about them?’

I kept my head down. I didn’t know what to do. My brain froze. His natural, good natured manner was, of course, a lie they taught him in New Orleans or Denver or Bismarck—whichever grueling FAFR training ground didn’t matter. I felt outclassed. Free Rang Agent Joel Taggart had just proved to me personally what everyone already knew as a matter of course: agents are good at their job.

‘I see nothing unlawful about the accounts I’m given, sir.’

‘You prefaced that statement. What about the accounts you’re not given?’

I was nervous, and my vocabulary suffered for it. I wasn’t afraid of him, I was afraid of how common he seemed. I took another look and realized that he was handsome. He wasn’t born handsome. He was born quite plain. However, I’m a girl, and I could see that his face had taken a grave serious expression so often that it left a permanent visage that made his face strong, trustworthy, and interesting. Pain was all over him. Especially around the eyes; the skin lined by concern that would have fit a philosopher king whom had suffered many battles against impossible odds to defend his definition of reason and the babies squirming behind it. Handsome interesting. And good natured despite the corruption that comes with great power and superior ability. I’ll even use the word kind, like he’d seen enough pain to hate pain of any kind, on anybody. I wasn’t attracted to him, not like that, not really. Well, I wasn’t sure, but I felt myself being seduced into trusting him. I grew scared.

‘I-’ CRACK! Poor Ash. That bitch caning her was a bitch. ’I don’t have to talk to you, sir.’

‘Call me Joel. How about this.’ His voice was cold perfect except for a touch of southern. And just a spider’s touch of it. Mississimplex? Left around age seven to the Mid West? No… it was impossible to figure. He was too smart and too well trained for me to guess at without clues beyond just talk. And country and southern were too easily confused. He could have been suckled in Russia for all I knew. ’You ask a question, any question, and I’ll answer you as honestly as I can.’ CRACK! That annoyed him. ’Then it’s my turn, and so on.’

‘No, sir. No bet, sir.’

‘OK. I should tell you that I’m going to learn everything before I leave, Danielle Archer, but maybe you don’t know anything, so maybe that doesn’t matter to you.’ CRACK. ‘Danielle Archer.’

The only person on the planet more uncomfortable than me at that moment was Ash. Or maybe not even her. She seemed quite the glutton for punishment, a condition I was learning more and more about from my Evelyn, but now I had a Praxis who somehow knew my name staring me down, making me feel like a naked virgin about to be sacrificed to river gods I didn’t believe in. But that wasn’t true. I didn’t feel bad because I lied. I didn’t feel bad because Free Range Agent Joel Taggart looked at me. I felt bad because I knew Taggart knew I lied. They train those boys good.

Still, I planned to plan the angle for an angel as soon as it presented itself. The Federal Affiliation could go to the Devil.

CRACK

The silence. He kept looking at me. In silence. Except for…

CRACK

‘How did you catch her?’ That came right out of me without any warning. I felt like a ventriloquist’s dummy. My stupid, stupid big fat mouth…

‘Perchance. I was in the area to give a deposition about another matter. I’m not with Reform Services. An old buddy of mine is and asked me to look the case over while I sat around, maybe give an opinion which way St. Croix was running. I decided there was no direction possible, so she wasn’t running. She was near, waiting for the CRACK the… the hounds to give up before she hit the road. That’s what I would do. So I looked through the investigation reports until I came across an interview with a nearly blind from age mechanic and I knew. I sabotaged my car, visited the junkyard in plain clothes, asking for repairs, and found St. Croix with her hair tucked into a ten gallon hat, talking low like a man, fixing cars for the old timer. She… CRACK I swear… we always write a report, but this one people will read so they can learn a few things. I managed, through powers greater than mine, to deliver her four days later when it should have taken four hours, and here we are. Now…’

‘How did you know about the mechanic?’

‘That’s a second question, and it’s my turn.’

‘No, it isn’t. Sir. Blaming it on instinct is like blaming it on magic. Sir.’

He smiled at me. It was very genuine. The problem with someone you know is lying to you is that not everything they say and do is necessarily a lie. The smile seemed genuine… damn. I couldn’t tell, so I assumed it wasn’t.

CRACK

‘Instinct is sometimes better than reason for a trained and experienced brain because instinct is the product of the subconscious, and the subconscious is always smarter than the conscious. The subconscious is smarter, but unfocused. With training you can teach it a thought process that can be traced back. Reason, sometimes, is merely retracing the steps of instinct. CRACK It’s not easy to lie to Praxis. The old man, in the transcript, was loquacious and opinionated. He was asked about a girl. If he had a girl, he would have lied on general principle because we’re the government and he fought with distinction in The War of Reduction and The Great Dividing Line. His nature is contrary. If he lied to those agents, those agents would have known it. CRACK So, he didn’t lie. General principle: if I can figure something out, so can someone else. A clever girl would know lies couldn’t help her, no matter how earnest the desire of the liar; and a clever girl could fool a blind old man into thinking she’s a boy, especially if she is good with mechanics, because people in a relaxed state think in stereotypes. CRACK I knew she was clever because she escaped and avoided recapture. Escaped through this South Fence which is so famous, it appears. I saw in the report that St. Croix made perfect marks in shop. Good with tools. So, it follows that she was either giving an oil change to a car or melting in the belly of a cougar. Fortunately it was the former.’

CRACK

The CRACKING increasingly annoyed him while his words increasingly amazed me.

‘Interesting choice of words. “Blaming.” So you have strong feelings for St. Croix. Probably admire her. And you think this place is no good for her—she’s better off on her own. I agree. I’d like her in the force or in the military, but that’s her call, not mine, and she chose reform school.’ CRACK. ‘Now what about these other accounts Gregor doesn’t present you?’

CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK

‘That’s enough.’

He said it under his breath while he rose from his chair, seeming to press his hands on his knees to augment the maneuver. He didn’t move naturally. He moved a little supernaturally. The man from Praxis appeared at Matron’s door and opened it and entered like he owned the world. I write it as if I saw it. I only say it in memory. Taggart could move.

Matron was livid. She spoke so fast I could hardly record the profanities. I couldn’t spell a few of them, and neither can my computer’s spell checker, so I’ll just skip it. She brandished her cane at the man, but he rotated the seat zapper with his fingers, not even moving his hand or wrist. He tossed the cane aside like he didn’t need it anymore, as he was a Jedi, like his father before him. The cane just flew away.

Taggart backed away from the door, Matron poking him in the chest with an epee finger. It was comical. Gregor, taller than the man from Praxis, looked like an angry gerbil compared to the guy. His grace, his apologetic manner, his submissive hands in the air, and bemused laugh oozed comedy as he backed away from the Fury. Four or five steps back he stopped and made serious, an altogether different smile on his face. Gregor’s finger jammed into his suddenly steadfast chest. She flinched and retreated on reflex, her whole body routed by a stubbed digit.

Free Range Agent Joel Taggart retook some of the field of battle.

‘Calm? Good. That’s enough, you’re verging on vengeance.’ He looked Matron in the eye cold and indifferent as he spoke on high. ‘Get dressed, St. Croix, and get out. Ignore the Matron for now.’

Maybe I wasn’t a lesbian? Maybe I did want a man in my life to tell me what to do, protect me from monsters, and, Hell, he could even spank me if that got his motor running. I harbored a fantasy, me in chains, and dish rags around my waist, and dreams of hand feeding him omelets… Jesus, why omelets? My brain is broken.

I heard, ‘you’re wasting the FA’s money with this and I have some…’ yelled at the calm and running dog Taggart before Ash closed Matron’s door. Ash was pissed. I didn’t know she could get pissed.

I pounced on her as she rubbed her bottom.

‘Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod… are you ok? What happened? Are you still crazy?’

‘Bastard should have minded his own business.’ She walked out some of the sting while I walked with her, clutching her shoulders from behind. We made little circles in the office, Tazmanian Devil style.

‘Ah, the answer is “yes”. He stopped Matron from cutting you in two.’ Hmmmm…. ‘Hey… look, certain… hidden desires of mine have recently let out so if you want to disclose any compelling impulse you have to… towards contrition I would be happy to discuss the… er… problematic nature of dyslexic physical satisfaction that some people—prudes—would look down on or give s fancy name to and of a disturbed Frenchy royal author as if this compulsion for dyslexic physical and emotional surcease of sorrow…’

Ash stopped and I bumped into her back. More importantly I bumped into her backside, causing a spasm in my insane friend who may just be a little bent like I turned out to be.

‘I don’t need some thug in shining armor rescuing me. Bastard doing me a favor… I can handle myself!’ she screamed at Matron’s door, or would have if I didn’t gag her with my hand. She clamped her teeth on my hand and turned and grabbed me, I think reflexively, and we had a little vertical arm wrestling match while we stared each other down. I could feel her heavy nose breaths on my fingers. The bit, and the pain was hard to ignore. I was terrified and out matched; but right, and being right helps.

She remembered me, over time, and calmed down. She was furious, but she remembered that she wasn’t furious at me. I relaxed my grip. She continued to cool down. I felt her mouth twist under my palms. I removed my hand and there was that smile I’d missed. I breathed out a sigh of “I’m not going to die a violent death” and bent over, my palms on my shaking knees. It was a position I’d taken so many times for Coach’s paddle that it had become a security blanket.

Cool calm and collect[sic], I returned vertical.

‘So, you fought the law and tied, which is like tying a train.’ That made her laugh. ‘I kept your stuff.’

‘I figured, but I wanted to appear optimistic.’

We smiled at each other and made a date to catch up and giggle and girltalk and all that noise. Then Alexia hauled her off to get processed, which is the “welcome back” sans cane. Medical examination, uniform, code of conduct book, and shitloads of paperwork. Forgive my Gallic, but no other word comes close. If you let your kids read my seamy diary, you’re an unfit parent. Get over yourself, prude, I’m a kinky lesbian now, so Victorian propriety is out except for table manners which I enjoy as a game with winners and loser.

I took my seat.

A few minutes later the door opened and two members of the Establishment exited. Gregor locked the door.

‘Of course we’ll cooperate fully with Praxis, but the length of St. Croix’s term here is entirely under my discretion.’

Taggart bent his head and made a “stk” noise. He appeared good natured about it, but he didn’t pretend to lack influence. ‘Discretion is not caprice. Discretion is guided by reason and logic in accords with the facts, and is therefore accountable. Discretion is not will. Keeping her here another four years on top of her current sentence is a waste of this school’s resources, the people’s money, her time, and the Alliance’s time. That is not Justice, capital “J”. Not to mention pointless—the girl is perfectly responsible for her actions. Also, she can’t be punished because her problem is not youthful abandon. She can be trained, she can be molded and focused into somebody who can find contentment, but not spanked like most girls. No offence.’ That last bit was directed to me, but Gregor was in the room so I pretended to be a sloth. A dead one.

‘She escaped…’

‘She wanted freedom!’ Taggart turned away from Matron with his hands up. ‘She didn’t escape because she wanted drugs or to hurt somebody or even herself.’ He put his hands in his pants’ pockets and studied an aerial photograph of Southdown hanging on the wall. ‘Christ’s sake, first thing she did was get a job.’

Matron dismissed it with a wave of her hand. ‘Temporarily, to cover herself. Eventually she would have descended into savagery like all… untrained Reformers.’ Taggart turned and looked at her hard. He didn’t like something about that, and he didn’t care if Matron knew it.

‘That’s not empirically demonstrated. And that’s not my opinion.’

Matron never looked so condescending. ‘It’s my opinion, and that’s all that matters. Induction is imperfect in this case. I know the girl’s nature. Now I’ll show you the grounds.’

I watched the two leave two seconds longer than I should have. Taggart watched me watch them, and let me know it. He was good. Gregor never caught me eyeing her. He was on to me, but it was too late for him. I had my angle and my angel.

I used the keys Ash copied from my Snuggle Bunny’s master set, unlocked and open, closed Gregor’s door behind me, and snooped.

There the third accounts were, in plain view in Gregor’s bottom desk drawer under thirty pounds of paperwork. Six simple sheets of paper. I folded them nice and snug and stuck them in a hidden pocket I sewed into my uniform like the cops. Then I pulled out The Note with the aid of a handkerchief I normally only used to clean my face after a much deserved thrashing from a goonlet who didn’t love me. I had never touched The Note with bare fingertips. On The Note, in letters cut out from three different fashion magazines(I threw them away after) and pasted on common paper, the following:

We have the accounts. We will give them back, but we want something in return. You must deal; our price will be cheap. Acknowledge the theft by announcing an extra portion of ice cream for dinner. Then watch the bulletin board for two weeks.

Yes, I even cut out and pasted the punctuation marks. Don’t judge me.

I placed The Note where the accounts used to be, and beat it out of the office just as Snuggle Bunny entered my ad hoc accounting office. There absolutely, positively, must be a God; and He must absolutely, positively, love screwing with me. I’m like a Sit Com character to Him.

‘Hey, I heard that your crazy friend just are you out of your fucking mind?’ Well there is no answer to that, is there? Either I am crazy, and thus not qualified to make judgments; or I’m not crazy, but you can’t trust my opinion as my sanity is in question.

‘Er… I was just snooping.’

OH BRILLIANT!

Somehow, someway, my Snuggle Bunny looked a lot like this girl I used to know by the name Evil-Lyn. She dragged me out of the sill, locked the door from the inside, and shut it. Her attention elsewhere, I hid the key in my pocket.

She looked me down. Not up and down, mind you: down. ‘Did Matron want you in there?’

‘Well, no…’ I should have lied, but I made a common error and told the truth before it occurred to me to weigh the issue. Evelyn’s eyes are very, very blue.

Her smile was just constrained, playing the part. ‘Ohhhhh… I’ve neglected that butt of yours too long, but I’m going to correct that this very minute.’ I silently agreed. It had been two days since she made me scream for the bliss to stop—too much bliss! She grabbed my neck and forced me to my orgasmic doom. ‘You’re getting a spanking!’

Yes!

She was an excellent actress. I had to confess to myself that part of me wanted a genuine promise of a tear gushing hind quarters whacking to add spice to the sex ritual, but only a small minority that only had political power in universities, like the Vegetarian Party. She marched me down the hallway. I looked crestfallen and resolved to have my adorable ears filled with the WHACKWHACKWHACK of a hairbrush against my ostentatious bottom. Some of the people we passed were sympathetic, some ignored us, and some gloated.

We passed an open dorm room and I got a glimpse of Gail’s big shapely bottom up in the air catching Alexia’s strap. Alexia had dropped off Ash and decided to spend the paperwork time giving Gail incentive to stand more. Alexia was cool, and one of us, but she had it in for Senator Gail for sure. I wondered if it was for the same reason Snuggle Bunny had it in for me… nah. Gail was just unlucky enough to have the most smackable sitter in town, and I was just very lucky.

Snuggle Bunny shut and locked the door, as this was an esoteric affair unfit for the common stock. I waited in the middle of the room, bouncing a little on my knees for a about three seconds, which was how long it took Snuggle Bunny to grab her hairbrush. I stopped bouncing, as I was a dead sloth.

‘Snuggle Bunny?’

Then time jumped forward a bit, which is very rude, and my brain awoke to two sensations: 1. Carpet visualized a foot beneath my face. 2. Searing pain!

WHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACKWHACK- you get the idea. I was too addled to count the paddlewhackings or initiate intelligent debate on the subject. I just screamed out some freshly learned profanities and kicked and twisted until I reached the critical bottom throbbing limit and simply collapsed over Evil Snuggle Bunny’s knee so my super-smart subconscious could put all my energy into mewling.

That didn’t stop her, of course. Nope. WHACKWHACKWHACK…

My butt was just fire by the time the WHACKS stopped, not that I really noticed. The present pain was more than sufficient to feel punished; additional pain would have suffered from the principle of diminished utility of return. She had even spanked the mad out of me. Evelyn outdid herself.

She picked me up and sat my thighs down on her lap so that my hot ass hung over the side. She forced my limp neck over her shoulder, rubbed my back, and shushed me. I don’t know for how long.

I felt pretty good.

Eventually something needed to be said, but Snuggle Bunny was a coward so I initiated without profanity. ‘You spanked me hard.’

‘Yes, I did. You know why, or do I need to spell it out?’

‘Yes to both.’

She rubbed my adorable ears. That just wasn’t fair.

‘Danny, you get caught breaking into Gregor’s office—forget the caning. A caning is nothing. What is that, a couple days hard sitting? She could keep you here four more years. Years! Damn it, Danny Bear, you know what prisons used to be like? Stupid girls like you thrown in with savages, gray bars, mind numbing routine, no education, no nothing—everything inhuman. Soul crushing! This place sucks, I admit. I want to live, Danny, and I insist you live with me. There is a world of Chinese food and malls and movie theaters and near absolute freedom just a little bit of time away for both of us. But you have to learn responsibility. Can’t you understand that? You have to govern yourself to get the rest of us to tolerate your freedom. That’s why you’re here, little girl. To teach you the difference between a girl and a woman, and I’m not going to spend four years on the outside waiting for you to respect other peoples’ freedom. How could it knowing you suffered in here? I will spank you until you understand it, and I will continue to spank you until you act it. I can’t just hope… I’m not going to treat us as a bet. I’ll spank you everyday if it gets our asses out of here on schedule.’

I slumped on her shoulder. She smelled good. ‘That wont be necessary. I get it. I wont snoop anymore. And I’m not mad.’ I somehow brought myself up from my body’s rightful and natural position on Evelyn’s shoulder to look her in her evil little eyes. ‘I’m not mad, I know why you spanked me, and I know you will do it again, and I wont be mad then, but you have to tell the truth. You enjoyed smacking my bottom until I yelled out and begged, didn’t you? Oh, don’t look all sheep on me!’

‘Of course I enjoyed it!’ My Snuggle Bunny confessed like she was stating she liked ice cream-as I suspected- but still I was a little annoyed. ‘You’re impossible! Spanking you is the only way to get you to admit that 2 plus 2 equals 4 when you yourself would scream bloody murder if someone told you it was 5. You’re just contrary! God damn! Any rational human would enjoy spanking you just five minutes after introduction. Me? I already know how impossible you are, and I already know how much fun it is spanking that impossibility out of you. And, yes, watching your buns bounce is sexy—sue me. What, you sore?’

‘I deny nothing.’ I snuggled my Snuggle Bunny, which was efficacious because she was a snuggle bunny par excellent. I didn’t feel like moaning over the paradox that is my nature, so I didn’t.

‘Also, smacking you hard is good stress relief.’ I agreed silently in my head. My personality and full ass were tailor made for stress reduction. Damn it. I was ill fated for sure. I readjusted myself back over her shoulder and felt as carefree as a tree and pondered Snuggle Bunny’s woes.

‘Stress? Ha! What, woman problems? Just spank them into submission. That’s what ever girl really wants you know; haven’t you ever watched a John Wayne movie?’ I wanted to bite her neck off. I tried, with my teeth, but it wasn’t working. Her skin was resilient.

‘I can’t spank this one. Gregor is going to change Southdown’s essay question for the Annual FA Rand/Friedman/Stout Trust Competition.’ It is weird to hear a half pouting tone from someone that just spanked every ounce of sass and pride out of you. ‘They need to think up a new name.’

‘Just call it the RFT…’ I mumbled this, trying to take it in while chewing on her blouse. ‘But you… wait.‘ I popped off her shoulder to look her in the eye. ‘You already submitted your essay to Gregor. Capitalism the Phenomenon. The essay I toiled over, editing out all the passive tense? It was excellent! I mean it rocks except for all the passive tense, but I took the passive tense out!’

‘Yeah. She didn’t like it. Sort of pissed her off, actually. I didn’t, I thought she’d like it. I really did.’ That wasn’t disappointment on her face—that was hurt. ‘I tried to defend it but she wouldn’t let me speak. Then I asked how she would go about changing it, and she said she’d start by “throwing it in the bin”, but that it didn’t matter because she was changing the essay question. Everybody needs to rewrite. She’s screwing everybody over. Something about comparative analysis with the FA and DDU and freedom of speech or… multi inculcation or something Hell what does it matter.’ She didn’t say that last bit as a question. ‘This is going to set me back a bit. Years, actually. Maybe worse. She acts like she never plans to leave Southdown like I thought, so that leaves me her recommendation to run another school and I don’t think I’m going to get it. Don’t know what I did.’

She wasn’t whining. Whining wasn’t in her nature. She shook her head a little, trying to dislodge whatever synapse traffic jam kept her from a conclusion. She automatically blamed herself. That was her nature, but fortunately nature provided her with a me.

I hugged her, and plotted my two angles for two angels against the middle.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Hell and Crap-olla

I fear posting all of Reform because once that well runs dry I really will have to work. I wasn't always lazy. I was quite industrious at times, in my youth, when a grade hung in the balance. The private sector is a bitch. More than a bitch. A lamia. Still, I'd hate to run an inactive blog.

So, here is chapter five of Reform. Sigh. I'm running out of rope, here. I don't know what to do.

PB

Reform, Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Best. Spanking. Ever.

‘What?’

‘Last night!’ Lauren was all in a tilly, squeezing the imaginary life out of her bear, Dr. Featherstone. ’Through the South Fence! And the goons didn’t find out about it until twenty minutes ago. She’s been out for like thirteen hours. Alexia just told me while going door to door, locking us in.’

‘What!?’

Two memories flashed in succession in my head. A memory of me bonking my head last night; and a memory of me going into my stash for hooch, turning my back on Ash for five seconds while she had her hands hidden behind her back. I didn’t see those hands until she toasted to getting out.

I reached for the hard thing that was under my pillow. It was a sack full of Ash’s stash! And the keys she copied from Evelyn! Last night I banged my head on cans of Relief Cold Cream, the Keys to Everything, and other sundries.

There was a note:

I meant what I will have said last night. Keep this stuff, I wont be needing it. Sorry I don’t have any of your Cloud, but it’s hard to find of late. Cash, of course, I need. Put what I had in the mini fridge fund. I hope your date goes great, and I really hope you and Lauren get the best in life. Maybe I can look you up when you get out.

-A

P.S. Burn this note unless you’re in the mood for a spanking.

You magnificent bastard.

She would get captured sooner or later, I knew, so I refused to consider any of her stuff as my stuff. Ash would need cream for sure when Gregor got done with the caning to beat the record Ash currently held. She’d stripe Ash’s bottom into, well, ash…that girl was insane and wonderful.

Morning classes were canceled; we were all locked in while the goons and the goonlets made the rounds, so I had plenty of time for a dinkum thinkum.

OK, she didn’t get out through the Den. My reader would have told me, so Ash must have found a new way. That wasn’t important. Girls could get out of the building plenty of ways. The main building used to be a boarding school for rich or gifted Mason kids, after all. The crazy thing was getting through the South Fence. Ash had to get past the horses without freaking them out or waking up the grounds keeper Mr. Foxtrot. She had to get past the infra red triggered alarms. She had to get past the fence. Then she had to get past all the nothing beyond. But how?

I slapped my forehead.

It all hit me at once. I think I think retroactively. The wetsuit to keep in the body heat. The horse urine from Coach to smear over the wet suit so she would smell like a horse, keeping them calm while she snuck by. That big limb hanging over the fence she pointed out. Just add rope. And all the questions about the tree cutter’s four wheelers she asked that boy yesterday. She’d tool that muscle off-road badboy to civilization, or close enough to walk anyway.

My friend was free to run around and confound The Man for a few days, maybe a week. I was happy for her. But that wasn’t the best part. No, no the best part came later that day.

I sat at my desk outside Gregor’s office, pretending to arrange accounts that I finished thirty minutes before, listening to Evil-Lyn explain to Gregor how Ash got by her goonlets. Yes. Yes. Yes…..

CRACK

‘Seven! Thank you, ma’am!’

Yes, thank you, Ma’am. Thank you indeed.

I was actually pretty impressed. The blonde Georgia Peach kept to the script without adlibbing a “Ai!” or “Gaaah!” or “Just shoot me!” to the play. Of course it was easier to scream a number than keep quite all together.

CRACK!

‘Eight! Thank you, ma’am!’

Glorious. Evelyn’s such a giver: it’s nice to hear her get something back. It’s like It’s A Wonderful Life.

She got twelve over half an hour, due to all the lecturing. Unlike one of us little people, Gregor actually wanted to teach her top goonlet an important lesson in security. Took a little of the fun out of it. I thought about Matron’s loyal dog, over that damned desk, getting whacked with a newspaper. Loyal even during punishment.

And, ultimately, I’m not a vengeful person. I suffered a little cognitive dissonance while Evelyn suffered a little wood dissonance. On the one half of the brain, Evil-Lyn has sadistically spanked my lily-white-ass so often I lost count years ago: and what comes around goes around. On the other half of my brain, I didn’t actually bare malice towards the bitch. If she wasn’t spanking me, someone else would be, because I’m being reformed. I didn’t actually dislike her. Actually (and I understand I’m overusing the word “actually”) Evil-Lin was a person to admire if she wasn’t so freaking evil.

Also, to wish that cane on anybody would be making a deal with the devil. I don’t believe in the devil, but I also don’t believe in screwing around with whatever galactic darkness bore those canes and the will to use them.

Like getting shot in the back with a crossbow, that horrible feeling came over me. That feeling from the miserable night before. Waking to the news of Ash’s escape and whiling away the afternoon listening to the justified spank-karma only distracted me; but that hopeless feeling overcame me again and at last and forever. It was like falling: there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t grab anything, or flap my wings or anything. This happened to me all my life and I didn’t like it, and I wanted to cry for no freaking reason whatsoever. It was a lot of nothing in my heart.

I hated it. I didn’t know how to fight it.

Evil-Lyn closed the door behind her and paused. She looked alright. Breathing a little heavy, but she took it well. Somehow her hair was as perfect as ever, and her glowing face didn’t grimace or sulk at all. She even looked beautiful.

Again, a little impressed.

I am not a vengeful person, I have said, and I fully admit that I can be as petty as the next girl, but canings were something else so I didn’t beam a face of joy at my beautiful persecutor. I kept me face on my accounting and beat down any attempt at a smile, which wasn‘t hard because I felt like shit anyway, but seeing Evelyn sore bottom standing there did improve my mood a tad, just a tad; just enough wiggle room to breath. I tried to be grateful for that.

I heard her walk towards the door. Her gait was normal when others would have been stiff and measured. I already knew she was tough. Then she stopped, and walked towards me.

Oh shit.

‘Look at me.’ Her voice, unlike her walk, was quite measured, but it didn’t fool me. Looks like I’d get escorted to her room for a nice calorie burning lap dance. There was no way out of it, but I did have to hide a smidge of (vengeance?) lust out of my eyes when I dutifully looked at her big blue eyes. She leaned over the desk, supported by her palms, and gave me a firm, firm look of ill tidings.

‘I’m sure you enjoyed that, but you’re not thinking things through, which is exactly why a smart girl like you is in here in the first place. The difference between you and me is that you get spanked; I get disciplined. I know what I want to be, and I’m on track. Someday I’m going to run this place. Yeah, I need help. I need guidance from my elders, and I’m grateful for it, even though it’s painful. And it is painful, Archer. I’m not an ice queen; if you prick me enough with a cane, I bleed, it’s just that I know what I want, and I’m learning, and learning is painful. So you can gloat all you want that Matron caned me for a failure I admit to, and I wont even take revenge on you, even though we both know I could, because we also both know that with all your petty schemes and deals, you’re just a truck stuck in the mud, spinning your wheels.’

A hit. A very palpable hit.

God and Damn but that Georgian accent is awesome.

She walked away, but I didn’t want her to. ‘Evelyn,’ she stopped her departure and turned back to me. ‘I’m not prettier than you. We’re equally pretty. I’m just smarter.’ Evelyn looked at me wide eyed, then half knelt to the ground, fighting back her laughter so Gregor wouldn‘t hear. She bit her hand. I wanted to laugh too, but it wouldn’t be cool, so I forced the mirth down to a mere full faced wide and knowing smile. I looked very awesome I’m sure.

Lynn struck back.

‘No, we’re not equal. I’m prettier than you because I have the classic beach bunny features fit for Playboy. You have a… I don‘t know, an incomparable beauty. But I do appreciate you saying that, though.’

Is this how peace is made? It can’t be. No, I hate her. She SPANKS ME FOR FUN! She’s an evil bitch that tortures me with her classic beach bunny features. I mean hairbrush! That was a Freudian Slip. I mean that WASN’T a Freudian Slip! Damn it!

I gawked.

‘I…’

Gawking continued with no end in sight.

‘All the times I’ve whacked your butt,’ she said, smiling and shaking her head back and forth at how absurd reality is. ‘And finally I figured a way to shut that mouth of yours. I might be sainted for this.’

Gregor stormed out of her office wherein the mice could now play. ‘Oh, good, you‘re still here. Take Archer and find out what she knows about the escape. I’d do it myself but I need to talk to Praxis. She may know nothing, but I think she might, so be harsh.’ I was too startled to move, so Gregor twisted one of my ugly ears and dragged me to my feet. She tug-boated me so that I practically fell into Evelyn’s arms.

That hurt, but I kept that mouth of mine shut. Not out of pride. That feeling of falling came back to me, and frankly, sorry to be such a wuss, but I was too weak of will to react because nothing I did mattered. Nothingness somehow hurt.

‘Yes, ma’am. Right away.’

Evil-Lyn was back. She would no doubt claim she was just following orders at her trial for crimes against humanity. Good luck with that. She grabbed my arm and marched me to a spanking that would surely open that mouth of mine to free all the screams I had locked up in my diaphragm. And good riddance because I hated them.

Being marched to Evil-Lyn’s room was never preferred. Everyone I passed knew what was going to happen to my sexy bottom. Most tried to ignore it, some were sympathetic, and some gloated. I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead, dead to the world, but I could feel their eyes all over me as Evil-Lyn marched me to her torture chamber to give me the full price of admission.

I wasn’t mad at Ash. I understand why some would be, but that really is petty. I knew who Ash was when I decided to spend so much noticeable time with her, I knew what that could bring me, and now I was going to get it. Hell with it, it was going to happen eventually anyway, because that’s what happens when you get reformed.

Spanked.

We went in to Evil-Lyn’s fully stocked dungeon. I stood in the middle of her room, looking straight ahead at a Liz Phair poster, and listened to Evil-Lyn shut and lock the door. Didn’t know why she would lock it. She never had a roommate for long, probably for the same reasons spiders didn’t, and she didn’t have one now. Maybe it was to stop Superman from flying in when he hears my screams from his artic Fortress of Solitude. If only the world did have Superman. I don’t think we’d get weak. I think we’d try harder to match him. We always have, when great men shame us. But I didn’t really care.

Evil-Lyn’s lower rear-back-leg junction had been freshly whipped, so I didn’t expect the hairbrush, at least not at first as she’d have to sit. After giving me three or four dozen from her prison strap and a few coats of cold cream for her own bottom, her can would be able to sit on a pillow while she bruised every square inch of my defenseless hinterland with her hairbrush. That was just no fair way to wage a pillow fight. Hell with it. I’d rather be in mindless agony than wherever the Hell I was now, waging war within myself for the prize of nothing. I hated feeling this way. I felt like a traitor to everything my parents cared about, even their love for me. It was just hopeless and meaningless and nothing was good. I felt like a speck of dust on a tennis ball, only a matter of time before I got cast off into an infinity void of oxygen and land to stand. Nothing would be my grave forever. And my stomach hurt.

She popped in front of me from out of nowhere. I started, but kept my feet on mark. She bent my head to the right, and inspected my sore ear with her fingers and eyes. ‘Ya know, I respect Gregor, but sometimes she really is just a bitch. Did she hurt your ear much?’

What? ‘No, ma’am.’

‘It looks undamaged. They’re such cute ears, too. Some people just don’t appreciate beauty.’

What?

‘I’ve often wondered what kind of earrings I’d like to see on your adorable ears; if we were allowed rings in here.’ A thousand hairs told me she breathed on my neck while she rubbed out some of the sting in my adorable ear. ’Something austere. The rings. Something small and shiny so they attract attention without distracting attention. Oh well…’ She let go of my adorable ear and arranged her spanking chair in the middle of the room.

I had never told anyone about my hatred of my ears.

Never. One. Person.

I’ve hated my ears since I looked up the definition of the word “hate“. Ah, a strong dislike or loathing. This word is talking about my ears. They curve down too much, and are too flat against my head which was now swimming, because after all these decades of strongly disliking and loathing my ears, I knew one thing for certain.

I loved my ears.

Just what the Hell was going on here?

Evelyn sat down, grimaced, then shook the pain away with a smile that was almost a laugh. She shrieked in a German accent, ‘Vee must learn discipline!’ Was she high? Did Evelyn and Gregor smoke a joint between cane strokes? I know canings can gush endorphins into the blood stream, but I didn’t know they could get you baked. ‘Come here, girl.’

I’d walked to her side for a spanking like a hundred times before, but this one was harder because my feet were six miles beneath my head. I managed, stood on stilts at her left, and, with Evelyn’s help, eased over the soft warm lap of my spanker.

‘Danny,’ she lifted my skirt. ’You don’t know anything useful about St. Croix, do you?’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘Now Danny,’ she put her fingertips under my panties, and eased them down twice as fast as a galloping snail. ’I know you know something about it that we don’t. What I’m asking, is,’ my panties were just about clearing the hump of my bottom which shook because some invisible person poked them with a live wire. I didn’t have any choice. I ground myself a little into that lap. I tried not to, but I had to a little. ‘Do you know anything that would actually help Gregor improve security around here?’ And they cleared.

‘No… no, Ma’am.’ It’s hard to talk without oxygen.

‘I thought so. Matron’s just mad. Still, you have no doubt been terribly naughty.’ The panties were well past my bottom now, but Evelyn leaned over to ease them all the way down to my ankles. Her breasts, bigger than mine, brushed against my back. ’I know you must have been involved somehow. Maybe you didn’t know it,’ her torso popped erect, then one second later her left palm popped against my right cheek. It was more shocking than painful. It wasn’t even painful, more like a jolt of that live wire, but my head bounced like she had caned me. I sucked in air. It’s hard to be depressed when you have to suck in air to live. ’But you should have known something and reported it. So, I’m afraid, I’ll have to spank your bottom pink,’ SMACK. ‘and let this be a lesson to you!’

Smack… smack… smack at a steady pace. I could feel her stomach and hips through her shirt and skirt rotate to give her rising and falling arm all the force it wanted to smack smack smack one cheek then the other then back again, each one producing a pulse that made the thousand hairs on the back of my neck flare.

My head bounced with each smack.

Vulnerable.

‘Ahhhh… Danny Archer’s nicely toned bubble butt. Do you mind me calling you “Danny“? I can’t very well call you Danielle because that’s Gregor’s first name.’ Smack. Smack. Smack… ‘My favorite bottom, hands down. (SMACK!) Ha! But really, I feel a pride over it. When you got here your glutes were flat and just blah.’ Smack… smack… smack… now my whole body bounced with each spank. I was not being beaten or tortured. She kept on talking and spanking. ’But after three years, the Coach and I have honed your rear end into something… I wish I was as good at finding words as you.’ Smack smack smack smack. ‘Something with a lot of syllables. Ah, that’s it.’ Smack… smack… smack… smack…. smack… ’Your fanny is ostentatious. Like you.’ Smack… Smack… SMACK… SMACK… SMACK…. SMACK… SMACK… SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK.

I found myself bucking over her lap. Grinding like a whore. I screamed out a mewling purr, which is something I’ve never done before and still not sure how I do it today. From my end of the joint venture it’s more an art than a science. I let go of the chair legs and dug my nails into Evelyn’s toned ankles. Harder I dug the harder and faster came the spanks.

And was I ever being spanked. Evelyn spanked my naughty bottom. She didn’t wail, or beat, or torture, or even punish my ostentatious bottom. She disciplined me by spanking me for going out of control ostentatious.

I was being spanked.

Time somehow kept rolling on without me as a witness until lightning struck me and every single intrusive thought or stomach wrenching negative emotion flew out of my body to ports unknown. I knew what I had to do. I found myself breaking free from Evelyn, backing up a step, and charging her. I grabbed her by her perfect hair and by the arm she had spanked me to tears with time and time again, and brought her to the floor in a simple wrestling move.

I penned her helpless, and tried to swallow her head. Helpless as she was, she was bigger and stronger than me, and she tried to swallow me back, so we struggled on the ground of her dorm room for a couple of hours in a pitched stalemate until passing out.

I still say I won.

* * *

Good and evil are tricky Platonic Forms to those of us whose grasp of noumenals is driving off the fourth dimensional rails on a crazy train. The female fixing my tie was, without a doubt, evil. She was Evil-Lyn. If you put all the Lyn’s of the world in one auditorium, you could spot her raised hand by asking in a microphone, “Hey, anybody here like the smell of brimstone?” But doesn’t evil have a place?

I try to be multicultural.

‘So,’ I began, not knowing were I was going.

‘Yes?’ She asked. Evelyn seemed unconfused, at least with me, but she wasn’t satisfied with my tie so she pulled it out and tried again. I didn’t mind. I sort of liked how strong she was about it, shaking me back and forth like a tree in the wind. Hands tying down my neck like she owned it.

‘Well, you know…’

‘What? Damn it, that Windsor never put a tie on someone else, I can tell you that… sorry. What, sweety?’

Sweety? What the Hell did that mean? Endearing, or dismissive? Then it clicked.

‘You’ve never put a tie on a girl?’

‘No.’ She snorted as if I’d ask if she’d ever unified quantum mechanics with the general theory of relativity. Instead she worked my tie. I watched it dawn on her perfect but not so quick face. Her eyes met mine when her mind met a conclusion. ’I’m not some lesbian taking advantage of you girls.’

‘I didn’t think that, but…’

‘I’m not even sure I’m a lesbian.’

‘Myself,’ I confessed. “It never even occurred to me until you said the word.’ I bit my lip. She pried my lip out gently but firmly. Her fingers were stronger than my lips.

‘Bad habits need to be nipped in the bud. You don’t want to callus your lips. At least, I don’t want you to, so you wont.’ She awkwardly returned her hands to my tie, but she didn’t get back to work. She kept her eyes on me.

‘So,’ I said. ’I would like… I am curious as to your opinion of a plan of mine, which is rather hard to explain because it involves a lot of data I don’t have yet, but I’m very open to, involving problematic adaptations in this transient world; this plan not wholly dictated by any one agent or force of will, but instead requires the consent of a small oligarchy, practically a limited liability partnership, as to the future course of upcoming events, plots, preparations, stratagems, and end-game game theories; for example, Prisoner’s Dilemma.’

I think Evelyn broke my syntax bone when I was winning our fight on the floor.

The evil girl smiled at me. It was both awesome and condescending. Made me a little mad.

‘Or whatever. You know. What-ever. I’m just saying that I have homework so I can’t just stand here all day being pushed around while you fix my tie if you…’ Evil-Lyn let go of my necktie, grabbed my neck, and forced me to caress her shoulders while she kissed me for a couple of minutes, the pushy bitch.

After a couple a million minutes she pealed me off and gave me that knowing smile. ‘Anything else you want to say, big mouth?’

‘Yeah. Nice Liz Phair poster.’

‘Eh, it has a tear in it. I covered it with tape, but I know it’s still--’

Somebody knocked on the door. Damn it, Superman, by now you should know the difference between a cry for help and a cry of ecstasy!

Evelyn was at my ear in a flash of whispers. ‘I just whipped you unmerciful.’ And was at the door. I got into character, stood straight, let my crest fall, as I was broken, and rubbed my pink bottom which felt like it was made of a candy coated beach drenched in moonlight enriched Van Morrison air fantastico.

‘You done with her?’ Matron Gregor asked from the sill, holding a large plastic bag.

‘Yes, Ma’am. She doesn’t know anything. She said “stop” plenty, but I kept giving it to her to give me what I wanted. She screamed plenty, but nothing she said justified an end to the exercise, from my perspective, so I think I pushed her beyond the limits. She was a bit of wild horse at first, but I broke her.’

‘Good. You did go over everything.’

‘Every inch of the objective, ma’am.’

‘Thoroughly?’

‘It took a lot of sweat and wrestling, but I made her yell until she was putty in my hands. She gave me everything she had, but nothing substantial. About St. Croix.’

Gregor nodded. ’I can see you really worked her over. Your uniform is a mess.’ Evelyn straightened her uniform. ‘Archer. Did Trustee Evelyn teach you something about keeping secrets?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ I was crestfallen. ‘No more secrets, ma’am.’

‘Good.’ She looked me up and down and damned if she wasn’t impressed. Gregor looked at my favorite trustee and smiled. ’Very good. Exhausting a compliant girl like Archer without certain knowledge of malfeasance took will to duty. I’m going to begin teaching you the cane, and higher administration basics, Trustee Gruber, if you think you’re ready.’

Evelyn’s back was to me, but not so much that I couldn’t see her grow three inches in height. That doesn’t make any sense to me either, but that’s what I saw at the time.

’Yes… Yes, Ma’am. I’m ready, ma’am.’

‘Good. Here,’ Gregor handed over the bag. I’d recognize the clink of Relief Cold Cream cans while traveling in the Hindenburg on a bad day. ’Come to my office in one hour. Are you sure you’re done with this one?’

‘For the moment, ma’am.’ Gregor smiled Wicked Witch of the SS style, then closed the door behind her. We did it as if it were planned. I bit her neck and she bit my palm. Clutched such, We rode out our craving for laughter until I needed a damn good nap.

‘You broke me?’

‘Had to, I wanted to make an omelet. Hey,’ she lifted my chin with her beautiful spanking fingers. ‘No more secrets.’

‘Not about us. But I’d never rat on another girl…’ She kissed me.

‘I’d never ask. We’ll figure out how this works, but I’d never ask. Besides, that’d take the fun out of the snark hunt.’

‘Well, I have to ask. What’s with the bag of Relief? May I use one of the cans of Relief on your caned chastised caboose while I seduce you with awful alliteration?’ I had a can of Cloud on me, but I’d rather snoop.

‘Later.’ She flicked my nose. Adorable. Almost as adorable as my ears. ‘Confiscated cold cream is put back into circulation through the trusties. We get a dollar a can, the rest goes to the school’s investments. Mutual Funds, gym equipment, crap like that. I love social capitalism.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Why?’

‘Let me think.’ I’d never heard that before, and something like that I should have heard by now. And that third account that I couldn’t get out of my head. One dollar… that fit a consistent yet unexplained depreciation between the second and third money flow marks, as I call them. I’m not a real accountant, as the school teaches homespun household accounting, so I had to make up my terms of art. Upton Sinclair sold the cans at thirteen dollars, which meant they bought at ten. One dollar to the trusty, I mean goonlet, would leave Gregor one dollar. Except the numbers were way too high. Not nearly that many cans are confiscated. And why only the Relief brand? There were a dozen others that got confiscated.

‘What is it?’

‘Oh. Nothing. How long has this been going on?’

She smiled at me.

‘Snoop! Mind your business. Go do that homework you told me about.’ She whirled behind me, held me by the shoulders, and walked me slow to the door I didn’t want to exit, but only because she was licking my adorable left ear.

‘Homework? I only said that because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.’

‘I know, but do you have homework?’

Damn it!

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Man it’s sexy saying that.

‘Stop.’ She snapped my skirt up and pulled my panties down with cold efficiency, all with her face in mine, her hands working across my hips which tingled in delight like my adorable ears. ’One for forgetting to call me “ma’am”, one for your homework equivocation.’ SMACK SMACK from her hand on my butt, pushing each time my face closer to hers. I wanted her clothes off.

Evelyn spun me around and enveloped me with a behind the back hug, and nuzzled my adorable ear with her nose. ’Later we’ll talk about this prisoner’s dilemma. Daddy has work to do.’ She pulled up my panties, adjusted them just the way I just then realized I liked it, then snapped my skirt.

‘But my tie is loose.’

SMACK

‘Just because I felt like it. Now scoot!’

I scooted, which was strange since I couldn’t feel my knees.

Refrm, Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Boys!

Took a week and two jars of Gentle Cloud for my bottom to heal up from Evil-Lyn’s loving application of Oak Discipline. That week just about used up every excuse in the book on why I couldn’t sit on top of a horse. I had to volunteer to shovel what happens to hay and oats after a horse digests them, but I was happy for any excuse to avoid sitting on a horse for reasons I’m going to let you active readers guess at.

But now I was out of the classrooms, away from the blackboards and the artificial lighting and the incessant sounds of crime and punishment, my lily-white derriere atop a mighty stead, soaking up the glory of nature. And soak I did, as it had rained off and on that week, but now the wet was fresh, not groggy, making everything a little brighter and grow a little faster. The work clothes were even a relief from the monotony of the insipid school girl getup The Man made us wear to keep us down. Goddamn is Texas pretty.

Good day.

Ash, of course, was having the time of her life. She could jump on a horse and show it who was boss instantly, as in, without increment of time, then fly off at Kentucky Derby speed. Van Brown conferred with the nut on horse whispering or whatever. Ash even took some urine samples to perform some “homespun health tests” on the animals.

Now the two of us were away from the group, stretching the legs of two horses Van Brown wanted Ash’s opinion on. We had our horses walk aimlessly, I thought, until I noticed we were meandering towards the impregnable South Fence.

‘Ash, where are we going?’

‘Towards the South Fence.’

‘OK, Ash, I’ve been meaning to explain to you how it works.’ I cleared my throat, and prepared the lecture. ’We animals have DNA that we pass on through our children. This means that we have to mate, have a child, and raise the child until it’s self-sufficient, and the more times we do this, the more successful our life is. Now, if you keep defying Gregor like this, you’re going to be a big loser, because no man will want a woman who doesn‘t have an ass. Or is dead. You keep this up and I put it at fifty/fifty that… Hey, do you smell that?’

‘Gasoline.’ Ash kicked her horse up a trot or two, and I followed suit without thinking.

‘No, this is a different smell. This is something… yes, this smell is very familiar. It reminds me off… reminds me off… what?’ I closed my eyes and stuck my nose up in the air, poking it here and there like a snake’s tongue ’It reminds me a little of high school; the real high school, my first high school before I got sent up here, but…’

Ash nudge me.

‘Open your eyes and look.’

I did, and looked at a clearing of trees along the South Fence.

‘Boys!’ A bushel of tall, sweaty, strong, stupid, red blooded boy-men were thinning the south forest of dead trees that cause fires. Real boys. Boys that show off and are nervous to meet your dad and brag and I wanted one. I wanted to bite one on the shoulder while he slammed me against a wall and ripped my clothes off, calling me names and giving me orders then physically forcing me to obey.

I looked over my shoulder. The stable was between us and Van Brown, who demonstrated proper horse brushing techniques to the poor dumb wenches who didn’t know that, my way, here there be boys, with their shirts off lifting heavy things under the hot sun.

‘Come on.’ I said, kicking the big dumb animal I sat on to hurry up towards the big dumb animal I wanted to sit on. Ash caught up.

‘What about your DNA?’

‘I’m a romantic. Besides, unlike you I’ll scream like Hell for Gregor so I’ll only get twelve cuts of her cane so my ass wont be obliterated. Totally worth it.’ I cursed a little under my breath about my clothes. Boring work clothes. Guys love that school girl outfit crap. Probably Freudian, association with their first early stupid male instinct towards we the fairer sex. Huge advantage lost, but it couldn’t be helped.

The next minute I don’t remember well. Ash and I hid behind a thicket of thin trees on our side of the fence, got the attention of two bucks and waved them over. I was under the influence of strong muscles. It was all a Pink Floyd movie until I had to talk. One must talk the man into submission to get him to dominate you, and that required wits.

‘I want the blonde.’ I whispered.

‘Take him.’

We tried to give each other as much privacy as we could, but that wasn’t much. My guy was maybe twenty-six, tall and blonde with smart eyes and his tanned flesh was covered in sweat. It was intoxicating. My brain swam in it, making it difficult to be clever; but I forced clever words out of my face by sheer will.

‘Come closer.’ I said, idly fingering the fence.

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m shy.’

‘Because you’re a boy. If somebody made you a man…’

I couldn’t help but hear Ash ask about engines. Idiot. Some guys like that in a girl, but this wasn’t a singles bar. I had to act fast.

‘So, anyway,’ I said, shaking Ash’s stupid words out of my head, then looking him in his high, blue eyes. ’You’re ahhhhh… a tree guy, huh? That’s cool.’

‘Only this summer.’

‘And the rest of the time?’

He looked embarrassed for a second (so cute!) then said sheepishly, ‘Well I’m getting my undergrad degree in chemical engineering this Fall and I’m trying to get into this professor’s graduate program.’

‘So why are you clearing woods?’

‘Because the boss is a friend of the professor’s barber, and if I impress the boss enough that I’m a hard worker, and he asks me my future about chemical engineering, which he has because he‘s that kind of boss, word will travel without my stamp, which means the word will ring true. It’s a long shot, but it couldn’t hurt. Also I like money.’

Ahhhh…. So that’s what it feels like to fall in love. Yes. Yes, now I see. It’s like looking in a mirror, but you see an image with blonde hair, perfect ears, and male genitalia.

Then Ash asked her guy, ‘Have any of the recent Consumer Reports rated the new LH-2060 yet?’ I wanted to kick her.

‘The Land Huggers? Yeah, like a month ago. Got a blah blah blah’

‘Anyway, I think that’s great. Listen, this fence is really getting in the way of us getting to know each other and you teaching me chemical engineering. The wall on the east side, however…’

* * *

The east wall was the Love Wall, because it was easy to get over, but impossible to escape from. Over the east wall you couldn’t go east because there was nothing but a military base for a thousand miles, and nothing kills you faster than nothing, just ask the Lunar colonists. You couldn’t go south because that ran you smack into heat and motion sensors. You couldn’t go north because that ran you by the kennel, and those Doberman Pinchers looked on girls as slow moving bags of Kibbles. And you couldn’t go west because that would lead you right back into Southdown.

Ahhh… but there was the Love Niche. It was this one spot in the walls where a boyfriend or husband from the outside could coast without his car lights(“going Stealth”, we say) up to the wall without being seen by Ivanovich or Turner walking the walls. You couldn’t escape because the only way to get your car on that road was through the military base, and they practically tear your car apart when you pass in and out. Soldiers, however, understand and tolerate the cravings of love after checking to make sure no military crime is being committed on their watch. A good man and a naughty woman sharing some hours is allowed under military law—even encouraged when duty allows. How else are warriors born?

At the Love Niche one could meet their boyfriend or husband for a couple of hours to play Parcheesi, talk about your day, the mortgage, or whatever it is couples do to wile away the long cold night.

Lauren volunteered to be my reader, the sweet little helpful thing, but I’m grooming her for upper management and it’s time to wean her off kid work. Besides, Henderson caught her chewing gum in her economics class, so she already has enough wood tracks on her enviably tiny caboose for the moment.

Speaking of class… wow, this was a long, long day. I didn’t give two dead rats for Charlemagne, my civic duty to vote for my representative to the Federal Affiliation, making a delicious yet affordable and nutritious meal for ten guests, or watching Ash gleefully do my shop work for me (I had to protect my nails). All I cared about was getting my cute butt through the day without any tell tale signs of humiliating punishment. What I wanted, oh man, what I needed were two soft and fresh buns for a chemical engineer to bruise by squeezing with his hard, big hands.

Men don’t need girly hairbrushes or canes. They have big-strong-hands, which is the only reason to keep them around I say—but what a reason.

Viva la difference!

Yet most readers wanted cash, and cash was at an all time low. The economy was good for bartering, but where the Hell was all the money going? Everyone snuck it in as fast as they could from family, friends, and old criminal or immoral compatriots, not to mention the illicit nonprofit (or low profit) charity funds set up in raunchy colleges all around the country, yet cold hard cash continued to grow as rare as unicorns.

I couldn’t use any of my cash reserve because I needed it for the mini fridge fund. Hmmm… which people want something I have even more than money? What is more valuable to a certain type of person than pure value? Who would become a willing slave, and for what?

So I gave a pack of cigarettes to a nic-ing-out newbie with a good rep. Her name was Veronica. She’s been in for a week, and she was still in cigarette withdrawal—I heard she chewed one of her fingers off. I made the deal then hit the showers extra hard, used up the last of my makeup stash, checked to make sure my bottom didn’t need any powder to cover a lingering bruise (didn’t), and adorned myself in my older uniform that I didn’t mind getting ripped off my neglected feminine body like a dead branch from an aging tree.

To whatever gods may be, please let strong hands rip clothing off me. Just set the savage loose on me, let him bite and beat me and use me like a slave. I have body for set time and I want it used.

Don’t judge me.

I was going through the final checklist before countdown when Ash knocked on my door. She came in, closed the door by leaning back on it with both hands behind her back, and took in all my glory. I was hit with that first time I saw her, coming out of Matron Gregor’s office after tough guying her way through the most painful punishment I knew, and I saw that confidence I’ve only ever seen in Evil-Lyn, except not evil. But like Lyn, striking.

‘You,’ she said against my door. ’Look great. Glowing.’ She smiled at me.

‘Nope, I told him to bring a large box of condoms, so I wont be glowing anytime soon.’

‘Yet again you risk not spreading your DNA.’

‘Ha! That’s you all over: you can’t let go. What about you? You tell your guy to meet you in the DDU or Xanadu or on the Yellow Brick Road or some other impossible place?’

‘No, it’s that time of the month.’

‘Ahhhhh… the Moon Mother is displeased with you.’ I caught myself immediately too late. My mirth clouded my mammalian brain. ’Oh, Ash, I’m sorry. That’s horrible luck and here I am…’

‘Please,’ she waved it away, dauntless as ever. ’I didn’t really like him anyway. Didn’t know a thing about that four wheeler. I can’t respect a boy who doesn’t respect his toys. Or any boy, really. They have their uses, I hope you enjoy tonight, but I’m not interested in that right now. Besides, I don’t even have time for men. Actually, I was just making sure you’re going tonight, not tomorrow night.’

‘Why?’ Weird.

‘Because those forest thinners will be working there for three days.’

Weird. ‘Yeah, but why?’

‘Tonight is Dark of the moon. Best time to get out.’

‘Yeah, I know that, Ash.’ I looked myself hard in the mirror. Other than my ears, which I would have some doctor fix someday, I was perfecto, but I needed a moment to calm myself down. Ash was an amazing girl, and I knew she was going to be my best friend while inside, maybe always (Band of Sisters and all that), but she could be a real control freak. I traded for her to be my shop partner the week before, after the birthday party, and she has been a shop dream come true and a shop pain in the ass ever since. I hear “Measure twice/cut once” in my sleep.

‘I know you know. Do me a couple of favors? Take this.’ In the mirror I could see an image of Ash tossing me something. I whirled around and snatched a little bottle out of the air. I looked at it. I looked at it again, twice as hard.

‘MACE?’

‘I don’t trust him.’

‘Why?’

‘Because he’s a human. I know you’re tough, but he’s bigger than you. And I like you, so I want you to have the edge. I’m not going to make a big thing out of this, but you’ve been a good person to know, and the most fun thing about me being inside, so far, has been knowing you.’

‘Ha.’ I pocketed the MACE and returned to my mirror. Our uniforms don’t come with pockets, so we have to sow pockets into the inside of our clothes to hide this and that. I put the MACE into my sleeve pocket, cuz I figured Mike would be least interested in my arms. Was it Mike? Mike or Mitch, whatever.

I touched up my eyes a little. ’Ha.’ I said again. ’Well, you’ve only been here a month or so, so I wouldn’t limit your experience yet. Christmas is pretty fun at Southdown. And Cinco De Mayo, too. Maria makes these…’ I avoided her gaze in the mirror while I fixed my eye liner just right because some stupid sand got in my eyes. ’What’s the other favor?’

‘Oh, a shot of your whiskey. I’m good for it.’

Well of course I was going to give her a shot of whiskey. And of course she was good for it. Libertarians can be tiresome sometimes with their Ayn Rand crap. I’d give it to her any day, but since she was having her monthlies right at the wrong time she practically had a legal right to a universal healthcare prescription of the Jack Daniels I scored off of Legrand after the Tigers won the playoffs and she had to retroactively give up booze for Lint in accords with her agreement with God. Cajuns… a superstitious lot, but good river people happy to give.

I hunched over and dug it out of my hideaway and poured her a drink. Then I poured myself one. She had a thought before downing it, thought it over for a second more, then looked at me with her wide smile.

She toasted me. ‘To getting out!’ She held her mouthwash up. I toasted back.

‘Thank you. To MACE.’ We drank.

I stored away the Jack while she set herself to go. Then she said, ’Did you see those tracks out by the South Fence?’

‘Hmm? Sure. The four wheeler.’

‘No, the bigger ones.’

‘You mean the dump trucks with the trees?’ What the Hell was she talking about?

‘No, these went right up to the fence, near that tall tree with the strong branches. None of their dump trucks went close to the fence. All the trees there were young and strong; they wouldn’t cut them down. My guy called them “keepers.”’ I turned to see my friend, her hand on the door knob, her forehead on the door, frozen.

‘Ash, what are you talking about?’

‘I don’t know. Just a thought. But I could smell gasoline around there, that day Gregor gave it to me, and men weren’t working on trees until today. Somebody with a truck drove there the night before. And two times since, because the overlapping tracks were at different depths, due to the rain. I can’t figure it.’

‘Ash…’

‘Never mind. Have fun tonight.’

Weird. Well whatever. A man would be working tonight, but not on a tree.

* * *

Veronica took her seat in the Den and puffed away in utter delight. I made the run from the Den to the east wall in less than a minute, not caring about the cruel foot ware feet pain. The shoes were cute and I needed them for my kinky schoolgirl outfit, so I ran. Thank you, Coach Van Brown. Thank you for helping me get laid for the first time in years by spanking me into a high performance athlete. Ash was right—you are a real deal Christian.

The boy could take directions. Auspicious. His truck was nuzzled into the Niche, and he had blankets, cheese and crackers, and cheep wine ready on the flat bed. He himself was dressed in a suit. A dark suit. With a red tie and a white button up shirt. How cute was that!?!?!

I presented myself first. Boys are visual. Looking at him was amusing, but I could smell him good enough a mile away to know I wanted to feel him press me down hard on those blankets while I bit his neck as a hopeless counter offensive. He could bite me wherever he wanted. But he needed to see me to get the blood flowing—that’s called animal husbandry.

‘You knock me down.’ Well, I wont yet, but that was a good start. ’Does your Reform school need a chemistry professor?’ A little more, boy, you’re right on target just stay on the bomb run. ’Because I’d forego riches to see you dressed like that everyday.’ Perfect. Ten out of ten. A+. Write a book on how to talk to women after you’re done devastating me. You wont be able to walk anyway, so you might as well sit down and write a book to help humanity procreate.

Still, we were proper. We drank wine and ate cheese and crackers like the French, except I think a Frenchman would starve before touching any of our mass produced junk food, but said Frenchman would agree in principle that we American Affiliates were doing the best we could with our base palettes to act like civilized humans who wanted to fuck each other into comas with class.

‘So,’ He said, his mouth delightfully full. ‘What are you in for?’

‘Overdue library books.’

‘Must have been some fine.’

I let him finish chewing and swallow his cheese and crackers. ‘Well, by overdue I mean stolen, by library I mean Library of the Founding Congress, and by books I mean the Declaration of Independence.’ He had to stuff a blanket into his mouth to keep down his laughter. He probably even believed me. There is something so irresistible about a stupid man.

I was pleased. Make a man laugh and he’s around your finger: the little one. I didn’t want him for life, but I wanted him tonight. I knew right then, right in my head, that I wasn’t interest in him, but I did need a him. This him was smart, found me clever, and was full of muscles. Sigh. I guess he would have to do if Bozo the Clown wasn’t around.

I crawled over the pickup truck on my hands and knees, real slow like, and put my hands on his shoulder. Then I eased myself down on his lap, making sure no pesky skirt found itself between my ass and his awesome suit. On contact I sizzled down there a second. It’s been years since a man taught me a lesson and put me in my place. My thighs, my everything, insisted I continue. I looked up at him, smiling, as I nestled myself into his lap just right. He was hard and warm, and taller than me. I raised myself. I kissed him.

Weird.

I kissed him a second time and made extra sure I did it right. He was doing everything right. Big hard hand on the back of my neck, big hard hand just above my buttocks. He was working his tongue and lips slow but forceful. He was tender yet strong and made me feel special and safe.

Nothing.

What the Hell was going on here? Can a girl forget how to get horny? No! No, that’s preposterous!

I jerked away from him. I jabbered a bit. I backed away in a panic.

He pursued.

‘Hey, wait… hold on a second. Are you ok?’ He said. I said, at the same time, ‘No. Nononononono.’ Not thinking, I pulled out the MACE, aimed, and pushed the button.

Of course I had the nozzle pointing at my face. Of course I did. How else would I point the MACE the way my luck was running? Of course I sprayed myself right in the face with MACE.

‘AAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!’

A daze. I didn’t know what was going on for at least a blind minute. I was terrified. I felt his body pressure and pain and naked fear. He had me hard on the truck floor and wasn’t letting me up. He was so much stronger than me. I struggled, but he was a better wrestler than me. When I got over the shock I was still blind, but I knew Mike (or was it Mitch?) had me penned down hard on the back of his truck, me completely helpless and my skirt up, while he poured water into my eyes. He shushed me with a slow, reassuring voice until I stopped screaming.

His medical attention took awhile. He was exact, no doubt treating me like one of his chemistry experiments. He had brought along a bottle of water, probably because of all the sweating we were supposed to do before I turned into a cold fish, and he was giving each of my bleary peepers jolt after measured jolt of heavenly water. He healed my eyes, and for that I was grateful until I was composed enough to explain myself. I’d have preferred to defend at Nuremberg.

We sat shoulder to shoulder, our feet dangling over the rear of his truck. We tapped our shoes together. We kept our hands to ourselves, and our eyes forward. Tick and then tock then another tick. And then tock and something needed to be said.

‘Well,’ I said. ‘I’m embarrassed.’

‘Don’t be. I’m guessing the mood is gone.’ Very nice. Too nice. I almost wanted him to be rude to me. At least then I’d have an excuse for the mood being gone. I could have thrown the memory off as the bad night with an asshole. But noooooooooo, I had to get Captain America.

‘I can’t explain it, Mike.’

‘You don’t have to. We want what we want.’ He gave my shoulder a Platonic pat. ‘And it’s Bobby.’

* * *

I stumbled to the Den, too beaten down emotionally to run. Screw it. The mood I was in I could use a caning. My hair was all crazy, my eyes were swollen. My clothes were torn. The newbie welp whistled out a stream of smoke and said, ’Man, that boy must have given you the time of your life. I could hear your screams from here!’

Story of my life was more like it.

I undressed myself real quite because Lauren clutched the teddy bear Dr. Featherstone in deep sleep, and because I didn’t have a man around to undress me real loud for me. Actually, I did have a man around, I just didn’t want him to rip my clothes off with his big manly teeth.

I eased into my bed and bonked my head on the pillow. I mean I bonked it. Something hard and heavy was under my pillow that bonked my head. I rubbed my head, cursing myself. I probably forgot I put a book in there or something. Whatever, I didn’t care. I moved the pillow and lay me down and felt like crying.

I didn’t, but I felt like it.

I was so confused my stomach hurt. I hated this feeling. I would have woken Lauren but I didn’t want her to see me so weak. I wanted to talk to Ash, but same thing. I was alone on this. I recited Fire and Ice by Frost in my head until I hypnotized myself into sleep. I slept well until Lauren shook me awake to tell me that Ash had escaped.

OK... I've done little

I will not confess that I have done nothing this weekend as to writing. I went on a walk and thought a bit about Tessy and a thought or two about An Hour in Common. However, I admit, I did not write one damn letter. It's not my fault. I just got, in the mail, HBO's John Adams an the second season of 24 and I'm only a man. I have needs!

I am just a man!

But I do admit I have done little. A little little. To be petty, my loyal readers, it doesn't help that I write to a voiceless brick wall. I'm not proud that I'm no stoic. I'd like to be one, I'd like to be the type of man that inspires me, but I'm not. I'm vain and petty, and I'd like feedback, even negative feedback. That shouldn't be surprising. I'm into spanking.

My childish crave for attention aside, I promised myself that I would not let this blog linger and die like the branch of an old tree. As a self-punishment, I shall publish chapter three of my beloved novel. Now, get something straight here, people: I toiled over this (I agonized, I climbed mountains to consult monks on syntax, I cut out my eyes so that I may see with my heart), and you're getting it for free, so I don't want to hear any bitching.

That's a lie. I want to hear anything, bitching included.

PB

A Time for Choosing

I never intended this site to be a mouthpiece for the thoughts of my addled brain, just my silly little stories, but in the words of Thomas Jefferson, sometimes it is necessary for free men to stand up and call bullshit. Well, I'm calling bullshit.

This Max Mosley Affair is annoying to me, and worse its costly to others. Costly to innocents, and I guess I'm a stupid southern good-ol-boy American, but stomping on the innocent for good reason makes me want to go straight to the guns. I wont, of course, as I'm not insane and I'm a peaceful soul, but I can at least speak to all my loyal fans (both of you). Also, I can act with a weapon far more powerful than guns: money.

I've heard from a number of sources (like the above to Niki Flynn and this one here) that Lucy McLean and Paul Kennedy of Northern Spanking (people I don't know but whom seem lovely by all accounts) are suffering for no good reason and the time has come for all good men to come to the aid of their party. If we don't hang together, we shall certainly hang separately. Oh, I left a mawkish and rambling comment on Flynn's post wherein I railed against the hypocrisies of the day. Please ignore it. Never happened, I never wrote it. I have an evil twin: TannedBust. He has a mustache and he thinks he's always right.

To the matter. I'm a cheap bastard I guess. My usual method is to buy membership to a spanking site for a month, download everything, cancel rebilling, then wait three to four or more months before renewing membership, and thus looting the spanking works of many months by paying only one month's fee. I doubt I'm the only cheap bastard, but I am one and there it is. And it wasn't all that long ago that I enjoyed a good viking rapine on Northern Spanking--but now is a time for choosing, and I choose freedom over bullshit and some of my money (I'm joining on the $50 90 day option which is a pretty good deal). That's right, I'm putting my money where my mouth is, and all I'm getting out of it is access to thousands of videos and pictures of top flight females getting spanked in creative story line settings. I'm a freaking hero. No, no, don't worship me, worship that for which I sacrifice my precious, precious money. Being a hero is mostly an issue of timing anyway.

And Northern Spanking is a good damn product. There's this one series where Amy Hunter is a college student who pens an essay about the submissive subtext of the works of Jane Austin (the first of many women to prove that some women can write one-billion times better than me... damn it). Her professor puts her through the sub paces and it is freaking hot. There are a lot of good tableau du fessee, and a lot of Tinman heart as well. There's another series where Pandora, a woman whose beauty is only matched by her perfect literary tastes, is whacked by her Aussie au pair who herself gets spanked by mother and husband, then mother gets it and... fantastic. Everybody gets it.

The site's material is huge, the product is excellent, the girls are lovely, the jokes are funny, the pleasures are varied, and you never know what you'll get next other than that it will be extraordinary. Bonus: you can do your bit to fight against the opprobrium of group-think collectivism. All that evil requires to succeed is for good men to do nothing. People, fellow spankos, doms and subs, domestic disciplinarians and BDSM'ers, let not this be the time when the best lack all conviction and the worst are full of passionate intensity. Not now. Not under our watch.

So, there's my meager contribution to the fight, all the more humble because I am so far afield from the fray. But ff I can get one person to join Northern Spanking, at least for one month, I'll be overjoyed. People, really, $25 dollars is nothing compared to the hundreds of hours of smoking hot action you'll get in return. It's the best deal since the Louisiana Purchase.

PB