Seven Scarlet Tales

‘You don’t make much noise, do you?’

Well, no. You aren’t hitting very hard. I do want to sigh and moan with pleasure, but perhaps that would be bad form.

‘I’m well trained, sir.’

‘Well trained? You had to practise to take a spanking? Tell me about it.’

‘Oh. Well.’

Damn, creative thinking isn’t easy when your bottom is deliciously hot and tingly and your clit blooming like an obscene flower.

‘Hmm?’

A harder smack shocked her into words.

‘Oh! We geisha girls, we all go to a class, once a week.’

‘Oh yes? Tell me about that.’

He stopped for a moment and rubbed her cheeks. When she didn’t start straight away, he spanked her again, good and hard, so that she gasped.

‘It’s a class that teaches how to take a spanking. Ow! We are a group of twelve girls and we are only permitted to wear a tight T-shirt and a thong.’

‘What is a thong?’ He pronounced it ‘song’ and Poppy giggled.

‘What I’m wearing – skimpy panties.’

‘Skimpy? Oh, never mind. Go on.’

‘We sit together on a long bench and our teacher makes us come to the front, one by one, and take a spanking from her.’

‘Teacher is a woman?’

‘Yes.’ Poppy was imagining Allyson in the role. She thought she might appreciate it. ‘The first lesson, she spanks us with her hand. You can imagine, her hand got quite tired and sore, so after the first three, she made us spank each other.’

‘Yes? All you pretty girls spanked each other? Hmm.’

Poppy had known Bruno was getting hard for a while, but now she felt a particular prod into the soft flesh of her stomach. Oh dear. Perhaps this was ill-advised. Perhaps she shouldn’t be driving the customers into a frenzy of lust with far-fetched tales of sapphic-themed spanking. But she’d started now, and she was honour-bound to finish.

‘Yes, until our bottoms were bright red. Then she made us line up and took a photograph of us all. Of course, we didn’t all take it well. Some of us needed more training than others, while others could go straight ahead to strapping class.’

‘Strapping class?’

‘Yes. I wasn’t ready after one lesson, so I had to go to Allyson for extra classes. She spanked me a little longer and a little harder each time, until I was able to last, without crying, until I was beacon-red and burning hot.’

‘You can take more than this, then?’ He started to spank harder.

Poppy wondered why she could never stop her imagination running away with her. Sometimes it could be a curse.

‘Yes, sir. A little,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘And then you go to the … what class?’

‘Strapping class. They use leather belts, and straps, and tawses. A few more strokes each time. Then it’s – ouch – paddles and, oh, ow, whips and canes and stuff, ow, ow, ow!’

‘Now you feel it,’ he said, with some satisfaction. ‘And your, what, we call them fesses, are a beautiful red. I think, scarlet.’

Poppy could believe it, but she tried to maintain her submissive tone.