by Tara Black
"Cynthia darling, are you really telling me that you like to be spanked?"
"Of course, Sybil. Though I am aware you are not so keen, darling."
"That's putting it mildly. But you may be right that he's not very good at it. Which could be the root of the problem."
"What, too heavy handed? Or not enough, perhaps?"
"By turns both, I'm afraid to say."
"You poor dear. That is the worst of all possible worlds." Cynthia stood up and smoothed down her skirt with an air of decision. "You are coming inside with me for a lesson. Out of sight of the neighbourly eyes." She looked left and right meaningfully to the patios and gardens of the adjoining Victorian semis, then led the way through the French windows.
"Oh, goody. I was hoping you might want to, ah, get to the bottom of things. Sorry, darling, that was unforgiveable. Let me bring the glasses to make up."
Inside, drinks were fixed and the two women toasted their alliance. As wives of two amiable government employees somewhat feckless in matters of the bedroom they had pledged to support each other in remedying the situation.
Drawing her skirt up out of the way, Cynthia sat on the chesterfield and beckoned her friend over. She glanced up at Sybil then lifted her dress and the slip beneath. An expanse of marble thigh came into view followed by an auburn bush.
"My dear girl, we are adventurous today. One might think you were expecting, even hoping for this. Were you perhaps afraid that if there were knickers I might not take them down?"
"I hope you don't think me too rude, Cynthia. We are after all women together. Please don't blame me for wanting the full experience when my dearest is so dismal at it." So saying, she lowered herself meekly across the waiting lap and raised her hindquarters for inspection.
"Of course not, darling. And I wouldn't have missed this opportunity for the world. You have such a delicious derrière, Sybil, and to think I have never before seen it au naturel." Her friend's face was turned away but Cynthia could see the red flush on her neck. She laughed. "Oh my dear, I will stop embarrassing you, I promise. Shall we get to business?"
"Please do. I'm ready." In response Cynthia raised her hand and in short order delivered two smart slaps.
"Ooh. Ooh!" After a saucy wiggle of the hips Sybil arched her back and pushed her bottom up for more. Relishing the bounce of the resilient cheeks Cynthia settled to her task. Soon the pale orbs began to pinken and with the new colour the movements of the hips grew more lascivious.
"Ooh. Mmm. Darling - mmm - you are - ooh - very good - at this - mmm - I had no idea - oooooh..."
"Sybil darling." With a hand fondling the warming cheeks Cynthia leaned down and cooed into her friend's ear. "I'm so glad you like it. Now I want you to relax and go with the flow as we shift the focus a little farther down. Like this."
Fingers together and palm flat Cynthia used her wrist to bring a series of short sharp smacks into the very base of the behind where buttock met thigh. At once the recipient began to squirm and writhe in the grip of the new sensations and the spanker increased her pace.
"Oh. Oh! Oh-oh-oh-oh!!" In one movement Sybil wrestled herself off the lap and on to her feet. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Scarlet faced she covered her mound with both hands. "What must you think of me, darling. I very nearly came off. There and then, our bare thighs together, almost as if..."
Cynthia got up and drew her distressed friend into a gentle embrace. "No, darling. I'm the one who should apologise. That was naughty of me to see how far I could take you. After all, that's the husband's job isn't it? The spanking first to warm you up - and him - so that the marital duty gets done."
At this bald statement of a founding principle of the Marriage Guidance Department of the Authority Sybil made a moue of distaste. "I shouldn't say it, but I'm beginning to wish I hadn't stopped you. I didn't have a clue, you know, just how plain sexy a proper spanking is." She pressed her lips quickly against Cynthia's cheek.
"Well now you can instruct the man of the house, darling. Or do you want me to come and lay on a demonstration?"
Sybil let out a belly laugh. "Oh darling, what a picture! The poor man goggle-eyed as you haul me across your knees and spank me to orgasm. Mmm. I'd better not dwell on the idea or I might just go back over." Their eyes locked and Cynthia felt the rush of desire. Then her friend broke the gaze and put a hand on her arm.
"I'm away, darling, before I do something I might regret. Thank you so much for the instruction and I'll let you know how I get on."
When she had gone the mistress of the house paced to and fro, unsettled. She remembered her first sight of the stunning redhead with ivory skin and how they had fallen into an easy chatter rare at those gatherings for Department wives. Over the three months since there been many hints that Sybil had an interest in her beyond mere friendship, but Cynthia had never found the courage to make a clear-cut move.
Besides, relationships of that sort, if not exactly outlawed, were grounds for the dissolution of a marriage. And without a husband a woman's position had become, to say the least, precarious. But rules aside, Cynthia berated herself for being too timid. She would never have dared take Sybil's pants down for a demonstration spanking, but the lady herself was one step ahead. She arrived bare arsed to pre-empt the issue. And then she confessed - albeit in apparent high embarrassment - to being aroused almost to the point of no return. If these things weren't a come-on then Cynthia didn't know what was.
Irritated with herself she poured another gin and tonic and added ice and lemon. Definitely the last this afternoon, she declared to the empty living room and went into the kitchen to start preparations for the evening meal.
By ten o' clock the husband due at six-thirty had still not arrived. In their eight months of marriage it was not unknown when (unspecified) work pressed, so Cynthia was more annoyed than concerned. On a whim she phoned Sybil.
"Sorry for the late call, darling. Bit of a loose end here. I don't suppose you've had a chance for a lesson yet."
"Indeed I haven't, darling. He isn't here."
"Oh, I see. Nor is mine. Any ideas?"
"It has happened before, has it not? Let's each pour a large one and sleep on it, shall we? With any luck I'll dream of your hard hand. Speak to you a.m."
"I'll be waiting." When she had put the phone down Cynthia regretted not offering to call and provide another lesson. Perhaps not the best idea with a late arrival of husbands in the offing. However, it was gratifying that the afternoon's intimate encounter had left a favourable impression. And with that thought she headed for the drinks cabinet.
She was still lounging in her robe when the call came though just before ten o' clock. "It's me. And still on my lonesome. You?"
"Oh, me too. Didn't you have a number, darling? Kind of emergency only thing."
"I do. But I don't know if this counts. I used it once before and the poor dear got one hell of a ticking off. Seems wives are not even to approach the Department at the end of a phone."
"So a personal visit isn't on. I mean, if we hoofed it round to the building and squatted in reception?" There was a snort at the other end of the line which Cynthia took to rule out such a course of action. Then she remembered something. "Didn't you get pally once - strictly on the QT - with one of the security types?"
"God, did I tell you about that? If it had got out that would have been me for the chop. Divorce on the spot and then booted out into the wide world."
Cynthia could almost feel the shudder and forgave the implied slight on her trustworthiness. "Yes you did. And you knew I wouldn't breathe a word to a soul. The point is, as I recall, you could contact him in the building on a private line."
"And he has tabs on all the drones inside. Darling you are brilliant. And at this time of the morning. Now, what on earth was his name?"
"Can't do that for you. It will come, darling, have another coffee. Look I'll leave you to take charge and go fishing. Oh by the way, were they sweet dreams?"
"Not. I'm sorry to say. Perhaps I need a refresher course. But first there's work to do." She hung up and left Cynthia smiling at the prospect of getting to grips for a second time with that peachy arse...
At a little after two she opened the door to a rather breathless Sybil. Cynthia sat her down and rustled up two stiff ones. "Here, darling, get this down you while you tell all."
It transpired that the security officer her friend had dallied with a few months before was now a chief, and had been willing to spill the beans in return for the promise of renewed intimacy. "No sweat, darling. He's not only hung like a horse but knows how to use it to max effect. Oooooh!"
She scrunched up her face at the memory and Cynthia laughed despite her impatience. "OK, darling. He's a stallion between the sheets. But what did you find out? About our missing husbands?"
"Sit down and take a good slug." Sybil was looking serious, very serious and Cynthia did as she was told. "Now Max is not absolutely certain, but it seems they have both been relocated."
"Relocated? But then that means -"
"It means that we are in the shit, darling, not to put too fine a point on it." They both drank deep in silence, then her friend broke it.
"Not certain, though?"
"He's just covering himself. I don't believe there is any doubt. But our stud man did offer to help. Apparently he owns a small house at the rim beyond the reach of the Authority and we are welcome to use it pro tem."
Cynthia was struggling to absorb the news with its potentially devastating consequences. What began as gated communities at the turn of the century had grown into fortified areas, increasingly linked up into islands the size of cities. As the social order outside broke down, the regulation inside grew stricter, harking back to an earlier model of the reproductive marital unit in which the wife's function was to give birth and service husband and home. If the first, and primary, role could not be achieved, the woman could survive as a glorified housemaid. But it was a tenuous position and likely to be short-lived, as the two childless wives at almost thirty years of age were in the process of discovering.
Sybil downed her gin with an air of purpose. "Right, dear thing. We have a lot to do in quite a short time. Max is holding back any official action on us for forty-eight hours."
"So we don't get rounded up today?"
Correct. And our store cards will continue to work. Where we are going we shall not need a wardrobe full of dresses, so new outfits are required. And there is a bonus. He has cancelled the bar on cash withdrawals so that we can snaffle the moolah before it disappears for good."
The juxtaposition of terminal loss of privilege with death-defying loopholes of opportunity was making Cynthia's head spin. "Your Max is a wonder worker, dear girl."
Sybil nodded. "Indeed so, darling. But I shall be paying as soon as we are installed in our interim residence."
"That'll be a real chore." Cynthia smiled at the woman who was now her ally in things rather more serious than the tweaking of the marital bedtimes.
Sybil giggled in return. "I shall be quite worn out, unless my dear friend could lend a hand? So to speak. It was only innuendo, but I surmised that Max has discovered the joys of spanking."
Despite the chasm that had opened before them Cynthia laughed. "Oh my, has he now?"
"Well now darling, since we're on the subject -" Sybil leaned forward conspiratorially "- after we've done our shopping and had a good feed, d'you think you could possibly complete the lesson of the other day? I mean I don't have to get home tonight anymore, do I?"
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.