by DJ Black
Ophelia Open stood in the hallway for the longest time. It smelled of wet newspaper and sawdust and the yellowing walls looked like they had not seen a lick of paint in years. The building was one of those New York brick affairs that had been grand enough back in 1896, but in the last 60 or so years had fallen on hard times. It wasn't exactly the kind of place that her ex-husband would usually have done business, but then when it came to Richard Open, nothing was exactly usual.
Ophelia eyed the battered wooden door and the chipped gold letters on the frosted glass. William Wendell Wentworth, Private Justice Adjustment Incorporated, it read. What by the stars was Justice Adjustment, private or otherwise? What kind of job was that? But she knew. She knew Richard. She had tried to tell Sophie that, but the foolish kid had gone on the lam.
"Listen, it is far better to just go and get this over with. Richard will find us in the end, he always does. Then it will be much worse," she had told her sister the day before.
"You're crazy, you just gonna let him spank you?" Sophie had gaped at her. "Didn't you have enough of that crap when you married the guy?"
"That was between us, and anyway I usually had it coming. Well almost always actually. I wasn't a saint you know," Ophelia countered.
"Yeah, well I am over twenty-one now and no-one is gonna spank me," Sophie spat back.
Sometimes her little sister could be such a brat.
"Listen hon," Ophelia remonstrated, "we played our hand and we lost. Sure it was a good idea of yours to stiff Richard on a couple of deals and make some extra dough, but I should have known he would get wise to us. Now let's just take our licks and call it quits."
"We were only getting what was due," Sophie had wailed.
Ophelia hadn't pointed out that Sophie had been owed nothing by Richard. In fact, given that his money had put her through college, she should have more respect.
"Richard has been more than generous with us. I had nothing when I married him and now I have an apartment and more than I could earn as an allowance. Admit it kid, we just got greedy," she had said.
"Yeah well I still ain't gonna let him spank me, so I am going to skip town for a while, it is you he wants to settle with, he'll soon get bored and forget about me," Sophie had sneered.
That had been only yesterday at the station. Ophelia hadn't even asked where Sophie's train was headed, but Richard would find out, stupid kid.
The tattered door hadn't gone away during her remembrances and still stood stark and hard to accuse her. So, taking a deep breath, she knocked. The person on the other side must have seen her outline through the glass because it opened almost at once.
"Mrs Open?" a young spectacled secretary asked her.
The woman was around 30 and a natural blonde. Quite a looker despite the glasses, and the tight pencil skirt made a good show of her figure. She looked way too classy for this joint, Ophelia decided.
"I-I am here to see Mr Wentworth," Ophelia offered nervously.
The woman nodded. "I thought you might be. I haven't seen anyone so scared since... well anyway come in. Mr Wentworth is on the phone in the other room. He will be with you directly."
Ophelia entered as if into a bear's cave. Her fashionable blue skirt suit an anachronism in such an office of danger.
"You do know why you are here don't you?" the secretary asked pointedly.
Ophelia shot her a terrified glance with a flash of her baby blues under the dark fringe and nodded.
"My ex-husband... he obviously doesn't want to bother with me himself anymore." She sounded almost as if she regretted that particular decision.
"I know how you feel," the blonde answered, then with a quick subject change she added, "Might as well sit down while you still can."
Ophelia gulped and looked at the hard office chair as if it was poison.
"I don't think you have any idea of how I feel," Ophelia muttered as she took the chair.
The blonde snorted and gave Ophelia a cock-eyed smile.
"Listen sister, the first time I came to this office... well let's just say I wasn't here to take dictation," she said. "That's right, I was a client. Mr Wentworth had been employed to straighten me out on a few things. And boy did I get straightened. Once I learned my lesson he offered me a job and I never looked back."
"I see," Ophelia murmured. "Tell me, do a lot of girls come here? I mean..."
"We get three or four a week," the secretary replied thoughtfully. "But mostly it is just paperwork and admin from this building. You see most girls aren't as smart as you and they decide to run. Then we have to outsource the contract to field operatives."
"My sister," Ophelia winced, "she wouldn't come here with me. She decided to skip town."
The blonde glanced at a file on her desk.
"Sophie Weizmann?" she read and looked up.
Ophelia nodded.
"Well if she doesn't change her mind and get here by eight then I'll put the contract out to tender, or Mr Wentworth will. Do you think that likely?" the secretary sighed.
Ophelia shook her head.
"Stupid kid," the woman sighed.
Just then the door opened and a big square shouldered man in a grey suit bowled in. Ophelia was relieved to see he was almost old enough to be her father, although the fact that he had a build that fitted him for football rather than office work was rather more distressing.
Ophelia could see at once that there was something between him and the blonde secretary and she felt strangely warmed by the observation.
"Now Mrs Open, I am glad to see that you have been sensible," Wentworth said in a voice that reminded Ophelia of dry gravel and the marine corp.
"I..." she squeaked, but quickly closed her mouth and fell silent.
"You know why you are here?" he barked.
Ophelia nodded.
"I need you to say it out loud and then I am going to ask you to sign something," Wentworth said in an almost kindly tone.
Ophelia took a deep breath and sighed. "I am here to get a spanking."
"And you agree you have it coming?" the man pressed her.
"I guess so," Ophelia agreed with a nod, but she was blushing hard now.
"That is good news, for you and for me," Wentworth brightened. "Your husband told me to say that if you took the situation without a fuss then his previous arrangement with you would still stand and there might even be a bonus."
Ophelia was relieved, but she was too scared to show it so she could only give the man a nervous nod.
"Is your sister here?" Wentworth looked around the office suspiciously as if he thought Sophie might be hiding. Well it had happened.
Ophelia choked on the word 'no' and then coughed and trying again said, "No Sir."
"Skipped eh? Well it is common enough. Draw up the papers, Patty, and you can post them in the morning after I make the call. No sense in jumping the gun, she may yet show."
"Yes, Mr Wentworth," Patty, the blonde agreed.
Wentworth turned back to Ophelia and looked her up and down as if sizing her up. Richard Open had briefed him on his wife and had told him that she could take it and wouldn't 'kick about it.' Or at least he had said that was what the girl he had married was like.
Sometimes with clients he just took them over his knee and gave them a paddy-whacking that wouldn't faze a teenager. It was just what they were used to. There was no point overdoing it and even less if it didn't make a point.
Looking at Ophelia, he decided that she could handle 'the works' as Open had contracted him for, and he decided to proceed.
"Here, sign this," he said and then a moment later he looked at Patty and told her, "Take Mrs Open into the back room and talk her through it will you? I will be in, in a moment."
"You mean what we discussed?" Patty asked quietly.
Wentworth nodded.
"This way please," Patty said, leading Ophelia away.
Wentworth had already removed his jacket and rolled-up his sleeves before he went through the door. He was gratified to find Ophelia was already completely naked and kneeling on the padded chair in the corner. Most women opted for a courtroom or at least kicked back at such a set-up, but Wentworth didn't deal with the type of operator who took kindly to that sort of thing. His world was on the edge of the legal. That's why he had to read his clients right and know who was going to make trouble and who needed special handling. He had been a long time in this game and he never got it wrong so nobody got hurt. Well except where they were supposed to.
Ophelia didn't move as he came into the room, and he had already learned from Patty that she didn't need his girl to hold her hand. Some women didn't need a witness, he knew. He eyed the full curves of Ophelia's bottom and felt something go tight in his lower belly. Some days he loved his job, maybe he was a heel? But Patty always said he offered a valuable service and that he knew how to play it. Like the sign said, he was just an adjuster and he dealt in justice. He sighed, time to get into character.
"Your husband is really pissed at you," Wentworth growled.
"Yes, Sir," Ophelia acknowledged.
"But under the circumstances you're going to get off light," he said sharply.
"I guess so." Ophelia's voice was rather hollow and she adjusted her knees on the seat of the chair.
Wentworth was only the third man ever to see her completely naked and her heart was going 18 to the dozen in her chest. She was more excited than scared, but she was no novice at this. That would change once the man got going. She heard a zip-shush of leather on - she guessed - wool from the look of his suit before. But in any case she knew the sound of a belt being pulled from around a man's waist. A moment later the cold leather tapped against her bare bottom to confirm her guess.
"I have a letter on my desk from your husband. If you take this without holding a grudge I am to give it to you and then it will be between you and him." Wentworth flicked the belt against her behind and then asked her, "Are you ready?"
"Yes, Sir."
The belt stung. A long line of violent tingle that peppered her skin, and then it stung again like the first had only been practice. Her Pa had given her worse and the guy wasn't even in Richard's league so far.
The third stroke landed under her bottom, and this time he got her attention. From then on it was all she could do not to cry out as the belt really lit a fire that burned thoroughly and extensively across her sitting equipment.
From a long way away she heard someone wheezing as if they had whooping cough, and it took her a moment to recognise her own struggle for breath. By then the fire in her bottom had reached her soul, and her tail end felt as if it had a gravel burn.
Not to be reposted, reproduced or distributed, in part or whole.