by W. Arthur
It was late January in 2000, and the approaching night was cold and exceptionally dark. The snow that had started that morning continued to fall steadily, enveloping the entire region in such a white haze that the elegant manor house seemed to be even more remote and cut off from the rest of the world.
Just before eight o'clock Magda put another log into the massive stone fireplace that was the centerpiece of the intimate sitting room. Skillfully, she worked the log into the glowing embers until it ignited, and a soft, warm fire licked the gray limestone and bathed the room in a pale orange light. Magda looked at the fire and smiled. Then she stood back away from it. At forty-years-old she cut an imposing figure: self-assured and immaculately coiffed, her slender but sturdy frame was draped with a flowing, thigh length black cotton dress and black stockings. She was a wealthy woman at peace with herself, and she looked every bit of it.
Satisfied with the fire and the room arrangement, she rang a small crystal bell, the signal for the others to gather in the sitting room. As the seven female guests of The Manor methodically assembled, Magda looked at the oak paneled wall above the fireplace. There, prominently displayed, was a long brown leather strap with a crude wooden handle on one end. It appeared to be old and well worn. Next to the strap on the wall was a heavy wooden Spencer paddle; this also looked old and well worn.
As the women took their places in the cushioned armchairs near the fireplace, Magda turned toward her guests. They were a diverse group of accomplished professional women. Like her, they were mature and self-assured. And, like her, they shared a passion for spanking.
Once the guests appeared to be settled and attentive, Magda sat down in a chair facing them, scanned the room, and began to speak. "I trust that the food and accommodations are up to their usual standards," she said. There was a general murmur of enthusiasm from the group. "Good," she continued. "Although each of you has been a frequent guest here at The Manor over the years, you may not realize that today is the tenth anniversary of our founding." The assembly expressed surprise, then broke into a subdued but sincere applause. "I have appreciated your continued support, and I thought in recognition of this milestone we might entertain each other by sharing the story of how each of us was introduced to the one thing that has brought us together." The eyes of each guest immediately lit up at the prospect of discussing and exchanging details of the one true passion they had in common. Magda noted the reaction and smiled. "Then we are all agreed. Since I am the host and the proprietor and know exactly what I want to tell you, I will go first. You will each then get a turn, following my lead." Magda settled back into her chair, took a sip of the brandy she had poured for herself earlier, and inhaled slowly and deeply.
Of course, I haven't always been the decidedly self-assured woman you see in front of you. In fact, I wasn't even born Magda. My birth name is Teresa, after my maternal grandmother who helped raise me after my mother died when I was very young. My father was a very successful businessman - a much sought after consultant and financier.
Even though I was an only child, my father seemed to have little time and even less interest in me when I was growing up. So naturally, after my grandmother died, I got into trouble a lot, constantly probing for that limit to my father's apathy. Sorely in need of discipline, I used to fantasize about being summoned to my father's study - his ultra-masculine leather and oak inner sanctum. There he would verbally chastise me for my latest misdeed, then take me over his lap for a good old fashioned bare bottom paddling. Of course, this never happened, but I brought myself to orgasm many a night just thinking about it.
Things kept on this way - me dreaming and him ignoring me - until the day Armand came to visit my father. I was eighteen and just out of high school, bored with life and frustrated with how very narrow my world really was. Armand came at just the right time. He was tall, lean, about thirty-five, with rugged good looks, long dark hair that he wore in a tight ponytail, and steel blue eyes. He was totally different from the clumsy high school boys I had known and was occasionally desperate enough to sleep with.
My father introduced him as a new business associate. However, to Armand business was more of a hobby; he already had all the money he could ever spend. He said he was from Europe, but now occupied his time traveling and experiencing this country. He really was like something out of a romance novel, a creation of some overwrought woman's very fertile imagination.
Naturally, I fell in love with him. And just as naturally I threw myself at him, making a complete fool out of myself. Of course, he played the gentleman, politely rebuffing my very clumsy advances, which made me want him all the more. Thus, by the end of the summer, I was absolutely mad with desire.
Now it happened that I was set to go away to college at the end of August, and my father, finally free of any day-to-day responsibility for me, planned an extended business trip to Europe and the Far East. The night before I was scheduled to leave, I sought out Armand for one last appeal. I told him how much I wanted to be with him and how much I loved him. Finally, he looked at me with his steel blue eyes and said, "Teresa, you know little of life and even less about me. I strongly advise you to suspend your fantasies, go on to college, and take all it has to offer you."
Again, I appealed to him, citing how much I could learn from him, from his experience, and how much of myself I could give him in return. He listened very politely, then wrote something on a piece of paper. He looked at me very seriously for a few minutes. "Again, I very strongly advise you to go on to college and forget about me. What you can learn from me you are better off not knowing." Then he hesitated. "However, start college, and if after a few weeks, you still think you can learn more from me than at school, go to the address on this paper, ask for Annette, and tell them that I sent you. They will take you in and contact me." He handed me the paper and looked deeply into my eyes. "Teresa, think long and hard before knocking on that door, for once you enter that house your life will be forever changed. I am not what you think I am, and the life you will be committing to is not what you are hoping for." Then he kissed me gently on the forehead and left me alone to ponder his words. Far from being discouraged, however, I found that I wanted him all the more. His warning had created an aura of mystery that made the life he reluctantly offered impossible to resist.
Looking back, I'm certain he knew that; he knew me better than I knew myself. Well, what happened next is not hard to predict. I went to the college, but could think of nothing but Armand for the three weeks I stayed. I just had to know what kind of life he was offering me. Thus, I packed my few belongings, checked out of the dorm, boarded a plane, and in a few hours was standing before a massive red door, the ornate portal to a magnificent Victorian mansion. My knock was soon answered by a young woman in a classic French maid uniform. She didn't appear to be much older than I was and had tired eyes, I thought. I asked for Annette and was quickly ushered into an adjacent sitting room and told to wait. Then I was left alone.
The room was beautiful, a smaller version of this room, in fact. However, I had little time to study it before a woman appeared. She introduced herself as Annette, the lady of the house. Although obviously much older than I was, she was a decidedly beautiful and elegant woman, fashionably dressed with soft features, but hard eyes and a very self-assured manner. She invited me to sit down as her eyes met mine. When we were both settled, she began to study me.
"I am told that Armand referred you to me," she began. I nodded, looking a bit nervous, I'm sure. "How do you know Armand?" she continued, still studying me.
"He is a friend and business associate of my father," I replied, trying to avoid her probing eyes.
She scowled as she scanned me one more time. "Teresa, how old are you?"
"Almost nineteen," I said, trying to sound more mature.
She appeared somewhat relieved. "Did Armand explain the arrangements here?"
It suddenly occurred to me that Armand had said nothing about this place. I had just assumed that he would set me up in some sort of apartment, then use me for his mistress when he was in town. When Armand was away, I would explore the city and live the good life. Yes, I was very naive. As I looked at Annette, I began to realize, however, that the lifestyle I assumed I would enjoy was not quite what she had in mind. Still, I had come this far and had no intention of turning back. "Yes," I lied.
"Good," she said. "I will have Cheri show you to your room; you are no doubt in need of rest and a bath. Ask no questions. You will be summoned when it is appropriate; further explanations will then be offered." She then rang a small bell and Cheri, the young woman in the French maid uniform, immediately appeared. "Cheri, take Teresa to her room and see to her needs," she ordered. Then turning back toward me, she said, "Teresa, Cheri will see to your needs. Please go with her. Remember, ask no questions. Cheri has been instructed not to engage in conversation with newcomers. We will talk again very soon." Our business apparently concluded for the time being, Annette got up and left the room.
I looked at Cheri. "Follow me, please. Bring nothing with you; everything you need will be brought up to your room," she said softly, motioning me toward the door.
Quickly, I was led up a stairway and down a long brightly lit corridor. Finally, we stopped in front of an open door and Cheri motioned for me to go inside. The room was small but well-appointed in the grand Victorian style; it had a high ceiling, crown molding, and a large window. I couldn't help but notice that the window had rather ornate black iron bars crossed on the outside.
Cheri then went into the bathroom and began to draw a bath. I relaxed when I heard the sound of the water running. The bathroom was as beautiful as the bedroom; in all my fantasies, I had not imagined anything this perfect. As the tub filled, steam slowly rose from the water, inviting me to undress and immerse myself, which I did as soon as Cheri turned off the water and started toward the door. "I will have your things brought up while you bathe," she said as she gathered up my clothing and closed the door behind her. As I lay in the tub, I felt totally alive and carefree.
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