by LSF Publications
by Jon Thorn
Lucy had decided on having a portrait painted almost from the moment she had come into her inheritance. She was the youngest to inherit the title in over three hundred years, and with the title had come the properties - a townhouse on Montpelier Square just off the Brompton Road and a more substantial house in the Suffolk countryside. There had also been a substantial financial legacy, so at the age of twenty-six, Lady Lucinda Westfield was a very rich young woman indeed. As such, it seemed fitting that her portrait should grace the great hall at Westfield Park alongside those of her ancestors, and so she had begun the search for the right artist.
Money was not a problem, so Lucy could afford to be choosy, which was fortunate since there was a strong streak of perfectionism within her character. For Lucy, only the best would be good enough, and it didn't take her long to discover who the best was. In her humble opinion, the only man up to painting Lady Lucinda's portrait was a young artist by the name of Rob Morton. Morton was an up and coming star in the art world. Not much older than Lucy herself, he was already starting to make a name for himself. Lucy had contacted him herself, and he had (albeit reluctantly) agreed to come to the house at Montpelier Square to talk about the proposed commission.
Lucy heard a car pull up outside and glanced out of the window. A rather scruffy, fair-haired young man was extricating his long body from behind the wheel of a tiny little Fiat. Lucy smiled to herself; he certainly had the look of an artist with his unkempt hair and untidy clothes. She went down to the door to let him in.
He was just about to ring the bell, so was rather taken aback when the door opened suddenly before he had the chance to place his finger on the bell push.
Lucy thrust out her hand. "How do you do? Lucinda Westfield."
He recovered his composure quickly. "Hi, Rob Morton." He shook her hand briefly, as though shaking hands was something he was unaccustomed to doing, then followed her through into the house - his eyes taking in the quiet wealth displayed all around him. Lucy led him through into the drawing room.
They both sat, and there was a moment of awkward silence before Lucy spoke.
"Well, welcome," she said brightly. "I'm pleased you could come, this really is so important to me." Her smile was met by what felt like a rather hostile stare. Lucy pressed on. "You see, I'm the youngest Lady Westfield for a very long time, so it seemed rather important to me that I mark that fact by having a portrait done. A rather younger face to hang amongst all the old crusty ones in the great hall at Westfield Park."
"Oh, so you have another house do you?"
"Why yes, of course. This is just where I stay when I'm up in town. I assumed it would be more convenient for you if we met here?"
He grunted his agreement.
"Well, Rob, what I had in mind was a classical style of portrait - perhaps something similar to that one of Cherie Blair that was displayed at the Barbican a few weeks ago... perhaps with me..." she was about to go gushing on when he stopped her with an abrupt question.
"Go to a private school did you?"
She was a little disconcerted, but answered him anyway. "Well yes, yes I did, Cheltenham Ladies' College actually."
"Thought as much. And you've never been short of anything in your life, have you?"
"I guess I have been very fortunate."
"Huhh." He sounded almost angry.
"Is there a problem?"
"Yeah... I don't think you'll be willing to pay my fee."
Lucy gave a little laugh. "You needn't have any worries about that..."
He stopped her short again. "I'm not talking about money."
Lucy felt his eyes on her. My God, he wanted to sleep with her! She almost laughed aloud. Well, he certainly wasn't unattractive; he might be quite fun!
"No?" she said, trying to sound innocent. "What had you in mind?"
He gave her that long, appraising look again. He waited for a moment before speaking. "If you really want me to paint your portrait, then the price is this. You will agree to be treated and punished like a naughty schoolgirl."
Lucy felt her heart race... surely he wasn't suggesting...?!
"What do you mean exactly? Are you going to set me lines or something...?" She deliberately tried to keep her tone light.
He gave a low chuckle. "Lines of a sort," he said. "Red ones on your bottom after I've caned you."
Her look of horror must have been very clear on her face, for he laughed again.
"Told you you wouldn't be willing to pay my fee. You little rich girls think money can buy anything - but when something is really going to cost you, then you bottle out... just as I thought." He looked at her contemptuously. He started to get up.
"No, no wait," Lucy said quickly. "Just give me a moment to think."
She could feel her heart beating so quickly, such was the shock his words had produced. What he was suggesting was outrageous. No one had ever laid a finger on her, and the thought of having to bend over to be caned... she gave a little shiver. And yet, and yet her pride wouldn't let her be defeated so easily. He thought he had called her bluff, thought he had named a price quite beyond her reach. But she was made of sterner stuff.
"OK," she said after a moment. "What's your exact fee? What is it that I have to submit to, to get you to paint my portrait?"
He gave a sly smile. "You really want to know?"
She nodded her head.
"OK then, my terms are these. There will be three sittings. You will pay for each sitting. The first time, you will spend ten minutes over my knee getting a good old-fashioned spanking on your bare bottom. The second time will be a ten minute slippering, and the final time will be a spanking followed by twelve strokes of the cane. Oh, and to prove that you're not wasting my time, you'll pay for this afternoon's consultation with five minutes over my knee."
Lucy thought for a moment. How much did she really want this portrait done? Was it worth the pain he was suggesting? Even more importantly, was it worth the embarrassment? Part of her wanted just to forget the whole idea, abandon having her portrait done, or at least find a different artist. But another, stronger voice urged her not to be such a coward, that she would always regret it if her courage failed her now. And after all, generations of schoolboys and girls had gone through exactly the same sort of things as he was suggesting without it killing them. She would have to grin and bear it just as they must have done.
She looked up at him and met his eyes. "Very well then, I agree."
"You'll pay the fee?" He looked mildly surprised but pleased as well.
Lucy nodded. "Yes, I'll pay exactly what you have proposed. But I want to talk about what I want first."
He smiled for the first time and pulled a notebook from his pocket. "Well, you've got more spirit than I had reckoned with, Lady Lucinda... so you had better tell me what you had in mind."
For the next twenty minutes they talked, Lucy describing her concept and Rob questioning her and making suggestions of his own. He scribbled a few final notes, then closed his book.
"Anything else you want to add?"
"No, I think that's about it."
He put the book back in his pocket. "Payment time then," he said simply.
Lucy felt herself flush. "What do you want me to do?" Anxious all of a sudden.
"Stand up," he said quietly but firmly.
Lucy stood, feeling her legs tremble as she did so.
"Come here."
She stepped over and stood at the side of his chair. She balled her hands into fists to try and hide the shaking.
"Lift the skirt of your dress."
She hesitated for a moment and then reached back to lift the hem of her skirt. She pulled it up, bunching the material into her hands.
"Now, over my knee."
Awkwardly, she bent forward. He took her arm and guided her across his lap. She reached forward to steady herself with her hands on the floor. It was a very strange position to be in, face down across a man's lap. She imagined she made a very incongruous sight with her skirt up around her waist and her knickers and stockings on full display.
"Stockings... very nice," he remarked.
"Thank you, sir," she said half-mockingly.
"And, 'Sir', I like that too; we'll stick with that in future. And the stockings too... you're to wear them every time."
Lucy groaned inwardly.
She felt his fingers go to the waistband of her knickers. She tensed. Slowly he started to ease them down, so slowly in fact, it was very teasing. Despite herself, Lucy began to feel the beginnings of sexual excitement. "Stop it," she told herself. That was the last thing she wanted to be showing right now. He pulled her knickers all the way down to her knees, and now Lucy could feel the air cool on the warm skin of her bottom.
She gave a little shiver as he ran his large hand over the curve of her cheeks. She wriggled a little under his touch. She had always liked having her bottom caressed, had always found it a turn on, and so now she desperately tried to think of anything but that sensation. Think of something boring, she told herself - football on the television, tax returns, accountants... her mind raced desperately as he continued to stroke her bottom.
Then suddenly all thoughts were driven from her mind as he lifted his hand and brought it smacking down hard. Lucy couldn't believe how much it stung. She gave a little cry of mingled shock and pain as he smacked her again.
He spanked her hard and fast for the first minute, alternate cheeks until Lucy felt like her bottom must be on fire. She wriggled and gasped and gave little sharp cries as his hand cracked down again and again.
Then he paused, and after a few seconds, began to spank her far more slowly. It almost felt like he was giving careful consideration to each and every smack: where exactly to make it land... exactly how hard it should be. For Lucy, this was almost worse than the initial torrent. This was a torture. She couldn't tell whether the next one would be hard or soft... whether it would land on an area that was already hot from the number of smacks it had taken or whether it would land on a new unmarked area of flesh. That was torture, but what was most torturous of all was how much it excited her. She didn't want to be aroused but she was, and she knew he would be aware of it too. She felt her face blaze almost as red as her bottom with the shame of it.
At the end of five minutes, she was allowed to stand. She got to her feet, trembling more than she had been before the spanking had started.
Rob smiled at her. "Well, Lucy? Still want me to come for the first sitting?"
She didn't trust herself to speak but simply nodded her head dumbly.
He chuckled at her discomfiture. "I'll let myself out then," he said. "See you on the 16th."
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