The Audi hit yet another line of cars and Kimberly slowed to a stop. Usually such delays pissed her off but today the conversation was far too interesting and the 36-year-old blonde cast a smirk at her passenger sitting alongside.

Clarice tugged furiously at a stray red hair and glowered at the new hold-up. She and Kimberly had been at school together and told each other almost everything and that was the trouble. Now she wished she hadn’t.

“Oh Jesus, not again,” she groaned at the cars ahead.

“Don’t change the subject,” Kimberly smirked.

“Look, forget I said anything, it’s not a big deal,” Clarice said sullenly and pouted.

“I think we both know it is,” Kimberly giggled, “How long have you wanted a spanking anyway?”

“I don’t want a spanking, it’s not like that,” Clarice said irritably, “You make me sound as if I’m some wide-eyed kid and haven’t… you know. It’s just that’s it’s been a while and… well you know.”

Actually Kimberly did and a smile tickled her lips as she returned some brief attention to the traffic.

“What do you mean, don’t want a spanking? I thought you did?” Kimberly said innocently.

Clarice sighed and pulled a strand of red down to her nose as she had as a child. A then let out a long slow breath.

“Before, you know, when you know you are going to get a spanking or whatever… then you’re scared and excited all at the same time. It’s good to fight it, especially when you know it won’t save you,” she said with a studied purse of her lips. “Afterwards it feels… oh I don’t know, like a cleansing or a release. The sting makes you feel alive and… well kind of sexy, you know. Its liberating, you can do anything, anything you’re told, sexually I mean and its completely free from guilt.”

“So you do like getting spanked?” Kimberly replied distractedly as she shifted to first as the cars in front began to move.

“No,” Clarice said emphatically, “No at the time I would do anything to make it stop, you know, it hurts.”

Kimberly thought about her own experience, among some of the things she hadn’t always told Clarice and smiled knowingly.

At 24 while with a group at dinner she had met a friend of a friend, a man more than 20 years older than her. He had been ruggedly handsome with thick dark hair with white at his temples. She remembered he smelled lightly of musk. His firm friendly manner had charmed her and she had spent most of the night being variously cheeky and girlish with a vague idea about provoking him.

“Are you going my way?” she had asked him at the end of the evening.

“What after the way you have been behaving all night?” he had teased.

“Maybe you could do something about that,” she had teased back.

One thing had led to another and back at her flat she had found herself with a bare bottom in his lap and getting a respectable spanking. She had delighted in the vocal protest and not a little begging, but as the spanking was rather moderate by her standards gratifyingly with no let up. Finally she had said she would do anything.

Anything had included the predictable fellatio and then something else. That night she had lost her last virginity after he had taken her to the bathroom and in the midst of a sexy shower had skewered her bottom hole after lubricating her with baby shampoo.

“We could try that again if you want,” she had later invited him huskily.

“What the spanking or the buggery?” he had challenged her.

“Both if you like,” she had giggled.

The second spanking had been rather more challenging than the first but the rewards had been sharply pleasant. Then for some reason she had bit him. Fearing she had gone too far, she quickly fetched a bath brush and told him he could make her cry if he wanted. He had.

The spanking had been the fiercest she had ever had and she had genuinely bawled for mercy long before he had let up.

“Are you going to be a good girl now?” he had demanded.

“Yes Sir,” she had sobbed.

Oh she knew what Clarice meant. It had been hell on her backside and she had suffered for over week afterwards, but clinging to a man in the immediate aftermath was a fiery cleansing joy.

She had sucked him then, this time with genuine enthusiasm while the last of her tears had dripped down her chin and off his balls. The relocation of his cock to her arse before he had come had been a surprise and had driven her wild. She hadn’t even minded when he again switched targets.

“You really are a wild one aren’t you, he had said in the small hours when they were spent?” He had been grinning.

“Care for round four?” she had smiled back handing him the brush. More than just bravado when your bottom hadn’t decided between burgundy or purple for a permanent hue.

“I could spank you sure, but maybe not much else,” he had gasped in amazement.

She had enjoyed the power of it.

“Spank me then, properly this time, and then I’ll leave it to you what you can manage. I dare you,” she had urged him.

She had been terrified and fit to burst with the thought of it, but he had obliged. But she had had too much adrenaline to surrender to tears that time. Nevertheless the final fuck had been epic.

“What are you smiling about?” Clarice asked suddenly cutting into Kimberly’s thoughts.

“I’ll tell you what, I know some people,” Kimberly said enigmatically, “Let me arrange a little bit of fun.”

*

Clarice was nervous. She hadn’t been keen on Kimberly’s idea in the first place; she was more of a relationship girl. Give her a man with a firm hand and healthy dose of feigned reluctance and she was in her element. But Kimberly liked parties and role play and… she sighed, well they were here now and she supposed it might be fun.

The building looked like a garage or warehouse, with high pebble-dashed walls and no apparent windows. There was a new Aston Martin in the lane and small red two-seater sports car to die for. The latter belonged to a cool looking woman in her 30s with Ray Bans in her hair and a sour look of aloof disdain on her face. Clarice would have loved to dismiss her as a tart, but the woman was expensively dressed and had spray-on denims to reveal legs to die for and Clarice knew it was just envy.

“Get her,” she whispered, irritated that the woman hadn’t even glance at them.

“Come on,” Kimberly said gently.

“What are they, you know, going to do?” Clarice asked in a voice of excited terror.

“Someone is going to spank your bottom,” Kimberly replied in an amused voice.

“I don’t mean that, I mean… you know, how does it all work?” Clarice was blushing.

But Kimberly only winked and smiled enigmatically.

They followed the woman from the red car into an industrial reception, but she had already disappeared. Instead they were faced with a smiley frumpy woman in her 50s who greeted them with an encouragement.

“Just tell me your numbers girls,” she said, her voice was husky and she spoke with a South London accent.

Kimberly put two pink slips of paper on the counter and smiled back warmly. Clarice knew the look that tightened at her friend’s eyes, she was nervous too.

“Clary and Kim, how nice,” the woman smiled again, “Just sign here and… take this. Then just go through to the room number on the card.”

Clarice shot a bitter glance at Kimberly, annoyed at the lame alias she had given. Very subtle, her eye roll said sarcastically. But she took the stiff lemon coloured card and examined it. It had her name and the number on one side and the words Atomic Brickbat on the other.

“What’s this mean?” she asked.

“It’s your safe word,” the woman said pointing otherwise silently down the passage to some anonymous doors.

“Mine’s the same, it’s to keep it simple,” Kimberly reassured her.

“Oh God,” Clarice groaned, “I don’t know that I’m…”

“What’s the safe word?” Kimberly said sharply.

“Atomic brickbat,” Clarice shot back without looking at the card.

“Remember that and have fun,” Kimberly said shoving Clarice ahead of her.

*

Clarice was alone and naked but for a hospital gown-like affair. The room was cold and the leather padded bench even colder. The man and the woman had been brusque to the point of rudeness and made strip without the least ceremony. The menace was exciting, she thought.

She had been told the prison rules were strict, but not what they were. It was the first she knew of the scenario, but it had been one of those discussed with Kimberly. Christ this is really going to happen.

Beyond the one door was the sound of anguish and other shouts completely compatible with the prison story and she shuddered. Too real, she thought. But she didn’t have long to dwell on it.

The door opened and the man returned and barked angrily that she should stand up.

“I hate trouble makers,” he snarled, “And didn’t I tell you to stand-up, so stand-up straight,” he yelled, even though Clarice was already standing.

He was tall and handsome, but with a theatrical sinister aspect. He wore thick black non-descript trousers and sweat top, with leather boots and a thick leather belt.

“Yes Sir,” she squeaked, genuinely too scared to say anything else.

Later she would learn that Kimberly usually gave the gaoler some attitude or even openly rebelled, but Clarice was too caught up in the moment.

“Yes Sir,” he mimicked in a stern voice, “I’ll give you yes Sir, get in here.”

Here, was a larger warmer room with another padded bench at one end, some kind of frame in the middle, and a huge rack of paddles, canes, whips and assorted birch rods.

“Look, there’s… you know, there’s been a mistake,” she gabbled, her eyes hanging wide as she backed away from him.

“Yes and you made it,” he snapped.

But he waited then, watching and listening as if considering something. Clarice was terrified.

“Right then, come here,” he said at last and hauled her over to the bench.

She wasn’t surprised when he sat down and tossed her across his lap. Nor that he completely bared her bottom.

The spanking started out soft and rapidly built up to a generous onslaught that left her panting and somewhat damp. A situation he noticed, if only by the faint smell, for he pinched her and said in chuckling voice, “You’re enjoying this, tsk tsk, I brought you here for punishment,” as he let her get up.

Clarice blushed and clamped her hands over her thinly veiled front. Then she watched in some anguish as he went to the rack to take up a short leather paddle.

“What are you going to do?” she said nervously.

The next spanking was tougher and she struggled. So much so that at one point he gruffly asked, “You remember the two words?”

“No, what…?” she panted, and then remembered the card. Not that she believed it would make a difference, he was definitely in control. “Oh yes,” she blurted, although for a second she couldn’t recall what they were.

The spanking continued with bite until little by little small tears pooled in her eyes and she made mewling sounds. However, she didn’t actually cry for real until he had finished, but by then she hoarse with yelling and gasping for breath. Her bottom was none too good either. It throbbed and burned so that she could scarce tell that the spanking had finished.

Atomic brickbat, she remembered at last, not that she had put much effort in to recall it earlier. Well it was too late now, she thought as he led her to the corner.

“You can stay there,” he ordered, “Don’t cover your bottom and face the other way, do you hear me?”

Her bottom burned with contact with the air and she was shaking with a surge of conflicted emotions. Never had it been this intense.

“Have you ever felt the strap or the cane?” he asked darkly.

“The strap Sir,” she told him. It was true; she had once been punished with a belt.

“You have another hour before the shift change,” he said with a hard authority. “You can stay there until then or we can make a start to get it over with.”

“Start what Sir,” she let panic touch her voice. What was happening now?

“Your punishment,” he said.

Her heart flipped. She had already been spanked, but… she felt faint.

“Can’t we, you know, get it over with?” she found herself saying, while in her head she repeated atomic brickbat, atomic brickbat…

The belts that secured her to the frame in the middle of the room weren’t that tight and if she had been left to her own devices she might have easily escaped. But he didn’t leave her nor give her time to test her bonds. Instead once she was bare bottom upwards on the frame he took up a thick leather strap with a split down the middle.

“I am going to give you eight,” he told her, “And then another eight. We’ll find out what you are made of.”

*

As she made her way back to the reception Clarice wondered if she was ever going to sit down again. Every step was a torment and fiery bees assailed both bottom cheeks all the way down to mid-thigh every time she took a step. Nothing had prepared her for such a harsh and genuine experience and yet she was amazed that she had barely thought about the safe word now etched on her mind.

It was a long slow walk back to the entrance and she made progress only through gritted teeth.

“You made it then?” Kimberly said in a rueful voice as Clarice emerged from the passage way.

“Yes,” she hissed with a wince, taking a moment to pause in her step.

She noticed that Kimberly looked decidedly uncomfortable and was standing with an awkward stance.

“I wasn’t sure,” she said almost regretfully, “I thought… I thought we could probably both use something to really clear the cobwebs away.”

“I usually just need… you know,” Clarice replied with a tight smile.

“I know but…” having taken a step forward she sudden widened her eyes as made to clutch her behind. “Jesus, I almost used that damn phrase twice. You?”

Clarice smiled more warmly and shook her head. “I didn’t even think of it.”

“Shit, you don’t mean…?” Kimberly was suddenly horrified.

“No, its fine, you’re right. I didn’t forget it, I just didn’t think of it… you know, I was just caught up in it all.” Clarice laughed.

Kimberly sighed and nodded. “Oh, I know. Next time we will explore a gentler scenario.”

“Hmmm,” Clarice replied.

“Oh, yeah, not your thing this,” and Kimberly pulled a face.

“No… it’s just, maybe once a month something like this is, you know, about right. I’d rather do the Mr Right thing when I… you know, find Mr Right,” she winked.

“Oh God, I’ve created a monster,” Kimberly giggled.

“Yeah, that and something else,” Clarice added pensively, “A big problem.”

“What’s that?” Kimberly asked without concern.

“I don’t think I can sit down, how are we going to get home?” Clarice winced for emphasis.

“Standing up on the bus I should think,” Kimberly giggled, “We can get the car tomorrow.”

“Or next week,” her friend said ruefully.

“Or next month…” And they giggled.