Jack Seagrove slunk back into the shadows and pulled the collar of his knee-length leather coat up around his neck in a forlorn hope of keeping off the rain. His dark shoulder-length hair hung in rats tails as it was and the second sneeze in as many minutes made him wonder if he wasn’t coming down with a cold.

He hated these trivial jobs, they were almost party games and far from the serious hits he dreamed of. Oh for something political, he sighed, but that wasn’t how the League worked.

Somewhere there was a bright flash above the clouds and a few seconds later God ripped the universe’s biggest sheet of paper with a long ripping tear. On second thoughts, maybe he is moving furniture, Jack thought as the ground shook.

Across the street a light went on and Jack guessed his mark was home. Oh well, someone was in for a memorable evening, he told himself.

*
Jenny Fielding almost mistook the knock at the door for thunder before shooting a glance at the clock.

“Who the hell is that?” she groaned.

She had been about to go to bed and an unconscious hand stole to her short blonde hair to scratch at a tiredness itch. Her lips made a ponderous kiss of the air as she yawned as she paused and then she hit the door cam.

“Who is that please?” she said wearily into the intercom.

“I have a birthday delivery for you,” Jack Seagrove said in a surly voice.

Maybe she wouldn’t open the door. With these low-grade jobs he didn’t have to gain entry and perhaps in a few minutes he could get on to his last job of the evening. The main event so to speak.

“Its not my birthday,” Jenny croaked, but she couldn’t resist no matter how many cats died of curiosity, so added, “Just a moment.”

For a second she thought about changing out of her pink pajamas, but what the hell? Maybe he was cute. The door opened and she saw that he was.

The man was slightly older than her, 30 at most, and tall. He leaned into the doorway to minimise his exposure to the heavy rain, but it made him look nonchalant and cool all the same. It took her minute to realise he didn’t have a package.

“Eh… wh-what is it?” she asked carelessly, still dazed by pre-midnight drowsiness.

Jack took half a step forward and reached into his pocket.

“Will you accept delivery?” he asked as he pulled something from his pocket.

“It’s a hairbrush,” she said in a voice hung between wonder and confusion.

Jack was standing in the hallway now and the door was slowly closing behind him. The moment he was in unchallenged then delivery was deemed as accepted. Although everyone knew that, no one ever thought it would happen to them and usually refused too late.

So it was with Jenny. For a long moment she was transfixed by puzzlement as she studied the hairbrush, then just as the door closed her mind snapped open and she realised what was going down.

“Oh shit,” she spat and made to run.

Jack did that irritating strolling thing where it looked like he wasn’t hurrying but even though she was close to a run he just ambled up behind her and took her by the arm.

“Who did it?” she spluttered, “I mean… look I-I…”

“Refuse?” Jack asked pointedly, “You can do that, if you pay the fee and cancellation charge.”

Jenny shook her head slowly, her body’s answer to a question she didn’t want to face. These League people were expensive and if someone wanted to send her a spank-o-gram then she was curious. Who the hell would do that? She thought about which friends would spring for that kind of prank or which client she had pissed off. If she cancelled then she would never know.

Jack was in a hurry so as this girl was all a splutter without actually kicking up a fuss he decided to act. It didn’t take much to pull her across his lap as he sat on a nearby couch and it was even easier to bare her bottom as the pink silk pajamas slid down to her knees.

“This comes courtesy of Janet Clayton,” Jack told her, “She opened an account just for you, so this might not be your only visit from the League.”

Jenny was mid-gasp at her sudden exposure when the bigger gape of revelation made her start. Janet was her biggest client and things had been getting sticky between them lately. There was no way she could get out from under Ms Clayton’s wrath she would just have to go with it.

“This doesn’t come with… trimmings does it?” Jenny asked nervously. She had heard that sometimes the League took pictures or made movies for the net. Then there was the risk of augmentations, cornertime… Jenny had even heard… her deliberations were shaken by the first heavy spank. The hairbursh of course, and it hurt like a bitch.

“Jeez,” she hissed and kicked her legs, “How… how many…?”

“Just get your head down and bottom up, you’re in for a lengthy ride,” Jack snarled, “The client wants some contrition.”

Jenny gasped as another spank slammed into her behind leaving it as if caressed wit a hot iron.

“Ooh,” she wailed, mortified that her bottom curved up in submission seemingly of its own accord.

Jack stole a glance at his watch and then focussed on the bottom in hand. It was definetly cute, in fact Jenny Fielding was just his type, pity they had to meet this way, he thought. But there was nothing for it now and remembering his training he flicked his wrist as he swept his arm down so that the flat of the hairbrush could really bite the rapidly reddening bare bottom.

“Aaaah,” she yelped, “Not so hard.”

“Not so…?” Jack spluttered, “I’ll give you not so hard,” and he spanked her again and again.

*

Jenny lay face down next to the couch in a puddle of sobs. She didn’t even hear Jack leave, God the man knew how to spank, she thought ruefully, but it wasn’t an idea she could have expressed just then, she was all-in with all her breathing energy reserved for a good cry.

Well if Janet Clayton wanted one up on her then she would be sure to message a thank you and add an apology for screwing up. Maybe with flowers, Jenny wiped a sheen of tears from her smiling face.

“The customer is always right,” Jenny said aloud and then regretted the rash movement.

God did the woman really have an account for her? Was there going to me more of this? But instead of horror she thought about Jack Seagrove and his smouldering dark eyes as he leaned against her door jam when he arrived.

Her upper teeth found her lower lip as she turned over an idea in her mind.
*
Jilly Rodean had been on the phone for an hour. She had already made her mind up from the outset that she wasn’t going to do another movie for these people, but she loved to hear the Jensons squirm. First Billie and then her husband, all polite and oh so reasonable. So what if they might go bust, so what if she promised, Jilly Rodean did what she wanted.

“Bored now,” she drawled as a sudden parting shot and put down the receiver.

It was late and but that didn’t stop Jilly from checking out every last aspect of her perfect face in the mirror and every lucious curve. Her long raven hair hung down like jet silk, the colour just holding enough brown to match her eyes with a natural taste.

She paused too to take in the balance between her ample bust and her hips that described an almost perfect circle from front to back.

“Lovely,” she said breathily to the goddess in the glass.

Then she saw something else. Whirling around with a bitchy smile she confronted the young man sitting at her vanity table.

“Not today thank you,” she said as a casually as a script.

“But you don’t know what I am selling,” Jack said easily, matching her apparent mood.

Jilly let one eyebrow rise as she considered this. The boy was cute enough maybe he was here on a different errand to the one she had thought.

“So you’re not from the League,” she purred.

Jack smiled and folded his arms.

“Oh yes,” he countered.

Jilly frowned and a nasty look crossed her face as if she had stepped in something.

“Then you can leave,” Jilly sneered.

As she spoke she reached for the debit card to pay him off.

“I know, you want to cancel,” Jack sighed, “Phillips anticipated that, he said to tell you to forget about Knossos if you backed out. Whatever that means,” Jack added quickly lest it complicate things, “Also there is a reserve of a million on this job.”

Jilly gaped, her usual entitlement draped cool evapourating like fog in a gale.

“Listen, you tell Phillips,” she began, but she sounded strained and nervous.

Jack put up a hand and shook his head.

“I am just here on a job. I don’t even know Phillips and I won’t be passing on messages. This is all between you and him,” he said.

“Look a million is a bit steep…” Jilly licked her lips, “And anyway I really need this Knossos deal… couldn’t you handle 10 thou and tell him I went through with it?”

Jack had heard it all before. She just wasn’t listening. Besides, everyone knew you couldn’t buy off the League.

“I need you to strip down to your underwear, no panties,” he added, “Then I want you to go and stand in the corner with your famous and fabulous bare bottom facing the room.”

Jilly gulped and eyed the door.

“Go ahead, I am not going to chase you,” Jack sighed and glanced at his watch. “This is strictly a consent deal between you and Phillips, but if you don’t want to back out then do exactly as I say.”

“Okay, okay,” Jilly whined, “But look you’re… you’re just a kid, no offence, it’s embarassing, tell Phillips…”

“Your bedroom, panties off, nose in the corner,” Jack cut her off sharply, “You’re call.”

*

Jilly sucked in her lips with a sour expression, although being turned in to face the wall he would not see it. She hadn’t blushed in years and this red-faced surrender was as much to do with anger as anything. She knew the young man was watching and she hadn’t yet decided how to play it. Maybe she would toy with him and make it a game.

She hadn’t only undressed she had put on her best black silk stocking and suspender set with matching bra. She knew the ensemble showed off her epic curves to distracting effect and that she was every inch the diva. Look but do not touch Phillips, she cursed bitterly, but it was a small consolation.

“That will do,” Jack said. Any longer and I’ll explode in my trousers, he thought, this woman was something else and way out of his league. “You have another choice to make.”

Jilly didn’t move, but gave Jack a pointed look over her shoulder.

“Over my knee for a long hand-spanking like a kid,” Jack began, “And I warn you this option requires another post-spanking corner time stint with a nice soulful picture for Philllips…”

“Or?” Jilly asked tartly, thinking ‘I’ll take it.’

“If you let me secure you face down on the bed for something rather harsher there is no need for a record,” Jack told her.

“Will it hurt?” Jilly asked sarcastically.

“They both will I assure you, frankly I would take the spanking,” Jack replied honestly.

Jilly heard him and nodded. “What will you use?” she asked, steeling herself for the worst.

“Phillips said you have a thin riding switch,” Jack shrugged.

Jilly winced. She had felt it before, many times. Her first mentor had used it often when she was a rising starlet, she had sworn that she would never submit to it again. Phillips had a memory like an elephant.

“I guess someone wants to remind me where I came from,” Jilly sighed.

“Is Knossos so important?” Jack asked, taking her by surprise, “I know you can afford the million, whatever you say. Anyway, you could always take a spanking. I would make sure your face didn’t show.”

Damn this man, this boy a decade younger than her, damn his kindess. He didn’t understand. Phillips was pitching pride against pride here.

“Knossos will be the pinnacle of my career,” Jilly whispered, “But Phillips thinks it requires more humility from an actress. He says I am not right for it.”

Jack knew where the whip was kept and while Jilly seemed to weigh up her options he went to fetch it from the wardrobe. It was a short enough hike across the palace bedroom. Looking back for another stomach tightening glimpse of her figure he said,”It sounds like this Phillips loves his mind games.”

“Phillips loves me and he is a genius.” Jilly felt small and vulnerable again; like back when she started out.

“What’s your pleasure?” Jack asked returning with the riding crop.

“Phillips wants me humbled,” she shrugged, “But the spanking and corner time option will amuse him. No, you lay it on and I might just prove my commitment.”

Jilly knelt on the bed and crawled slinkily with her bottom sticking in the air.

“Oh I will,” Jack answered her as she made herself comfortable.

Jack secured her quickly and with no fuss before taking up the crop and caressing her tail with it lightly.

“By the way,” Jack told her, “Your safe word is ‘cornertime.’ You know what that means.”

“A goddamn picture,” Jilly spat, “That bastard gives me an out so that he wins both ways.”

“You could always back out,” Jack chuckled.

“No frigging way,” Jilly sneered.

The whip sang and cut her off.

“Yeeeeefffffffffffffffffooookinghellllllllllllllllllllllllll!!” Jilly screeched.

The tight line of red pain was the perfect counter point to her split white rounds.

Then Jack lay on another just below it.

“Ummmmmm,” Jilly grunted, her eyes clamped shut. “I knew I should have taken the goddman spanking.”

“Perhaps you will,” Jack shrugged and added another stroke.

Jilly struggled to breath as she opened her mouth to form the question, “H-how how many?”

“As many as I can, and as hard as I can,” Jack told her, “With a bottom like yours there is plenty of room and the switch is very, very thin,” he shrugged, “And I am very good. But on the bright side League rules say that I can only cross the strokes up to six times.”

Jilly shrieked as he swiped her again right on the under curve of her bottom near her thigh tops. In terms of area Jack doubted he had stung more than a 20th of her skin and there was always the possibility of a stroke on stroke if he was exact and didn’t cross them. She would get somewhere between 80 and a 100 strokes he figured. After all it was only a very light switch.

But the actress was already gently crying and her body was sheened with sweat. Jack reckoned she would opt for a spanking and the corner time somewhere between 40 and 50.

“Phillips you bastard, you goddamned bastard,” Jilly sobbed as Jack sliced another line of pain.

*

The rain hadn’t let up and Jack eyed the heavy leaden post-midnight sky with a sigh. Somewhere upstairs Jilly was still sobbing in the corner miserable in the knowledge that Phillips now had a messaged HD graphic of a very sorry movie legend nose to the corner with a soundly hand-spanked bare bottom on top of 78 welty ridges. She had so nearly made it, what a woman.

But bed awaited him, that’s if he could sleep. His not so little friend was still very much at attention. Strangely it was Jenny Fileding he was mostly thinking of. Then his bleeper went and he checked the incoming message.

“Jack,” the girl at control whispered from his wrist, “One more job, it’s on your way home.”

*

Jack was cursing the woman all the way to her house before he realised. The client, it was Jenny Fielding. But that was impossible, twice in one night? His eyes narrowed as he hit the buzzer.

“Oh God not you again,” Jenny said from the faceplate, but the door was already opening.

“Who did you piss off this time?” Jack asked.

“No one,” Jenny said seductively, “But you forgot to put me in the corner and anyway the hairbrush you left has got cold.”

Jack folded his arms and frowned.

“You said Janet had opened me an account,” she smirked suggestively and rolled her shoulder in a half-shrug. “Next time they might send someone else.”

“You know this isn’t a game don’t you?” Jack said sternly as he advanced towards her.

“I’m counting on it,” Jenny said huskily.

“Little girl, I know techniques that will ensure that you won’t sit down for a month and that’s no figure of speak,” Jack growled.

Jenny felt a little fear tighten in her chest, that and something else. She turned an fled with a half-panicked wail. But it didn’t matter, Jack strolled after her and she had nowhere to run.