Well. Jack is beginning to get the idea behind the late Uncle Cy’s method of dealing with his many lady friends, and so far they’ve taught him a thing or two. It remains to be seen if he can solve the mystery, and more importantly, apply it to his own circumstances.
[Photos by Firmhandspanking.com, Nu-Westleda.com, Janus, others unknown]
On the plane back to Seattle Jack contemplated the depth of his dilemma. Either one could be Rose Red. What the hell? Did all of Cyrus’ girlfriends get off on having their behinds spanked to a rosy red? Well, there was one more on the list and for this one he’d have to travel. But not too far.
But, he wanted to see Molly first. Cyrus’ sexpot girlfriends were one thing, but Jack actually had things in common with Molly. And the more he saw of her, the more he liked her. If it wasn’t for that annoying habit of hers of being so damn late for everything. This time she kept him waiting for the theater. He had prime seats to see “Wicked”, which she’d been excited about, and then hadn’t showed up until after the first act was well under way. Her hair, she said. She had to do her hair. Jack did a slow burn. Maybe a little of the Uncle Cy treatment was what this girl needed too, he thought.
But a week later he was headed for Boise, Idaho and Carol Mae Ritter. Carol Mae owned a ranch up toward McCall in the foothills of the mountains. Jack pulled up to the ranch house in a rented Jeep and was greeted by a buxom honey blonde in tight fitting jeans.
“It was so sad about Cyrus,” said Carol Mae as they sat on the porch of the ranch house. It was a Sunday and they were alone. “How I loved that man,” she sighed.
“Well, we are trying to locate someone mentioned in his will, like I said over the phone,” said Jack.
“So how can I help?”
“Well, the person in question was, um, intimate with my Uncle Cy.”
Carol Mae laughed. “Well, honey, you haven’t eliminated much of the female population if that’s your best clue.”
“It has to do with the nature of their intimacy,” said Jack.
“Uh-hunh,” said Carol Mae. “Well, I can tell you this. Ours was stormy. I was a jealous thing. I wanted to marry Cy. Let me tell you, I used to throw fits—after I’d finished throwing the pots and pans, that is. I was a regular she-devil. But Cyrus, he didn’t put up with that, no sir. He put me in my place right quick. In fact the last thing he said was that he owed me a good lesson for a little tantrum I pulled. It was a big charity ball in Seattle. I embarrassed him by throwing a hissy fit. So he said I was down for good session in the woodshed.”
Jack observed that she was wiping tears from her eyes.
“Afterwards I felt so bad about it. I wish he had lived long enough to take me out to the woodshed, I really do.”
“Yes,” said Carol Mae. “A real one. Want to see?”
She led the way. Jack had to admire the sway of her hips and the shapely seat clad in the skin tight jeans.
“Here it is,” she said.
They had entered a small outbuilding set back about forty feet from the rear of the ranch house. Inside was a stacked cord of wood and a broad stump with an ax in it. There was also a sawhorse with a blanket on it. And as he looked around, Jack’s eye fell on a short leather strap hung on a nail on the wall.
“Cyrus believed in ceremony, and when I’d earned a tanning, he’d escort me right out here.” She went over to the wall and unhooked the strap. “This is what he used to light a fire in my butt,” she said. “He knew what I needed, that man did. I sometimes think that it kept me grounded, you know?”
Jack nodded sympathetically. He was beginning to understand his uncle.
“I think sometimes I acted the way I did just so he would whip my behind. I’d cry. We’d make love and it would be all right. No other man treated me like that. No one cared enough to.”
“Will you miss that attention?” asked Jack.
“I’m sure I will,” she said. And then her face took on a determined look, like she’d made her mind up about something. “But, seeing as how you are Cy’s nephew and his executor, I think you have a final duty to perform for Cy. I told you how bad I felt about that ball in Seattle and Cy’s promise.” She handed him the strap. “Well, I think you know what I need.”
Jack’s eyebrows shot up as Carol Mae turned and faced the sawhorse. She unhooked her jeans and, doing a little shimmy, she worked them down over her hips. The voluptuous moons of her bottom, clad in abbreviated panties literally popped into Jack’s view. He whistled silently to himself as she laid across the top of the sawhorse thrusting her buttocks out for Jack’s attention. Jack moved up behind her and grasping the waistband of her panties, tugged them down to mid thigh.
“Oooh,” she said. “You are your uncle’s nephew.” In a soft voice she said, “Are you going to tan me good?”
“I’m giving you twenty-five licks, Carol Mae.” Jack had no idea, but twenty-five seemed reasonable. “Now, you hold still and take this strapping. You know you deserve it.” Jack felt like he must be channeling his uncle.
“Oh, yes sir,” said Carol Mae in a breathless voice.
Jack doubled the strap and stood to her left. Her legs seemed to tremble a bit and she gripped the crossbar on the horse tight. He pulled the strap through his fingers, pulled back it back to his shoulder.
He swung it in a flat arc. The strap whistled then splatted loudly on Carol Mae’s buttocks. A red band appeared.
“Ow!” she cried.
Jack drew back again and delivered another lick. Swish…thwack! “Ow…oh!” Carol Mae whimpered, lifting one leg. Jack saw another red stripe appear on the pale flesh.
Jack found a rhythm, drawing back and applying licks at a rate of about one every five seconds. He was careful to line them up and swing true so as to hit between the crowns of her buttocks or the soft overhang above her thighs. The splats of the strap and Carol Mae’s soft cries reverberated in the confines of the woodshed for the next several minutes. She did not try to avoid her strapping, Jack observed, but she was not quiet or stoic about it either. The strap cracked down, laying stripes across the wobbling globes of her full bottom cheeks. Carol Mae shifted and bobbed, her curvy fanny dancing to the stinging tune of the strap while she yelped in distress.
It was a sexy performance, and Jack was as aroused as he had been by any of the others. He took his time. No need to rush it, he thought. Give her the full measure of what she so obviously needed and wanted.
He counted out twenty-five and then told her to get up. She turned and rubbed her bottom, bending at the knees, her mouth wide open in a big “O”.
“Oooh….oohhh,” she moaned. “Whew! You really lit me up, Jack. Just like your uncle used to do.” She licked her lips. “But I needed that.”
She kicked off her jeans and took Jack by the hand. “Come with me,” she said, leading him into the house. “Now I need something else.”
It was yet another long afternoon for Jack.
“So,” said Molly. “I’m dying to hear. Who is Rose Red?” They were at the law office in a conference room.
“I don’t know,” said Jack. “Any of them. All of them. Hell, I don’t know.” Once again, he omitted certain key details of his meetings with the women.
“Just what did they say when you asked?”
“They had no idea,” said Jack. Of course it would not have mattered, it had been a nickname private to Uncle Cy.
“The ninety days runs this week. The scroll will be released from escrow,” said Molly. “Do you want to view it here?”
“No,” said Jack. “Send it to my apartment.”
“Are we going out this weekend?” asked Molly. She was excited to see Jack again. She realized she was falling for this guy and was anxious to move things along. And she had never been shy about expressing her feelings.
“I’ll call you,” he promised.
The scroll arrived exactly ninety days after probate had begun. He slipped the red ribbon off and unrolled it. It appeared to be a codicil as Molly had suspected. The codicil revoked the gift to Rose Red and instead gave $250,000 to each of three women, Mindy Halton, Magda Belinsky, and Carol Mae Ritter. And it gave the “rest and residue of my estate to my nephew, Jackson T. Gordon.”
Jack was now a rich man.
Then he noticed that there was a note rolled up inside. It said:
“Jack—the money from my estate will be welcome I’m sure, but my real gift to you is all the Rose Reds and the lessons that I truly hope they has taught you. As you have by now, surely figured out, they were all Rose Red. Each was grateful, in her own way, for my attention to her needs, once I took the upper hand like I told you. So take those lessons to heart. I have a feeling you are going to need them.
Your favorite uncle,
Jack looked at his watch. Late again. She was late again. He was making dinner for her at his new deluxe condo apartment. Well, he’d warned her. “Do you know what happens to schoolgirls who get four tardy slips in a term?” He’d said it half in jest on their last date— when she’d kept him waiting for over an hour. But she’d said no, wondering where this was going. “They get their little behinds paddled, that’s what.” Her eyes had widened at the implication of that, and she’d sputtered that he wouldn’t dare. At the same time Jack had noticed that she’d blushed and squirmed a bit, and had appeared flustered. Well, here she was, forty-five minutes overdue.
Later tonight, after dinner, he decided, it would be time to take Uncle Cy’s advice to heart.
Molly stared at the corner, her dress held up to her waist and her bare bottom on display. It throbbed with a hot glow. How could this be happening? Dinner had been wonderful – a delicious meal prepared by Jack and shared by candlelight along with a nice wine. Jack was charming. It all seemed perfect. She’d made up her mind—yes, this would be the night. Romance and seduction were in the air and she was more than ready.
Okay, she had been forty-five minutes late, but so what? Okay, he had warned her about that, but so what? The “so what” had come crashing down on her, in the form of a juvenile spanking. A spanking! At her age. She thought he’d been kidding. He smiled as he wagged his finger at her and told her what a naughty girl she’d been. She tried to laugh it off, but then before she knew what was happening, she was over Jack’s knee with her dress hiked up and her panties fluttering around her knees. Outrageous! Jack’s palm rested on her bare bottom as he scolded her for being willfully late. Again.
The worst thing was, she was embarrassed and shocked, but also intensely aroused. Oh, she’d protested with the usual “you wouldn’t dare” type of threats as he led her by the hand to the couch. But a part of her was thrilled by the way he took her in hand. Had she been deliberately provocative? The thrill intensified with the first smack. It landed crisply on her bare fanny sending a shock wave through her core. Then another spank landed, then another. It stung but her nipples got hard and she felt distinctly slippery down below.
Her behind heated up as a flurry of hand spanks peppered her bottom. It tingled and it stung, but it also made her horny. For a minute or two the sound of sharp staccato smacks filled the room, delivering the message that Jack was indeed serious. It lasted just long enough to make her feel like a thoroughly chastened girl, but not so long as to seriously hurt. Afterwards she was led to the corner to await Jack’s further attentions.
Behind her she heard the rustle of clothing. A zipper unzipping. A shucking sound like trousers dropping. What was he doing? She felt arms wrap around her. Lips found her neck. Something hard nestled in the crack of her buttocks as a hard male body pressed against her from behind.
“Are you ready to be a good girl, Molly?” he asked.
She twisted around to face him. Looked down. Oh yeah, she was more than ready. No question that he was.
He led her back to the couch, this time for activities of a much more pleasurable nature for the latest “Rose Red.”