Fox and Hounds

                      Fox and Hounds,  a Novella

Copyright 2000, Rollin Hand. This story is for adults only. It contains sex,
BDSM, spanking and related themes not suitable for those under 18.

                       FOX AND HOUNDS PT 1                                

"Drat!" said Cindy as she flipped through her mail. Bills, bills, and more
bills. And the money was running out. Where was Rudy, her damn agent? Not a call
in 3 weeks. Every time she called him it was allways "things will open up soon;
or, there is a new show starting and I know the producer". But nothing ever came
of it. Cindy knew in her heart she was a first class dancer and a good actress.
She kept up with her study at the Midtown dance studio and worked out
religiously. It showed. Cindy was a honey-haired blonde, 5' 5" , her 120 lbs
distributed in all the right places. She had well sculpted dancer's legs and
smallish but well formed breasts, creamy skin and a pert heart-shaped ass that 
wiggled deliciously in the short skirts and tight slacks that she favored.

She knew she had to find something soon or she would have to slink home to Texas
and admit defeat. They would all say "I told you so", like she wasn't tough
enough for the Big Apple. Well she would show them! Even if it took dancing as a
stripper in some sleazy club, she would survive. She was tough enough, dammit!

She was still building up a nice head of steam about small town minds when  she
noticed the blinking message light on the phone. She hit the play button. Like a
gift from the gods, Rudy Bannerman's thick Brooklynese emanated from the message
machine!

"Sorry its been a while, kid, but hey ,I may have something for ya. It's only a
weekend gig but it pays well. I don't know much about it, myself, but do
yourself a favor and call a Mr Arcado at 456-9008. He's the one with all the
details. Good luck!"

Great! Finally, a possible job. She wasted no time and dialed the number. A
gentleman answered. He sounded cultured, and spoke formal and correct English
with a European accent. She couldn't place it. Spanish perhaps?

"Uh, Mr Arcado? This is Cindy Morgan. My agent, Mr Bannerman gave me your
number."

"Ahh...yes, Ms Morgan. I am so glad you called. Rudy spoke very highly of you.
Yes, we may have need of your talents. Let me explain briefly and then if you
are interested we can meet and I will describe this situation in more detail."

"Yes..er..that would be fine".

"Good. I represent a company called Fantasies Unlimited. We own resort property
all over the world, and we have a resort in the Carolinas. It's a hotel situated
on a 2000 acre preserve. We would like to fly you to our resort for a weekend to
have you participate in a game, an athletic contest of sorts, a fantasy that we
have prepared for some very wealthy patrons of ours."

A game? What was this?

"What sort of game, Mr Arcado? I'm a dancer and an actress, not an athlete."

"But you are an athlete, Ms Morgan. You are a dancer in tip top condition. You
work out and run regularly, and you played varsity tennis in high school."

How did he know all that, thought Cindy?

"You seem to know a lot about me, Mr Arcado."

"We have done our homework, Ms Morgan. Let me be blunt. We would like to engage
you, and we are prepared to pay you 10000 dollars for one weekend of work."

Whaaaat? Thought Cindy, $10000?? That was more than she would see in 3 months!

"Are you serious?" Cindy blurted, still not believing.

"I am very serious Ms Morgan. If you wish to know more about this opportunity, 
I would like for you meet me in the lounge of the Ritz-Carlton, tonight. I
apologize but our time frame is rather short."

"Yes...yes...I am very interested. What time?"

"Meet me at 9:00. I'll have a table."

"How will I know you?"

"I'll know you, Ms Morgan."

*********************
Cindy entered the lounge of the Ritz-Carlton at 9. She did not want to be late.
She wore a cocktail dress, having decided to go for understated elegance. It was
a short little black dress that displayed her lithe body to perfection. As she
walked in and looked around, she saw a tall distinguished looking man in an
expensive suit rise from his table and approach her, smiling. He was tanned and
had a thin moustache, his hair graying at the temples. He looked to be in his
late 40's.

"Ms Morgan, it's a pleasure," he said, extending his hand, "Thank you for
coming. I'm Alex Arcado. Please sit down."

"Thank you, Mr Arcado," said Cindy, smiling as he pulled out a chair for her to
sit.

"What will you have to drink?"

"Thank you, I think a white wine, Mr Arcado."

They chatted pleasantly, killing time until the drinks arrived. Arcado was an
international traveller, Cindy learned, and a charming host. He asked her about
her career and seemed genuinely interested in her experiences in the New York
theatre scene. She had started in on her recent difficulty finding work when
Arcado interjected.

"That's where we may be of some service, Ms Morgan. As I mentioned, this job
pays $10000 for one weekend."

"It sounds so mysterious, Mr Arcado. Why me and what do I have to do?"

"Let me explain. Fantasies Unlimited is in the business of setting up and
facilitating fantasy adventures. We cater to a select and extremely wealthy
clientele. The resort property in the Carolinas used to be a game preserve for
hunters. We have turned it into a game preserve of a different sort. We use it
to play a very sophisticated game of fox and hounds, or if you prefer,
hide-and-go-seek. When we set up a weekend adventure like this, about 100 guests
arrive on a Friday, along with the "foxes" who will be hunted. On Saturday the
game begins. Six young women such as yourself are the foxes, the guests are the
hounds. You are transported to remote areas of the estate and are given an hour
head start. The "hounds" if you will, wait one hour and then set out to find and
capture you. If you evade capture until 4pm when the siren sounds, you have won.
If you are captured, well, you are captured."

Wow! How bizzarre! I guess it's true, she thought, the rich are not like the
rest of us.

"It sounds so simple. A game of chase in the woods. And you will pay me $10,000
to play? What's the catch?"


"These are very wealthy and sophisticated individuals, Ms Morgan. Thrill seekers
I may say, and in order to make things more exciting for all, the game has been,
well... spiced up a bit. You see, if you are captured there is a forfeit to be
paid. Whether you are captured or not you still get the $10,000, but the
possibility of the forfeit keeps you on your toes. It adds extra incentive for
you to evade capture. After all, the easiest way to earn the $10,000 would be to
simply sit down under a tree and wait to be found. We wouldn't want that. It
would be boring and pointless."

"So what is this forfeit? Do I have to push a peanut across the floor with my
nose or something?" giggled Cindy. "Like some sorority initiation stunt?"

"Not exactly, Ms Morgan, but it is embarrassing and a bit painful."  Arcado's
eyes bored into hers. " You see, Ms Morgan, if you are captured you will
be....spanked by the man or woman who captures you, then, later,...whipped,...
quite publicly, that evening, after supper....for the entertainment of all the
guests."

Cindy jerked upright. " Spanked?...Whipped? In public? Are you serious?" Now she
understood the reason for the large amount of money for a seemingly innocent bit
of fun.

"Yes, if you get caught, your capturer, as a reward, gets to administer a
somewhat humiliating but mild spanking in front of the others. Then later that
evening you will be led into the ballroom, stripped naked, tied to a post or
other device and whipped. I can tell you that it is a somewhat painful
experience, but it is not a brutal punishment. Specially made implements are
used that do not damage the skin. In a week there will be no sign that it ever
happened. We have a doctor on duty who will dispense special healing salve
afterwards to alleviate the momentary discomfort."

Cindy thought carefully. The possibilty of being whipped... naked in front of
strangers! Not to mention a childish spanking! But it was $10,000, guaranteed!
It would pay the rent for quite awhile. As she pondered, Arcado added,

"If you do evade capture, you will attend the evening banquet as a guest, with
the other guests. But because you escaped, someone else must take your place at
the whipping post or the frame. Please understand, these are thrill seekers and
risk takers. So they have elected to put themselves on the line as well. For
each "fox" that escapes, two names are drawn by lot, and each of those pair will
be chastised in your place. Each one will have to disrobe before the assembly
and assume the position you would have taken and accept your forfeit. So you
see, the stakes have been raised to make the game interesting, and quite a bit
more exciting. Any one of the hounds could find him or herself bound to the post
awaiting the lash. And, incidently, since the paying guests put themselves in
the same jeopardy as the paid "foxes" you know the lashing is only moderately
severe, not overly so."

"Who..who actually does the... er whipping?"

"Experts on contract, specially trained and brought in for this event. You see,
you will not be flogged everywhere on your person. The lashes, like the
spanking, are to be administered only on the backside, primarily to your naked,
er... bottom where there is the most ah... padding, if you will. Tell me, were
you spanked as a child? Do you know what that feels like? Perhaps you were caned
at school, or, I suppose here in the states I should say, paddled?"

Her blush answered his question.

She most certainly had been paddled. She flashed back to an incident that had
occurred when she was in high school. She had been 17, a senior on the
cheerleading squad. Like all new seniors they started out the year thinking they
could get away with anything. After the afternoon away game at East High she and
Betsy and Linda had hitched a ride with some cute boys instead of going back on
the bus like they were supposed to. Much later, after a few stops, they arrived
back at school to find a very angry assistant principal, Mrs Ramsey, waiting for
them. A tall powerfully built woman in her 40's, "Ragin' Ramsey", as she was
known, was a formidable disciplinarian.

 She was too angry to deal with them then and told them to report to her office
after school on Monday. THey were stunned when, on Monday, a stern visaged Mrs
Ramsey presented them with permission slips... for a paddling! A six swat
paddling, no less--the maximum permitted. But the school could not administer a
paddling without parental permission. Since none of them wanted their parents to
know what they had done, they could not show their parents the permission slips.
And so they agonized and plotted over what to do. The alternative was suspension
for a week, and the cat would be out of the bag if that happened as well. They
decided to take the paddling, but in order to cover up the incident, they had to
forge their parents' signatures on the permission slips.

It had taken place on Wednesday afternoon after cheerleading practice. They went
to Mrs Ramsey's office and all three handed her the permission slips. She
perused the slips for a moment. They had looked nervously at each other.
Apparantly satisfied, she called in her secretary to witness punishment, and
pulled a solid looking wooden paddle from a drawer and tapped it against her
palm. They had all gulped in fear at the sight of the paddle. It was made of
some hardwood, maple or someting, 18" long and 4" wide and 1/2" thick. There
were two rows of holes down the length of it.

 One at a time they bent over the desk, elbows flat, buttocks presented for
punishment. Mrs Ramsey had flipped up each short cheerleader skirt, rubbed the
paddle across the green satin panties they wore underneath and had drawn back
her arm. Then, crack! and a band of fire was felt across a wobbling schoolgirl
fanny. Each lick with that awful paddle had sounded a loud SPLAT! in that little
room. Each one had stung like blazes! She had given just one lick, then the next
miscreant would have to assume the humiliating position. The painful procedure
had been repeated: flip the skirt up, press the paddle against a firm
cheerleader posterior, then SPLAT! Another stinging swat. No one could stay in
position. With each hard swat each girl would yowl and shoot straight up
clutching her tender fanny. After three they were dancing and blubbering and
crying, but Mrs Ramsey had been unmoved. She would merely point with the awful
paddle and say, "Next". The paddle line went around all six times. Six painful
times to bend across that desk with only thin panties for protection from that
blistering paddle. Cindy recalled that as she had regarded her backside in the
mirror that night, her bottom had been red and swollen.

And that had not been the end. The forgeries were eventually discovered, which
led to the discovery of the whole incident. Her mother had been angry about the
deceit as much as the joyride with the boys. She even told Cindy that,
ironically, she would have let her do the suspension since she did not believe
in turning the corporal punishment chores over to the high school. No, she had
said, if there was any spanking to be done, she would darn well do it. Then it
had been off to the basement rec room where a tearful Cindy spent a painful next
five minutes across her mom's knee while she energetically wielded a ping pong
paddle on Cindy's jiggling nude behind.

It could have been worse. Betsy got a licking from her father with his belt. She
had had to lay across some pillows on the bed, pull down her jammie bottoms and
howl her way through 40 hard licks. Linda's mom sentenced her to 100 spanks with
a hard wooden hairbrush, but she wouldn't give them to her all at once. So every
Friday night for the next 4 weeks, just before the football game where she was
to lead cheers, she had to bring her mom the brush and go over the maternal lap
for 25 hard licks. Once she even had to remind her mom that it was time for the
next installment. She had to lift her skirts and lay across her mom's lap while
her mother sat on the bed. Her mom would slip down the little satin cheerleader
panties to her knees and deliver a stinging spanking to her naked bottom with
the hairbrush. The 25 crisp smacks were delivered evenly, slowly and hard. Linda
said later that she felt like her butt was glowing red through those panties and
hoped no one would notice while she did her twirls and jumps.

These thoughts came rushing back to Cindy as she contemplated Mr Arcado's offer.
But wasn't the possibility of a stinging backside worth $10,000? She could take
it if it came to that. She was tough, dammit!

"If you decide to accept our offer, I am prepared to present you with a
contract. If you sign it, a deposit of $5000 will be made to your account
immediately. The other $5000 will be placed in your account when you are on
board our corporate jet and on your way to the resort."

When it's too late to turn back, thought Cindy.

"If you need time to consider..."

"I'll do it."

"....our offer...you'll do it?" asked Arcado.

"I'll do it. Where do I sign?"

*****************

So it was that three days later Cindy found herself on Fantasies' private jet
winging her way toward North Carolina. It was a luxurious craft and she was
treated like royalty. An attendant saw to her every need. A girl could get used
to this, she thought. The only reminder of her possible fate that weekend came
when she remarked to the cute hostess about how much more comfortable the seats
were as compared with commercial flights. "Yes," she had said, "And we have
extra soft pillows too", and added with a wide grin".....for the ride home."

Another thought had occured to her. Would there be rich single men attending as
"hounds"? It stood to reason that there would be. This thing did not sound like
woman's sport. Indeed would such a man be intrigued by a beautiful woman willing
to bare all and suffer the indignity of the lash for some sport? Possibly. So
she had packed some of her most attractive (and provacative) outfits.

Her reverie brought to mind another encounter in which a playful spanking had
played a role. It was after graduation. She was 18 then and had a summer job at
a lake resort for tourists. Steve was one of those summer romances. He had been
staying with some friends in one of the lakefront cabins. They met and there was
a mutual attraction, in fact, Cindy really liked Steve a lot. They went out a
few times, but Steve was the perfect gentleman, never making a move.

 This began to irritate Cindy and she decided to see if that gentlmanly demeanor
could be cracked. One Saturday they went on a picnic. They had layed out the
lunch by a stream and Cindy, feeling mischevious, surrepititiously filled a
water gun in the stream. She had stripped down to a daring bikini, declaring
that she wanted to take a swim before lunch. Steve demurred, since it was well
after noon and he was hungry. She didn't miss the look in his eyes when he
beheld her in the skimpy bikini. Now we're getting somewhere, she thought.

 She took the toy watergun and started squirting Steve with it who laughed at
first but then protested that she was getting the food wet. Cindy didn't care.
She wanted to provoke something. She laughed and teased, squirting the gun at
Steve who tried to catch her to wrestle it from her grasp. Steve finally told
her that she'd better stop or he would "paddle her little caboose". In the time
honored tradition of teases everywhere, she taunted him with a "you wouldn't
dare", and, putting a tree between her and Steve, squirted him right in the
face.

 That did it. She tried to run but Steve caught her around the waist. Lifting
her up he carried her over to a fallen log. She was held under his arm, kicking
and squealing. He seated himself and laid her across his muscular thighs.
Telling her that he had warned her, he raised his hand and brought it down
squarely across the crest of both bottomcheeks, barely contained in the brief
bikini bottoms. She had screeched and demanded to be put down. Steve had just
laughed and told her she had it coming. He then proceeded to give her a very
sound spanking while she wiggled and squirmed across his lap. He spanked her
steadily for 2 or 3 minutes then put his fingers in the waistband of the tiny
bikini bottoms. She had squealed even louder at this new indignity, but Steve
had just chuckled and yanked them down, baring her curvy fanny. Then he resumed
with loud crisp smacks that echoed through the remote glade. She had wriggled
and kicked while he had spanked her bare fanny with gusto. He smacked from cheek
to cheek, building a fire in Cindy's curvy hiney. Finally he stopped and Cindy
felt him rubbing and kneading her inflamed buttocks.The sting of the spanking
became a hot glow in her buns.

 Then she felt another fire building, this time in her pussy. And she could feel
Steve's hard penis through the rough jeans as she sprawled over his lap. He let
her up then kissed her passionately, rubbing her bottom, then his fingers
seeking the spot between her legs. He laid her on her back on the picnic blanket
and proceeded to take his own clothes off. Kneeling down he had pulled her to
him and plunged his hard manhood between the wet lips of her quim. They had made
love all afternoon. Him on top, her on top, from behind, every way they could
think of. Later she would reflect that the spanking had been a catalyst. He had
manhandled her gently, but in a way that left no doubt of his dominance. Being
pulled over his knees and spanked had turned her on like nothing she had felt
before. The gentlemanly facade had been cracked. Sadly, he had left not long
after, and she had gone off to school.

Her thoughts drifted back to Arcado and their meeting.

There was, said Arcado, to be a Friday night cocktail party and dinner to be
attended by "hounds" and "foxes" alike. The next morning the participants would
be fed breakfast separately. The "foxes" would be transported by jeep to remote
areas of the property and given an hour to hide before the "hounds" were loosed.
At 4:00pm sharp the all clear would sound and the game would be over. If
captured before then, a fox would be taken back to the hotel to await her fate.
Arcado was less than forthcoming on the details of capture and custody and even
less so on the "ceremonies" later that evening. He did say, however that the
captured would dine in their quarters before the events that night. Sunday
morning she would be returned via private jet to NYC.

Cindy's thoughts were interrupted by the sensation of descent of the plane. She
asked the hostess about it.

"We are landing in DC to pick up a passenger," she said, "We'll be underway
again shortly."

The plane touched down and Cindy a woman standing just outside the private
hanger to which the plane had taxied. When the plane stopped, the woman strode
briskly to the jet. Cindy could see that she was a blonde in her mid to late
30's, tall, with well muscled legs in a short skirted business suit. Her blonde
hair was pulled back into a woven plait that fell to well below the middle of
her back. Her bags were carried by a male attendant, all except a long thin
case, flat, about three feet long. An odd piece of luggage, Cindy thought.

The woman entered the cabin and smiled at Cindy. She had a generous sparkling
smile and deep blue eyes, with a presence about her that suggested a powerful
personality. A corporate executive, perhaps?

"Hi", she said, taking a seat across from Cindy and extending her hand, "I'm
Julia Marsden."

"I'm Cindy Morgan. Pleased to meet you."

Cindy found Julia a pleasant and charming travelling companion. As the jet
climbed through the cloud cover at National, they chatted about the good fortune
of being able to travel in such luxurious surroundings. Cindy learned that Julia
frequently did work for Fantasies Unlimited, but she basically had her own
company. Julia wanted to hear all about the tribulations of a struggling actress
in NY. She was a good listener and Cindy felt curiously drawn to Julia's warm
personality, as if she were a big sister. At a lull in the conversation, Julia
asked Cindy if she was going to the Carolina Resort.
Cindy acknowleged that she was.

"As a guest or...." ventured Julia.

"No. I am a "fox" as they call it," admitted Cindy.

Julia eyed Cindy reflectively and nodded.

"So why are you going?" said Cindy, now very curious.

"You might say I'm one of the..ah..facilitators for the weekend."

"Oh really! What is it that you do?"

"Well...oh dear, I suppose I must tell you," Julia said with a rueful smile,
"You might call me the 'company's disciplinarian' or maybe 'bosun's mate', might
be more appropo."

Cindy's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "You don't mean..."

"'Fraid so, dear. I dish out the, ah, forfeits on Saturday night."

Cindy now understood the reason for the strangely shaped case. "And that case
you brought on board....?"

"The tools of my trade."

Cindy was quiet for a moment. Could it really be? This warm, engaging, big
sisterly woman with whom she was sharing girl talk would be the one to wield the
whip on her naked bottom if she were caught?

"Whew! I...I...don't know what to say," stammered Cindy, "It's so bizzare, I
mean here we are talking like just normal people and you are the one who might
have to...to..."

"Whip your cute fanny on Saturday night?" queried Julia with a light smile. "I
know", she sighed, "But, listen it won't be so bad, you'll get through it. Lots
of girls have. Some, no, many have even come back to play again."

"You're kidding!" said a wide-eyed Cindy. "Why?"

"One reason is that they find it sexy and exciting. They come back for the
thrill; and, of course, the money. And last but not least, there are some
unattached men at these events, you know, and, they are very wealthy. I can see
you don't believe me," said Julia, regarding Cindy, who seemed flabbergasted.

"It's true. The whip can be very sensual. The spectacle is exciting. Whipping
actually  releases endorphins and amplifies the tactile senses, especially in
the erogenous zones; and, there is something about a woman under the lash that
inflames hot passions both in herself and her partner. Also there is the thrill
of not knowing. Who will get it? If a fox escapes, which of her pursuers will
find herself or himself conscripted for sacrifice? It has the allure of some
pagan ritual. All of this is an adrenaline rush."

"But doesn't it hurt?" asked Cindy. Even as she said it, she remembered the
intense arousal that had resulted from the episode with Steve.

"Yes, it does...but let me show you something," said Julia, rising and fetching
the case. Julia opened the case to display several implements of fustigation.
There was a long handled whip with a single 4' thong, a thing like a
cat-o-nine-tails only it had  6 long lashes, a bundle of what looked like green
switches only Cindy couldn't tell if they were real or synthetic, and a
familiar-looking wooden paddle, only thinner than what she remembered. There was
also a thin cane, a large oval-shaped hairbrush, an 18" ruler, and a wide
leather strap attached to a handle.

"These are my basic tools," said Julia. "I have others, too, but I won't need
them for this weekend". Cindy just gaped at the fearsome looking collection.

"They look intimidating, don't they?" Cindy nodded. "But let me explain how each
one works and how I use it."

"This bundle of green switches is called a birch. It looks real but actually
these 1/8" switches are artificial, made from a special resilient plastic.
Unlike a real birch these switches won't fray or break. I typically give 3 dozen
strokes with this. They produce at first, a light surface sting that builds and
builds to quite an exquisite burning sensation. Real birches like this were used
as late as the 19th century in homes, schools and reformatories. They were
favored by lady's whipping clubs for their ability to impart a healthy red flush
to the seat that aroused the libido."

"There were ladies' whipping clubs?" asked an astonished Cindy.

"Indeed there were--wealthy, bored society wives with much time on their hands
and not much to do, they would meet and and draw lots or play games--the losers
were birched. If you "lost" it was skirts up and drawers down for a good
stinging session with one of these while you bent over an footstool. Later the
next week the ladies would gossip about the passionate sex with their husbands
afterwards. Poor men never knew what hit them, but they probably weren't
complaining.

"The multi-stranded whip is a modified cat-o-nine-tails. You can see it has a
foot long handle and 6 long strands of smooth leather. No knots or braiding like
Captain Bligh's. This gives a more solid sting with each lash."

"Er, how many...?"

"20 lashes is the normal dose. It's designed to have the same overall intensity
as the 36 with the birch, but there is a longer delay between strokes. The
sensation of each separate lash must be...appreciated before the next one is
given."

"The last one I'll be using Saturday is this single thong lash. As you can feel,
here... hold it, it is a smooth single thong. It's  braided snakeskin, in a
tight braid, very smooth. This one is yet more intense than the 'cat' so its
only a bakers dozen for the lucky lads and lassies who get this. The lashes are
spaced even farther apart."

The whip felt positively alive in her hands thought Cindy, and she flicked the
end against her palm. Ouch! it hurt!

" I'm using the ones I showed you because the guests attending wanted it that
way. They requested a  "17th century" experience, simulating something much like
the punishments that were actually given in those days.  At least they want the
same ambiance.

"I don't want you to worry Cindy, I know exactly how hard to use these, and my
aim is true. The stripes will go exactly where I want them to, which will be
mostly across the cheeks of the bottom."

Cindy felt the cheeks of her own bottom involuntarly clench at this news. This
would surely be more painful than the school paddle! Or the playful spanking
from Steve!

"But how did you get into....?...I mean how did you learn all this stuff?"

"It's a very long story, but you should know that I have a degree in psychology
from Temple University, and that I am a liscensed clinical psychologist in
several states."

Wow! Thought Cindy, this was too much. She couldn't believe that this smart and
articulate woman with a psych degree was moonlighting as some kind of
whipmistress.

Shaking her head, Cindy asked," What are the rest of these for?"

"Well, they're not for this particular event but I do tend to use them at one
time or another. For example, Fantasies Unlimited has a "Little Red Schoolhouse"
in Nebraska. Sometimes I play the schoolmarm for a group who want to play at a
"return to schooldays" fantasy. The paddle, cane and ruler figure more
prominently there. And incidently", she chuckled, "I do have an appointment with
rather naughty lad who attended the last "Schoolhouse" weekend I did. Seems he
has been remiss at doing the follow up 'homework' I gave him. He will be here
this weekend for a make-up 'tutoring session' Friday evening after dinner."

"At least he won't have to eat dinner off the mantlepiece," laughed Cindy, "And
if I hear smacks and squeals that night, I'll know why."

Both women laughed. "Yes, I'll tell you," whispered Julia conspiratorially,
"He's going to spend some quality time over my knee getting reacquainted with my
ruler."

They laughed again, then Julia's expression turned more serious.

"Cindy, I want you to know, I think you're a lovely girl, but I've been given a
job to do. I hope you understand. The Arabs have a saying,'Flog her gently, but
make it sting'. That's my approach to this too. I hope we can still be
friends...even after Saturday night."

Cindy could only nod. And somehow the thought that it would be Julia doing the
whipping made the thought easier to bear.

************************

In another jet winding its way across the country sat Kath O'Leary, another fox
recruited by Mr Arcado. With her was Margo Ruger, also an Arcado find. Kath was
fiery Irish collen with long curly red hair to match her temperament. She was
something of an adventurer. Whether it be sky diving, hang gliding or bungee
jumping, Kath was game. She consumed life rather than lived it. There was no
dare, no bet, no experience that she would turn down, and woe betide any would
be admirers who could not keep up. And there were plenty of those. Kath was a
slender 5' 7" with ample breasts, a slim waist, and boyishly slim hips with a
pair of teardrop-shaped bottom cheeks that jutted deliciously from the deep
hollow at the small of her back. Arcado's offer had challenged her. It was a
dare that she could not resist. Even the thought of the forfeit had sent her
blood racing, for she was adventurous in sexual matters as well, and there was
no doubt that the evening described by Arcado would likely end in sexual excess.

Margo Ruger was an altogether different sort of woman. Also an adventurer, Margo
was very much her own woman. She was a journalist who had spent time in any
number of global hot spots: Bosnia, Honduras, Afganistan, Lebanon. To handle the
rigors of her job, she trained. She did triathlons and swam. She had learned
techniques of survival in hostile environments. She was a black belt in judo.
And she needed $10,000 in a hurry. Gambling was her weakness and she owed some
unsavory people a bit of money. Margo was tall, 5' 9"  with jet black hair that
fell in ringlets to the sides of her classically sculpted face. And she had a
figure to boot. Her curvacious body had caused heads to turn all over the world.
The prospect of the forfeits had not fazed Margo. She had been in plenty of
tight places. Besides, she didn't figure on getting caught.

End of pt 1

                       Fox and Hounds Pt 2

The jet swooped into a cove, a wide valley scooped out of the rugged Blue Ridge
mountains. Simply known as "the Carolina Resort", this Fantasies Unlimited
property had its own airfield. The topography of the cove featured all types of
terrain. There were a few open fields, but most of the property was wooded,
laced with forest, streams and creeks. Here and there a small round top hill
rose. Wooded ravines could be seen at the conflux of several hills.

Cindy and Julia were met on the airstrip by resort staff members in smart khaki
shorts and white neatly pressed uniform shirts. A young girl named Suzy,
according to her name tag, was assigned to Julia and fluttered around her
nervously. A slender lad named Keith showed Cindy to her quarters in an
outbuilding guest house that looked brand new. Julia was housed in the main
hotel which resembled a large 5 story manor home. Cindy's room was spacious and
comfortable and looked out onto a garden behind the main hotel. There was an
open gazebo-like structure in the garden surrounded by tables and chairs. Odd,
thought Cindy, the gazebo itself had a raised dias upon which sat a sturdy
looking straightbacked chair. A chill emanated from the base of her spine and
her face flushed as she realized the probable function of the chair and the
reason for the placement of the tables and chairs facing the gazebo.

Like a bellboy at any conventional hotel, Keith helped her with her luggage,
then informed her that she was expected at dinner with a cocktail hour
beginnning at 7:00. Unlike a conventional hotel bellboy, he also gave her a pin
which she was required to wear. It was a brooch in the shape of a small red fox.
"The guests want to get to know you," he said, grinning. "Tommorrow it gets very
personal. Wear something pretty, now."

Cindy chose a black sheath dress that displayed her sexy figure to perfection.
The neckline revealed a generous amount of cleavage and the lower part of the
dress clung to her hips emphasizing the swell of her pertly rounded buttocks
that swayed deliciously with every step.
Drinks were being served in the garden. Cindy noted that heads turned to view
her entry. "Ah, another vivacious fox," said a youngish good looking man in a
black dinner jacket. "Please allow me to introduce you around, my name is Mark
Hudson."

"Thank you, Mr Hudson, I guess I feel as though I'm on display," said Cindy.

"Well, the hounds are most interested in their quarry, and, please, call me
Mark," laughed Hudson with a warm smile.

The crowd was interesting, thought Cindy, very hip, very trendy, bordering on
S&M chic. She had seen this kind of stuff in the Village, back in NY. There were
micro-mini skirts with thigh-high boots, dresses that looked more like lingerie,
body hugging jump suits and several designer original dresses with plunging
necklines, revealing cut-outs, and side slits up to the waist. The men wore
relaxed but very fashionable clothing. Not a tie was in sight. This was no
stuffy country club set. These people were the new rich, CEO's of internet based
companies, software moguls, entertainment types and others riding the crest of
the wave that was American prosperity in the new millenium. Many of these people
had probably become overnight millionaires when their companies had gone public.
So here they were, rich and ready for a new thrill. And Fantasies Unlimited was
there to provide them with it, cost being no object. They were attractive to
boot. Cindy did not see a single dowdy or plain looker in attendance. The women
could have been models or actresses, the men, pro atheletes, politicians, or TV
anchors.

Cindy was warming up rapidly to Mark Hudson, her escort of the moment. He was
intelligent, friendly, and humorous and took pains to make her feel comfortable.
She wondered if there was a Mrs. Hudson. There did not appear to be one, and he
had no ring. Cindy was introduced to the other "foxes". There was a gorgeous red
haired woman named Kathleen with wild red hair that cascaded down her shoulders.
She was in a long green dress that hugged her slim but decidedly curvy figure .
She met a voluptuous dark haired beauty named Margo. There was a tall willowy
blonde named Sarah, a petite brunette named Becky, and a junoesque solidly built
blonde named Paula.

The foxes were the stars of the show. Everyone wanted to get to know them. As
the drinks flowed, the talk became more explicitly focused on the next day. How
did they feel about the possibility of the forfeits? Were they frightened? Cindy
overheard Kathleen teasing her questioners, vowing that it would be they, not
she who should fear the mistress' whip. She even remarked to a broadly grinning
athletic looking gentleman that she looked forward to seeing him dance a merry
jig as his cute buns were lashed. He merely laughed and shook his finger at her,
then pointed to the chair on the dias.
"The only dance this crowd will see is the lap dance you do over my knee, young
lady, while your cute fanny turns the color of your hair and you pay for that
last remark." Kathleen just stuck out her tongue and said, "Well, you'll have to
catch me first."

While Kathleen was being the brat, Margo was being cool and self assured.
"Some of you may try to catch me, but I'm pretty elusive, you'll have to work
hard...and be smart."

"O, it will be worth it", said a lovely brunette in a sexy spandex one piece
jumpsuit.

"To the victor, the spoils," chimed in Jerry, a young 20ish curly haired youth
sporting an earring. "You are a lovely woman, Margo, but unfortunately our aim
is to see you soundly whipped tommorrow night. I, for one am looking forward to
see you naked and at the whipping post."

"Oh, will there really be a whipping post?" said the brunette, with a shiver,
"How positively medieval!"

"You should worry more about your own backside exposed at that post," cooed
Margo. "Besides, what if it is I who catches you, tommorrow, instead of the
other way around? There might be a nasty surprise in store."

"Ooh, is that a threat or a promise?" laughed Jerry. "Seriously, Margo, you are
outnumbered and outmatched."

"We'll see who's outmatched," replied Margo, coolly. Arrogant bastard, she
thought. Just wait.

Cindy overheard a good bit of this type of repartee while being entertained by
Mark, who was not only good-looking but was devastatingly charming as well.
Cindy finally worked up the courage to ask him how he felt about the game.

"It's definitely a thrill, the whole weekend. The adrenaline gets pumping with
the chase of you lovely foxes. And the idea of these forfeits...well, I have to
admit, the prospect of this spectacle arouses certain, er, emotions. Don't get
me wrong, I do not get off on seeing women being tortured for fun, but the idea
of a beautiful naked woman, bound for the whip like some captured slave girl
excites me in a way I don't even understand myself. It must be some primordial
thing. And anyway, they say the actual whipping is more like a college
initiation stunt, it's not that bad. I hear they have some specialist do
it--some one who knows what he's doing."

"She--who knows what she's doing," corrected Cindy.

"Well," said Mark, "That does make it more interesting. I could be the one to be
whipped if you get away. I've often wondered what that would be like."

"You mean you don't know?" queried Cindy, "From the looks of this crowd, they
are very familiar with such things."

"I know you are right, many of these people look to be very sophisticated in
their sexual tastes," said Mark, "but honest, I'm just a curious newbie...but I
do have fantasies."

"Oh, really. Like what?"

"Well, for one since you walked in I've fantasized about putting you over my
knee on that chair up there and spanking that cute little derriere of yours, if
I may be so bold."

"Oh...you cruel brute...you would do that to me?"

"Yes-- but after that I'd promise to kiss it and make it all better."

Cindy shivered deliciously at the thought, remembering the episode with Steve.
"I may hold you to that promise," she said looking into his eyes.

The dinner was interrupted by the smiling Mr Arcado who spoke from a podium at
the front of the room.

"Now that dessert has been served, I will take this opportunity to explain the
rules of tommorrow's hunt. After breakfast, the hunters will assemble in the
garden. The foxes, your quarry, will have been transported to sites of their
choosing on the property and will have been released an hour earlier. Each fox
will be wearing a transmitter locked about her waist. She cannot remove it. A
fox is "caught" when a switch on the transmitter is flipped. Obviously you must
subdue her enough to flip the switch, but once this happens she is the prisoner
of the person who accomplishes that task. We will receive the transmission here
and through our GPS tracking system, we will locate you and bring you in. There
will be no unecessary roughness, please.

"At 4:00pm the all clear siren will sound, signalling an end to the game. At
this point all foxes still in the field will turn on their transmitters and we
will come pick you up. Another way for a fox to evade capture is to make it back
to the hotel grounds without being caught. Once on the grounds, you foxes may
toggle your transmitter, and the GPS system will verify that you are safely in.

"So you see, hunters, you have your work cut out for you. As you are aware, you
have all agreed and have executed signed waivers concerning the forfeits
incident to this game. For every fox that evades capture, two hunters will be
chosen by lot, or they may volunteer, to accept the forfeit of the escaped fox.
To further explain our forfeits and penalties, I now turn the program over to Ms
Julia Marsden."

At that point Julia strode into the room. She was clad in tight jodpurs with
gleaming black boots and a white blouse cinched like a halter revealing a bare
midriff. Her hair was styled in a bun, giving her a severe but decidedly sexy
look. Cindy wondered if some of the men (and perhaps the women as well) wouldn't
especially mind being disciplined by such an imposing and sexy woman.

"Thank you Alex. I'm Julia Marsden, "Ms Julia", to you from now on, ladies and
gentlemen, because I will be in charge of administering the forfeits and
penalties that result from the hunt tommorrow. As Alex reminded you, you have
all signed waivers, permitting yourselves to be restained and corporally
punished, should you lose the contest or violate the rules. You should know that
I am trained in the use and administration of corporal punishment and that I am
an expert in the use of all the implements and apparatus that you will see
tonight. First of all be assured that no punishment that I give will break the
skin or leave any permanent marks or injury. You have asked for forfeits that
attempt to replicate punishments that may have been typically given to petty
criminals in the late middle ages, prior to the Age of Enlightenment. We here at
Fantasies Unlimited have attempted to do that.

" As you also may know, we have a tradition that the person credited with the
capture of a fox may administer to that fox an old fashioned over-the-knee bare
bottom spanking out in the garden. This "victory spanking" takes place at the
end of the hunt, when you all have returned. This is not to be a hard
punishment, ladies and gentlemen, but a little warm-up to prepare your captured
fox for the evening's festivities. Now, if you will follow me to the gallery, I
will show you what we have prepared for your entertainment."

Julia strode from the dining room with the assembled diners following in her
wake. At the gallery, a long well-lit room with hardwood floors and high
windows, she opened the french double doors and ushered them inside, amid
excited ooh's and ah's. A number of pieces of cruel and sinister apparatus
greeted the gaze of the expectant guests. In the center of the room was an
upright post fashioned on some sort of raised platform. The post had rings hear
the top and buckling straps hung from various places on it. To the left of the
post was an old fashioned pillory with a hinged yoke having holes for neck and
hands. To its right was a tilted A-frame, having two inclined rails that angled
toward each other from the floor with a padded crosspiece between them at
waist-high level. There was also a simple t-bar with a padded top and handles
below. The height of the bar was adjustable. A hook on the side supported a long
strap with a wooden handle.

Cindy noted that on each apparatus was hung the implements Julia had described
to her on the jet. The coiled single thong whip hung from a peg on a stand next
to the post. The "birch switches" stood in a bucket next to the pillory and the
"cat" hung on a peg on the frame.

 Along one wall were three rows of padded bleachers, like a jury box.

"Well as you can see, ladies and gentlemen this is a chamber where punishments
will be meted out in front of witnesses. There is ample seating in the jury box
there so no one will miss a thing. What we have here are 3 types of typical
period restraining devices for naughty culprits who might have been sentenced to
a public whipping for petty offences.
 For example, in the Americas circa 1650 or in England, an offender might have
been sentenced to the birch and placed in the pillory for her thrashing. That
thrashing is given with this, a birch rod," said Julia, picking up the green
synthetic birch. This rod is not the real thing, but it is a reasonable
substitute. It has 9 1/8" tapered switches made of a synthetic material. It will
feel like a real birch rod. Perhaps I should demonstrate. Do I have any
volunteers?"

Everyone laughed nervously.

"I thought not. Well, never fear, I came prepared. The staff here at the resort
have drawn lots to see who will assist me tommorrow night, and the management
has determined who will participate in tonight's demonstration. Suzy, please
step forward."

Suzy the pretty staffer who had met Julia at the plane, stepped forward. Cindy
now understood why she had seemed so nervous around Julia earlier.

"Suzy is not really here by choice. Like business everywhere, employees are
evaluated and critiqued on a regular basis. It seems that Suzy's performance
evaluations have been less than stellar since we did the last weekend hunt, so
she has been designated as my 'special assistant', and she knows what that
means, right Suzy?"

"Er...yes ma'am, Ms Julia," quavered Suzy, blushing.

"My two other assistants are Keith and Sally. Now, Suzy, first we need to
demonstrate to everyone how the 'victory' spanking should be given. So now
please fetch me a chair."

Suzy complied and brought over a straightbacked chair to Julia who took it, spun
it around and seated herself. Sally and Keith were grinning broadly at the
apparant discomfort of their fellow staffer.

"Suzy, come here and stand to my right and let down your shorts."

Suzy nervously, with mincing steps, walked up to Julia seated imperiously on the
chair and began to fumble with the buttons on her khaki shorts which were
stretched tight across her cute bottom. Suzy looked at Julia who merely nodded
and, taking a deep breath, pulled her shorts down to her knees. Julia patted her
lap and Suzy eased herself across the waiting thighs. Julia adjusted her
position until Suzy's bottom was pointed lewdly at the ceiling, the bulging
cheeks barely contained by the pink nylon panties she wore.

"Now, Suzy, one more adjustment..." And Julia pulled the flimsy panties to
mid-thigh as a sharp intake of breath could be heard from Suzy.

"I'm going to spank Suzy 60 times with the flat of my hand," said Julia patting
the chubby rounds offered up over her lap. "This is the maximum number of times
you will be permitted to swat the fanny of your captured fox. Ok Suzy here we
go."

And with that Julia began to pepper Suzy's ripe bottom with crisp smacks that
resounded off of the gallery walls. Suzy at once began to wriggle and gasp as
the brisk flurry lit a fire in her tender seat. Julia wasn't spanking very hard,
nevertheless the assembly was treated to Suzy's wobbling rear cheeks which were
quickly turning red under Julia's no-nonsense brisk smacking. As the spanking
neared its conclusion Suzy's hissing intake of breath became more audible and
she did a squirming lap dance across the knee of her chastiser. The last 10
spanks were slower, more solidly applied smacks, alternating from cheek to
cheek, and Suzy threw back her head and arched her back in a vain attempt to
relieve the sting as each one stuck.

Julia, having finished, stood Suzy back on her feet. Suzy, whose mouth hung open
in a wide "O", started to rub her inflamed behind but Julia stopped her.

"Turn around Suzy and let them see," she said turning Suzy's backside to the
audience. "Note that Suzy's bottom is red from the crowns of her cheeks to the
fold where the buttocks meet the thighs."

Indeed there were two round red "spank spots" attesting to Julia's prowess.

"This is how hard you may spank, should you be so fortunate. This actually
serves a purpose. It conditions the flesh and attunes the senses for receiving
the more formal whipping which will come later. It is less traumatic to receive
a whipping on a bottom that has been warmed beforehand, believe it or not."

"We will now test that theory. Suzy, remove the rest of your clothing. Now,
young lady!" said Julia at Suzy's apparant hesitation to comply with her order.
Blushing ten shades of red, Suzy stripped out of her shorts, blouse and bra to
reveal a flat tummy, narrow waist and firm full breasts to compliment her
sumptuous bottom. When she was naked, Julia ordered her to the pillory.


 Suzy walked toward the pillory while Sally and Keith raised the yoke.
 She obediently bent over and allowed Keith and Sally to lock her in the
pillory. When all was in readiness, Julia picked up the birch and swished it.
Suzy's bottom cheeks involuntarily clenched at the sound.
 "Now, Suzy I am going to give you 12 strokes, then we will let you up. Are you
ready?"

"Yes, Ms Julia."

Julia tapped the waiting bottom then delivered the first stroke. The second
followed a second or two later. The guests could hear Suzy hissing in pain
through clenched teeth as each stroke fell. Her bottom clenched and relaxed 
each time the switches hit. SWISH! SWISH! SWISH! Julia's birch descended on
Suzy's wiggling bottom, which changed color rapidly, adding thin red lines to
the already crimson surfaces. Suzy's mouth opened and she gave a little yip as
the last stroke was administered.

At a nod from Julia, Keith and Sally unlocked the yoke and Suzy rose, her hands
immediatly clutching her burning seat and rubbing.

"Well, Suzy, how was that?"

"Yeow...it burns, Ms Julia, quite a stinging sensation...ooh!"

"Suzy received only 12, ladies and gentlemen. The forfeit is 3 dozen. You will
be dancing and rubbing a bit more vigorously than Suzy if you are here tommorrow
night."

Julia moved to the frame.


"In certain areas of Europe, a whipping frame like the one you see before you
might have been used in jails or in a public square to mete out justice. The
implement of that justice is the multi-thonged whip. This whip is a cross
between the French martinet, an implement of domestic correction, and the often
brutal cat-o-nine-tails of British naval lore. Keith and Sally will now secure
Suzy to the frame."

As the two assistants fastened Suzy to the whipping frame, Julia continued,
"Suzy will receive 9 lashes with this whip and then we will hear her reaction.
Note how the padded crosspiece pushes Suzy's buttocks out so that they are
presented for the whip."

Julia picked up the lash and swished it through the air. At the sound, Suzy
clenched her buttocks.

"Now you all saw what Suzy did when I whooshed the whip like that--she clenched
her bottom cheeks. If you find yourself here tommorrow night, a word of
advice--don't do that. It actually hurts less if you relax.

"All right Suzy, here we go--9 lashes, well laid on. Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Suzy in a tremulous voice.

Julia proceeded to lash Suzy 9 times across her wriggling buns, allowing for a
full 10 to 15 seconds to elapse between each lash. The strands of the whip
splayed out across her fanny at each impact. Suzy was more vocal this time,
uttering a little cry each time the whip fell. When she finished, she motioned
to the two assistants to release Suzy. Suzy stood on unsteady legs and massaged
her rear end, grimacing, eyes full of tears that were about to flow.

"Tell everyone what that felt like, Suzy."

"Ow...yes ma'am. It stung like anything, like a hive of bees. It wasn't a burn
like the other one, it was a sharper stinging sensation. Wow was it ever!"

"Very good Suzy. Now you know we have one more, don't you?"

"Yes, Ms Julia, but please not too hard, my poor hiney burns like blazes!"

"Suzy, pleading will not help you. You know why you are here and that is to be
punished. I will whip you as hard as you deserve, which is hard enough to
demonstrate to these people why they should wish to avoid your fate.
Now march yourself over to the whipping post. Keith and Sally, secure her
tightly."

"Julia continued, "The whipping post is the most famous of our devices and the
most well-known. Its use is found in one form or another in just about every
culture. It was actually in use here in the United States as late as the 1950's
in Delaware. We have modified our whipping post because unlike the traditional
device in which the offender was whipped across his back, we will lash the
derriere and upper thighs. As you notice, the post has restraints at the lower
back and at the knees. This is causing Suzy to push her buttocks outwardly,
presenting them for the whip. The whip is a single-thong snakeskin. Suzy will
receive six lashes."

As she spoke, Suzy was tied to the post by the buckling straps Julia had
described along with wrist cuffs dangling from a ring at the top and ankle cuffs
at the bottom. Thus secured, Suzy looked nervously over her shoulder at Julia
who removed the whip from its peg and proceded to crack it several times. Suzy
flinched involuntarily each time the whip cracked.

"Eyes to the front, Suzy!" barked Julia.

Suzy shivered and steeled herself. Julia drew back the whip, then brought it
forward in a long arc. The tip of the whip cracked across the crowns of Suzy's
bottom cheeks. "Ow...ow...ow!" yelled Suzy.
A few seconds passed while Julia paused, flicking the whip, then she drew back
her arm again and placed another stripe across Suzy's quivering fanny just below
the first. "Ahhh...ow" bleated Suzy.
Crack! Seconds later Julia laid the third hot lash across Suzy's well reddened
seat, provoking another anguished yelp. The three lines of darker red were
clearly visible to all. Julia applied 3 more stripes to the jiggling seat which
clenched involuntarily as each one fell. Suzy howled at each one.

Then the straps were unbuckled and Suzy was released. She was crying and
sniffling as she bent over cutely, her hands rubbing her behind trying to soothe
the flaming heat in her buns.

"What did that feel like, Suzy? Turn around and tell everyone."

"Yeow...it was like a hot wire, every lick. It really st...stung. It was like
each one was concentrated, not spead out like with that cat thing."

" Thank you, Suzy, you may now dress." A grateful Suzy grabbed her clothes and
put them back on.

"Tommorrow night the exact nature of the forfeit, the birch, the cat, the
dogwhip, will be determined by chance. There will be an equal number of each and
the number of stokes alotted to each is fixed. The penalty with the birch is 3
dozen, the cat merits 20 and the whip 13."

The crowd was quiet now as hunters and prey alike nervously pondered the
promised forfeits for losing the contest.

"Are there any questions?"

"Are you going to hit us as hard as you did with Suzy?" said a cute brunette in
a black miniskirt.

"Dear, the answer is yes. You have all signed on for this game and the penalty
phase of it would be unconvincing if the whippings were to be faked. Make no
mistake about it, if you find yourself bound to one of these devices tommorrow
know that you are in for a good solid licking. Anyone else?"

"Yeah," said Margo, "I want to know if the foxes who win get to dish out a
spanking in the garden too. I mean the hunters get to do it if they capture a
fox, so how about the other way around?"

"The rule is this. When all have assembled in the garden and we see who has won,
each free fox will draw two names. Those are her stand-ins for the forfeits. At
that time she may elect to spank either or both of them or she may designate me
to do it."

"Ooh I can't wait," said Margo gleefully rubbing her hands together, amid boos
and catcalls from the others.

"Now there is one final item of business," said Julia. "Every contest has rules
and so do we. A rule sheet may be picked up on your way out. What I want to talk
about are rules violations. We will have marshalls patrolling the grounds who
will note any rule-breaking. Just as in football there are penalties, and these
penalties are the focus of our last piece of apparatus."

Julia indicated the t-shaped trestle and its padded cylinder. Picking up a 24"
supple black strap, she said, "Violate a rule, especially one involving
unnecessary roughness, and you will find yourself over a barrel, as they say,
and having a dialog with this strap. I can assure you it smarts and you will
know you have been taken to the woodshed if you get it!" And with that she
slapped the leather down on the padded roll top with a loud whack that left no
doubt in anyone's mind that she meant business.

At this point Mr Arcado reappeared.

"Thank you Ms Julia, for such an enlightening demonstration. Well, there you
have it, ladies and gentlemen, the fate that awaits you or an arousing
spectacle. The rest of the evening is yours--but I would suggest that you retire
early. We will rise at 7. The foxes will return to quarters now."

Attendants in the standard Fantasies Unlimited uniform entered the room and
sought out each of their assigned foxes. Cindy turned to Mark as she was being
escorted out.

"Thank you for being so kind to me tonight. I hope it's not me up there
tommorrow night, but if it is, remember your promise."

"I will Cindy," said Mark with a smile. "Sleep tight now." Mark's eyes followed
the seductive sway of Cindy's rear as she walked away. In truth, Mark like the
rest of the men and women present were now in a state of high arousal as a
result of witnessing Suzy's chastisement. And despite Arcado's admonition, many
of those assembled would pair off that evening. In fact over the next few hours
muffled cracks, squeals, and groans of pleasure could be heard from behind
closed doors. As for Mark he had chosen his quarry and he fully intended to make
good on his promise--but not before he had had the pleasure of spanking Cindy's
beautiful buns to a rosy red hue.

END OF PT 2

                    FOX AND HOUNDS Pt 3                    

Julia was energized. The demonstration in the drawing room had been
exhilerating. And there was more to come tonight. Julia shrugged out of her
tight jodpurs and changed into a black straight miniskirt and a longsleeved
white blouse with a choker collar. The blouse had a ruffle down its front which
was fastened with pearl buttons. She styled her long blonde hair into a bun and
put on a pair of hornrimmed glasses. There, she thought, the effect was
perfect--a combination of sexiness and severity, she appeared as a schoolboy
fantasy, the strict schoolmistress with the body and face of a goddess. Tonight
she had a role to play and she had to give a lesson to a very deserving young
man.

 She had an appointment with Peter Radix, one of the new breed of entreprenuers
riding the crest of the internet age. A millionaire at 30, Peter had his own
company. He was a brilliant software engineer, but when it came to running his
company, well , that was where things had put him in a bad situation. He had
allowed his employees to sexually harass a young female clerk. He had even made
a pass at her himself, and rebuffed,  he had stood silently by, allowing some of
his male subordinates to make this woman's life miserable. The result was
predictable. She sued. Peter, facing a demand for stiff damages and not having
much of a defense, offered to settle. But the woman wanted more than money. She
wanted Peter himself to feel some of the shame and humiliation she had been put
through. Fortunately for her and unfortunately for Peter, she had an experienced
female attorney who had heard of "The Little Red Schoolhouse."

The Little Red Schoolhouse had been Julia's brainchild. Funded by Fantasies
Unlimited, it had started out as a retro real-life experience for submissively
inclined individuals who wanted a fantasy immersion in a turn-of the-century
schoolhouse complete with strict schoolmarms and liberal doses of corporal
punishment. Later it branched out to accept not only those looking for a kinky
thrill, but deserving men and women who actually needed a little discipline.
Little by little word leaked out among a select group of judges, social workers,
attorneys, CEO's of companies and others in positions of power that good old
fashioned discipline could be purchased for those in need of such a thing.
Clients began to show up--sent there because of some judge's order, a condition
of probation, a legal settlement or an ultimatum given by someone with the power
to do so. Shoplifting housewives, embezzling secretaries, young graffiti artists
and lazy heirs all found themselves undergoing a weekend of instuction and
discipline at the hands of Julia and her hand picked staff. The classes and
lessons were real, and so was the punishment for failure or poor performance.
Julia made liberal use of the traditional American schoolhouse tools for
disciplining her charges. Thus the hickory switch, the wooden paddle, the school
strap, and the ruler were in frequent use.

Peter hurried along the hotel corridor. He didn't want anyone to see him dressed
the way he was. As instructed he was on his way to a "make up" class with Ms
Julia, having been excused midway through a "Schoolhouse" weekend because of a
family emergency. He was dressed in garb that was standard for male
"Schoolhouse" attendees. He wore short pants, about a size too small, a white
shirt, blue tie, knee socks and leather shoes. It was a juvenile costume
calculated to embarass. Nervously he knocked on Julia's door. When Julia opened
the door, the sight of her in the sexy schoolteacher's outfit produced another
jolt to his already burgeoning hard-on which had resulted from his viewing of
Suzy's whippings. In truth Peter was smitten with Julia, not only her beauty,
but her commanding presence. Peter could not explain it, but he was jelly in the
hands of such a strong, lovely, no-nonsense woman. So when she had told him to
meet her at this resort, on this weekend, he did.

Julia bade Peter come in, and, eyeing him cooly, pivoted and strode to her desk
at one end of the large luxury suite. Peter could not tear his eyes from the
swaying rounds of Julia's buttocks, sheathed in the tight skirt she wore.
Seating herself at the desk she looked every inch the stern schoolmistress about
to scold a nuaghty student.

"You know why you are here Peter. Did you finish the assignment I gave you?"

"Ah...almost, Ms Julia, here's what I have", said Peter apologetically, handing
Julia a sheaf of papers.

"Why this is most incomplete, Peter. You were to write an essay describing how
your company was to eliminate sexual harassment in the workplace."

"Ah...yes, ma'am, I just didn't have time to finish it," said Peter with a
woeful look.

"That is unacceptable, Peter. I cannot report to Ms Johnson's attorney that you
have completed the weekend with me that you agreed to do. Your failure to
complete this assignment will have to be punished. Further I intend to give you
a test that you will sit in this room and complete which I will then grade."

Peter swallowed nervously. "Yes, ma'am" was all he could say.

Picking up a sturdy 18" ruler, Julia dragged an armless chair in front of the
desk. Peter's eyes widened as his gaze fixated on the hard, thick ruler. Julia
sat down and tapped the ruler against her palm. "You have only yourself to blame
for this Peter. I am going to teach you to take this matter seriously. Drop your
pants. Now."

Part of Peter could not believe what was happening. She really intended to spank
him! His mouth was dry and his palms sweated. He did not want her to see his
rising excitement. "Please, Ms Julia, isn't there some other way..."

"NOW, Peter," commanded Julia.

With an abject groan Peter unzipped the shorts and dragged them to his knees. He
hobbled over to Julia who yanked down his jockey shorts to reveal a turgid,
bobbing penis which he tried to cover up with his hands.

"I see my little boy thinks this will be fun. I assure you that you will feel
differently in a few moments. Get over my knee!"

Peter flopped across her lap, bottoms up. Julia allowed her thighs to come apart
just enough to capture the engorged member trapping it between her stockinged
legs. Peter gave a little gasp at the feel of this delicious friction and at the
embarassment of lying bottoms up across her knee like a ten-year-old.

"Peter, you are about to receive a good old fashioned schoolhouse licking. Do
not attempt to get off my lap until I am through and do not put your hands in
the way of my ruler. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ms Julia," choked Peter.

Julia raised the ruler and brought it down with a forceful smack!, bridging the
crest of Peter's buttocks. Another smack followed. And another.
"Ow!...ow!....ow!" yelled Peter. "I'm just beginning, Mr Radix," said Julia, "so
keep still."

Julia started to rain down spank after spank with the heavy ruler, putting
plenty of arm and a flick of the wrist into each lick. Peter winced and yelped
at each sharp smack which quickly started to burn his bare backside with a
searing heat. The spanking continued unabated for several minutes. Julia's
strong right arm delivered crisp meaty smacks that caused bands of red to appear
across Peter's tender rear cheeks, prompting Peter to have to struggle to choke
back tears of pain and humiliation. It was such a childish punishment, thought
Peter, and so humiliating. Here he was, 30 years old and lying barebottomed
across this attractive woman's knee getting his bare fanny tanned while he
kicked and wriggled like a little boy in the third grade. "Ow...ow...ow...ow..."
he bleated. He could not help himself. Each smack burned like fire, his butt
felt like it was being toasted with a hot iron.

With a final flurry of spanks that left Peter begging for mercy, Julia stopped.

"Now you may get up, Peter, and pull your pants back up."

Peter's pants were bunched around his knees. This seemed somehow even more
humiliating than if he had taken them off completely. He hobbled to his feet and
hurriedly pulled them up, wincing as the cloth contacted his inflamed seat.
Julia noticed the absence of the former hard penis. Good, she thought, this was
was for punishment, not pleasure.

"Now, sit down in that chair, Peter, we are not finished. You will finalize this
essay and get it to me within a week or there will be a repeat of tonight's
treatment, do you understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," said a red faced and thoroughly chastised Peter.

"We will now have a test. I have prepared some questions about sexual harassment
that, if you have read the materials assigned to you, you should know. You have
10 minutes to answer these 20 questions and hand this test back to me. I will
grade you. You will be assessed one stroke of the cane for each incorrect
answer. Are you ready?"

This was all happening so fast. Peter had skimmed through the stuff on the plane
but God!-- a stroke with a cane on his already inflamed ass for each wrong
answer--he couldn't bear it.

"Please Ms Julia, I can't...."

"We are starting NOW Peter." And she clicked on a timer.

Peter bent to the task. He was in luck--he had seen most of this stuff. When the
timer rang 10 minutes later, he was confident that he had answered all
correctly. He handed the paper to Julia who was seated behind the desk. He stood
before her as she went over the paper, making a mark here and there. After a few
minutes she looked up.

"You did fair I would say, only 6 wrong. You should have studied harder, my
boy."

Six? Six? thought Peter. That meant six strokes with a cane! Did she really mean
to cane him? An icy chill formed in the pit of his stomach as Julia rose and
walked to a basket in the corner of the room and pulled out a thin yellow cane
with a knob at the end.

"Turn the chair around so you can bend over the back, Peter. Pull your pants and
briefs down to your knees, you're getting six with this cane across your bare
bottom." As she spoke she swooshed the cane through the air several times. It
looked very whippy and made an evil whining sound.

Peter had no choice. It was go through with this or the settlement was off. With
trembling hands he peeled down his pants once again. He knew this was going to
hurt.

"Bend over and grip the front of the chair seat. If you let go and rise, that
stroke does not count. You will receive six. Prepare yourself."

Julia took her stance to Peter's right and laid the cane across his vulnerable
and exposed bottom. She tapped him 1...2...3 times then,

SWISH....CRACK! The cane exploded across Peter's tender seat. It felt like a hot
wire. Peter could not believe the pain. It seemed to blot out everything in the
room, leaving only livid fire in his buttocks.

SWISH....WHACK! Again the merciless wand landed.

SWISH.....CRACK! "Yeowwww!" screamed Peter, overcome. He shot up, grabbing his
wealed buns.

"That one will not count Peter. Please resume the position so I can continue
with your caning," said Julia calmly.

"P..please, Ms Julia, I can't stand this. It's killing me," blubbed Peter.

"Nonsense. English schoolboys of 13 take this without flinching and without
uttering a sound. You are a grown man of 30, so take this like a man. Back down
over the chair and no more getting up."

Wiping away the tears that had started to flow, Peter slowly resumed the
humiliating stance over the chair, bottom uppermost.

Julia delivered three more searing cuts over the next minute. Peter howled and
hissed with each one, the pain was so intense. It was if he were nothing but a
pair of buttocks for Julia to whip. The fire in his naked seat overwhelmed all
of his senses. At number six he started to rise, but Julia stopped him.

"I did not give you permission to rise. Get back down, you have one more."

"Oh, please..." began Peter, but he stopped when his eyes met Julia's steely
gaze. He bent over again.

SWISH....Thwack! "Ow...ow...ow...", the hardest one yet thought Peter.

Having concluded, Julia turned and strode to the basket replacing the cruel
cane. Through red rimmed eyes Peter marvelled at how so desireable a woman could
have whipped him like a child while he just let her do it. He observed the
swaying haunches in the tight miniskirt and knew that if she had chosen to give
him six more he would have obeyed her.

"All right, Peter, you may rise. Replace your pants."

Peter tried to regain his composure through teary eyes and the painful throbbing
in his behind.

Julia turned and addressed him. "All right, Peter, we are done. I hope there are
no hard feelings. I think you are very sweet. You are a good man, but, I fear,
in this matter, a bad boy. So you have now been duly punished and when I receive
your paper I will report to Ms Johnson's attorney that you have completed the
course of instruction. You may go."

Dismissed, Peter mumbled a 'thank you Ms Julia' and gingerly made his way back
to his room, trying once again to avoid other guests seeing him in such juvenile
and humiliating clothing. Back in his room he shucked his pants and viewed the
damage in the mirror. Seven precision-placed weals decorated his buttocks.

***********************************************************************

In her room Cindy tried to sleep but she tossed and turned. Once or twice she
heard muffled smacking noises coming from the main hotel across the garden and
still later a sharp sound like a twig breaking. 1...2...3, then a pause,
4...5...6, then later one more. Was this Julia's naughty young man getting his
just desserts?

What had she gotten herself into? The money had blinded her. Witnessing the
flogging demonstration that evening had reminded her that she might be in for
some serious and painful punishment. And yet, Julia had been right. She was
horney. Her lust had been triggered by the naked whippings inflicted on poor
Suzy and her observation of the obvious effect on the men. She had especially
felt the heat radiating from Mark. Toward the end, when Suzy had been lashed
with the dogwhip Mark had put his hand around her waist and had pressed into her
from behind. She had responded, allowing her body to relax against his and had
felt his hard prick pushing against the groove between her bottomcheeks. Had she
been allowed to, she would have gone to his room that night and given herself to
him. As dawn pushed relentlessly forward, she finally fell into a fitful sleep.

                        Fox and Hounds  Chapter 4- The Hunt

Dawn had barely come when Cindy was rudely awakened by a persistent clanging.
She lifted her head slowly and tried to reorient herself. She was at the
resort--for the hunt, the fox and hounds game--today! Before she had time to
even get out of bed her door burst open and a pair of khaki clad staff, one with
a clipboard, entered her room. She felt like she was being rousted like some
private in the army the way they hustled her along to get dressed. Satisfied
that she was up, they left. Cindy dressed as though for a run, in jogging togs
with a tank top and running shoes. She didn't know what else to wear and assumed
that fleetness of foot would be the thing that would best enable her to avoid
the sting of Julia's whip.

The foxes were being served breakfast in a communal mess. They were encouraged
to stoke up, as it was to be a long day. Not everyone was dressed for a run. A
couple were in jeans with rugged hiking shoes. Becky, the cute brunette, wore a
bare midriff t-shirt and jean cutoffs that emphasized the curves of her rear.
Not the thing you want to flash at the hounds, thought Cindy. Kathleen the
redhead with the long curly hair was in black spandex and a sports bra that
seemed more suitable for picking up guys at the gym than escape and evasion. The
full length stretch leggings left nothing to the imagination and put Kathleen's
slender but luscious body on full display. Margo seemed to have the best idea
with camo gear and boots.

At breakfast they were briefed on the terrain and asked to pick their drop off
locations. Cindy favored a wooded copse of trees near a meadow. Margo picked a
ridge above a steep ravine. The others made their choices. There was not much
banter. They had all seen Suzy whipped to tears the previous night and agreed
that the forfeits were not the light-hearted hazing ceremony that they had
expected. If they were caught they would be stripped and whipped with all the
strength and skill in Ms Julia's sturdy right arm. It would hurt, they all
agreed, and they were highly motivated to elude their hunters.

They were given a light day pack with water and energy bars. Next the
transmitters were locked around their arms. They were loaded into jeeps and
driven on dirt fire roads and jeep trails to the remote locations they had
selected. When the jeeps drove off, each of them took off to find a good hiding
place. Cindy opted for a copse of trees on the edge of a meadow. She could hide
in the trees, but if she were spotted, could sprint across the meadow to a small
round top hill. From the base of the hill she might be able to work her way
along a creek and back to the hotel. Nothing to do now but wait, she thought.
Looking at her watch she noted that it was 8:00am. The hounds had been loosed!

************************************************************************

With her field glasses Margo could see them coming up the ravine. There were 5
of them, 3 men and two women. Margo had packed a few extra goodies for this hunt
and she hoped to use them. The hunters were about to become the hunted. She
especially wanted to catch that smug bastard who had teased her at the party.
You have no idea who you are fooling with, she thought to herself. She had a
length of thin but strong nylon line, a Leatherman tool, and a ball gag--just
the thing to turn the tables on this bunch. She hoped that they would split up
so she could isolate one. She had solved the problem of the transmitter by
picking the lock with her tool. It just wouldn't do to have the the thing trip
inadvertently, so she stuffed it in her pack.

Near the top of the defile they split up, a man and woman heading over one side
of the ridge and another couple taking the other side. That left a solitary male
still heading up toward her. In a few moments the others would be out of sight
and out of earshot. Like a lioness stalking her prey, Margo moved down the
ravine to intercept the lone man. Anticipating his route, she rigged a trip line
between two trees along the game trail that he was sure to use. Then she waited
in a thicket, the other end of the line in her hand.

As he came around a bend in the trail, she recognized him. Jerry something or
other, an arrogant bastard. They were all rich assholes, she thought. This was
going to be fun.

Huffing and out of shape, Jerry blundered right into the trap. Margo pulled on
the trip line and Jerry went down face first. Margo was on him in an instant,
tying his forearms together behind him with the stout cord before his mind could
even register what was happening. When he opened his mouth to yell, Margo
stuffed it with the ball gag and tied it behind his head. Sitting on his back,
Margo took another length of the cord and tied his ankles together.

Raising herself and dusting off her camo pants she said,

"Well, well, Jerry, you've got yourself in a fine kettle of fish. Look what I've
got here. You're all trussed up and your friends are off over the ridge. They
won't be back for awhile, so let's have some fun."

Jerry's muffled protests could be heard through the gag as Margo hauled Jerry to
his feet. He could not move to prevent Margo from throwing a line over a low
tree limb and tying it to his fettered hands. She tugged on the line pulling
Jerry's arms up behind him causing him to bend over slightly. When she had what
she thought was the right posture, she tied the line around the trunk of the
tree.

"You know Jerry, how the other night everybody watched poor Suzy getting her
butt whipped? Well, it excited me too, and I know it excited you. I saw you. I
saw that bulge in your pants. And I was thinking, would it be as exciting to see
a man getting it?"

Jerry stopped struggling and stared wild eyed, some fear creeping in now.

"What do you think? And then I got to thinking. I might not get to find out. I
mean what if all us foxes get caught? Or if the people who get chosen by lot are
all women, what then? I'll never know. So I decided on a little experiment."

As she was speaking, Margo took her pocket tool started to cut a thin branch.
She skinned the leaves and the buds off, carefully stripping the slender wand
into a smooth 3 foot long very whippy switch.

"My mom used to make me cut these when I was due for a good whippin'. I can tell
you they sting like the devil. She never had a set number either, she just used
to whip me 'till I howled and she thought I'd had enough."

Jerry's eyes grew wide with fright at the sight of the instrument of his
impending punishment.

"You ever have a good hard switchin' Jerry?"

Jerry shook his head dumbly. He couldn't believe this was happening.

"Well, baby, you're gonna get one now. Let's get these pants down."

With Jerry trying to scream through the gag, Margo unfastened Jerry's pants and
yanked them down to his ankles. Then, kneeling before him, Margo slowly slid his
briefs down baring him from waist to knees. Surprisingly, his penis gave a
little twitch and began to rise.

"My, my, what have we here?" she cooed. Margo decided she would now tease Jerry. 
"I may need to have a bit more freedom of movement, if you know what I mean,"
she said, stripping off her top to reveal her beautifully sculpted breasts
practically overflowing her tight black bra. Jerry could not take his eyes off
of her heaving breasts. His penis began to harden.

Margo just grinned in satisfaction at his perdicament and swished the switch to
get a feel for its flexibility.

Margo moved behind him, swishing the switch. The whining sound produced a cold
knot of fear in Jerry's gut. Margo put the switch under her arm and pulled
Jerry's shirt up and out of the way. He was now completely exposed, bending
forward slightly, bare ass sticking out obscenely. Giving his buns a little pat
she stood to his right and tapped his butt a few times. He jerked even at these
light taps and strained to look over his shoulder.

"I think I'll start out with 6, no, 12 of the best, Jerry then we'll see. How
does that sound? OK?"

Jerry just moaned in frustration and fear.

Margo drew back her arm and swiped the switch down across Jerry's bottom with a
satisfying SWICK! A red weal appeared.

"Mmmf...mmmf!" Jerry's muffled scream was frantic. The switch had stung like
blazes.

SWICK! SWICK! SWICK! SWICK! Margo whipped the limber switch across Jerry's nude
bottom. The sound of each hissing lick was followed by muffled cries from Jerry,
straining to escape the gag. His body jerked like a puppet being tugged on a
string with every livid red stripe raised across his ass. He could not believe
the intensity of the pain from the slender switch. Each stroke felt like a red
hot wire was being laid across the cheeks of his behind.

As for Margo, the feeling of such power was intoxicating. She revelled in the
whine and crack of the switch against Jerry's reddening bottom.

She loved the sight of Jerry stamping and hopping in a vain attempt to avoid the
licks she delivered. SWICK! SWICK! SWICK! She kept it up, well past the promised
12.

"What you're getting, Jerry, is a good 'ol country whippin', just like Ma used
to give." And after a final 5 or 6 full-armed swipes that raised Jerry up on his
toes, she threw the switch down. Jerry's rear was a livid mass of red lines.
None had broken the skin, but from his reaction Margo bet that he felt like he'd
been skinned. Jerry was soaked in sweat and was mewling pitiously through the
gag. Margo rubbed his bottom and at the same time stroked his penis which had
become limp under the intense pain of the whipping.

"Aw, did we lose this fine specimen 'cause of mama's whippin'? Well, then mama
will make it all better," whispered Margo seductively as she coaxed the
thickening member back to hardness. Margo herself had become aroused to the
point of giddiness and decided to make good use of what she had created.

 Jerry gasped with mixed horror and pleasure as she stroked him faster and
faster. When he was fully hard, Margo stopped and untied the cord from the tree
trunk. She pushed Jerry up against the tree and ran the cord around his waist,
tying him with his back to the tree. She next produced a condom from a pocket
and fitted it over Jerry's twitching hardness. Jerry could not believe his eyes
as Margo shimmied her pants and panties down to her knees. She turned around
and, bending over slightly, backed up against Jerry mashing her soft voluptuous
buttocks into his pelvis.  Reaching back and taking the turgid member in hand,
she inserted it between the slippery lips of her quim and pushed back, impaling
herself. She rocked on her heels, forcing the hard penis to slide in and out as
her buttocks flattened themselves against his abdomen in time with her sinuous
movements. A wave of pleasure began to build as she thrust herself back and
forth on the hard shaft. As she felt her climax coming, her movements became
faster until at last she humped herself against him furiuosly. She felt Jerry's
body stiffen as she came, signalling that he too had erupted in climax.

When her breath returned, she disengaged herself with a soft plop, and
rearranged her clothing. Jerry slumped over with exhaustion. Margo pulled up his
pants and refastened his belt. "There," she said, "Good as new, right? Somehow I
don't think you'll tell anyone about this little episode. You'd have to submit
some pretty embarassing 'evidence' to prove what happenned. In fact I'm going to
untie your hands. You can do the rest."

Margo loosed the cord tying Jerry's arms and jogged off down the ravine.

Having cut through the group of pursuers, she made it all the way in easily and
was home free by mid afternoon.

*********************************************************************

 Cindy was trapped. She knew they would spot her soon, it was only a matter of
time. She was hugging the treeline on the edge of a meadow, but a group of six
was spread out over the meadow and coming her way. She could hear the rustle of
brush in the woods behind her, so that way was no good either. Could she dash
between them and flee across the meadow? Maybe, but she was unsure of what lay
on the other side. More hunters perhaps. The footfalls behind her got closer.
She would have to make a move. She darted out of the brush, hoping to scoot past
the approaching hunters before they could react. And it worked! They shouted and
gave chase. One of them was Mark! She could see the determination on his face as
he stretched out his stride to catch her. He was gaining, she could see. He must
be in good shape, she thought with dismay. She was about to make the opposite
tree line. She and Mark had outdistanced all the rest. Now it was just the two
of them. She flew into the trees but it was too thick and she had to slow down
to stumble through the brush. She suddenly felt herself rushing headlong
downhill. She heard Mark frantically calling to her. "Wait!" He yelled. "Not
that way!"

But Cindy did not heed the warning. She pushed through some brush to find
herself on the edge of a cliff. Her momentum had caused her to teeter
precariously. She was about to lose balance when her waist was encircled by
Mark's strong arm which pulled her to safety.

"You little idiot! You almost went over the cliff," exclaimed Mark.

When he relaxed his grip Cindy tried to bolt.

"Oh no you don't," he said and deftly reached behind her and toggled her
transmitter. "Now it does you no good to run. You are mine, now. Officially, in
fact. Now lets' get you away from the side of this cliff."

Cindy allowed Mark to pull her to safety. "I guess I should thank you for
grabbing me when you did. Thank you," she said breathlessly.

"You're welcome. You were about to throw yourself into that ravine. Didn't you
hear me?"

"I just wanted to get away," said Cindy in a small voice.

"I'd rather you didn't kill yourself in the process, young lady."

Cindy shivered at Mark's stern tone of voice, but his concern for her was
obvious.

"Well, you caught me," said Cindy, her eyes downcast. Dammit! She had wanted to
escape. "I guess that means when we get back you're going to....you know," she
said, her voice trailing off.

"Yes. I know what this means, and yes, I am going to spank your little butt good
and proper. You could have killed yourself, but I'm glad you are safe. I have
plans for you, but first I guess you'll have to pay the piper."

Cindy grimaced. Oh no! A public spanking....not to mention what was to transpire
later. "Please, please go easy on me Mark. I know I was reckless but..."
But Mark just shook his head. "I want to make this memorable, Cindy, and
besides, the other members of my party who slogged all over the place chasing
you will expect me to do the job justice-- so you'll just have to grin and bear
it."

Cindy gave a groan and slumped to the ground. In the distance she could hear a
vehicle approaching. This was it. She was a captive now and they were coming to
take her back. There was no help for it. She had an appointment, not only with
Mark, but with Ms Julia and her whips.

**********************************************************************

 When the jeep arrived she had been put in handcuffs. "For her own protection"
they said. It wouldn't do to have captured foxes trying to escape into the woods
with night coming, they might hurt themselves. Right, she thought ruefully, they
just don't want anyone trying to get out of the humiliating forfeits to be paid.
Mark was her official "capturer" so they gave him a little leash that hooked to
the cuffs. She was his prize. She was powerless to prevent him leading her to
that raised dias and that sturdy looking chair and putting her over his knee
like a little girl who has been naughty. Still, a part of her felt a little
erotic thrill. She only hoped it would not hurt too much. She heard the distant
siren sounding the end of the hunt. Too late for me, she thought, and wondered
if any had escaped.

The jeep pulled in and Mark helped her out.

"If you will take her to the garden, sir, the others are arriving," said a
uniformed staffer.

"Let's go, Cindy, time to pay up," said Mark with a smile. "Just remember, a hot
bottom is a lot less painful than a broken leg... or worse."

The crowd was gathering in front of the raised gazebo. Cindy saw Becky, the
petite brunette with the tight cutoffs, in handcuffs, her eyes wide with
apprehension. She was being led by a tall sinewy woman with auburn hair.
Kathleen, the gorgeous slender redhead, had apparantly been caught by a tall
athletic looking man who sported a bruise on his cheek and scratches on his
face. He had a determined look on his face that did not bode well for Kathleen.
Sarah, the tall blonde, had been captured by an older, distinguished looking
gentleman who just smiled at his captive while he accepted congratulations from
his colleagues. Sarah was trying to hold her head high and appear courageous,
but she was visibly shaken and nervously eyed the raised dias and that chair.
Margo and Paula were not in handcuffs. They were smiling and accepting comments
and congratulations from the others, who must have been wondering with a bit of
nervousness who would be chosen to take their places.

They were standing around laughing and talking while drinks were being served by
waiters in uniform. It might have been an ordinary garden party for all anyone
could tell except for the four girls in handcuffs and on leashes. Still, there
was an undercurrent of expectation and nervous excitement.

The crowd eyed the capturers and their prey enviously, and there was a glint in
the eye of every hunter present that proclaimed how anxious they were for things
to get started. These little foxes had led them up ravines, through thick brush,
and down steep slopes. There were scratches and sore joints and bruises from
falling down and hacking their way through some heavy underbrush. Yes, they were
all ready to see these little madames taken to task.



 Ms Julia arrived. She was dressed for a hunt, in the tight jodpurs and boots of
the previous night. She carried a clipboard and was accompanied by Alex Arcado.
His eyes met Cindy's for a moment. He gave her a grin that said gee, tough luck,
kid.

"May we have your attention, please, everyone," began Arcado. "My
congratulations to the hunters who bagged a fox, and, my condolences to the poor
foxes who were caught. But the rules of the game were agreed to by all of you,
and it is now time to collect the forfeits for today's hunt. I again turn the
proceedings over to Ms Julia."

As Julia strode to the podium on the gazebo, the crowd continued to chatter.

The woman holding Becky regarded her with a broad smile, and Becky blushed as
she talked about exacting her revenge.

"Sweetheart, I just can't wait to get that cute little fanny of yours up over my
knee. I'm gonna spank you good, you hear. Imagine, leading us through that creek
all day. Why my boots are wet!"

The man holding Kathleen was talking to his fellow hunters about the bruise and
the scratches. "Yeah, she hit me with a rock, can you believe it? Then she tried
to scratch my eyes out when I was going for her transmitter. This little she cat
is due for hot time over my knee, I guarantee it. By the time I get finished,
her lily white ass will be the color of her hair!" Kathleen sniffed indignantly
and tossed her head at this news.

"Looks like you got your work cut out for you, Mike," said one. "Don't worry,"
said Mike, "She's going to get a right good tanning, right on that gorgeous
spank spot of hers. She'll be eating supper standing up  tonight."

Meanwhile, Julia began to speak, "Thank you Alex, your staff has done a
wonderful job. Everyone is back and safe, and except for a few scratches and
bruises, nobody is any the worse for wear.  Well, now, let us
continue. There are penalties to be paid for capture, are there not, ladies and
gentlemen? Yes, there are, and by tradition the capturing hunter is permitted to
give his fox a good old fashioned spanking as a penalty. We certainly think this
is more humane than just shooting them.

So ladies and gentlemen, hunters and prey, the gazebo and its sturdy chair await
you. I have Becky, Cindy, Kathleen and Sarah down as lawfully captured, so
girls, I hope you will submit gracefully. Chin up, now. Let's see, how about
ladies first? Miss Anna Granville caught Becky, so Anna, you may proceed."

With a wicked grin Anna tugged little Becky's leash and led her toward the dias.
Becky dug her heels in at first, but was admonished by Anna.

"None of that now, you come along, you hear." And she strode up to the platform
and sat down. Pulling Becky to face her, with Becky's back to the assembly, she
unbuckled the tight shorts and snugged them down revealing Becky's cute bottom
clad in white nylon panties. Everyone hooted and applauded as she turned little
Becky over her knee and rubbed her palm over the protruding resilient surfaces
of her tush. Then Julia spoke.

"She may be bare if you wish, Anna."

"Oh, yeah," said Anna, smiling, and to the appreciation of everyone slipped
Becky's panties down to her knees amid whistles and cheers.

"Here we go, Becky, this is for giving us such a hard time catching you."

Anna raised her hand and brought it down with a sharp smack! Then smack! And
smack! And smack! Anna spanked Becky with sharp wristy smacks, right left,
right, left, center, center. Smack! Smack! Smack! Becky gasped at the sudden
sting, then tried to wriggle and twist, but Anna was bigger and easily held the
petite Becky in spanking position. "Ouch...ow...ow...oh....yeow!" squealed Becky
at the stinging onslaught. Anna spanked in flurries, six sharp spanks that would
make Becky squeal, then she would stop and rub. Then six more. More rubbing.
Then six more.

At each set of six, Becky squirmed and bobbed over the lap of her tormentress,
lewdly wiggling her cute bare fanny, much to the delight of the crowd. With a
final smack! smack! smack! smack! smack! smack! and a frantic series of "Ouch!
Ouch! ouch!...Yeowwww!" from Becky she was done. She set Becky on her feet and
reached around to rub her hiney which was a bright crimson. "There, there, now,
that wasn't so bad, was it?" cooed Anna. Shouts of "Way to go Anna!" and "Good
job, Anna!" could be heard as Anna replaced Becky's panties and shorts.

"Let's give Anna a hand," said Julia, as Anna descended the dias, Becky in tow.
They unlocked Becky's cuffs and her hands flew to her injured buns. Next up is
Mike Standel with his captured prize, Kathleen.

"Alright, let's go honey buns, time for your licking," whispered Mike as he
tugged her along. Kathleen pulled back on the leash attempting to jerk free.
"Oh, no you don't," said Mike, grabbing her wrists and pulling her along.
Seating himself in the chair he unceremoniously tipped the flailing Kathleen
over his lap and pressed his hand in the small of her back. With his right hand
he inserted his fingers into the waistband of the tight spandex and began
working it down over Kathleens hips. With a few tugs Kathleen's wonderfully
rounded white fanny popped into view, eliciting hoots and cheers and whistles.
The plump and pertly protruding cheeks were contrasted starkly with the black
spandex. Mike flattened his hand and raised it to shoulder level, a determined
look on his face. Kathleen had twisted her neck to look, alarmed at what was to
come.

Splat! Mike's hand smacked down momentarily flattening Kathleen's right
bottomcheek. "Yeoww!" She shrieked.

Splat! "Owwww!" Splat! "Owwww" Splat! "Stop!"

Mike started spanking in a slow steady rhythm, not at all like Anna. He took a
few seconds between each ringing spank, slowly raising his palm, flattened like
a paddle, and brought it down hard against Kathleen's jiggling bottom. Kathleen
bawled and squirmed over Mike's sturdy thighs but she could not escape the slow
but relentless spanking of her tender derriere. With each spank her back arched
and her head flew back. The white buns changed color quickly. With the first few
licks, red handprints were clearly visible, but then soon merged into a reddish
mass. Kathleen tried to kick but her legs were hobbled by the spandex tights.
All she could do was yelp, and absorb smack after smack from Mike's capable
palm. Mike was grimly determined to exact revenge for the rock throwing, and
made each spank count. She had a beautiful butt, he thought. A classic teardrop
shape. Each spank caused it to flatten then spring back into shape, bobbing
slightly. By the sixtieth spank, she was hoarse from yelling and his hand hurt.
Satisfied with his handiwork, he patted the bright red spank spot, then stood
her on her feet amid cheers and applause for the apparant soundness of the
punishment. Kathleen's face was as flushed as her rear. But although her bottom
was burning, she had felt the stirrings of arousal during her spanking, and her
sex felt slippery. She hoped no one noticed.

Jake Reeves, a tall 40ish gentleman was next. Sarah, her head held high walked
defiantly behind him as he led her to the gazebo. She seemed determined not to
let it get to her that she was about to be smacked like a schoolgirl, but she
could not control the blushing in response to the catcalls and whistles. Sarah
was tall and lanky but had a nicely rounded behind. She was clad in running
shorts that set off the lines of her lean runner's legs. Jake didn't stand on
ceremony. He put her across his knee, rucked down her pants and spanked her
soundly, 60 resounding smacks that left her writhing breathlessly across his
lap, delivered in less than two minutes. When he let her up, her mouth had
formed a wide O in surprise at the intensity of pain from the fiery sting of his
hand.

Oh, God, its my turn now, thought Cindy.

Fox And Hounds     Pt 5   In The Garden

Cindy was next. There was no escaping it. All eyes turned her way as Mark, her
handsome capturer, pulled gently on the leash clipped to her bound hands. She
blushed, knowing the fate that awaited her at the top of the steps, and
reluctantly followed Mark as he led her through the throng of  the 100 hunters
who would soon witness her humiliating forfeit.

 She had been caught, and under the rules of the game, the man who caught her
was entitled to spank her, right here, bottoms up, pants down, in front of all
these people. Not since she was a teenager and had had to report to the
assistant principal for a paddling had she felt the dread in the pit of her
stomach that was prelude to a sound  bottom warming. She felt it now, even
though it was Mark, who she liked, who would be administering the warming. But
she had just met Mark and didn't know him at all. He obviously liked her,
though. He had been so concerned for her safety on the hunt. And to top it off
he was a bit put out with her for not heeding his warning. He was going to use
this opportunity to teach her a lesson, and a part of her thought she deserved
it.

They ascended the dias as the watchers cheered with approval. Shouts of " Give
her a good one!" and "Warm her little buns up for us!"  accompanied them to the
chair. A simple chair had never looked so ominous, thought Cindy.

 Mark sat down and looked up at Cindy. She stood to his right, trembling, her
head bowed. He said, "Come here, Cindy."

She obeyed and he slid his fingers into the elastic of her shorts. She blushed
furiously as he slid the shorts down to her ankles, leaving her displayed in
pink nylon panties. "Over my knee," was the next command and she leaned forward.
Mark guided her across his lap until her feet left the floor and her buttocks
were positioned prominently over his right knee. She felt so vulnerable. Her
bottom was propped up and on display. "This is a panties down spanking, Cindy,
so lift up a little." She groaned with embarassment, but obeyed again and felt a
cool breeze as the little panties glided down to her ankles. Her breath caught
in her throat as she felt his big palm resting on the crowns of her bottom
cheeks.

Then she felt his palm lift. For a moment, nothing, then... Smack! "Yeoww!" Wow,
it stung! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Yeowww.....ouch!" God, that really stung,
she thought. He rained hard steady smacks down on her naked seat. She tried to
wriggle but he held her tight. Her buns jiggled as palm met fanny which wobbled
deliciuosly,  smack after smack.

 "Ahhhh...noooo!" The heat. Her buns were burning after a sound dozen cracks
from Mark's sturdy hand. This really smarts, she thought, as the stinging heat
built relentlessly. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Mark contiued to deliver smack
after smack to her tender seat. He was really lighting a fire, and she bucked
and writhed across his lap. The fiery sting took her breath away. He was
spanking her hard.

 "Ow....Mark....please....ow, ow, ow.." she pleaded as the steady rain of spanks
continued. Her bottom must be bright red, she thought. Indeed it was. The red
handprints that had appeared when Mark started had now merged into a crimson
mass. Smack! Smack! "Oww....Yeouch!" How many more? She wondered.

 And then a new sensation. Her sex. She felt herself getting wet. The stinging
heat had spread to her pussy lips. Just like that time with Steve. Mark was
still spanking her, but somehow the hot sting had merged with an onrush of
pleasure. She even started unconsciously to raise her bottom in time to meet his
descending hand. She still cried out at each smack.

 "Ow....Mark...please...ouch!" She kicked and drummed her feet on the dias.
Smack! Smack! Smack! Mark's hand came down with sharp ringing smacks. Then she
felt a final smack! smack! smack! and someone said "That's sixty".

As abruptly as it began, it was over. Oh...she thought. I'm hot ---and wet! I
hope nobody sees. Her ass was as red as a ripe tomato, two bright red spank
spots contrasted with the whiteness of her legs, and it felt like an inferno.

While still over his knee she felt Mark's hand caressing her throbbing buns. The
same hand that had spanked her so soundly was now comforting her. She was aware
of applause and whistles. He pulled her pants back up over her bottom, and she
was grateful for the small way in which he had tried to spare her modesty. He
lifted her and kissed her. She kissed him back, much to the delight of the
crowd. Then he took her by the arm and led her down the steps. An attendant
unlocked the cuffs and her hands flew to her bottom.

"Oh, Mark, you can really spank! I'll feel that for a week! You meanie." She
pouted.

"I just believe that any job that must be done should be done well," said Mark
grinning, "Besides in an hour you won't feel anything but a pleasant warmth back
there."

"That's easy for you to say," she countered, "But I'm glad it was you. Now just
hold me."

And he slid his arms around her and gently massaged her fanny.

Julia strode to the dias and addressed the guests:

" We now have our final items before tonight's festivities, ladies and
gentlemen. As you know,  two foxes avoided capture. That means four of you will
submit to the forfeits that would have been theirs."

As she spoke Keith appeared bearing a large bowl with pieces of paper inside. He
set it on the chair.

"In this bowl are 96 names. Exempt are those who made the captures of the foxes
who just received their spankings. The rest of you are eligible, I'm afraid. The
escaped foxes, Margo and Paula, will each draw 2 names. If your name is drawn,
please come to the front. Let's be civilized about this. It was part of the
agreement for this contest, so please no hysterics or running or fighting.
Accept your fate with a little dignity. Believe it or not, submission is good
for the soul. Now Paula if you please, draw two slips."

The junoesque Paula reached in, drew two slips, and handed them to Julia.

" The first name is: Kenneth Powell."

"Arghhh...no!!" Groaned a slender framed, athletic young man in his  late 20's.
All eyes turned his way. "I can't believe this!"

Julia ignored him and read: "Dottie Nelson."

"Me? Me?" wailed an attractive platinum blonde with a voluptuous body. "Oh, no,
it can't be! I don't want a whipping! Nooo! Eddie, tell them no, they can't do
this."

She looked imploringly at the man who apparantly was "Eddie", her escort.

Indeed, Eddie Jensen, a self made multimillionaire, had brought the gorgeous
Dottie, whom he had met in Las Vegas. But Eddie shrugged and said, "Sorry
Dottie, but you knew the deal as well as I did. I can't help you now." In truth
Eddie was looking forward to seeing Dottie get a good licking. Not only was she
built like Marilyn Monroe, but she had gushed excitedly all weekend over the
prospect of the punishments. Other people's, that is. She was luscious, he
mused, dressed in tight little shorts, a khaki shirt, and even a bush hat, she
looked like an ad for the "sexpot" line from Banana Republic.

"All right folks, settle down. Kenneth and Dottie, I'm sorry but you agreed to
play. Those are the breaks, kids."

Kenneth and Dottie continued to look crestfallen as Julia motioned to Margo.
"Draw two slips, please."

Margo handed two slips to Julia, who read:

"Debby Fielding and Howard Lawson"

"Oh, my, that's me!" said an attractive 30ish brunette with a trim figure. Debby
Fielding had come alone. The CEO of her own very sucessful e-commerce concern
selling upscale kitchenware, she had thought the weekend would be some delicious
naughty fun. But now she began to sweat nervously as the reality of what was in
store for her hit home. She had often fantasized about being bound and lashed,
and she had masturbated while reading "The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty" too. But
this was real.

Howard Lawson, meanwhile, had simply walked forward. Lawson, a short, buff, and
attractive man in his mid 30s was drawn to the two women like a moth to a flame.
He had long fantasized about something like this and now it was about to happen.
His mouth felt dry and he nervously licked his lips as he said, "I'm Howard
Lawson."

Howard was torn between arousal and fear and mortification. He had had
fantasies, it seemed, about being taken in hand by a "stern mommy" and spanked
bare over her knee. He had come to this weekend because of the prospect of
watching others get it and living their experiences vicariously, but now it
seemed he was to acquire the experience first hand. To Howard, Julia and Margo
were goddess figures, at the same time objects of desire and punishing angels.

Julia motioned and several staff came forward bearing the wrist restraints worn
by the others. As each one was cuffed, Julia noted their names on the clipboard.
They were then brought up to the front, escorted by the khaki clad Fantasies
Unlimited staffers.

"Paula and Margo, we have 4 very unlucky 'hounds' here. You are entitled to give
each one a sound spanking, 60 smacks, on the bare. You can each do your 2, or I
will assist if you wish. It is up to you."

Paula and Margo huddled for a moment, then turned to Julia.

"We would each like to take one of our two and at the same time have you 'do'
the other one," giggled Paula, "Like sort of a spanking duet."

There was enthusiastic response. Everyone seemed to like this idea.

"Ok, girls, let's see if we can't get them yelping in two part harmony. Who goes
first?"

"I'll go", said Paula, "I always wanted to be on the other end of a spanking. I
know I got plenty as a kid."

Julia motioned for someone to get another chair for the dias, then turned to the
four apprehensive guests. "Dottie and Ken, come with me, please."

"No, look, please...," pleaded Ken.

"No...don't...", wailed Dottie.

They were pulled forward helplessly while the chairs were positioned side by
side. Julia, having had long years of experience, grasped Dottie by her earlobe
and she yelled in protest as she tugged her toward the stage. Once on stage the
two disciplinarians sat down and started undoing various buttons, belts and
zippers, amid shrill protests from Dottie and pleading from Ken. It took some
doing by Julia, but she managed to peel down Dottie's skin tight shorts to
reveal a full rounded bottom clad in tiny bikini panties. She yanked the
startled Dottie across her sturdy lap and tugged down the little panties to the
accompaniment of clapping and cheering--and not a few whistles of appreciation.

 Ken, in the meantime had been deposited over Paula's knee, his jeans at
half-mast. With a flourish of Paula's wrist, his white briefs followed.
Ummm...thought Paula, what cute buns, I'm going to enjoy this. Paula liked guys
with athletic builds and cute tushes. Ken's obvious embarassment at his
perdicament made him even more appealing. "Get ready for a hot one, little boy,"
she whispered under her breath. She knew Ken heard her because he stiffened in
anticipation. And then she felt something else--Ken's penis, sliding over her
thigh--it was getting hard. She whispered again, "Ooh, you naughty boy, now
you're really going to get it."

At a nod from Julia they started to spank. Their palms splatted down on the bare
heinies over their laps causing yelps of distress from Ken and Dottie. Dottie's
prominently rounded posterior bounced and jiggled over Julia's lap as she
smacked the quivering mounds in a slow steady rhythm. Dottie screamed bloody
murder as her luscious fanny was tanned to a red glow.

Paula spanked Ken with flurries of hard smacks, with pauses in between. With
each sharp series of smacks he arched his back and wailed for mercy, but Paula
was having too much fun watching his little buns tense and quiver as she smacked
his asscheeks to a cherry red. Both of them writhed over the laps of their
tormentresses attempting in vain to escape the stinging tattoo. The delighted
onlookers shouted encouragement, urging the ladies to spank harder. At this
point they were no doubt relieved that it would not be they getting their
fannies tanned.

When each of the women had delivered their 60 spanks, the unlucky duo was
allowed to rise and replace their clothing. Both of them winced as they drew
their shorts up over their flaming behinds, and Dottie did a little war dance,
stamping around, much to everyone's delight.

Julia stood and addressed Margo who was waiting with Debby and Howard in cuffs.
Debby had changed into a short yellow summer dress that made her look much
younger than her 35 years. Howard was still in jeans from the hunt.

"Well, which one do you want, Margo?" asked Julia. Margo regarded the pair,
thinking that she had already whipped a man that day.

"I believe I'll warm Miss Fielding's fanny, Ms Julia."

"Good choice, Margo." Addressing the two she intoned, "All right, folks, its
spanking time."

Debby shivered nervously as she approached Margo who smiled wickedly and led her
to the dias. Julia crooked her finger at Howard, who shuffled on unsteady legs
up the steps to his fate. Standing in front of him she loosened his pants and
dragged them down to his knees. In the meantime, Margo sat down and flipped the
shorter and lighter Debby over her knee. Her dress rode up revealing nicely
tanned legs and the bottoms of some green silk panties. Margo pulled the brief
skirt all the way up, and Debby gasped a little "Oh, dear!" as the full rounded
cheeks of her bottom, clad only in the brief silky panties was exposed to
everyone's gaze. Debby thought her behind was "too big", but in truth it was a
lovely, albeit full, jouncy derriere that caused many a head to turn when she
walked by in the tight business skirts she favored.

Julia took her seat. She regarded Howard with a wry smile for a moment, and then
patted her thighs with both of her hands. "Come on Mr Lawson, time to assume the
position." Howard hesitated. "Come, come, sir, you're not afraid of a little
spanking are you?" Shamefacedly, Howard gingerly placed himself across her lap,
actually none too soon for he was becoming aroused.

Debby to her amazement felt deliciously shamed and aroused at the same time. She
had had no idea that being held like she was, bottom on display, would feel so
naughty. Her fanny was sticking up higher than the rest of her and it was clad
in only thin panties.

"Ready, Margo?" queried Julia. "Ok, kids, lift up, it's panties down time!"
Simultaneously, Julia and Margo rucked pants and panties down to the kneehollows
of their respective penitents. Debby felt like she was all bottom. A momentary
cool breeze wafted across her vulnerable mounds which wobbled slightly as Margo
made last minute adjustments to position her just right.

 Then the spankings started. Since these were the last forfeits of the
afternoon, Julia and Margo strived to make them memorable. The smackings were
soundly meted out and Julia and Margo did not hold back. Smack after stinging
smack visited each wriggling bottom. Debby yelped as Margo administered hot
spanks to alternate cheeks. Howard, surprised at the intensity of the stinging
imparted by Julia's hand, cried out for mercy. But there was no mercy until the
two had danced and squirmed across the lovely laps of Margo and Julia for the
full dose of 60 hard swats.

 Margo was enthralled with the sight and sound of her palm splatting against the
shapely resilient buttocks of Debby, and Debby for all her mortification, found
the juvenile swatting arousing. How she must look! She just knew her big bottom
cheeks danced and jiggled obscenely with each sharp smack, but the sharp sting
was not all that unpleasant. Her buns were first warm then tingly, then hot!

 Howard, too, was revelling in his submissive posture. This Goddess has me over
her knee! Actually spanking me like a child. Ow! It stings so! Ow! Ow! I'll be
good! Howard could hardly believe the heat that Julia could generate in his
fanny with just the flat of her hand. I must be beet red, he thought.

And when all 60 spanks had fallen they both sported beet red hienies.

Margo and Julia stood them up and both Debby and Howard looked over their
shoulders to survey the damage, much to the amusement of the onlookers.

When clothing had been rearranged, the Garden Party was over. Dinner, it was
announced, would be at 8pm sharp.

Attendants came forward and surrounded the eight "condemned" who looked
nervously at Julia. Another woman appeared who announced that she was their
"matron-in-charge" for the next few hours. "I'm Carol Harding, Ms Harding for
now, if you please. I will be in charge of preparing you for tonight. Please
follow me to the guesthouse."

"Wait a minute," said Dottie. "I want to go back to my room. I want my clothes.
I want a shower."

"Sorry Miss," said Ms Harding, " you are sort of under 'house arrest' right now.
Everything you need will be provided. We will proceed right now to a briefing
and you will all come with me."

"But...but..." sputtered Dottie, "This is outreageous. I demand to see someone
in authority. You can't do this!"

Ms Harding regarded Dottie with folded arms for a few seconds then said,
"Gunter, give her twelve hard smacks."

Dottie said "Whaaa...?" as a tall nordic looking attendant grabbed Dottie and
jerked her over his knee which he had propped up on the side of a stone bench.
While Dottie flailed around, jacknifed over Gunter's knee, Gunter smacked her
hard twelve times on her bottom, eliciting frantic shrieks from the buxom
blonde. When he set her down she sobbed and rubbed the seat of her tight shorts.

"I hope you now understand. Please follow me without incident or I will have
Gunter provide you with the motivation to do so."

Cindy gazed hopelessly at Mark. He and She both understood. They were prisoners,
captured slaves. Flanked by the crew of attendants they were marched off to the
guest house.

               Fox and Hounds Part 6



They followed Ms Harding over to the guest house flanked by the cadre of staff,
like prisoners being marched to jail. They were ushered inside a meeting room
and were seated in a row of chairs. Carol Harding addressed the group.

"Now believe it or not, our job here is to pamper you. For awhile, anyway," she
added with a tight smile.

"For the next couple of hours, until they call for us, you will use the spa in
this building. We have sauna, whirlpool, and steam rooms. We want you cleaned up
and looking pretty. You will have about an hour to bathe, then you will receive
a massage. A special lotion will be massaged into your skin that will help
prevent abrasions or other injury.  Ladies, we have cosmeticians, hairdressers
and manicurists. They are all at your disposal. Later, you will be fed in our
banquet room.

  You will each be assigned two attendants who will cater to your every desire.
Do not hesitate to ask them for anything, but obey their instructions. We do not
want a repeat of that scene in the garden," she said looking pointedly at
Dottie.

"Now I will repeat this later, but at the banquet you will each see a small vial
of liquid at your seat. I encourage you to drink it with dinner. It is an herbal
cocktail that will relax you by inducing a mild state of euphoria. It will also
help you to tolerate the whipping that's coming by accelerating the release of
endorphins. It also contains an aphrodisiac. Believe me, this drink will make
the experience tolerable, and for some of you, perhaps even exciting."

Ms Harding indicated that they should follow her and she rose and led them into
the spa, which looked like an opulent Roman bath.

"Please disrobe now. You will not be needing clothes, and what you do need will
be provided by us. Your clothing will be cleaned and returned to you later."

"What, we strip in front of these guys?" asked Dottie incredulously.

"You will all be naked later in front of 100 people. What does it matter now?"
said Carol. "So do as you are told. Strip."

Where did they get her, thought Cindy, from some local women's prison?

"She's right," said Sarah with a sigh, "Being naked here is the least of our
worries. We already got our bare buns tanned in front of everybody."

They all proceeded to disrobe. To Howard and Ken it was intoxicating to see
these lovely women strip right in front of them--and it showed. Becky was cute
with a small but well rounded bottom and small but perky breasts. Sarah's
willowy figure with its long waist was offset by the fullness of her hips.
Slender Kathleen had upwardly pointing breasts and a classic teardrop-shaped
ass. Dottie was buxom and her voluptuous fanny bore the red finger marks from
Gunter's hard hand. The two men did their best to hide the effect that the sight
of the women's bodies was producing, but it was a losing battle and both men
blushed.

"That's all right, boys, those things won't go away for a while so just enjoy
it," chuckled Ms Harding.

The girls, meanwhile, getting used to the idea of being naked, smirked at their
obvious discomfort. Everyone's bottoms bore a light red flush, the after effect
of the spankings they had all received.

Cindy had to admit, they were treated well. It felt so good to bathe, and to
lounge in the jacuzzi, and the massage was dreamy. She had her hair done in a
straight but full style, setting off her eyes and face beautifully. I could get
used to this she thought, and then with a shock she remembered the reason why
they were being pampered so. It was so that they would be made beautiful for the
lashing that was the penalty for being caught or being unlucky. And what about
Mark? She had to admit that being turned over his knee, bare bottom upended for
her spanking, had been kind of sexy. The stinging in her behind had receded to a
faint pleasant glow, courtesy of the massage with that lotion. She remembered
the feel of his body from Friday night and the strong grip of his hand pulling
her back from the cliff, not to mention the stern admonishment he gave her
before pulling her across his lap and spanking her...and he'd done a good job of
that. It made her weak in the knees.

They were given robes and ushered into a small banquet room for the evening
meal. At each of the 8 place settings was the promised vial. Kathleen took hers
and said, "Well, I don't know about you, but I say, 'bottoms up'---oops what a
bad pun!" And she drank it. Everyone else broke out laughing, but then they all
drank the potion.

"I figure anything that helps me get through this is Ok by me," said Becky,
whose buns still tingled, courtesy of Anna Granville. The sentiment was echoed
by the others.

Cindy realized as the meal continued, that the clock was ticking down. Soon
someone would enter that room and tell them it was time to go. She also realized
that as time passed the prospect seemed less frightening. It was because she was
becoming sexually aroused--- she could feel it. Was this the mysterious potion
working? She wondered if the others could feel the warm flush that was spreading
from the pit of her stomach to her pussy, and making her nipples hard. Maybe the
others felt it too. The conversation centered on the forfeits. Which was worse,
the martinet or the whip? Would the birch sting as much as either?

Then there was the sound at the door and eight anxious pairs of eyes were drawn
to the entrance. Ms Harding reappeared. This was it.

She could feel the butterflies return as she realized that this was really about
to happen.

Carol Harding stood there with the crew of attendants, eight of whom were
holding what appeared to be white cloaks. The other eight held a type of manacle
or wrist restraint.

"Its time," she announced. "Please stand up and drop your robes, you won't be
needing them anymore."

The 8 rose reluctantly to face the attendants who had moved into the spacious
banquet room. Cindy gulped and took off her robe, letting it drop to the floor.
She saw the others doing the same.

"Please hold out your hands. I'm sorry but you will all have to be restrained
for this." As she spoke, the soft manacles, having a short length of chain
between them, were placed on her wrists. A white cloak was placed over her
shoulders that was tied with a drawstring at the neck. We all look like vestal
virgins ready to be led off to some pagan sacrifice, she thought. And in a way,
that was exactly what was happening. Here they were, naked under the thin
cloaks, manacled and ready to be led away to a public whipping, a sexually
charged entertainment spectacle for the victors of the game.

They proceeded single file over to the main hotel, the penitants flanked by the
staff, one on each side. To think of escape was impossible. They were naked
under the cloaks, barefoot and manacled. They were led into the ballroom and
lined up along the wall behind a stage containing the various apparatus of
punishment. The pillory, the whipping post and the frame were lined up, side by
side, waiting for their victims. The guests were already present, sitting in the
boxes facing the stage or in chairs on the floor. The lighting was dim except
for spotlights trained on the stage. Though it was hard to see, Cindy searched
for Mark, and meeting his eyes, blushed and lowered her head. He had a look of
concern, no doubt thinking about what was to come in just a few moments.

Cindy saw Ms Julia enter from a side door. She was wearing a black bustier with
a flounced very short skirt that barely covered her bottom cheeks. She wore
thigh length black boots with 5" heels that accentuated her long legs and
voluptuous rear. The chatter stopped and all eyes turned her way as her heels
clicked across the hard floor and she ascended the stage.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are ready to begin," she announced. A lovely female
staffer wearing a short tunic that looked like an old English herald's costume
took the stage and unfurled a rolled proclamation. In a loud voice she
exclaimed:

"Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye. By order of the Mistress of the Hunt, the captured
foxes and the vanquished hunters will now undergo the lawful chastisement
proscribed by the rules of the hunt. The penalty to be inflicted upon those so
designated will consist of a sound lashing. The implement and the number of
strokes will be determined by chance. All present are invited to witness
punishment."

All applauded as the "herald" took a bow and retreated from the stage.

Julia addressed the group. "We will administer the forfeits one person at a
time." Julia perused a list of names, paused for dramatic effect, then said,
"Bring Kathleen O'Leary to the stage."

Two handlers took Kathleen, one on each arm up the steps to the stage. She
tossed her head defiantly, but fear showed in her eyes.

"Kathleen, you were captured, fair and square. You will therefore pay the
penalty proscribed by the rules of this contest. You must now draw from this
bowl to determine your fate. There are 8 slips of paper in here. Each one has an
implement and a number. Draw now."

Kathleen took a deep breath and drew a slip out. She handed it to Julia.

Julia read it aloud: "Kathleen will be fastened to the frame and will receive 20
lashes with the martinet." To the attendants she said, "Prepare her."

Kathleen's hands flew to her mouth and her knees buckled slightly at this news.
Her two attendants took her elbows and turning her around stripped off her cloak
revealing her in all her glorious nakedness. Her flaming red hair had been
styled in ringlets that fell well past her shoulders and her body had been
massaged with a scented oil to make her skin glisten.

Cindy watched breathlessly as they fastened Kathleen to the whipping frame. The
frame was like a tilted a-frame easal with a large padded crosspiece at hip
level. Her arms were stretched over her head, the manacles clipped to a hook. A
strap on each of the twin rails encircled each ankle. The bar in the middle
pushed her hips back slightly which had the effect of presenting her buttocks
prominently, back arched. There was not a sound as Julia picked the martinet
from its hook and flicked it a few times. She walked slowly to Kathleen's right,
planted her hips, and ran the strands of the whip through her fingers.

"Twenty lashes, Kathleen, are you ready?"

"Yes" said Kathleen in a small voice.

To a staffer Julia said, "Please keep count." The staffer nodded and Julia drew
back her arm. There was dead silence as the lash fell with a whishhh....smack!
right across the plumpest part of Kathleen's seat. Her cheeks wobbled and her
body jerked. She emitted a cry.

"Aiii...!"

"One", intoned the staffer.

Swish...crack! "Two"

"Ahhhh....oh!" whimpered Kathleen. The lashes felt like hot wires laid across
her buns.

Julia whipped her soundly, drawing the martinet through her fingers then
whipping it smartly across Kathleen's quivering seat. Sometimes the thongs
splayed out, sometimes they remained concentrated in a band. The scene was a
sexy replica of the whipping of a petty thief in 17th century Europe. The
spectators gawked and yelled encouragement as the tails of the lash rebounded
off of Kathleen's pertly presented bottomcheeks. Kathleen tried wriggling her
fanny to alleviate the pain, a spectacle that looked more like a lover humping
her hips in time to the whipping. The whip continued to fall at intervals of 10
to 15 seconds. In between strokes Kathleen writhed, moaning.

 When the 20th lash had been given, Julia motioned for the attendants to release
her. When the manacles had been removed, she stood for a moment rubbing her
chastised rear amid cheers and applause for the thorough job Julia had done and
for Kath's apparant courage. An attendant brought a cloak and she was led from
the stage.

"Kathleen took that very well. She will now be allowed to dress and do whatever
she wishes. I should add that a tradition here with our hunt is that anyone who
has endured a forfeit shall not be denied any request made of another. So if you
are invited to give comfort, know that it would be poor form to refuse."

Looking again at her list, Julia announced, "Please bring Dottie Nelson
forward."

"No, no, not me. Not yet. Oh please," wailed a shocked Dottie. "I'm not ready
for this. Please, someone else?"

But her two attendants were right there and, taking one arm each, they marched a
reluctant Dottie up the steps to an accompaniment of cheers and whistles.

When the din had quieted, Julia spoke: "You have to draw now Dottie, there is no
getting out of this." Dottie, realizing that there was no way out, reached in
with a trembling hand and drew a slip. Julia took it and announced, "The
whipping post--13 lashes with the single thong whip."

Dottie gave an anguished cry. Her handlers immediately tore off her cloak,
leaving her stark naked. Before she could react, they hustled her over to the
post. Fastening her manacles to a hook above her head, they fastened cuffs to
her feet at the bottom. A strap went around her back and another strap was
secured just above the knees. The final result was a voluptuous picture. Dottie
had a small waist but a big ass which was typical of a showgirl's figure. The
placement of the straps made her behind stick out as if inviting the whip.

Julia uncoiled the whip and stood a few feet back. She flicked it back and forth
a few times. "Are you ready Dottie?" She asked.

Dottie wailed, "Nooo.....please no."

"Dottie, you will receive your 13 lashes ready or not. Now here they come."

Julia flicked her arm back her wrist action splaying the whip over her head and
behind her. The tip of the whip smacked down across Dotties behind with a loud
crack, leaving a vivid red weal across the center of her cheeks. Dottie gave a
loud screech at the fiery line of pain that had been painted across her ass. Her
behind jiggled at impact. Julia recoiled the whip and paced the floor of the
stage. Dottie made little mewling sounds. After 20 seconds or so Julia uncoiled
and readied the whip once again.

She's whipping her slowly so that the pain of each one sinks in before she gets
another, thought Cindy.

Swishhh....crack! Another lash painted a second stripe just below the first.
Another bleating cry was emitted by Dottie. The whipping continued slowly. For
the next few minutes the only sounds in the room were the whish...crack! of the
whip and Dottie's desperate yelps. Julia, taking her time, made every lash fully
felt before delivering another. Dottie's cries grew more frantic. She tried to
wriggle her fanny but all she could do was flex and relax the quivering mounds
as they were kissed by the whip. The crowd seemed transfixed as Julia
administered a very sound whipping to Dottie's nude buttocks and upper thighs.
When she had finished, Dottie was sobbing and begging to be let down.

Dottie was led away, supported on the arms of her attendants. Cindy's mouth was
dry, butterflies were in her stomach--but still her sex was wet. Who was next?

There was silence for a moment as Julia looked at the list, then read the name.

"Cindy Morgan."

Cindy gasped. It was her turn to be stripped and whipped. Immediately she felt
an attendant at each arm, escorting her up the dreaded steps to the stage.
Thankfully she couldn't see because of the stage lighting which illuminated her
and cloaked the spectators in darkness. On stage she was presented with a bowl
and Julia said,

"Cindy Morgan, you were fairly captured, so you must now draw to determine your
forfeit."

Cindy gulped and reached in. Julia took the slip from her hand and read:

"The birch--36 strokes." Under her breath she whispered, "Sorry honey but I'm
going to have to whip you now. Be brave."

One attendant took her hands while another unloosed the cloak. She felt it slide
from her shoulders. She was now naked. They took her wrist restraints off and
led her to the pillory. When the yoke was lifted she nervously bent over,
placing her head and hands in the cutouts. Then she felt the yoke replaced. She
was locked in, her nude bottom pointed at the spectators. She looked up and to
her horror saw that they had placed a mirror a the rear of the stage. The
watching crowd could see her face as well as her rear. In her bent over posture
she felt as vulnerable as she had ever felt in her life.

In the mirror she could see Julia pick up the rod, a bundle of synthetic
switches bound by a blue ribbon. Julia swished it, making a whining sound. Cindy
saw Julia move behind her. She felt the switches being pressed against her rear,
and heard Julia say, "Thirty-six with the birch. Are you ready, Cindy?"

Cindy heard herself say: "Yes, ma'am. Oh, please not too hard...."

"But they need to be hard, Cindy, or else it would not be a true penalty. Now
relax your bottom cheeks."

Cindy realized that she had tensed up. She forced herself to relax and at that
point there was a Swisshhh....thwack! and she felt a burning sensation as the
first stroke landed. Ow...ow...ow, she said to herself. It stung like a thousand
bees. Swisshhh....thwack! Again the rod kissed her seat. Ooooh, she thought. It
stings! Swisshhh.....thwack! Swissshhhh...thwack! Huishhh! Huisshhh! Julia began
a methodical application of the birch rod to Cindy's quivering seat, each lick
causing little ripples in the fatty rotundities and making Cindy jerk her body
in reaction to the strokes. She could not help but cry out.

Swisss! "Ow!" Swissh! "Ouch!" Swisshh...crack! "Yeouch!"

So this was a birching! she thought. It burns! It stings so! She wiggled her
hips as much as the pillory permitted but the birch continued to deliver its
kiss of fire to her tender behind in a steady rhythm. In a haze of pain Cindy
could hear the count...15...16...17....

She suddenly became aware of the hardening of her nipples and moisture in her
sex. Was this the drug? Now each burning stroke also stoked a fire in her pussy.
She writhed over the padded bar holding up her hips, keeping her bottom nicely
presented for the rod. In the mirror she could see Julia raise and reraise her
arm. She would see the arm disappear from view as it came down and delivered
another stroke. Her bottomcheeks danced, jiggling lasciviously with each
huissshhh....swack! of the birch.

Her sex was now jolted with each hissing smack of the rod and arousal began to
compete with the stinging in her behind. She started to jerkactually thrust her
hips back to receive the next burning kiss and her cries turned to moans.

For the watchers Cindy's whipping was the most exciting yet. Her writhing under
the rod had the unmistakable signs of sweaty arousal. The men were transfixed on
the sight of her pert buns wobbling with each lick, and the women imagined
themselves squeezing and relaxing their hind cheeks while thrusting their vulvas
against the crossbar in simulation of a lover's stroking with a rod of an
altogether different sort.

Julia sensed what was happening with Cindy and synchronized the whipping to
Cindy's writhings. The cute fanny jiggling under her punishing hand was having
an effect on Julia too. Julia slowed her tempo for the last six, determined to
make them memorable.

Huisshh....swack! "31," intoned the staffer

"Ohhh....!"

SWishhh.....whack! "32"

"Ahhhh...!" Moaned Cindy, waggling her hips.

Whissshhh.....swick! "33"

"Oh...oh!" Her behind was on fire, she thought.

Swish....thwack! "34"

Another blazing stroke where her seat was the most plump made her squeal.
"Yeoww!" That one really stung!

Swishhh....swick! "35"

"Owwww..."

"Last one Cindy," said Julia softly, "Then it's all over."

Swissshhh....thwack! "36"

"Oh...oh...ohhh!" Wailed Cindy in a mixed swelter of pain and lust. God, her
fanny was burning hot and her sex was too!

They unhooked the yoke and lifted it, permitting her to rise. Julia, still
holding the birch in her right hand, pulled Cindy to her with her left and
kissed her gently. Cindy hugged her in return as the spectators broke into loud
applause, cheers and whistles.

The attendants brought her cloak and led her down the steps. Mark was waiting.
Seeing him, Cindy fell into his arms.

"Mark, Mark, oh my God," said Cindy hugging him.

"Shhh...Cindy it's ok. Let's get you to my room. I've got some of this salve
stuff." Mark could feel her hard nipples pressed against his chest and the feel
of her soft curves under the thin cloak.

"Oh Mark, it hurts but I'm so turned on...please now-let's go. I want you."

Mark hustled her to his room. Cindy stretched out on the bed, fanny up, while
Mark rubbed the special cream into her burning nates. As the fire in her hiney
began to subside, the fire in her pussy gathered momentum. Mark slipped his hand
between her legs feeling her wetness. In turn, Cindy felt for his hard cock and
stroked it. He disengaged and knelt behind her, licking her clitoris with long
even strokes of his tongue while she shivered with pleasure. When she felt
herself on the verge of cumming, she rose and knelt before him as he sat on the
bed and took his hardness into her warm mouth, sucking and tonguing the engorged
member until he too was ready to climax. She knelt on the bed again. When her
took her from behind it was like a knife through butter. He felt the heat from
her behind as he rode her, thrusting, back, forward, in and out again and again.

Mark kept at it for several minutes, their bodies bumping in a frenzied dance of
lust. Through at least one climax experienced by Cindy, Mark pumped his hips
like a piledriver. By the time Mark came in a blinding flood of pleasure, Cindy
had climaxed again, her contractions squeezing Mark's penis making it impossible
to delay his own orgasm.

They made love all night, though with somewhat less ferocity the second and
third times.

Meanwhile, the spectacle in the gallery continued........

                                  Fox and Hounds Part 7

The proceedings were definitely heating up, thought Debby Fielding as she
nervously awaited her turn under the lash. She had been standing off to the side
with the other captives and holding hands with Ken, with whom she had
established a kind of jailhouse brotherhood. Both of them had been chosen by lot
to be whipped in place of the two foxes that had eluded capture that afternoon.
Ken had at first been indignant and had complained loudly about the twist of
fate that had placed his dignity, not to mention his buns, in jeopardy. All the
same he had been spanked quite soundly by the junoesque Paula in the garden,
kicking and squealing as she tanned his hiney a bright red over her knees like a
schoolmistress disciplining her naughty charge. But by the time Ken had received
his smacking, he was hard. He had continued to be in a high state of arousal and
that feeling had been reinforced as he witnessed the whippings of Kath, Dottie
and Cindy.

Debbie was a swarm of conflicting feelings. Fear, embarassment and lust competed
with each other. Holding Ken's hand had been comforting. Under the circumstances
she would have really liked was for Ken to put that hard thing of his in her
moist quim and bury it  to the hilt while they were standing there watching. But
now he had been taken to the stage to choose the instrument of his own
castigation. She watched as with a trembling hand he handed the slip of paper to
Ms Julia. It was to be the martinet at the frame... 20 hard lashes.

To his credit, Ken accepted his penalty with some class. He let them secure him
to the frame and he even stuck his ass out for the whip, as if daring Julia to
do her worst. Julia took up the challenge and whipped him hard nontheless,
delivering 5 lashes from the right side, then switching to the left for 5 more
slowly drawn out licks with the stinging tails of the martinet. Ken hissed
through his teeth at the pain but did not cry or beg for mercy. He moved his
body around searching for respite as she slowly sauntered to his right again.
Huisshh.....smack! The whipping continued, 5 more. A change to the other side,
then and swisshh.....swack! 5 deliberate lashes to the jerking buns. At the end
he moaned as each swipe of the whip smacked his behind, causing him to jerk
forward. Debby noticed when they let him down that he was hard, despite his
effort to hide his condition. The drug, thought Debby. We can't control it. He
even smiled at the crowd and rubbed his ass, mugging. They loved it and howled
and applauded. Debby could not help but notice however that his eyes were
watery.

When he rejoined her, she said how was it? He told her it stung like blazes at
first but then just felt like heat going through him and now he was godawful
horney.

Little Becky drew the birch. She still looked like a teenager with her hair
styled in the two pigtails. Her little bottom danced and wriggled under the
switches. She was not quiet about it either, squealing and yelping as Julia
swished the twigs against her cute twin globes with smart wristy strokes. When
they lifted the yoke, her hands flew to her scorched behind and she did a little
spanking dance right on stage to the delight of the spectators.

Sarah was next. Tall, almost regal looking in her nakedness, she submitted to
the order to assume the position at the whipping frame. Gracefully, she offered
up her hands to be fastened over her head and spead her legs apart to be tied to
the rails. Then her whipping began. Her body jerked and writhed as 20 deliberate
lashes were applied to the classicly shaped cheeks of her sumptious behind. Her
cries were low moans at first, then became higher pitched as the lashes fell and
her hind cheeks wobbled in response. It was hard to tell if she was writhing in
lust or in pain. But Sarah knew. The endorphins had taken over and she was a
bitch in heat. The enforced nudity, the manacles, the mock-sinister ceremonial
nature of this chastisement--all these things had combined to create a state of
sexual arousal more powerful than any she had ever felt. This was why she had
come back to play again. No one but Julia and Arcado had known this. Julia,
though was giving her what she craved and needed with each swipe of the
martinet.

Only two left now, thought Debby. She licked her lips as Julia studied her list
after Sarah had been let go. It was to be Howard. They marched him up the steps
and stripped off his cloak. He did not hesitate but  looked adoringly at Julia
and drew...the whipping post. It seemed over too fast for Debby, though Howard's
whipping was drawn out. It took 6 or 7 minutes for Julia to apply the 13
carefully measured stripes across Howard's backside. Each lash elicited a low
"ahhh..." as it struck. When his whipping was over, Julia recoiled her lash and
the attendants unbound him and led him from the stage.

Julia looked pointedly at Debby. "You are the only one left, dear," She said as
the attendants escorted her step by step to the stage and its cruel devices. She
was offered the bowl and with a trembling hand drew the last slip. Oh my God,
she thought as Julia read her sentence: "The last forfeit of our evening is the
13 lashes at the whipping post."

To Debby, the martinet and birch did not look all that bad, but that cracking
whip was frightening.

They disrobed her, taking away her cloak. She was now naked. All eyes were
transfixed as she was turned around, her backside wobbling as they placed her in
position at the post. Will it hurt? Will it hurt? was all she could think as her
hands and feet were bound. The straps across her back and her legs made her jut
her bottom out as if asking for the kiss of the whip. When all was in readiness,
there was silence, then Julia asked: "Are you ready, Debby?"

She manged to squeak "Yes". Then Julia said: "Very well, 13 lashes well laid on.
I begin now." And to Debby she whispered, "Relax, empty your mind, welcome the
sting of the whip."

She heard a few clicking steps behind her, heard the whine of the whip as it
whisshed through the air then: Crack! She felt a line of fire across the crowns
of her buttocks. The stinging sensation spread from her bottom outward to engulf
her whole being. "Ahhh..." She wailed, helplessly. She heard someone say "One"
and waited.

Whishhh....crack! Another screaming line of pain, just below the first.

"Ahhh...ohhh.." She moaned. It stung like crazy, then diffused into this raging
heat. "Two"

Whissshhh....thwack! "Three" A third hot stripe was painted across her wobbling
rear cheeks.

"Arrrg....ahhh..."

At 30 second intervals Julia placed her lines of fire across the quivering moons
of Debby's behind, always striking the fleshy cheeks where there was plenty of
padding to absorb the solidly placed strokes. The whip would make a brief
indentation in the flesh which would then spring back into prominence.

Debby had time to "appreciate" each licky stripe, from the initial flash of fire
to the burning surge of pain that washed over her. No wonder whipping has been
such an effective punishment through the ages, she thought as she listened for
Julia's pacing steps between lashes. It's a fire that does not really burn the
skin, but the fiery sensation of pain certainly induces serious reflection about
one's shortcomings. She tried to take Julia's advice and not fight the stinging
sensations, but to surrender to them. And she found that when she did, her sex
responded.

With each lash she was now writhing on the post, almost like it was a lover. To
the crowd her writhing was intensely erotic. Each time the lash kissed her
wriggling fanny, she seemed to respond with an ecstatic flexing of her hind end.
This was the spectacle they had come to witness. Julia could have been a 17th
century executioner doing her duty, meting out a well deservered thrashing to a
village maid who had been caught stealing.

Debby felt like her whole being was on fire from the stinging heat in her
backside to the hardness of her nipples to her slippery wetness of her pussy.
Just when she felt her senses overwhelmed, the whipping stopped. The last
whistling crack across her fanny had been number 13.
She slumped against the post hanging limply. They untied her, lifted her, and
draped the cloak around her. The spectators roared with approval. Debby's
whipping had been the best one yet, intense, thorough and erotic.

The proceedings were apparantly over and the lights came up. Debby found Ken and
they embraced. Most were still there, except for Mark and Cindy who had slipped
out earlier. Julia still held the stage. Her hair was askew and a sheen of sweat
covered her skin, but she looked as commanding as ever...and she was holding the
razor strap.

The crowd was milling toward the exits when the doors slammed shut. Burly male
staffers blocked the way of couples anxious to exit eager to return to their
rooms and engage in games of their own design.

Uh...oh, thought Debby. I bet I know what this is...somebody's gonna get it!

"May I have your attention please. We are not done yet."

Julia walked as she spoke, swishing the wicked looking strap. "I am sorry to say
that there were a few rules violations out there today."

As she spoke two attendants moved the padded trestle to the front of the stage.
The 100 or so hunters looked around nervously at each other.

Margo felt a chill forming at the base of her spine and she looked for a means
of escape. That damn Jerry must have squealed on her! The bastard!

"Foxes are not allowed to tamper with their bands. One of our foxes who made it
in safely cheated."

Shit! She had forgotten about that. She had removed the transmitter and put it
in her pack. But how did they know?

"There is a little switch on the armband lock that sends a signal when the lock
is tampered with, and Margo, you picked the lock."

Margo froze. All eyes turned her way. Ironically her gaze fell on Jerry's face.
He was wearing a broad smile.

"But...but...it didn't matter...uh no one got close enough to me trigger it...no
harm, no foul, right?"

"On the contrary Miss Ruger. Jerry Adamson told us that he almost had you but
the armband was missing so he could not  trigger the switch."

That rat! He lied. 'He almost had her'! Yeah, right. But she knew she could not
dare tell them the truth. Jerry had set her up. Now for all her cleverness, she
was about to be strapped in front of all these people.

Before she knew what was happening, a pair of attendants had seized her arms and
had started to frogmarch her to the stage. She treied to resist but they had
taken her by surprise. The tight sheath dress she wore hampered her movements.
On stage Margo looked with pleading eyes at Julia but Julia merely said, "Sorry,
Margo, you have been guilty of cheating, and we can't have that. In this game
everyone plays fair."

To the attendants she said: "Prepare her."

"Nooo...no.." wailed Margo as they bent her over the trestle. Her wrists and
ankles were fastened in front and back to cuffs near the floor. She wailed anew
and struggled as her dress was tugged up revealing a splendidly rounded bottom
contained in filmy black panties and set off by black stockings and a garter
belt. A strap went across the small of her back pinioning her dress. Wolf
whistles and complementary chatter could be heard all over the room, noting with
approval her choice of lingerie, not to mention the curves with which to fill
it.

"To be honest, Margo, we have never faced this situation. But the rules
committee met and we have decided on an appropriate sentence. You will receive
15 licks with this strap."

"Ohhh...no, please. I can't take 15 with that!" pleaded Margo.

"Oh, no, Margo. It's fair. Just think, you didn't get spanked in the garden like
you should have been...so just take it like a big girl. Here we go..." And Margo
shrieked again as she felt Julia slip the flimsy panties down to rest in a
little tangle at the hollows of her knees.

Then the cool breeze wafting over her nude rear replaced with a band of stinging
pain as Crack! the strap landed on her quivering bottom cheeks.

"Ahhh....yooo....ow" she yelled. Margo had not had the benefit of the potion the
rest had sipped and so the smack of the strap was pure fire.

Later everyone would agree that Margo had been duly punished. It was a prison
strapping right out of a B-movie. The strap was a 24" piece of supple leather
attached to a handle. Julia leathered Margo's bobbing fanny with great cracking
swipes of the strap, taking a stance, running the leather through her hands and
swooping it down on Margo's rear with gusto. The smacks made a noise like pistol
shots that rebounded around the room. The strap would flatten the bouncing moons
and leave a broad red stripe. Margo yelped till she was hoarse. The crowd
whistled and cheered as each hard lick was meted out. At the end Margo could
only slump helplessly over the trestle, tears ruining her mascara, reduced to a
thoroughly punished little girl.

When they let her up it was all she could do to pull up her panties, replace her
dress and stumble from the stage clutching her flaming buns as the spectators
roared their approval.

Well, that's that, thought Debby....no wait, there's more?

"One last item, ladies and gentlemen. And sad to say it is one of you. We
spotted a bit of unnecessary roughness in the capture of one the foxes. She
wasn't hurt but we felt that maybe she had been brought down a little too
hard..."

Who? Who is it? thought Debby. Everyone was looking around.

"You know what I'm talking about...Miss Granville".

No! Wow, Anna Granville the Southern heiress, the one who caught Becky.

All eyes were on Anna, who started slowly backing away. The crowd cleared out
around her, distancing themselves. It was as if she were no longer one of them.
The surprised looks turned to hard glints as all began to wonder what
humiliating punishment was in store for Miss Granville.


"Now wait a minute...I...I did slap her in the face, but I had to, ok? She was
wiggling and struggling, and...well, I had to. But...but she's ok, so no harm
done."

"Sorry, Anna. That won't do it." Turning to her staff she said, "Gunter, bring
her here. Keith , get a sturdy chair."

"Yes, ma'am!" said Keith with a wide grin and ran to do her bidding.

Meanwhile Gunter had grabbed Anna by the wrist and was dragging her, protesting
and struggling, to the stage.

"You can't do this! It isn't fair! Let me go, you oaf!" And she levelled a kick
at his shin, which only bounced harmlessly off his leg.

By now the chair had been placed at center stage. Gunter arrived with the
squirming and sputtering Anna. Julia regarded Anna for a moment then spoke to
Gunter:

"I want you to sit in that chair , put Miss Anna over your knee and spank her
hard till I tell you to stop."

"Yes, Ms Julia," said Gunter dutifully. Turning to Anna he said: "Come over here
miss, get right over my knee."

"Noo....wah....don't spank me...no!"

But Anna was helpless in Gunter's hard muscled grip. He yanked her across his
muscular thighs and clamped his left arm over Anna's back, totally immobilizing
her. With his right hand he rucked up her cocktail dress revealing her ample
rear charms clad in silk panties. Garters held her stockings up. Gunter glanced
inquizitively at Julia.

"Take her panties down, Gunter. This is to be an old fashioned bare bottom
tanning. Start when you're ready."

Gunter slipped his fingers through the waist band of the little panties and slid
them down her legs, baring the jouncy bottom. Anna wriggled in vain at this new
indignity, her bottomcheeks wobbling in an unintentionally lascivious manner as
the rounded contours came into view. Gunter rubbed her cheeks for a moment,
patting them as if testing their resiliency. Anna twisted her head, looking at
Gunter in alarm as he raised his hand.

Splat! Splat! Splat! Splat! Gunter began to deliver hard ringing smacks to
Anna's wriggling backside.

"Ow...ow...ow...ow...!" Anna yelled and kicked her legs, hair flying, arms
flailing. But Gunter was an East German bodybuilder and had no trouble holding
her over his knee. Gunter spanked her methodically meting out solid smacks to
one side then the other. Anna bucked and twisted, but was as helpless as a child
in Gunter's steely grip.

Julia watched with cool appraisal as the spanking of Anna continued with a
steady splat! splat! splat! splat! accompanied by Anna's hysterical wailing.
When her fanny had been spanked to a hot red glow and her pleas had degenerated
into what sounded like some genuine contrition, Julia signalled a halt.

Anna sprang to her feet. Her hands flew to her blazing backside. Hopping from
one foot to the other she rubbed furiously, seemingly oblivious to the mirthful
gaze of the spectators or her semi-nude condition.

When the hooting had died down, Julia signalled the attendants to open the
doors. The festivities were over.

As the crowd milled around, some of those who had been under the lash strode
through the throng, picking their partners for the night. Having been admonished
that it was poor form to refuse, those chosen went willingly.

Kath was last seen leading not one, but two men out of the gallery. The gossip
later the next day was that she had demanded that both of them bend over the bed
and take 20 licks from a leather belt before she would bestow her favors on the
lucky two. It had been worth it, it was rumored, as she turned out to be
insatiable. She knelt on the bed, they say, and sucked one to hardness while the
other plunged into her from behind. Then they changed positions. Several times.

Howard who had become so enamored of Paula as he had watched her spanking Ken,
ended up with her. Even after the lashing he spent more time over Paula's knee
being alternately massaged and spanked to hardness over and over. He showed
Paula his appreciation kneeling between her legs and licking her to multiple
orgasms.

Little Becky chose one of the older players, a 40ish gentleman with greying hair
at the temples. He kindly laid her across his lap and massaged the special salve
into her pouty buttocks before hoisting her to sit on his hardened member and
have her ride him to her heart's content. She later found out that she had
picked a daddy figure who would keep her flighty nature in line.

In the weeks to come she frequently found herself standing in the corner of his
Malibu beachfront bedroom wearing a pleated skirt and knee socks, her hair in
pigtails, waiting for "daddy" and the special present he had had made for her.
It was light, wooden, and said "Becky's Fanny Paddle" on one side and there were
some little red stars painted on the "business" side.

Margo and Anna, smarting from their humiliating punishments, conspired to exact
some measure of revenge by luring the smarmy Keith into a tryst that he may have
later regretted. Led on by the promise of spending the rest of the evening with
not one, but two beautiful women he was easily seduced into accompanying them
both to Anna's suite. Supposedly they wanted him to apply cold cream to their
injured nates. Keith was vain enough to think that the "cold cream" request was
just an excuse and that really, they lusted after him. He was therefore one
surprised boy when, after the cold cream had been sensuously applied to two sets
of red and smarting cheeks, the girls had decided to have a little fun.

The fun in fact consisted of slapping some handcuffs on Keith and taking turns,
passing him back and forth across a pair of laps while they spanked him
mercilessly with Anna's ebony hairbrush. Anna sat on the bed and Margo sat in a
chair facing her. Anna would spank Keith with the hard hairbrush then pass both
Keith and the brush to Margo who would give him another sound smacking. Keith
howled and begged as the brush tanned his bouncing fanny.  Once he had been
reduced to tears, he had sobbingly agreed to do anything they wanted. What the
pair wanted was Keith's tongue up their pussies or backsides all night.

Sarah, having been enamored of Gunter's prowess on stage was determined to test
his talents in the bedroom. She was not disappointed, but found that the
apparant lack of redness in her bottom the next morning attracted Gunter like a
magnet and she found herself naked and across his knees as he sat on the bed for
a sample of what she had witnessed the previous day.

Debby and Ken repaired to Ken's room for a hot night of lovemaking and
comforting of each other.

Julia, now totally aroused after an evening of dishing out forfeits, waited for
the room to empty. She smiled as she noticed the suave Alex Arcado making his
way into the room. Ah, she thought, the man reads my mind...and right on time
too.

"Hello, Alex," she said, coyly.

"Hello Julia. Are you ready....?"

Fox and Hounds Pt 8

The room was quiet. The doors had been closed and Alex and Julia stood alone in
a pool of light cast by a spot inadvertantly left on. Alex looked the debonaire
host dressed in a dinner jacket. Julia wore her uniform of the evening, a tight
bustier top with a brief flounced skirt that barely covered her hips, thigh high
boots, and elbow length opera gloves. All of it was black, offsetting her golden
blonde hair piled in a bun and her creamy white skin.

She shivered for Alex was now here to give her what she needed. After an entire
weekend of playing her role as the Mistress of the Hunt, in charge, commanding,
rewarding the victors and punishing the losers, she needed....balance. She
needed to be "brought down a peg". Her old friend and lover understood.

"Well, my dear are you sure you want this?" he asked. She had told him to be
ready for her call should she feel the need for "correction" after the
ceremonies of Saturday night. Immediatly after the last penalty had been meted
out, she had called his quarters and said merely, "Oh, Alex, now, please come."
And so he had.

He had strolled into the gallery, walked up to her and taking her in his arms
kissed the nape of her neck gently, whispering in her ear:

"What shall we do with you, madame? Just look at this indecent costume! A woman
of your standing. Why this is the garb of a common trollop!"

She had shivered with pleasure as his hands moved over her body, finding the
hardened nipples of her breasts that strained the confines of the bustier.

"Yes, sir, it is rather indecent," said Julia shyly. "What do you suppose my
dear papa would say?"

"He would say, I am sure, that you need to have your bottom well smacked," said
Alex taking her by the arm and leading her to the straightbacked chair, only
recently vacated by Gunter.

"Oh please, sir, not a smacked bottom! I'll be ever so good!" she squealed in
mock distress.

With feigned grimness he pulled her along.

 Julia stumbled after him with little mincing steps, no longer the commanding
mistress, but a naughty miss being marched to her well deserved fate. Standing
next to the chair, he turned her around and unzipped the tight bustier. She
shucked the garmet freeing her magnificent tits that jiggled as the garmet
dropped. The little skirt was also dropped to the floor leaving her in only
black lace panties.

Alex slowly took off his jacket. He undid his tie then slowly rolled up his
sleeves. Julia watched, anxiously awaiting his next command.

Seating himself, Alex patted his knees and she laid herself obediently across
his lap, arching her bottom up for his attention. She moaned with pleasure as he
kneaded and patted the sumptuous cheeks through the lace panties. When she felt
his hand in the waistband of her panties, she lifted up allowing him to slide
them down baring her bottom. He tested the slit between her legs. It was wet and
slippery with arousal.

She was a vision of lust in her thigh high black boots and long opera gloves,
all the rest of her was white flawless skin, her bottom cheeks quivering in
anticipation.

"Please Alex. Promise you'll spank me good and hard. I feel like a naughty
trollop," she said breathlessly, squirming across the lap of her lover.

"As you wish, my dear," intoned Alex raising his hand.

Splat! Smack! Splat! Solid, meaty smacks rang out in the stillness of the
reverberent gallery. Alex spanked from cheek to cheek in a flurry of crisp open
handed smacks that left Julia momentarily breathless.

"Oh...oh...ah....ah...." she moaned and rocked her body across the knees of her
chastiser.

Splat! "Oh!"

Smack! "Ah.."

Spank! Splat! Smack! "Oooh....oh....ah..."

Alex alternated crisp flurries of spanks with slow harder smacks, pausing to
slip his fingers between Julia's legs and stimulating her clitoris.

"Oh....God...yes, Alex..." she moaned. Her rounded cheeks rippled and bobbed
with each smack and despite her resolve she bucked and writhed.

Splat! Smack!.....Smack!.....Smack!.....Splat! Crack! Smack!

Alex varied the tempo and the intensity of what was developing as a very sound,
very thorough spanking. Julia just moaned and rocked her hips. She was really
getting it now. Wow! Alex could spank. She began to feel like a very well
chastened trollop.

Alex could see that her bottom was getting very red, in stark contrast to the
whiteness of her back and legs. Her twin spank spots looked like red beacons.

Julia arched her back, raising her head with a cry as Alex delivered a final
flurry of hard, authoritatve spanks to the quivering mounds.

"Oh...ah...oh...nnn....ggg.....oah....hoo...." bleated Julia in response.

Finally...spank! "ow! Smack! "owww" smack! "argh...ow" Splat! "yeoww!"

Alex rested his hand on her bottom and Julia slumped, moaning softly.

"Have you had enough, young lady?" he asked.

In a quiet voice Julia said: "If you please, sir, I should have the martinet."

"Very well, madame, you may rise."

Julia stood up slowly, massaging her inflamed cheeks. Alex rose and approached
the pillory. He lifted the yoke.

"Come here, Julia." Julia obeyed, although her legs were unsteady. Her red
bottom jiggled delightfully as she approached the pillory.

"Bend over, girl, and place your hands and neck in the cutouts," said Alex
firmly. She wanted to be whipped. So be it. He was not going to spare her. The
yoke fell with a solid clack, and he locked it in place. She was now immobile,
bent over, hindquarters thrust out, ready for the lash. Alex picked up the
little multitailed whip and whooshed it a few times.

"How many...." started Julia, licking her lips, able to see Alex in the mirror,
the thongs dangling, alive.

"As many as I think you need, my dear," he replied, taking a stance behind her
and running the thongs through his fingers.

Whisshh....thwack! Whissshhh....Thwack! Whisshhh....crack!

The lashes were delivered with a slow even tempo. Julia had time to reflect on
the sting of each smarting stripe before another was administered.

She emitted little cries of "Oh...arhh....oh....ahhh...." as the whip fell at 10
to 20 second intervals. Alex took his time, frequently changing sides, drawing
it out, making her feel like a well-whipped captive slave maiden who has no
choice but to submit.

Alex delivered 30 burning stripes to Julia's smarting fanny and Julia's cries
were starting to sound higher pitched, more frantic. Then he stopped and felt
between her legs. She was sopping wet.

"Please," she pleaded, "now fuck me."

Alex replaced the whip and moved to the other side of the yoke. She lifted her
head to see him liberate his hard prick. She opened her mouth as he lifted her
chin and she took him in, lubricating the glans with her saliva. He pumped his
hips thrusting his cock to the back of her throat as she sucked and swirled her
tongue around his penis. When he was hard as a bar of steel, he slipped out and
walked behind her. Her well reddened rear, covered with the weals and lines left
by the martinet was thrust upwards provacatively. He grabbed the cheeks and
pulled her legs farther apart. She opened herself to him. He thrust inside all
the way, up to the hilt. She gasped in pleasure at the sudden invasion then
started rocking her hips, trying to impale herself. Alex thrust in, pulled all
the way back, then thrust again, and again, and again. The delicious friction
was sending waves of pleasure through Julia. Even the slapping of his groin
mashing the soft mounds of her smarting behind was pleasurable.

Alex rode her for what seemed like hours, sending surge after surge of pleasure
through her until it rose to a peak and she came in great racking spasms. Alex
was not done, however and held out until she climaxed again. Fearing that she
would cramp, he released her from the yoke. Throwing a cloak over her, the
couple retired to her quarters where they continued until they both fell asleep,
exhausted.

*********************************************************************

six months later........

For Cindy it had been a dream come true. Her whirlwind romance to Mark had
culminated in his proposal of marriage and Cindy was deliriously happy.

The wedding was days away now and the wedding presents were rolling in. Most
were of the conventional sort, but there was one oblong box with no name and no
card that garnered Cindy's attention. It did however, have a note taped to the
front that said: "Open discretely".

Cindy had an idea...could it be? She had thought frequently about the weekend
and the hunt. It had certainly given Mark ideas. Her masterful lover had
corrected his sometimes impish and bratty fiance on several occasions with a
good sound fanny warming that left her sit spot stinging hot. Such is life, she
sighed, and the sex that invariably followed, well.....

After all Mark himself frequently told her that it was her curvacious fanny that
really got his motor running (he frequently said this while said fanny was
perched across his knee waiting his correcting palm).

So she called him over and unwrapped the box. Inside was a short bundle of
synthetic switches like the ones she had been birched with. There was only a
short note inside that said:

"Flog her gently....but make it sting" 


The END

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