Laura Visits Carpenter's Upholstery

Laura Pays Another Visit to Carpenters' Upholstery

It had been about three months since Laura's initial visit to Peter Carpenter. Her mind wandered frequently back to the experience and in her mind's eye she relived the scene -- the comfortable sitting-room, the cultured and attentive host, the enquiry as to what she hoped to get from the session, the discussion of safe-words and implements and then the point at which she had draped herself over Peter's lap in the knowledge that her skirt was about to be lifted up and her knickers lowered for a sound spanking on the bare bottom. And not just with his hand, but the leather paddle too. Once her bottom was warmed up she had wallowed in the gorgeous stinginess of it all such that the heat and excitement transmitted themselves to her pussy and she craved to feel his fingers massaging her clit, which very soon they did. She had been delighted to return the favour, stroking Peter's cock slowly but surely as she asked him about his spanking activities with his wife prior to her untimely death. It had all been over so quickly, not that it seemed that way at the time, and now Laura was wondering if she might risk a second visit. There was an undeniable itch in her lower regions that just wouldn't quite go away.

Laura was again caught up in her reverie at the breakfast table a few days later when James's words penetrated her consciousness.

"So I have to go to New York for four days, out Monday, back Friday. It's a pain but at least I won't be there over the weekend. Due diligence on some hedge fund managers we are thinking of investing with, sorry but it can't really be avoided."

He looked at her expectantly. "Oh, when do you have to go?" she blurted out.

"Probably the end of this month," James replied. "You don't mind too much do you?"

"No darling, that's fine," she replied slightly too quickly while calculating hard. Last week of the month was just over two weeks away. If she was to go and see Peter Carpenter again she had better get a slot in his diary now and it had better be for the Monday, giving any marks left on her bottom a good four days to fade. Monday lunchtime with her daughter Alice safely in school would be ideal.

"Poor you, what a drag," she commiserated, "but I expect you'll be going out for some five star dinners so I don't feel too sorry for you."

"You'll be OK won't you?" James enquired solicitously, "what with work and Alice to look after and everything?"

"Oh yes, I am sure the time will fly," answered Laura with a smile, thinking about how hard Peter could punish her without the marks being visible on her behind and on her husband's return.

The only difficult thing now was to contain her excitement and frustration for a bit over a fortnight until she could make the trip to the comfortable house in Wimbledon for her appointed disciplinary session. What implements might Peter use on her this time, she wondered? Nothing really painful she hoped, but enough to give her a properly smarting backside. She would make a special effort to dress up this time, she thought.

Laura's next opportunity to ring Peter came the following morning. She dropped Alice at school and with James safely on his way to work, picked up her phone with slightly trembling fingers and clicked the number for Carpenters' Upholstery. It rang six times and then a cultured voice said, "Hello, this is Peter Carpenter but not in person I am afraid. Please leave me a message and I will call you back." Damn, thought Laura, but she recovered her wits quickly and intoned clearly, "Hello I hope I have reached Carpenters' Upholstery. This is Laura. I have a seat that needs some attention. I will call back a bit later."

Laura settled down to her part time job that she was able to do from home, but found concentration difficult. How long should she leave it before she rang back? Some time later today should be OK she thought, perhaps just before she went to pick up Alice from school. In the meantime there was layout work to do on the magazine, some advertisers to be chased up, a writer to be chastised for getting her copy in late and so on and so on. With a start she noticed the time had gone 2.30. She wanted a bite of lunch and there would just be time to call Peter again before heading off to school to collect Alice. She put together a sandwich and ate it contentedly while thinking about what she would say to Peter. She hoped he had got the joke about the upholstery.

She picked up her phone again and tapped Peter's number. This time it was answered on the second ring by the real Peter. "Hello, Peter Carpenter," he said in his sonorous tone.

"Hello Peter, this is Laura," she said "and I need some attention to my seat."

Peter chuckled. "Ah, you've come to the right place at Carpenters' Upholstery!"

"It's a joke that Chrissie and I shared, about how to put your number on our phones without attracting suspicion," confessed Laura slightly sheepishly. "Anyway, I was wondering whether I could book in for another session, preferably on Monday 24

th

, say at noon as before?"

"You are thinking well ahead young lady, but I admire practicality. Let me take a look.....yes that sounds fine. You remember where to find me?"

"Yes I do and.....I think I might need slightly firmer treatment this time."

"That will be no trouble at all, perhaps we should think about an hour and a half this time?" replied Peter.

"That sounds lovely, book me in. See you Monday fortnight at noon".

"I very much look forward to it," said Peter and rang off.

Now Laura had the agony and the ecstasy of thinking about what lay in store for her some two weeks off. How hard did she really want it this time, she wondered? Perhaps not the cane but she was sure Peter would have some other implements. When she had looked in his cupboard to bring him the leather paddle last time there had been an array of leather straps, tawses, a riding crop and of course a selection of canes, some of which looked downright scary.

Inevitably Laura could not keep her news to herself and sought out Chrissie at the school gate a few days later when she seemed to be on her own. The mane of blond hair and the tight jeans stood out like a beacon.

"Hi Chrissie," announced Laura cheerfully, "How's things?"

"Oh, not too bad, life goes on, you know," replied Chrissie with a brief smile. "What's new with you?"

"Well, James is off to New York the week after next, leaving me to my own ends for four days."

"Ooh, get a babysitter and let's go out for a girly evening and talk about men and how useless they are, but how we love them when they take good care of us!" trilled Chrissie.

"That sounds a lovely idea, and I expect I will have a tale to tell you when we do," replied Laura invitingly.

Chrissie narrowed her eyes. "What are you talking about, Laura, you're up to something, what is it?" she implored.

Laura shook her auburn hair diffidently and looked down at Chrissie from her four inch height advantage. She pursed her lips and whispered sotto voce "I've got another appointment at Carpenters' Upholstery to have a seat attended to."

Chrissie's eyes narrowed. "You brazen hussy, when?"

"The Monday lunchtime. James flies out that morning."

"I can see what you're up to you scheming minx, you've then got four days for any marks to fade before James gets back. Right, we are meeting up on Monday evening for you to tell me -- and show me -- all about it. I tell you what, bring Alice over to our house for a sleepover with Catherine, we'll leave Neill in charge and I will come over to your house to share a bottle -- or two -- of wine and hear all about it. Deal?"

Laura laughed. "OK, you're on," just as the children started coming out of school and they had to break off their conversation.

The following days crawled past remorselessly slowly for Laura who tried to busy herself with domestic chores, some running on the Common, her work on the magazine and sex with James, during which she fantasised about having it from behind with a man thrusting urgently against her tingling red bottom. With a few days to go to the appointment she took herself off for a run after the morning drop-off and then stripped off her sweaty kit in the bathroom and stood naked in front of the full length mirror. She turned round with her back to the mirror and examined her bottom critically. Firm, curvy but too big was her verdict. She reached for her ebony Mason & Pearson hairbrush and twisting her right arm behind her, brought it down smartly on one cheek and then the other, leaving a faint pinkish imprint. She repeated it twice more, gasping slightly with the impact, as the pink spots became a warm red. "That's what that bottom deserves," she announced to her reflection, "a sound spanking and it's going to get one very soon."

She walked into the shower and luxuriated in the warm flow from overhead, before switching to the hand shower and lowering the temperature slightly as she played it over her breasts, causing her nipples to spring to attention. They had always been quite sensitive and she increased the water pressure and lowered the temperature a fraction more as she played the shower head over them. After a few minutes of teasing herself she poured some conditioner into her right hand and slipped it between her legs, enjoying the slippery feeling as she found her clit and then directed the flow of water onto the same spot.

She adopted an authoritative male tone and ordered "Laura, pull your skirt up and bend over my knee now. You've been a naughty girl and I am going to punish you, you deserve a sound bare bottom spanking. I am going to take down your knickers so you get the full benefit of the discipline you so richly deserve. And I think in this case you deserve the hairbrush firmly administered to your bare bottom". Laura's hand was moving faster now and the shower head was describing small but increasingly frenetic circles all around her crotch. It didn't take her long to climax in a series of heaving gasps. Well, at least that's calmed me down a bit as I wait for my appointment, she thought to herself wryly.

Then she had to think about what to wear. It was very clear from her last visit that Peter Carpenter was a stockings and suspenders man (as were most men of course, she thought to herself) so that was one decision made. Perhaps she should be a little racier in the skirt department this time though? She fished out a black lace suspender belt and some sheer black stockings and donned them and then searched at the back of her wardrobe for an item she was sure was there but had not worn for some time. With a little smile of triumph she found the black leather miniskirt that had been a favourite in her younger days. She shimmied into it and found it would still do up around the waist but only just. She then found a pair of dark purple heels, about 3 inches high, and slipped her feet into them. With her back to the full length mirror she inspected herself critically over her shoulder. The skirt hugged her bottom snugly and the heels gave an agreeable shape to her calves. The skirt came to mid-thigh and hid her stocking tops, but now for the acid test she thought.

She started to bend forward, keeping a close eye on her reflection and with a few more inches of angulation she could see the darker tops of the stockings and a hint of suspender strap. Well, she had better not do any bending over at least until she was safely ensconced in Peter's sitting room, and she had better be ladylike in exiting her car, but otherwise the combination worked. She looked critically at the sides of the skirt and decided she could just see the slight bulge where the buckles in the suspender straps were, but one would have to be looking pretty closely, and anyway she did not expect to be spending very long in public in this ensemble; essentially she had to get from the house to her car and then from her car to Peter's front door. A crisp white blouse and a plain grey coloured jacket would complete the look. Had she forgotten anything? Ahh....she thought, some sexy red bikini-style silk knickers should get Peter's attention as she went over his knee! Now that decision was made she just had to contain her impatience for a few more days.

Inexorably slowly Monday morning crawled round. She had breakfast with Alice and James, kissed her husband goodbye when the taxi turned up to take him to the airport and then drove Alice to school. When she got back home she still had a good two hours to kill before leaving for Peter's. She cleared up the kitchen, did a little bit of housework and then tried to concentrate on clearing some work e-mails but her mind kept wandering. What would he use on her this time she wondered -- the leather paddle again, the hairbrush , the tawse (which her internet researches had revealed to be particularly stingy), the cane (better not, apart from being jolly painful, the marks might not fade in time) or something else she hadn't thought of? It was deliciously stimulating to think about though.

With an hour to go she ran the shower and stepped in, washing herself all over but resisting the temptation to soap her boobs or pussy too vigorously, much as they were crying out for it. No, she wanted to be at her horniest in Peter's sitting-room. She towelled herself dry and standing naked in the bathroom carefully applied her make-up -- not too much of it, just enough to enhance her eyes -- and brushed her hair, the auburn locks framing the sensuous face and the pale blue eyes. She found the suspender belt and a new pack of sheer black stockings and adjusted them till everything was in order.

At the back of her lingerie drawer she located the red silk knickers and stepped into them, checking her rear reflection in the mirror. Her bottom caused the material to stretch tight across the plumpest part of her cheeks, and left an enticing lower quarter of each buttock bare. She pulled on the black leather skirt, found a suitable white bra and then buttoned up the white silk blouse. Stepping into the heels she surveyed her reflection; sexy, she decided, without being too obviously tarty. The plain grey jacket would tone the whole thing down and mask the obvious jut of her breasts.

Still half an hour to go, she thought, and it should not take that long to get to Peter's house, but you never knew, maybe there would be traffic. So she slipped on the jacket, picked up her handbag and locked the front door behind her. She click-clacked the short distance down the street to her car and entered it in the approved finishing school manner by planting her bottom on the seat first and then swinging in both legs together, although there was no-one about close enough to see had she flashed a glimpse of stocking-top. The drive to Peter's house in Wimbledon took only 20 minutes as the roads were relatively free of traffic and Laura found herself parked just a few yards from his front gate with a good ten minutes to spare. Should she sit it out, or would he welcome her a few minutes early, she wondered? After fidgeting in her seat for five minutes, Laura decided that she would be five minutes early because the agony of watching the minutes tick down was killing her.

She opened the gate to Peter's well-kept front garden and strode purposefully up the path to the front door and rang the bell. After a short interval the door swung open and Peter regarded her with a grin on his face.

"Well Laura, how nice to see you again and not only are you punctual but five minutes early. Eager to get it over with?"

"No Peter, I want to savour the experience for longer," she replied tartly but with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Well you are looking very smart, I must say," he complimented her.

"Perhaps not what I would wear for a Buckingham Palace garden party but I felt it appropriate for this occasion."

"Well, I am sure that will all become clear," Peter replied enigmatically. "Anyway, do come in, can't keep you hovering on the doorstep."

He showed her into the comfortable sitting-room as before. Laura noted the well-pressed slacks, the highly polished shoes and the neatly-ironed open-neck shirt. He was a man who took care with his appearance clearly -- and who had a good housekeeper.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" he asked.

"Yes please Peter, you make rather a fine cup as I recall," Laura replied.

Peter left the room to attend to it and Laura inspected her surroundings again. All as before, the tasteful wallpaper, the heavy curtains, the plush sofa and the sympathetic view of the back garden....and the heavy wooden writing desk prominent in the centre of one wall with the high-backed chair in front of it. She surmised that she might be making closer acquaintance with that desk very shortly.

Peter returned to the room bearing a tray with coffee cups, a cafetiere and a jug of milk. "Remind me Laura, just a splash of milk, no sugar?"

"That's right please, as my father always used to say when we were in a restaurant and he was asked whether he wanted his coffee white or black, he would always reply "dark brown please". I take it the same way."

"Here you go then," he said, handing her a cup and taking his own from the tray. "Now do come and sit down and tell me how you've been." He gestured to the sofa.

"Well, life goes on, domestic chores to be done, a daughter to take to and from school, and a part time job on the magazine which keeps my brain occupied and brings in a bit of pocket money. Nothing very exciting really. How about you?"

"Similar. I am going up to the City a day or two a week but otherwise I can work quite well from home and the sort of job I do, financial analysis, is actually quite solitary and does not require a lot of personal interaction. So long as I have all my sources of data and news I can do my job and it's often easier when it's quieter. A bit of socialising in the evenings and weekends with friends but nothing exceptional. Now tell me, how did you feel after our last meeting, once you had got home?"

A small smile showed on Laura's lips. "In the car I fidgeted quite a lot because my bottom was still smarting and then when I got back home I took my skirt off and lowered my knickers in front of the mirror. You had given my backside a very even pinkness all over but without any blotches or bruising. Rather a professional job I thought! It felt not only very warm still, but was tingling as though I'd been massaged with a bottle of tabasco. I was still coming down from the endorphin high, it was almost as though I had been on a trip from substances of a hallucinogenic nature. It took till the end of the day for that feeling to wear off and when I checked again in the evening, there was no evidence left of your work. Everything had returned to its normal hue. And I felt horny all day just thinking about what had happened."

"Well that sounds very much as it should be, you did say you didn't want any marks left. Now, what are you thinking about for this session, you did say something on the phone about needing to be treated a bit more firmly?"

"I've got four days for any marks to fade this time, so yes, I am ready to take things up a notch. You are the expert, tell me what in your arsenal you would recommend."

"I think last time you had the leather paddle, which is certainly good for imparting a nice all over glow as you experienced. I might suggest the hairbrush as well this time, which having a firm surface and a smaller contact area gives a rather sharper sting and will certainly cause more reddening. Then finally I might just introduce you to the tawse. In fact let me get it out to show you," said Peter rising to his feet and going to the concealed cupboard, from which he pulled out the item in question. He brought it over to the sofa and held it out in front of him for Laura to inspect.