Amanda's red heels flash brightly as she walks purposefully down the quaint, high street of this archetypally English seaside town. Today she wears a calve-length denim dress with the lower front buttons undone to reveal flashes of shapely legs, an entrancing hint of smooth inner thighs and just a hint of cleavage. As she proceeds past old-fashioned shop fronts, Amanda - naturally curly dark hair tied back with a colourful scarf - attracts admiring glances from men and women alike. Behind her smile, the woman's heart beats a little faster than usual at the prospect of what promises to be both a busy and challenging day. Turning right up a steep narrow sideroad she knocks on the door of an imposing Georgian property.
"Come in," commands a deep male voice and Amanda follows a familiar path through art and antique-filled rooms to a study at the rear of the building where sits the Major, exuding an avuncular but very real authority. With an upright bearing and presence testament to his years of military service, the imposing former officer takes a moment to consider the bare legs, discreet ankle tattoo and excellent figure of this most welcome female visitor. "Come to settle your monthly account?" he enquires.
"As per our agreement," confirms Amanda, adrenalin coursing through her veins while warily viewing various implements of correction casually arrayed on a large desk. She's encountered most of them before, a recollection that causes a shiver of anticipation, it's not only her palms that are suddenly damp. "What will it be, and how do you want me?" she enquires. The Major considers this question for a moment, deliberately letting the tension build before picking up a slender rattan cane and swishing it alarmingly through the air.
"Just a 'sixer' today," he announces, "a necessarily brief encounter,
I've an important meeting in the city, mustn't miss my train. Please be so good as to bend over, feet apart and grasp your ankles." Thank goodness for the modest number of strokes, thinks Amanda as she complies with these concise instructions, this is a bugger of a position to maintain when your bum is blazing.
"Magnificent," mutters the Major, flipping up Amanda's dress to bare her alluringly presented posterior. And it truly is, full, firm and protected not one jot by a delightfully attenuated pair of satin panties. "Ready?" he lifts his arm and carefully measures the distance.
"Yes Sir," responds Amanda tensely, gritting her teeth and bracing for the first stroke.
"Ooof!" He may no longer be young, but the Major possesses strong forearms. "Christ!" Amanda rocks on her heels, struggling to keep her balance whilst successive parallel lines of fire bisect her behind. "Owww," she moans quietly as the last cane stroke continues to make itself felt a full minute after being delivered. With a provocative wiggle, Amanda stands stiffly and attempts to regain her customary composure. "Applied them forcefully today," she observes without resentment, all the while furiously massaging her sore bottom.
"Let you keep your knickers on," he counters cheerfully.
"True," she concedes, "did you like the shoes?"
"I certainly did my dear, an inspired choice, they elevate those delightful buttocks quite wonderfully." As had been her intention when selecting this outfit. Ever the gentleman, the Major makes no other demands upon Amanda who often reciprocates this gentlemanly behaviour by augmenting her attire with accessories she knows will please him, stockings and suspenders are a particular favourite. If he subsequently wishes to please himself at the erotic recollection, so much the better.
"I'll be off then," she announces, planting an affectionate peck on his cheek and leaving a trace of Jo Malone perfume that'll haunt the old buffer enjoyably for the rest of the day.
He beams appreciatively. "You'll check on the pub and shop as usual?"
"Consider it done." In addition to occasional punitive encounters, Armada collects rent and manages the Major's many properties around the town - for which duties she inhabits her cottage rent-free.
Indulging the aristocratic Major's very particular 'enthusiasms' - an open secret among locals - is to her mind a small price to pay for such a lovely place to live. Well-known and respected by his many tenants, the former soldier combines old-fashioned paternalism with understated
noblesse oblige
philanthropy, a landlord considered by most as firm but fair. Although genuinely fond of the elderly Major, it also hasn't escaped Amanda's notice that he has no heirs. Play her cards right and one day all this could be hers...
"I'll need these," Amanda adds as an afterthought, tucking a couple of items from the desk into her shoulder bag. "Have a lovely day," she adds by way of a final farewell, favours her benefactor with a radiant smile and departs.
Back down the hill, stilettos clicking on the cobbled surface, hips swaying, nothing to more than a slight flush on her face to betray the nature of the recent encounter, Amanda continues to her next destination, the Dog and Bone pub, reputedly Tudor, more likely Victorian, enters a lounge bar thronged with tourists and makes her way to the back where the landlady, a pretty woman of middle years, nervously awaits.
"Rent's all there," mumbles Meg, looking fixedly at the floor.
"Thank you," replies Amanda accepting the cash. "you of course know there's another matter to be dealt with?"
Meg sighs. "Me being short with customers?"
"I know they can be annoying sometimes," says Amanda sympathetically, "but this town depends on holidaymakers, we can't go biting the hand that feeds us; the Major simply won't tolerate such behaviour."
Meg nods sadly. "Thing is, we've been a bit busy lately, jobs mount up, and it's hard to cope on my own since my useless husband ran off with that young barmaid."
"In which case I'll get young George the Major's gardener and handyman to call in and lend a hand," answers Amanda briskly, always a person with a solution to problems. "He's a good strong chap who'll soon help you get on top of this dilemma and, I shouldn't be surprised, get on top of you as well. Might relieve a certain unrequited need that's also been making you grumpy." The prospect immediately brings a smile to Meg's face, albeit vanishing almost immediately at the sight of the tawse Amanda produces from her bag.
"Nevertheless, although I'm sympathetic to your circumstances, a penalty must be paid, misbehaviour cannot go unchastised. Lift your skirt and kneel on that chair." Generous of bosom and curvaceous of bottom, Meg will give George a run for his money, thinks Amanda. "You're going to get a dozen and since you're a big girl with plenty to absorb the sting I'm going to lay them on hard."
Feet and fists drumming, Meg suffers the indignity of having every inch of her pale posterior rendered hot to the touch as the strap is relentlessly applied and she struggles to curtail her yelps in case the customers on the other side of the door should hear. At long last, Meg is allowed to clamber inelegantly to her feet, clutching her hot red behind and blinking back tears.
"All forgiven and forgotten as always," says Amanda hugging her tightly. She leans in, kissing Meg lightly on the lips and cupping an impressive décolletage. Feels a stirring within which, judging by the expression on the errant publican's face, is reciprocated. Wouldn't be the first occasion, but unfortunately there's no time to pursue such erotic diversions today, Amanda has pressing matters to attend to.
In contrast to Meg's Rubenesque charms, her next appointment is with slender, flame-haired Debby who curates and manages a vintage clothes shop - often modelling the clothes herself. Once again rent is collected, and personal shortcomings addressed.
"Twice lately you've been late opening," chides Amanda. "Retro clothes fly off the rails in the summer and we can't have customers finding the place closed. The Major takes a dim view, as do I."
