Tali's Training

"This is an incredible place" Don said, looking around the living room of Fenton's large suburban house. "You must have it goin' on, Fenton!"

Fenton the Felon chuckled.

"Remember what Fitzgerald said to Hemingway, Don..

'The rich are different from us' and Hemingway responded.

"Yes, they have more money' I'd offer you a jay, but Tali is a government attorney, and it's not politic to have pot here in the house."

Don gazed at Fenton the Felon as the door slammed, and a harried young woman stalked in the living room.

Fenton smiled.

"Tali, how are you? I'd like you to meet John O'Donnell, but they call him Dirty Don"

Natalia Snowden, 30 year old assistant Prosecuting Attorney for Montgomery County , Maryland , greeted the middle aged guys in their leather jackets, a stark contrast to her business suit.

"Hi, Don...Fenton, this isn't a good night for company. I am so fucking pissed at this defense attorney..."

Tali shouted, and stamped her foot, but then suddenly blanched.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm terribly sorry, Fenton...I didn't mean to swear."

Don remembered that from reform school...Fenton had a dirty, filthy mind, but never used the seven curse words, he said it was a weakness of vocabulary.

"I'm just in a bad mood, that's all."

Tali was babbling now "I'm working too much, this plea arrangement..."

Fenton shook his head gravely, but inwardly he was smiling. Tali looked a lot like Melanie Griffith, Fenton thought, or perhaps Bernadette Peters, though Bernadette was way before Tali's time.

She had tousled, curly blond hair that went down just below her ears, full lips and big, innocent emerald eyes that put Fenton in mind of a gamboling kitten.

She looked so out of place in a beige business suit, the button down shirt just covering her considerable bosom...like a cheerleader who had mugged Steve Forbes.

Tali looked somewhat alarmed as Fenton cocked his head.

"You really feel big, using those bad words and being uppity in front of your Master's friends, don't you?"

"Fenton, let up."

Tali threw her arms in the air, and Don watched her chest heave beneath the beige jacket.

"I'm an adult, and this is my house, I work hard, unlike some people, and my job makes me tense!" Tali stamped her foot again. Noting the look in Fenton's eye, Tali faltered.

"Fenton I just have a demanding job...please don't puni-"

Tali looked at Don.

"Please let's resolve this later. Any way you want."

Tali looked imploringly at Fenton, who remained implacable. Don was astounded. Any way Fenton wanted. She was afraid he was pissed because she'd said fuck. Fenton turned to Don.

"Look, Don, I'm sorry to have to take care of this now, but it won't take long, and you'll enjoy observing, I think."

Don smiled nervously. "If you guys are having a fight—" Tali interrupted.

"Fenton, we can't do this in front of strangers, please. I have my career to consider."

Fenton pointed at the door leading to Tali's study.

Tali turned without a word and went in there, and returned with a large, thick wooden paddle with holes and what looked to be a razor strop like Granddad O'Donnell had used when the truancy officer came around.

Fenton took the paddle and the strap calmly.

"Please take off your jacket, and pull down your panties. Tali blurted

"Fenton, PLEASE. I'll make you guys a nice dinner."

Fenton shook his head. "Afterwards. Take off your jacket and pull down your panties." Tali's face was bright red.

" I'll buy you a new motorcycle, I'll—" Fenton shook his head, and Tali burst into tears.

She draped her jacket over the living room chair and went to the sofa, where she flipped up her skirt showing rose colored panties, and to Don's amazement garters attached to nylon stockings.

"I don't believe in pantyhose" Fenton smiled at Don.

"Pull them down, Natalia." Tali gave the uncomfortable Don an mortified look and pulled her panties down, throwing herself over the arm of the couch.

Don had been watching Tali's behind twitch in the little skirt, and now was mesmerized by the sight of her full pale cheeks and the little tuft between the backs of her legs.

"Not low enough." Fenton smiled, pulling the rose-colored panties to mid-thigh. Fenton raised the paddle and struck

Fenton touched the globes of Tali's opaque bottom once or twice very gently with the wooden paddle, and then gave Tali's right cheek a harsh swat.

WHACK!

Don expected Tali to begin screaming, as a nasty red spot had come up, but the girl made no noise .

WHACK! Fenton was keeping to the right cheek WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Don noted that a purplish bruise was rising on Tali's right cheek.

"Fenton" Don interposed, "Maybe she's had enough."

He wondered if he should call the police. Don's dick was nearly ripping out of his jeans, but he thought Tali might be in shock.

"She's not saying anything, she—" Fenton held his hand up, cocking his head as he had did in the old days at the reformatory, right before he'd kick a Mex gang lord in the nuts.

"Why, Don? " Fenton asked again

"Because she's not making any noise?

Think she's passed out?" Don looked at Tali. Her bottom was a mess.

There were raw, red blisters around her butt and thighs.

Fenton kicked Tali's right thigh roughly just under a big bruise, and Tali gasped.

"Tali, Don's worried that you are catatonic. To show him that you are with it, I want you to say the mantra after each whack, and then recite the Presidents backwards." WHACK!

"Thank you Master, may I have another? George Walker Bush.

WHACK!

"Thank you Master, may I have another? William Jefferson Clinton."

This went on until about James Buchanan, when Fenton let her off, moving to the leather strop. After ten of these, Tali moved her bottom a bit. "Why are you moving, Natalia?" Fenton asked, with a tight voice.

"I'm sorry, Fenton."

Tali's voice had a slight catch in it, but was steady. Fenton moved to the other cheek. The strop fell ten times. At the final WHACK, Don heard a moan from Tali, and Fenton pulled Tali up by the hair, pushing her tear-streaked face near his.

"Are you complaining, honey?" Fenton smiled. "This doesn't seem to be your night." Fenton dropped Tali to the floor and snapped his fingers, and the girl mechanically undressed, revealing a body like Don had only seen on Betty Cooper in Archie Comics.

Tali crawled to the sofa and leaned over the arm again.

Fenton shook his head. "No, I want you to show Don your tolerance training." Fenton grinned at Don, who was unconsciously playing pocket-pool at this point.

"I'm sure Don is impressed at your ability to not show pain, but wouldn't he be amazed to know that you can give him service, and be reprimanded at the same time!"

Tali looked up at Fenton.

"Fenton, I hardly know Don...I can't" Fenton leaned over and slapped Tali across the face. Then he stood up.

"C'mon Don, let's get out of here...Tali has decided that she wants to curse, throw tantrums and alienate her guests...

Let's go to Ruby Tuesdays." Tali jumped up, her bare breasts jiggling.

"No, please...I want to cook your dinner, Fenton. I just can't...with a stranger." Fenton turned and began discussing dinner with Don as if Tali wasn't in the room, and soon after they left, with Tali still beseeching them.

Tali lay crying on her Princess bed, her bruises and welts forgotten. What would she do now? Fenton was the most loving, kind Master she'd ever known, and a wonderful guy as well.

Before Tali had met Fenton, she was a chubby cocaine abuser with a serious ulcer...and he'd brought her back, and made her feel wonderful again, just in eight months.

What could she do? Tali sat up and wiped her eyes, and thought about how she could make amends to her wonderful master of eight months. She would have to service his fat, ugly friend. Jesus.

But that was what Fenton wanted. Tali went to the closet, and began going through her things, remembering when she'd met Fenton.

"This one should be easy, Tali...we should get this boy on the three strikes law, hell ten strikes." Lee, Tali's supervisor was talking earnestly to her, trying to prep her for trial. "We're talking about a thirty-five year career of grand theft auto."

Lee, a pleasant, but very earnest balding fellow touched Tali's arm, trying not to show his extreme interest in her chest.

"the first time this bastard got popped, he'd repainted and sold a school bus, and it turned out to be a vehicle belonging to the orphanage he lived in—ten and a half years old." Lee had touched Tali's arm again.

"But be careful"

Lee urged. Fenton the Felon's done very little time, and it seems whenever there is a woman as judge or prosecuting attorney—

I know it sounds sexist--but when that happens, or if there are too many women on Fenton Weir's jury, something screws up, and he walks."

Tali, who had a remarkable conviction record for her three years as assistant D.A., was annoyed at the idea that she could be swayed by a lady-killer.

Remembering this now, Tali laughed as she drew a bath and began ironing her white stockings, those that made her look as if she were a submissive lamb coming to the slaughter.

Tali jumped in the bathtub and luxuriated, hoping the welts on her butt would heal, just for tonight.

Tali found the razor and began shaving her pubic area. this was usually a punishment of Fenton's but he would be pleased to see her voluntarily bare. Would he forgive Tali?

She should've known better not to demur over servicing Fenton's pal—remember the time Tali was forced to blow the postman?

"We've got to sweep that ex-debutante debris out of your curly little head." Fenton often said.

"You're a slave, not a Junior League member." Washing under her arms, Tali noticed a copy of "Plutarch's Lives" on the commode. Fenton reads all the time, she thought. He was reading at his own trial!

As she presented her opening remarks, Tali eyed the defendant, charged amazingly with heisting state trooper cars and reselling them as getaway vehicles in bank holdups.

He was a lady killer? Five foot six, big hook nose, thick out-of date aviator glasses, pale brown skin, graying Afro and tattoos.

Somehow, despite being in a detention jumpsuit and chains, this guy had brought a copy of Fredric Nietzche's "Twilight of the Idols", and was thumbing through it bemusedly, occasionally looking up at the Assistant D.A. as if she were a child after his lollipop.

He wasn't a good looking guy at all, Tali thought, as she waved her pointer in front of a chart showing the location of the theft ring.

Fenton had wiped his glasses with a disapproving look after he'd been cross-examined by the second chair, Tali had noticed with a giggle. Leo did spit when he talked.

Thinking about it now, Tali carefully climbed out of the tub and toweled herself off pulling the towel over her generous breasts. They'd gone through a lot lately.

The other night, after Tali was talking too loudly on the phone while Fenton was watching Charlie Rose, he'd hung her by her pierced nipples for an hour and a half.

Fenton had hooked up this ingenious device—a very thin piece of wire cord that he could string through Tali's pierced nipples right at chin level in the kitchen doorway.

That way, Tali 's breasts were pulled up, and she had to stand on tiptoe to keep the nipples from being ripped...

After a while, her heels would hurt, and so she would relax and then nipples would feel the strain again.

Tali hated that punishment more than all the others put together she thought—breasts taut, pulled in the air, her hands cuffed behind her back.

Fenton often hooked Tali to the evil wire, stuffing a gag in her mouth while he messed with his Master Chess 4000 software or fucked some teenybopper in Tali's Princess bed.

Once, Fenton had humiliated Tali horribly by letting a 19 year old receptionist diddle Tali's twat with a vibrator, turning it on and off just before she came, while Tali hung to the wire.

Fenton would often give Tali paddlings while she shifted miserably between the pressure on her heels and the pressure on her nipples.

Occasionally, Fenton would put a combination lock on a chain chaining Tali's wrists, and then go out of the house.

Yes, and this would give Tali a chance to desperately fiddle with the dial and possibly get her hands loose and unstring the fucking wire, but Tali was skilled enough at this that Fenton usually just left the nasty handcuffs on, and watched her squirm.

He'd always release Tali just before she got to a breaking point.

Fenton could read her mind, and knew how to calm Tali down or get her flustered. Tali smiled ruefully, recalling the end of the trial.

At the end of recess, Tali had had to move past the defendant to get to her desk.

"Your seams aren't straight, Miss Snowden."

The whisper came, and she stopped, and turned to Fenton the Felon. It was not the first time a defendant had whispered to Tali from the box—she was used to derogatory remarks, begging and the like, but—

"What?"

Tali turned to Fenton, as comfortable in his chains as he might be in an evening suit at the Algonquin.

"Miss Snowden, you are wearing seamed stockings. They aren't straight."

Tali had stared at Fenton, forgetting the judge, the jury and the county of Montgomery, if not the State of Maryland.

"Excuse me, Mr. Weir?"

But then the bastard went back to his book.

After this, Tali had flubbed a presentation of a crucial piece of evidence, and Fenton's defense attorney, a competent man hired by Fenton's ex-wife, and one of his former parole officers, got the case quashed.

Tali barely noticed the disgust of the judge and Leo in the second chair as she surreptitiously kept sneaking looks at the defendant.

Eight months later, she still couldn't take her eyes off Fenton most of the time, Tali thought, as she donned her pearl white pull-up stockings and high heels.

After putting on hot pink lip gloss and nail polish, something she could never wear in the courtroom—but it was Friday night—

Tali went to the basement and brought up the sawhorse, the canes and Fenton's favorite straightened coat hanger, placing these items strategically in the den.

She looked at herself critically in the mirror—

Nude except for the white thigh high stockings and heels, gold rings in her nipples, Tali looked the epitome of submissiveness. Don was homely, and his teeth were gross, but he wasn't creepy looking, and it would certainly be less work than the time Fenton had Tali suck off Fenton Jr., his son with a Virginia appellate judge, and F.J.'s teenage punk rock friends.

Fenton had taught both his 23 year old son and his 19 year old daughter how to give their future stepmother bare bottom paddlings when she got on their nerves, and yet Tali looked forward to their visits.

Tali was amazed at how they looked up to their dad, who, despite being a funny, bright guy, was perhaps the most unsuccessful criminal she'd ever prosecuted.

Too short to be an armed robber, not well coordinated enough for lock man burglary work (though agile enough to string that damn wire through Tali's tits)

Fenton had survived only slightly on his car work, and was unfit for legitimate employment...

A grade-school dropout, Fenton hadn't had an honest job since being kicked out of the Air Force in the early seventies. How did this guy live, she'd wondered then?

She knew how he'd lived for the past eight months... As Tali had left the courthouse, musing her failure, the Maserati Tali's folks had given her for her Smith graduation pulled up, and the door opened.

The metal "Club" that Dad insisted she put on her steering wheel was tossed into the street, sawed in half, and a German language copy of Nietzche's "Twilight of the Idols" was taken off the passenger seat by a brown, tattooed hand.

"Ms. Snowden, may I drop you anywhere?"

He'd moved in by five that night, and by eight, Tali was across Fenton's lap for not folding his clothes carefully enough after she'd unpacked them.

What did Fenton do? Tali gave Fenton an allowance to keep him from his hubcap hobbies...she cleaned the house, paid the bills, made Fenton's lunch while he was sleeping before she left for work...

Fenton kept her in line, and she was happier now than she'd ever been in her life.

Tali smiled as she knelt in front of the door way, naked except for her stockings and heels, with two dry martinis on the floor in front of her, waiting for the men.

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

As they walked into the house again, Don was shaking his head, slightly.

During dinner, Fenton had talked about everything except what had just happened—Fenton hitting his girlfriend with a belt. Did she get off on this? Did he? Would she have him arrested? Don had first encountered Fenton "Hot" Weir in 1971 at Boys Village, a Maryland juvenile prison.

They both sang Charlie Ryan's "Hot Rod Lincoln" off key, constantly and enjoyed Raymond Chandler novels, and Don, a weedy boy and Cottage B's lone Caucasian had been grateful for the protection of the whimsical 17 year old car thief.

Fenton looked like a black Woody Allen, but no one fucked with him, that was for sure.

Two years after his parole, Don, on furlough from the base at Fort Dix had passed a gaggle of cop cars and seen Fenton being handcuffed for God knows what. Bent over the cop car, Fenton had spotted Don and winked, and Private O'Donnell wondered whether Fenton was having a better day than he was.

Twice divorced and unemployed, Don had run into Fenton at Champion Billiards a few weeks before.

Don asked Fenton how he was doing. Had he finally gone straight?.

Fenton grinned, leaning against his pool cue. Don had lost his hair and picked up two hundred pounds, looked like Daddy Warbucks gone to seed. Fenton looked just the same.

"If you mean do I steal cars any more, no...and my chop shop is closed, but I'm not sure if that means I've gone straight."

As they entered the house now, Don recalled the scene before they'd left for dinner and wondered if there would be cops waiting for them. Don had a bench warrant or two out there...Jesus. Surely hitting that girl with a belt was assault. As they opened the door and walked in, Don's eye fell to the floor, and his jaw dropped.

Kneeling on the hard wood floor of the hallway, was Ms. Natalia Temple Snowden, Assistant District Attorney for Montgomery County, Maryland, wearing nothing but white pull up stockings that just covered the top of her thighs, and white gloves—and nothing else.

And Tali was kneeling in an upright position—she was not resting that gorgeous butt on the back of her thighs.

Don noticed that Tali no longer had the tuft of pubic hair, she had shaved her vagina completely. Don was once again mesmerized by Tali's full round white breasts—at least a 34DD, and still perked up.

The nipples were pink and quite hard, and there were gold rings in the tips. Jesus, those tits are big. No wonder the girl had to wear these thick business clothes to be taken seriously at work. In front of Tali there was a hairbrush made of ivory, the wooden paddle, a dog whip that Tali and Fenton had bought while touring England that summer, a bamboo cane and what looked to be a straightened coat hanger. And in front of the implements stood two dry martinis.

Tali kept her eyes to the ground, her painted lips solemn, and Fenton leaned over and picked up the drinks, handing one to Don, who immediately downed his. Fenton took a sip and leaned over, and began stroking one of Tali's breasts.

Tali moaned as Fenton stroked around the areola before shrieking as he twisted the nipple brutally.

"So Tali, what do you have to say for yourself?" Fenton stood up and sipped his martini.