Whip Hands (19 page)

With it I was led through to the back room like a pony on a trotting rein. I must admit I wasn't putting up much resistance. That room was hardly big enough to swing a cat, as I may have mentioned, let alone to lie down in. There were just a couple of plastic garden chairs. He sat on one and reached up towards me with that smile that could charm the sugar out of your tea.

‘Come, be comfortable.' He patted his denim-clad knee reassuringly and pulled me gently down by the emerald belt. How many times had he gone through this same procedure in this tiny room overlooking the garden with other women? He smelt of nutmeg, I noticed, as he enfolded me in a passionate embrace. It was just like a full-blooded holiday romance and I couldn't help myself.

When we came up for air, Spiro took me firmly by the shoulders. I tried to kiss him again but he wagged a finger disapprovingly. I was puzzled but, since he had so little English, allowed him to manoeuvre me into a different position. I was lying across his lap, facing up at him. He bent down to kiss me once more then deftly flipped me over so my tummy was across his knees. His warm hand caressed the rounded swell of my arse under the silky briefs.

Supporting myself with one hand on the floor, I looked back at him in some alarm. He continued to run his fingers under the fabric, which was sticking to my skin in the heat. I felt very exposed and my skin very sensitive to his rough touch. With a grunt, he eased the skimpy garment over my hips. I pushed myself upwards with both hands to allow him to slip them over the curve of my cheeks and down my thighs. They slithered down to my ankles.

I think I had guessed what he was going to do next. I'd heard Greek men were very dominant when it came to lovemaking. Now I was going to be able to make comparisons for myself.

The slaps were quite moderate at first, rhythmically chastising and then gripping each cheek in turn. I started to protest only when Spiro began using the belt to pull my bum higher in the air. My fingertips barely reached the floor as he held me up like an old-fashioned set of scales. With his strength he could control my every movement.

Already the love juices were pooling and I knew further movement would cause them to seep out on to my thighs. This was really weird. Being so under his control turned me on. It was quite different from my normal hands-on approach to sexual gratification. Knowing he would strike my bum harder and harder, I was excited to see just how much I could take.

I turned my head. Spiro's eyes were flashing and his brow was beaded with sweat. His blows made me rock quite violently on his knees. As I caught his eye he stopped spanking, left a hand in place and eased the tips of his stubby fingers along the well-slicked lips of my sex. I must have gasped aloud. I think he asked if I liked it. I nodded my head anyway. The spanking continued, and there I stayed, across his knee opposite an open window giving on to that peaceful, shady garden.

There was a pause. I was drifting into a reverie as peace descended. Suddenly I felt the thin circlet of the belt being removed.

‘Stand, bad girl.'

Despite the sternness of the command Spiro was smiling. Once again his eyes were dark and brimming with desire. He stroked my hair and whispered passionate Greek endearments into my ear. His hot breath made me tingle all the more.

Spiro brought a small mirror from the shop. Looking into it I could see how angry my bum had become. He whirled me round and put one hand against the curve of my glowing cheeks. His fingers again explored the glistening cleft between my thighs, moving up to that secret and shameful spot which had never experienced penetration. I felt myself aching with desire as I was pushed towards the window.

As I turned to face him, Spiro grasped my wrists firmly, held them together with one powerful hand and wound the supple leather around them twice, pulling the free end through the buckle. This he threaded through a metal eyelet screwed into the woodwork above the window, put there presumably to hold a curtain rod or set of blinds. Or maybe specially for this.

What are you smirking at, you smug bastard? I'd really puke to think what kind of a picture is in your mind right now. Of me, no doubt, peeled to the buff with my arms in the air and a scarlet butt. And in full view of anyone who happened to look across the courtyard. Or are you still fantasising about Spiro, who was at last peeling off his T-shirt and jeans, you'll be glad to hear?

Well, join the club. Without clothes he was even more of a dish - tanned, broad-shouldered and slim-hipped. Did I mention Greek gods? The thought must certainly have flashed through my mind as he came towards me, his thick shaft already bobbing at the horizontal before him.

With one hand he grasped me round the waist and pulled me towards him. If I didn't gasp before, I was certainly gasping now. His hands were all over me. He kissed me on my breasts, then my belly, then down the soft inner thigh area where he licked my pussy juices. Finally he reached down and undid my sandals. Now I was completely naked.

When he eventually cupped my arse with both hands and breached me with the glistening knob of his dark-curled manhood I was beside myself with desire. I encircled those powerful hips with my pale legs and swung gently as he began his strokes. I could easily have freed myself from the bonds around my wrists. But it felt right to be restrained for his every desire. After the pain he had given me I was due unimaginable physical pleasures, I reasoned.

And in that little, sparsely furnished room, beside an open window, Spiro did not disappoint me. I just hope all the neighbours were sound sleepers because we were both in full cry when the moment came.

He released me and we embraced slowly and deliberately. It was only when I rubbed my arm to restore circulation that I saw the time. I had never known two hours pass so quickly! We had no time to exchange phone numbers. Not that I knew the phone number for our apartments anyway. When he saw the look on Aunt Sophie's face, Spiro hastily withdrew without a final fond embrace.

 

Maybe what brought it all to a head was the delayed flight home. It was already two in the morning and still the incoming plane was not due. Most of us had settled down to get some sleep in the departure lounge awaiting some announcement.

Not my wonderful, vibrant aunt! She was looking for someone to blame: get mad, then get even was her motto. If she couldn't sleep, there was no way I was going to be allowed to. So we bickered away with increasing ill-will until I went off for a puff, in the hope that she'd eventually cool down.

When I came back, I could see she'd just been stoking her own fires. Aunt Sophie was quivering with suppressed indignation.

‘I blame that Spiro!' she burst out, in a voice that approached screaming pitch. A few nearby figures looked up in alarm from their sleepless repose.

‘You're raving, aunty. How can he have had anything to do with the flight being delayed? You must be suffering from sleep deprivation.'

‘Look, young lady, I'm telling you. He made the coach driver late in leaving Heraklion and everyone's been running to catch up ever since. Do you understand now?' She shot me a hard glance, but I was not going to let such idiocies go unchallenged.

‘Total baloney, dear aunt. Even if we had such a tight timetable, which we certainly don't, by your reasoning we should have missed the flight. Whereas in fact it's quite the opposite. We're still waiting for it to arrive.'

‘Oh, you always argue the toss, don't you? I blame my sister for it. She had no idea how to bring you up. No idea.'

‘Just leave mother out of it! How could you have any notion of what she had to go through to bring us both up?'

‘Your memory needs some attention, young lady. I was always there to help her out whenever she needed me.'

‘Whenever she needed you! How about when you went on those long cruises or those months away in your gite in the Loire Valley or wherever the place was? What was she supposed to do then? We were the ones who heard her sobbing herself to sleep.'

‘Was I supposed to be always at her beck and call?'

‘Typical. Typical of a childless couple,' I muttered. Then, more loudly, ‘With no real parental responsibilities.'

I immediately wished I hadn't said it. It was thoughtless: I knew she and Uncle Jack had tried and tried. Aunt Sophie stiffened as if she had been struck in the face. Then she looked me straight in the eye.

‘Come here. I'm going to make you suffer for that.'

‘No way. You must be joking.'

Actually I'd never seen her look more serious. My confidence was seeping away. I knew what would inevitably come next.

‘You'll do exactly as I say, young lady.'

I can't understand what followed. Maybe it was that sharp tone of command I'd last heard all those years ago. When we heard it as kids Alec and I knew we were in for a leg smacking. It was quick and sharp, two or three frantic slaps while she gripped us by the shoulder, just a reminder that we had overstepped the limit. And so, she felt, she had the right to do likewise.

This time it would be something a little more severe, I reckoned. But I was as big as she was now. So exactly why was my mouth so dry?

Anyway, the last spanking had been a lot of fun. Perhaps this would bring back memories of that hot back room with Spiro. Only a few days ago: how I'd longed to repeat it, even though my bum was sore the next day and I had to wear shorts rather than bikini pants. When I eventually plucked up the courage to return to the shop the assistant said Spiro was out of town for the day. I thought she smirked as she said it - in perfectly flawless English - but maybe it was my imagination.

You'll no doubt be glad to hear that the walloping I got from her couldn't have been more different. As you would expect. You wouldn't? Like I said before, for an agony uncle you're a horny bastard.

She grabbed me by the wrist, managing to catch me totally off balance. With a shriek I fell across her well-covered thighs, breaking my fall with one hand. Now any remaining sleepers must be fully wakened, I remember thinking with dawning horror.

I wore some baggy beach shorts that had captured my heart with their bright, fruity colours. They were very thin cotton and underneath them all I had on was a cotton thong. Not very effective protection against the calloused hands of the aunt. I knew she was itching to spank me, but I reasoned it would be just as undignified to struggle as to stay put and take it. I miscalculated there. She started slapping me with a cupped palm, making a really gross clop-clop noise. Like an enthusiastic cook tenderising steak.

‘There, young lady. This is going to jog your memory on something you seem to have forgotten about recently. Respect. Respect for your elders and betters.'

God, she'd totally flipped. Obviously I'd not made enough allowance for the effects of recent bereavement. More clops punctuated her speech. Luckily they didn't hurt much but, raising my head, I could see that heads were popping up all around us. One woman tugged at her partner, who was still asleep on a banquette.

‘Aunty, for God's sake, that's enough!' A small attempt at struggling convinced me she had me pretty well anchored with a hand between my shoulder blades.

‘Enough for you, maybe. But not nearly enough for me, niece.'

‘I'm not your real niece. You have no right to do this.'

I realised straightaway how pathetic that sounded. She stopped and I heard her rooting around in a shopping bag made of pink plastic on the seat beside her. All her immediate necessities were in there. For all I know, she kept a change of knickers in there handy for emergencies.

‘Somehow I think you're about to pay much closer attention to what I've been saying to you, young lady. Whether or not you're truly my niece.'

She had found what she was looking for, but it was behind me, out of sight. I was not kept in ignorance for long. The next stroke was a sharp, resounding slap, unmistakably the sound of the impact of a hard, flat surface. It came quickly again before I'd had time to appreciate the full fiery sensation on my scantily clad arse.

‘Ow! No more, aunty, that really hurts!'

‘You think I didn't mean it to? No lesson is well learned without some pain to aid the memory.'

Slap, slap; slap, slap. Remorselessly Aunt Sophie applied the hairbrush to my cheeks one at a time. I struggled to be free, but now she had me by the hair, pulling my head up but forcing the rest of me down against her knees. This demonstration of her punishment prowess was starting to gain us quite an audience.

‘Ouch! Stop it. I'm serious, Sophie! That's enough, okay?'

‘Oh, no it isn't. You've still a lesson to learn. You're going to learn some humility, and you'll thank me for it. Eventually.'

With this she tore the cotton shorts down over my buttocks. They were exposed for all to see, glowing beetroot. I'm sure I heard a gasp in the ensuing silence, but this time it wasn't me. I remembered how they looked in Spiro's shop and how proud I felt then. Now there was only the humiliation.

‘Twelve on the bare is what you're going to get.'

Struggle as I might, I couldn't wriggle free. What are you laughing at? She had me under her arm and dug her elbow in hard if I tried to raise myself.