Poking the Pole, Part Four

I walked over to the bed and sat down, still naked. I thought about putting some item of clothing on, but immediately decided against the idea. The bedroom was very small and the heating had either come on or had been put on by Sylvia, so the room was beginning to heat up nicely. Just as Sylvia's bottom was going to do, come to think about it.

"Now then, young lady," I began my remarks with a sigh. Do you think that nonsense like that is acceptable?

It was not the most original line, but it had the desired effect as a look of concern flashed over Sylvia's face.

"What do you mean?"

"You did not need to open the door," I told her, wagging my finger to emphasise my points. "You had no right to ask me, your man, to go and stand in the kitchen whilst you were doing God knows what with your former lover. That is if he is your former lover - how can I ever trust you again after this?"

Sylvia fell for this nonsense hook, line and sinker. I could not believe my luck when she threw herself onto the floor next to me and clutched at my legs.

"Darling, I wasn't thinking, but I got rid of him, honestly, he's gone, she pleaded, rather sweetly I thought.

I could have played the white man at that moment and let her off, but the old devil was  beside me and he encouraged me to chance my arm - with great success as it turned out.

"Sylvia," I said very quietly, "I was thinking seriously about buying one of these new flats that overlook the River Thames and installing you in it. So that you would have a nice place to stay and you could keep it nice for me when I travel over to London."

The fact that I could not afford to hire a car in the UK should have alerted Sylvia to the nonsense inherent in that little speech, but the avaricious bitch was not able to think straight as in her mind's eye she was transported to a luxury penthouse overlooking the river. 

"Now, I must say that I am having second thought about everything," I told her, in a voice that spoke more in sorrow than anger.

"No, my darling, please don't say that. I belong to you, only to you, and I will never do anything without your permission ever again," she whimpered. 

"I know that you will never do anything like that again," I replied. "Because the memory of the spanking that I am now going to give you will stay in your mind for a long time to come."

"Noooo, please, noooo, I hate being spanked!"

"You should have thought about that before you tried to humiliate me in that awful fashion," I told her, as I picked her up and dumped her across my knee.

It was the work of a moment to toss her bathrobe to one side to reveal her rounded bare buttocks that glistened whitely in the early morning light. Those buttocks would soon be another colour, but for a second or two I paused to enjoy the sight. I suppose that you may be thinking that Sylvia was more sinned against than sinning, and I would have to agree. That said, she was a good time girl to the manor born and she thought that she was playing an ace, but it turned out to be a lowly deuce. And she did have a bottom that was just ripe for correction...

Sylvia must have sensed that I was raising my arm high above my head, because she threw her right hand behind herself in a  desperate attempt to protect her otherwise defenceless bottom. Calmly and without any fuss I grabbed her wrist and folded the arm into the small of her back. Sylvia opened her mouth to protest, and at that very moment my hand came down across her bare bottom with a crack that reverberated like a gunshot in the confines of the small bedroom.

As my hand covered the target area, and was then raised to leave a firm red hand print across it, Sylvia began to buck and kick, forcing me to cock my right leg over her scissoring thighs to hold both them and her fully in position. With her legs held down and her arm in the small of her back there was nothing to protect her helpless bottom from the attentions of my hard male hand.

Trust me when I say that the bottom came in for a lot of attention. I was not angry, so I did not administer a flurry of rapid smacks. Instead I brought my hand down with all the force of my arm behind it first on one cheek and then the other, to deliver a sound and methodical spanking that would leave a clear impression on Sylvia's mind as well as her bottom.

Needless to say she wriggled like an eel, and wailed like a banshee. At one point I warned her that the neighbours might hear, but she chose to ignore my well meant advice to tone down her screeching and she continued to wail loudly enough to awaken the dead.

After about twenty five smacks I stopped and considered Sylvia's attitude. Was she displaying insolence or defiance that would mean that the spanking had to continue, or was she accepting her fate with as good a grace as possible? Looking at her I decided that submission was the order of the day and to check that out I released her hand. All she did was continue to remain across my knee and she made no attempt to either rise or cover her bottom. I decided that the spanking had served it purpose and Sylvia was allowed to fall to the floor.

I left her to blubber for five minutes or so and then I picked her up and wrapped my arms around her, as any man would with a woman that he has just put in her place.

"I hope that you will behave properly in future," I told her with as much po-faced pomposity as I could manage.

Sylvia did not reply, but she did not her head vigorously, her arms wrapped around my neck.

What more can I say? She was my lover for the remaining couple of weeks that I had in England, and damned tricky it was to keep her away from the more mouth-wateringly expensive places that the nation's capital city has to offer. Sometimes I failed, but to be fair to Sylvia she was a gem in bed and what's the content of a wallet or two when you have that?

On one of my last evenings in London Tony and I went for a beer and I filled him in on the events of the previous two weeks.

"What are your plans with her? I doubt if you could afford to keep her," he said after I had finished.

"Why not tell her the truth about my finances and how much I am actually paid when it is converted from pesos to pounds?"

"She'll hate your guts for that," Tony replied.

"Yeah, but it gets her out of my hair and she might give you a shag out of gratitude," I told him.

Tony fixed me with an old-fashioned look instead of a reply. Well, it was only an idea.

A year later I returned home to find that Tony had told Sylvia everything and that she wanted to meet me at the Ritz to discuss something important over dinner. Tony then tipped me the wink that her plan was to fill her stomach at my expense and then gently tell me that it was not going to work out between us but could we remain friends? Needless to say I scuppered that idea and I never saw Sylvia again.

That said, she was a fine introduction to the world of the good time girl, the demi-mondaine who is not quite a whore, but certainly not a respectable member of bourgeois society.

My kind of girl in other words.