Lauren, Part Four

"Your blog is great," Lauren told me as she enthusiastically cut into her steak, "but it's your videos that I really love, she enthused.

"Yeah? Which video do you like the most?

Lauren licked her lips before replying. "The one where you have the girl on the bed and are using your belt on her," she said in a voice that had suddenly grown very husky.

"I know the one you mean. It was  a tawse that I used on her backside," I said.

"A tawse? What's that?"

"A short piece of leather, about as wide as a man's belt, but much shorter. It's used to bring the disobedient to heel," I said, aware that a lump was developing in my trousers.

"My dad would have loved one of them. He used his big old belt, and made us lie down on the bed when he was gonna give us a licking with it," Lauren explained. So that was where her love of corporal punishment came from.

"Us?"

"Me, my mom and my two sisters. When he decided to lay it on, believe me none of us sat down for a while afterwards."

"How did he die?"

"Got himself falling down drunk one night and hit a tree in his pick-up. I was just 16 and I went to his funeral with a sore ass on account of him whupping me the night before he died," Lauren explained, with a catch in her voice.

"Was it a thick belt?"

"Just like yours, but much older. I don't know when he got it, but it was older than me. He once told me that whupping ass with it was the best way to keep it supple, she said, laughing.

"You said that you did one to ones, how did you get into that?"

"I was moving around and I met a guy who had a thick belt, and he introduced me to guys who would pay to punish a girl. I earned good bucks for doing what I enjoyed, and not many folks can say that," she concluded.

"What's the deal with the tattoos?"

"Got 'em on my travels," was all she said.

"They are probably why Benito's mother doesn't like you, along with your daughter, of course," I said.

"She hasn't said anything," Lauren answered, dubiously.

"She doesn't have to. It's the way they are. It's one thing having a discrete tattoo in the small of your back that nobody can see, but even having one on your wrist in this country marks you out as the local good time that has been had by all," I said, pointing to the artwork that Lauren had on her neck and left cheek to illustrate my point.

"What about my daughter?"

"Why should sonny-boy feed some other man's child? That's the way his mother thinks, I guarantee. And sonny-boy does as his mother tells him, they all do," I said.

Lauren nodded her head at my truisms. "Time to get the fuck out, I reckon," was all she said.

"Good idea," was my reply.

"Listen, I like you and all that, but I am going to hit that border with about twenty bucks to my name and I have to get clear across the country to my mom's place. Is there any chance of you giving me some help towards things?"

"I can tell that you were lying about the money, but not to worry, I'll pay the fare for your ride," I said.

"What makes you say I was lying to you?"

"Oh, I can tell when people lie. They move their lips when they speak," I said.

"OK," she said, unable to control her laughter. "Maybe I do have a few dollars extra, but I'm still not a rich girl."

"A ride for a ride strikes me as a very good deal indeed," I told her with a grin.

"Indeed it does," she said, simply.

To be continued.