Read an Excerpt
‘First of all you deliberately gave me the slip like some silly little kid playing truant.’
‘Hey I…’ Columbia’s indignant interjection was cut off with a single withering look.
‘Second I do not get off on having my professionalism publicly undermined. Grow up girl, start being accountable for your own actions; you got yourself into that situation not me.’
Columbia gasped; an uncomfortable jolt of truth gnawed at her stomach; prudently, if wholly uncharacteristically, for once she didn’t interrupt.
‘Thirdly you have gone from a smart, sassy indy movie star to winner of the Joan Crawford award for solipsism; head so far up your too-often kissed ass you’ve no longer any perspective on the outside world or consideration for us mere mortals who inhabit it.’
‘You can’t talk to me like that,’ yelled Columbia relocating her inner shrew and finally finding her shrill voice, ‘you’re fired.’
‘Lady, I quit,’ Jon’s voice was dangerously quiet, ‘but before I go I’m gonna try and stop the rot, do you a favour and above all get me some recompense for the last six months of hell.’
‘What do you mean? Get away, don’t touch me.’ The look of determination on Jon’s face had Columbia scared. Silently he strode towards her and grabbed her wrist.
‘No,’ she screamed pathetically holding up her hands, ‘don’t damage my face.’
‘Oh you don’t have to worry ’bout that pretty face,’ Jon said grimly. ‘If you’d taken the trouble to understand me as well as I do you, you’d know I never beat up on a woman in my life. I was raised by a single mom and taught respect. Pity your ’60s liberal hippy parents didn’t do the same. ‘However,’ he added, plonking himself onto an uncomfortably modern and angular chair and pulling her over his lap, ‘I intend to make a small exception.’
‘Let me go!’ Columbia screeched in horror as his intention suddenly became plain.
‘Who’s gonna make me?’ asked Jon, savouring the humour of his erstwhile employer’s situation, ‘the bodyguard?’
‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ whined the supine star, scarily certain she already knew.
‘I know exactly what I’m at,’ growled Jon, lifting her slender frame effortlessly from the floor and pinning her face down, struggling and kicking, over his knee.
‘You wouldn’t,’ her voice tried for a coquettish, pleading tone, ‘dare spank me?’
‘Oh yes I would,’ Jon confirmed happily, ‘this spoilt butt is overdue for a thorough tanning, a whole galaxy of waiters, maids, directors, agents, fellow actors and fans deserve to witness this comeuppance, but sadly only I have the privilege.’
‘Get off, this is assault, I’ll report you, I’ll sue,’ Columbia was frantic; she’d never yet encountered a man she couldn’t wheedle her way around.
‘Like I care, like anyone will believe you,’ he laughed, ‘and anyway the National Enquirer will have a field day. I can see the headline now: “Film Star gets her ass whipped.” Great chance to test the theory that any publicity is good publicity.’
‘No!’ yelled Columbia despairingly, legs flailing, head down and bum uppermost as Jon wrestled her tight skirt up around her still enviably trim 24 inch, 24 year old waist.
‘Legs to beat the band,’ mused the ex-soldier as he skilfully dodged those lethal flailing stiletto heels. Her perfect peach of a carefully dieted, personally trained bum was currently sheathed in sheer grey tights and ivory coloured panties. Which, it transpired as Jon’s hand began the first of many impacts, loudly and firmly across her rippling moons, held her buttocks perfectly in position but offered no protection at all.
Had this been one of the foreplay spankings he’d occasionally dispensed to lovers, Jon would have began slowly, gradually building up the tempo and velocity of contact to match his partner’s arousal and allowing lengthy interludes for soothing caresses and intimate stroking. This however was a punishment spanking, the release of months of tension, retribution for a thousand slights and he’d every intention that the little cow would feel it from the start and still smart painfully tomorrow.
Fifty or more ringing slaps set the tone, turned her skin from lightly tanned to blushing pink; sent a fierce, fiery stinging pain flaring across every inch of her tormented hindquarters. In response to which Columbia shouted, protested, cried, writhed and generally disported herself without out an ounce of dignity.
Jon paused for breath and, thinking his anger abated and her penance at an end, Columbia gave a shuddering sigh of premature relief, which abruptly became a keening moan as her tights and knickers were pulled rudely to her knees.