Author's Note: The sequel to Home Furnishings isn't gelling at all, so I decided to shealve it and give everyone a little short story. Enjoy!


Chapter 1

My name is Bob. I moved into the Ten Gables retirement community shortly after my 60th Birthday, and about eighteen months after my wife of thirty-five years passed away. We'd had a good marriage. Our two children were grown and leading their own lives at opposite ends of the country. I spent a few months with my son and his wife in New York after his mother died, and then a few more with my daughter, her husband and my two grandchildren in San Diego. Finally it was time to move on, so I went back home, cleaned out the huge, old house and, since neither of my children were interested in ever moving back to Wichita, put it up for sale.

The house sold much sooner than I expected in a down economy, and I had to make a quick decision on my future. I did a search on the Internet and came up with a list of thousands of retirement communities. Without doing as much research as I probably should have, I settled on Ten Gables, which was located in a small town outside Monterrey, California. Ten Gables is one of those places that offers the full range of retirement living: fully independent living in three and four room cottages and larger houses along the edge of a golf course, independent living in three to six room condominiums, assisted living in one and two room apartments, ward-based nursing home care, and finally a hospice facility. With all the on-site facilities available, I wouldn't have to ever leave the place if I didn't want to! But the deciding factor was that it was also within easy driving distance to my grandchildren in San Diego.

It should be mentioned that I don't look anything like I'm 60 years old. A combination of good genes, limited alcohol consumption, not ever smoking, and long devotion to regular workouts had most people believing I was in my late forties. I've certainly gained a little weight over the years, and have gotten a little flabby around the waist, but my legs and butt are strong and trim. Since moving to Ten Gables I've continued to run three times week, usually logging 3 miles per run., although it's a slow 3 miles these days.

My wife had been the social butterfly in our partnership, with me the awkward hanger-on at social events where I didn't know anybody. With her gone, I was on my own. Consequently, I hadn't really gotten to know more than a few people well during my first ten months at Ten Gables. This was something I knew I should work on, and when a flyer appeared in my mailbox for a community social, I decided I would attend and do whatever it took to meet at least fifteen new people.

On the day of the event I put on some nice clothes and headed over to the community center. Upon entering the hall, I realized two things; first, apparently only the single residents had shown up, and second, three out of four were women. This was not my ideal environment since I'm most comfortable breaking the ice by talking sports. I plunged into the crowd, seeking at least one familiar face. While wandering around I caught snatches of conversation from small groups of women - and they all seemed to be talking about medical stuff. "Oh, damn, this is going to harder than I thought," I said to myself.

Finally I ran into Jerry, an older single guy that I sometimes played pool with in the community center's billiards room. He invited me into the group of women he was with and introduced me around. Thankfully, the main topic of conversation in this group was golf. Over the next hour or so several women drifted into and out of the group, and I had almost reached my goal. Several commented that they had seen me out running, and gave me the usual compliments about not looking my age. As usual, I shrugged those off with a "tell that to my joints" reply, which always got a good natured laugh in reply.

In addition to aching joints, another problem with getting older is a more frequent need to piss. I excused myself from the group and headed to the men's room. I'd already drunk more beers that I normally do.

Upon returning I found that two new women had joined the group. Jerry introduced me to both. Helen was a loud, 70-something widow, with a matronly figure and bleached blond hair, whom I disliked immediately. Louise was a much more refined woman, who spoke with a formal English accent and was impeccably dressed in a severe white blouse, long black skirt, high heels, and black gloves. Her dark hair was immaculately coifed. I judged her to be in her late sixties, but she wore her age very well. She was easily the best looking woman I'd met in the community, including the staff. I felt a slight twitch in my cock when I realized the skirt and gloves were made of leather.

I'd long harbored various S&M fantasies, but my wife had had no such similar leanings. Her sole concession had been to deliver a birthday spanking each year. Since my birthday fell on Halloween, there had been some costuming involved, me in a bow tie, white cuffs and thong ala Chippendales male strippers, and her dressed almost exactly like Louise was now dressed. My wife would deliver a hard hand spanking with me draped across her lap, followed by great sex. Apparently not great enough, however, to make it more than a once a year phenomena. And when she got sick, it ceased altogether. But Louise now had my full attention.

We learned that Louise was soon going to have to give up her condo and move into an assisted living apartment due to short-term memory issues. She sometimes found herself doing the same things over and over again, forgetting that she had already done them until she completed doing them again. She had recently washed, dried and folded the same load of laundry five times in a single afternoon. This problem had been relatively harmless, without much negative impact beyond a few over-watered and now dead house plants, until earlier in the week when she had accidentally overdosed on one of her medications, resulting in a brief trip to the hospital. Upon her return it was decided that she would move into assisted living at the beginning of November, two weeks hence.

Everyone agreed it was a shame, and the conversation moved to other topics. Soon Helen and Louise drifted from Jerry's group to an all female group talking nearby.

A short while later I heard a burst of laughter from the group Helen and Louise had joined, and then Helen's loud voice asking "How about Bob, he's got a rock hard ass?" followed by another burst of laughter.

I turned at the sound of my name, with what I hoped was a dashing, inquiring look on my face. Helen responded to my unspoken question, "Louise was just saying that before she gives up her privacy, she wants to give a hard spanking to a firm male butt one last time." I blushed. "Ooh," Helen teased, "I wonder if his ass gets that red?"

"I can guarantee it would," Louise answered, and looked at me appraisingly. I got hard. Louise noticed. "So what do you say Robert? Do you want to help an aging woman live out her last fantasy?" Much teasing ensued. Did I mention I was fairly drunk at this point?

I drew myself up and responded "Miss Louise, I'll tell you what. Two weeks from today is Halloween, which also happens to be my birthday. Before she got sick, my wife gave me a spanking on my birthday every year. I'd be honored to have you continue the tradition." Everyone laughed, except Louise, who smiled at me wickedly.

"Very well Robert, I accept your offer. Be at my door at 6 pm sharp on Halloween night." With that she spun on her heels and left the room. Much more teasing ensued. Well, I'd exceeded my goal of meeting at least 15 new people, and I had a "date" with an attractive woman set for two weeks hence. I went home smiling.

The next two weeks passed quickly, with visions of myself draped over Louse's leather clad lap, being beaten with her leather clad hand, dancing in my head. In my fantasy we followed the spanking with fabulous sex. I masturbated a lot.

As Halloween approached, those who knew about the deal continued to tease me. I rebutted with "it's just a spanking, it'll be over in ten minutes."

At 5:50 pm on Halloween I left my cottage and headed over to Louise's condo. I knocked on her door at precisely 6 pm. I knocked three more times before she opened the door at 6:07. Rather than invite me in, she stepped outside. I was stunned by her attire: starched white blouse, leather corset worn over the blouse, elbow length leather gloves, knee length loose leather skirt, knee high leather boots with 3-inch stilettos. She looked fabulous. "Robert," she began, "it is very rude to knock several times before a person has a chance to get to the door. Do you think it is easy walking down the stairs in these heels?"

"I'm sorry Louise," I stammered. It was hard to think with all the blood flowing from my head to my penis.

"Since you are here for a spanking, please refer to me as 'Ma'am.' You understand you are here for a proper English spanking, correct?"

"Yes Ma'am," I replied, but it turned out I didn't understand, not at all.

"Very well, how old are you today?" she asked.

"Sixty-one," I replied.

"A good number, and there will be extras for your rudeness." She then she instructed me to follow her into the condo. Once inside, I saw that the condo had three levels. From the foyer there was a hallway leading to what I assumed to be the main living spaces, a set of stairs leading up to what I assumed to be the bedrooms, and another set of stairs leading down. Louise headed down and I followed. She didn't seem to be having any trouble in the stilettos, but I kept that observation to myself.

Once in the hallway at bottom of the stairs we passed through one of two doors into a large room with just two pieces of furniture: a large wicker peacock chair and a waist-high padded bench. There were also large mirrors on every wall. The bench had straps apparently designed to secure the ankles, knees, lower back, elbows and wrists of a person draped over the bench. I began to have second thoughts.

"Robert, you will strip and secure yourself to the spanking bench to the extent you can. Leave your left arm free. You have five minutes." With that she left the room and headed back up the stairs.

"What have you gotten yourself into?" I asked myself, but with all my bravado of the past two weeks, I couldn't back out now without losing face. Plus there was my raging hard-on urging me to do whatever Louise asked. So I stripped and secured myself as best I could. Louise returned just as I secured the buckle on my right wrist.

She inspected the job I had done, tightening a few straps here and there, and then secured my left elbow and wrist. She produced a ball gag and told me to open my mouth. I hesitated, but complied. She stuffed the gag in my mouth and secured it with straps behind my head, then once again left the room.

Ten minutes later she returned carrying a wooden paddle, a tawse and a thin rattan cane. I began to violently shake my head no - she paid no attention.

"Welcome to my dungeon, Birthday Boy," she began. "Today you are going to get a proper English spanking. We'll start with twenty strokes of the paddle, followed by twenty strokes of the tawse, and finally twenty-one strokes of the cane."

The paddling was much harder than anything my wife had ever inflicted on my butt. When it was over I could see in one of the mirrors that my ass was glowing bright red. I could also see and feel that I had the longest and hardest erection of my life. Louise spent a few minutes rubbing my ass and fondling my penis with her leather clad hands. "I see you like that," she cooed. "Let's see if you like the tawse!"

I did not like the tawse one bit. By the time she laid the twentieth stroke, my erection was gone and I was snuffling into my gag. I had initially watched her in a mirror as she laid into both my ass and my thighs, but as the pain mounted my focus turned inward. How had I been so stupid as to agree to this?

Once again she took to fondling my ass and penis, and gave my balls a few gentle squeezes as well. "Oh, oh, it looks like the Birthday Boy didn't like the tawse. Maybe he'll like the cane better!"

If the tawse was twice as bad as the paddle, the cane was four times worse than the tawse. From the first blow I screamed into the gag. I kept screaming as welt after welt rose on my buttocks and thighs. I lost count of how many stokes she delivered. But at some point the endorphins really kicked in and I was able to focus outward. I watched this beautiful vixen perform her terrible dance with fascination and growing arousal, despite the searing pain. When the last blow landed I nearly came.

Louise dropped the cane on the floor. She quickly bent down and released my left wrist and elbow, and then re-secured my left wrist with the straps that had formerly held my elbow. She repeated the process with my right arm, allowing me to straighten up a little. She then moved the peacock chair to a position directly in front of my face, sat in the chair, flipped up her skirt, and placed her legs on the bench to either side of me. I saw she was wearing no hose or panties. She removed the gag.

"Do you know how to pleasure a woman with you tongue, Birthday Boy?" she asked.

I replied "Yes, Ma'am", and she told me to get to work.

I liked her slit for all I was worth. I don't know how much time passed but she had at least three orgasms before she pulled away.

"Okay Birthday Boy, now for your extras - one swat each for the three unnecessary knocks on my door." I moaned as she replaced the gag, and then re-secured my elbows and wrists in the original position. Louise then walked over to where my clothes were neatly piled and took my belt in hand. She doubled it over and stepped behind me. She looked me in the eye via one of the mirrors and asked "Ready?" I reluctantly nodded. And I watched in horror as the belt began not a horizontal arc, but an arc down and then up - straight into my nuts! Pain exploded in my balls and I screamed into the gag. Two more blows just as hard as the first followed, and I screamed some more.

"There, there," she consoled me. "It's all over now. I'll let you work through the pain and then come back in a little while to let you loose. Perhaps I'll give you a reward for being such a good sport." She must have left the room then, but I didn't see her go, since my eyes were clamped shut against the throbbing in my crotch.

Time passed. The horrible pain in my balls subsided to a dull ache. The burning welts on my thighs and ass reasserted themselves. That brought clarity. "Well, you survived, you idiot," I thought. More time passed. I began to get a little bored.

From my position I could see out into the hallway and beyond to the other basement door. I presumed that was where Louise had once done the same load of laundry five times. I also saw that the wooden paddle, the tawse and the thin rattan cane were missing. I guessed she had taken them back up stairs - probably kept them in her bedroom as props. More time passed. I tried to focus on my potential reward, and wondered whether or not I could perform in my current state.

Then I saw Louise coming down the stairs. She was carrying a wooden paddle, a tawse and a thin rattan cane.

"Welcome to my dungeon, Birthday Boy," she began. "Today you are going to get a proper English spanking. We'll start with twenty strokes of the paddle, followed by twenty strokes of the tawse, and finally twenty-one strokes of the cane..."


Chapter 2 (added: 2013/04/28)

Louise hid her smile as she admired her handiwork. It wouldn't do for the not-so-well hidden cameras to pick up her satisfaction at what she had done to Bob's hide. She had to continue to play the forgetful, brain-addled senior citizen a bit longer. At least until he was in the box.

A total of one hundred hard hits of the paddle had turned his ass a red as an electric burner. Another hundred strokes with the tawse had left darker red stripes all across his buttocks and thighs. Eighty-four strokes of the cane had left his ass and thighs criss-crossed with angry welts. Twenty-one more to go, and then the extras to his balls would finish phase one of his punishment.

Phase two would be even worse. No worse than he deserved though, for murdering Winston, her beloved tabby cat. What kind of man ran over an old woman's cat, and then just kept on going? It had to have been Bob; he was the only person to use the residents' parking lot that horrible evening. Now he was paying. She just had to avoid going to jail in the process.

Too bad he was no longer coherent enough to understand what was happening to him. The damage she was inflicting to his body would linger however, long beyond this evening. She lifted the cane and delivered twenty-one more strokes with the same deliberate speed and precision as the previous four sessions. This time she focused on the sensitive creases where his legs met his butt.

Louise hadn't removed Bob's gag since the first session - no need to ruin the moment! Instead of forcing him to give her head, thereafter she'd instead done him with a large, double-donged strap-on dildo. It was just as much fun, but without the whining.

Once she'd satisfied herself for the fifth time of the evening, she grabbed Bob's belt and give him his "extras." His balls were swelling up nicely, too.

Once finished, Louise left the room, but this time went into the laundry room rather than up the stairs. She returned pushing what looked like an old steamer trunk on a rolling platform. From the outside, the only apparent modifications were a two-inch hole drilled into one side of the trunk and a half-inch hole drilled in the opposite side. Both holes were just a inch below where the lid met the base of the trunk.

The inside of the trunk had been extensively modified. First the lower portion of the trunk had been lined with heavy plastic, rendering it waterproof up to the level of the holes. Next, the entire trunk had been lined with material cut from one of those mats used to support rolling chairs in carpeted offices. The material had dozens of sharp little spikes per square foot. The spikes faced out, into the interior of the trunk. Short chains, securely fastened to the sides and lid of the sturdy trunk ended in locking cuffs of varying sizes. Finally, an eyebolt was fixed into the side of trunk several inches below the half-inch hole.

Louise went to Bob and removed the simple gag he had been wearing all evening. He mumbled a protest as she replaced it with another gag of her own design. This gag would allow Bob to breathe freely, but baffles would very effectively silence him. A drinking tube extended into his mouth that he could suck on to drink.

Once the gag was secured, Louise unfastened the rest of Bob's restraints and helped him stand up. He was shaky on his feet and she had to steady him.

"Now Bob, once a man has received a proper English spanking, he must be given time to reflect on his deeds. That's why we have the box. I think an hour of contemplation will do nicely," she said loudly for the benefit of the cameras. Bob was clearly not coherent enough to understand what was happening.

She helped Bob over to the box, and then slowly pushed him down to lie on his back in the box, head towards the larger hole. He immediately reacted to spikes and tried to push his way out of the box. But he had little strength left and no leverage. Louise easily held him down long enough to fasten one of the cuffs loosely around his neck. The rest was child's play. She fastened cuffs around his elbows and wrists, pinning them to the sides of the box, before attaching the thigh cuffs. His ankles were then cuffed to chains attached to the lid. While the lid was open his legs stuck out of the box from just above his knees, but he was effectively immobilized. The tight confines of the box forced his badly beaten buttocks were up against the spikes in the side of the box.

Next she attached a parachute, one with internal spikes, to his scrotum. She connected the chains on the parachute to a rope, which she ran through the side eyebolt, and then loosely up and through the half-inch hole in the side.

Louise then left the room and returned with a fluid-filled plastic bladder, which she laid on Bob's stomach, and then connected to the drinking tube. The fluid was a concoction of Gatorade and heavily caffeinated water. It would rouse him quickly and keep him wide awake, allowing him to truly experience the horrors of the box. She saw he was sucking greedily on the drinking tube and smiled.

Louise attached a hose between the gag and the larger hole in the side of the trunk, through which he would breathe.

Speaking more for the cameras than to Bob, she said "now I'll put some salve on your wounds and then lock you up for a bit."

She did indeed put salve on his wounds, after first pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Although the label on jar indicated otherwise, the salve was actually a mixture of Vaseline and hot pepper powder. Bob immediately began to thrash and tried to scream, but she heard nothing, and she had positioned the box so that the cameras couldn't really see what was going on inside the box. She rubbed the mixture all over his thighs, worked it down between the box and his ass, coated his penis and balls, and finally shoved a dollop down into his asshole.

Satisfied that he would be in sufficient prolonged agony to atone for murdering Winston, she stood, stripped off the gloves, and pushed down the lid, compressing Bob tightly in the box. She then locked the trunk with three latches, each with its own padlock. Then she took hold of the rope protruding from the half-inch hole and pulled on it until she was sure Bob's balls had been snugged up tight against the side of the box, and tied the rope off on the side handle.

Louise then pushed the trunk into the storeroom behind the laundry room, thumped it down off the rolling platform, piled a few boxes on top of it, and left the room, closing the light as she left.

Three days later, Louise had been moved out of her condo and into an apartment in the assisted living portion of Ten Gables. Much of her furniture had been sold in a yard sale, but the old steamer trunk, the peacock chair, and the padded spanking bench were placed in a community storage locker.

Louise and Helen were dining in her apartment, the first chance they'd had to talk privately since the hectic yard sale and move. "So," Helen asked, "how'd the spanking session go with Bob?"

"Oh my Heavens! Bob" Louise shouted.

I was rescued from the steamer trunk shortly after Louise 'remembered' me. I had been in constant burning pain for three days. I kept my sanity by focusing on the last image I'd seen, Louise leaning over me in the starched white blouse, leather corset worn over the blouse, and elbow length leather gloves. I spent the next week in the hospital, but recovered. A big investigation determined that I had been the unfortunate victim of circumstance and my own bad judgment. No charges were filed against Louise.

Almost one year later Louise moved out of her apartment and into my cottage, bringing the peacock chair, the padded spanking bench, and yes, the steamer trunk. We were married six months later. The End.