from Disciplinary Tales


Laney Collier's eyes drifted from her dwindling stack of chips to the tall cool stranger who had just entered the game. He was definitely of interest. Strong jaw, lean build, dark, slightly curly hair, and deep blue eyes. He looked to be in his early forties perhaps. He projected a slightly mysterious aura. Bond, James Bond, thought Laney. That was it. His eyes met hers. He nodded and smiled briefly. It was a nice smile, but it bespoke of alpha male confidence.

Unfortunately, he played like a demon. He bet aggressively, playing in a lot of pots, and winning many. An action player. Then he shifted gears and played tight. Then he bluffed. He won a few pots from Laney. Damn. She was down to her last bit of cash. Usually she did well, but lately she'd had some bad luck.

She sat out a few hands and went to the bar to get a drink. The stranger sidled up to her. She didn't mind---he was Bond, James Bond--- the type of man who'd give a girl a flutter.

"You're having a run of bad luck," he said. "That was a bad beat you took with that heart flush."

She brushed some hair out of her eyes so she could see him better. Mmmm....even better close up. "Yeah. Paired threes on the river gave him a full house. He shouldn't have called my bet. But he did. So I lost half my stack."

"You're a good player but you're going to lose here," he said, inclining his head toward the table. "Some of these guys are pros. This game is over your head." He said it with an air of certainty.

Laney flushed. How dare he! She knew what she was doing. "Look mister, I know how to play. I win all the time back home. And I can make some money here, so don't try to tell me I can't."

"This isn't back home. It's a different game. Are you playing with money you can't afford to lose?"

Laney gave a harsh laugh. "Just my tuition money. But I need more for living expenses, so here I am." She had saved up enough over years of working to go back to school, but it was still tough. Here she was at 29, going for an accounting degree. Then she found out she could make money playing in cash games. She had a head for numbers and could instantly calculate complicated odds in her head. Now she was here, trying to take it to the next level. "But don't you worry about me."

The guy expelled some breath and ran his hands through his hair. "Look. I can see you're smart, and," he said with a raffish smile, "very pretty. That's a winning combination. But if you lose it all, where will you be?"

"What are you? My dad all of a sudden? Ok, dad, do I have to go home now?" She stepped back, put her hand on her hip and cocked her head. "Maybe you should mind your own damn business," she said sulking. The nerve!

"Just a bit of friendly advice," he said.

The game resumed. She won some back. Players dropped out. Several hours later it was just her, two others, and Bond, James Bond. Their stacks were uneven; he had a lot more. She looked at her cards.
Ace, Jack suited in clubs. She bet. He slow called. The flop came A, J, 9--- all diamonds. So she had two top pair. This was great. She bet again. He just called. The others dropped out. The only problem now was a possible flush if he had two diamonds in the hole. The turn came. A four of hearts. A blank. She had him now. She bet $500.

"Raise $500." He did not hesitate.

This had to be a bluff. No one would have just called the flop with a made flush. "I call," she said. The river made her heart leap. A jack of spades. Now even if he had a flush, she had him beat with a full house, Jacks over Aces. I'll pretend I'm afraid of that Jack and let him bet his flush, she thought. Yeah, I'm in over my head, Mr Bond. Watch this.

"Check," she said.

"Bet $2000," he said.

Two Thousand! Wow. It was more than she had. She wanted to call this bet. Badly. But she was short. She looked around frantically. She had to raise the money to call. She had trapped him beautifully.

He saw her dilemma. "You don't have the funds to call," he said.

"Is my marker good?" she asked, batting her eyes at him.

He thought for a minute. "But how will you pay it back? Isn't this your tuition money? Living expenses?"

She fumed. "Yes, Dad, that's what it is, but don't try to talk me out of it. It's just table talk and you know it. My marker is good. I always pay up. Always."

"I tell you what," he said. "Your marker is good, but not for money. If you win, you just take the pot. But if you lose you accept a penalty to redeem your marker."

"What penalty?" What was up his sleeve?

He wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to her. "Here's your marker," he said. She took the folded paper and opened it. He had written, "I agree to take a good sound spanking from Jack Murdoch."

She went all hot and cold at the same time. A spanking? From James Bond here? The thought gave her goose bumps. She looked again. His name was Jack Murdoch.

He leaned forward and smiled thinly. "You pay up tonight if you lose." The rest of the table had no idea what they were talking about.

"Well, that's silly," she said, gulping nervously. Distant memories flooded back in, making her blush. She'd been spanked before. By Jimmy Watts in the 11th grade. A make out party and a tussle with Jimmy, her heartthrob back then. He'd turned her over his knee and had spanked her over her skirt. Then he had raised it. He'd playfully swatted her panty-clad bottom. It had really turned her on, had made her so passionate. They'd nearly gone all the way that night, but for an interruption by rowdy friends.

"Well, if you are so sure of your hand...." His voice trailed off.

She pursed her lips. He was having her on, trying to throw her off. This was a bluff, she was sure of it. But he didn't know she had his diamond flush beat all to hell. "I call." She threw the marker into the pot.

"Are you sure? Last chance." He was grinning.

"I said I call, dammit."

He flipped over his cards. She stared in disbelief. Not a diamond flush, no. He had two aces. Pocket Rockets. Bullets. The board was A, J, 9, 4, J. It gave him the dominant full house, aces over jacks. She sat back, stunned. How could this have happened? Then she understood. He had played her like a violin, letting her bet out each time, feigning weakness.

"Looks like you lost." He sat back with arms folded.

She nodded, dumbly.

"I tell you what," he said. "Before I collect on that marker, I'll take you to dinner. Here's $500," he said, handing her a stack of chips. "Book a room here and buy something pretty to wear. I'll meet you in the hotel bar at 7pm. Don't be late."

She was speechless. "I...I...don't know, I..."

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "You're not going to Welch on a bet are you? Don't you always pay up?"

"No," she stammered, "it's just that..." She didn't know what to say, it was all happening so fast.

"Hotel bar. Seven," he said. Then he left.

She got up and left in a daze. No, she had never run out on a bet. It wasn't honorable and Laney was an honorable person. So she contemplated her fate. It was late afternoon. There were gift shops on the main concourse. She wondered---what to wear? Modest? No, she'd look too much like the unsophisticated small town girl that she was. Ultra-sexy? No, she wasn't a slut. And while James-Bond-Jack-Murdoch made her heart go pitty pat, tonight was a different program. Good grief, she was going to let him spank her. Did he think that she was just a silly girl who had no business playing in a private cash game here, and he was going to teach her a lesson? So I'll show him, she decided. She opted for cool sophistication and understated elegance.

It was a little black dress, short, clingy, bare shoulders. She looked over her shoulder in the dressing room. Her shapely derriere was clearly outlined by the tight sheath. Well, he'll have no trouble hitting that target, she reflected ruefully.

She dressed up-makeup, pearl earrings and matching necklace. She looked good and she knew it. You're smokin' girl. Maybe I can make him forget about the, uh, other.

She walked into the bar at a little past seven. He had a table. He looked at his watch. "A tad late, but ok," he said. That raffish smile again.

"Did you think I was going to run out on you?" she said.

"Honestly, I didn't know what to think."

"I'll tell you something," she said. "I always, always pay my debts. I never Welch on a bet."

"Good to know," he said. "I have reservations at La Fourno. After that we're going dancing."

"Oh," she said. "What about the ah....?"

"Later," he said.

He proved to be a charming companion. He listened to her as she told him all about herself. Her hopes, her goals, her life up to that point. He said he was in the "security business". He was overseas a lot. No further details. He kept steering the conversation back to her. He was a good listener, always focused on her-those eyes. They studied her. After dinner they went dancing. He moved fluidly, gracefully, but the under the coat the muscles were steel. She felt herself pressing her body into his. A distinct warmth began to grow in her lower regions as he held her. She didn't think of herself as a girl for one night stands, but she was here with this charming, so sexy man and she was having second thoughts. She was having such a good time she almost forgot...the marker.

It was late. The evening had gone to her head. She felt warm and sexy. He led her back to her room. At the door she turned. "I suppose this is where I, um, pay off, Jack?" Truth be told, she was ready. He could do anything he wanted.

He looked at her in the open doorway. He took the marker out of his pocket, handed it to her. "Just don't play in any more high stakes cash games here with money you can't afford to lose," he said. He turned to go.

"Wait," she said. She grabbed his arm. "That's it?" She was stunned. "What about my marker? What I agreed to?"

"Consider it paid," he said.

This wasn't right. "Hold on," she said. "I told you. I always pay my markers. And I do. It seems to me that you're the one walking out on a bet. You drew up this marker, I accepted it. You won, I lost." She took a deep breath. "I think it's time for you to pay off."

At first she didn't know why she had said it. It had been impulsive---blurted out without thinking. But later she would come to the conclusion that it was the right thing. And he was right. She'd been foolish, gambling when she shouldn't have, and she perhaps needed the hand of a strong man applied in the proper place to imprint that lesson.

His face wore an amused smile. He pursed his lips, considered Laney for a moment, then set his jaw. "You are quite right, Miss Laney Collier. All debts should be paid, all of them. After you," he said, ushering her into the room. He followed her, closing the door behind him. He took off his jacket, and laid it on a chair. He stood in the center of the room rolling up his right sleeve. "I'd suggest you slip out of that dress," he said. "You don't want to wrinkle it. It looks expensive."

Laney gulped. A minute ago it had been all bravado and righteous indignation, and just perhaps, a touch of disappointment. She had not wanted the evening to end at her door. Now here he was, apparently ready to go through with it. She had to think. Underneath the dress she wore only a thong, stockings and a bra. The only other thing she had was a shorty nightgown with matching panties. At least it had panties. "I'll slip in here and change," she said, blushing. The nighty barely came to her hips. The panties were skimpy. Oh my God, what have I let myself in for, she thought.

When she emerged from the bathroom he was seated on the corner of the bed. She stopped, frozen it seemed. Butterflies ran riot in her stomach. She was hot and cold at the same time. He gestured with his arm. "It's a good thing they built soundproofing into these walls, but it's understandable....for obvious reasons. This could get noisy, Laney Collier. Come here."

She took little steps, nervous steps. When she reached his side, he took her hand and put his arm around her waist. His grip was like steel. He lifted her like she was a doll and put her over his knees. He shifted her until her bottom was centered over his lap, pointing at the ceiling. He slid the little top up onto the small of her back. Her lower body was nude save for the filmy panties. He rested his palm on her left bottom cheek. His touch was electric. "I've had a girlfriend or two who needed to have their bottoms warmed," he said. "So I do know what I'm doing. Just so you know."

Laney squirmed, her breathing became shallow. She was aroused, moisture flooding into her lower parts. Oh, God, would he notice? Her reverie was interrupted by the splat of his palm on her bottom. Splat! his hand cracked on her other side. Two more swats fell, one right after the other---sharp retorts in the small room. It tingled, a mild sting. She squirmed unconsciously. A few more tentative spanks stung her bottom. After that he settled into a rhythm, spanking one cheek, then the other, then spanning the divide of her sinuous crease. He didn't hurry. The spanks were deliberate and firm. He'd leave his hand in place briefly after each one. The touch was casual but so intimate. Laney was gasping. It was starting to sting. Still he continued with that methodical smacking. His blows smacked her bottom from the crowns of her buttocks to the tops of her thighs. It was really stinging now and she bucked, but his iron grip held her down.

"Oh...ahhhh....unhhh..." She bleated as his hand landed sharply on her wriggling fanny. Smack! Spank! Whap! Her bottom was hot now. And the spanks stung, but Laney was aroused. She pressed her pelvis against his knee, writhing like a bitch in heat. He stepped up the tempo, smacking her hard and fast now, in sets of two-smack! Smack! Left. Right. Left. Right.
She fluttered her legs. He stopped for a moment. He let his palm rove around on her bottom, rubbing. She strained upward almost searching for his fingers, to have him slip them into her sex.

"I think to really drive the lesson home, Laney, these have to come down." She shivered as he slipped his fingers into the lacy panties and slid them to her knees. Now she was naked, completely exposed to his gaze. But she was so turned on. Her musky scent permeated the room. He resumed the spanking and the feel of his palm on her bare bottom was sharper, the sting more intense. She didn't care. She lifted her hips in time to the descent of his hand. She wanted this even as her eyes watered from the intensifying burn. Her fanny must be as red as a ripe tomato, she thought. The staccato sound of the brisk spanks echoed off the walls.

Smack! "Oh...". A jolt of hot sting. She wriggled in response.
Smack! Smack! "Ahhh....ngghh....". Two brisk spanks---one on each side. She bucked up and down.
Smack!! Splat! Whap! "Ahhhh....aieeee!" The sharp spanks, right, left and center. She hissed, not wanting him to hear her wail as her feet did a flutter kick.

He continued for about another minute, making sure he covered every inch of her sumptuous behind with spanks firm enough to impart the lesson. She had asked for this and he wasn't going to disappoint the lady.

After a final brisk volley that made her arch her back, he stopped. She squirmed. His fingers found her wetness. She moaned as he slid them into her womanhood. She humped herself up and down. She'd never been so aroused.

"Not like this," he said. He lifted her to her feet. She flung her arms around him and kissed him. He stepped back and slid out of his clothes. Laney saw that he was more than ready. Spanking my bottom had done that to him, Laney realized. They piled into bed. Their first coupling was furious. They were both at the boiling point. The next was slower, but it gave them time to savor the build up before sweet release. He kissed her all over, playing her just like he had that afternoon, only this time it was a symphony of touch and caress and tongue in all her secret places. She renewed him with her mouth until they came together again in passionate clinches in every conceivable position. She straddled and rode him, he toppled her, turned her around on all fours and took her from behind, she writhed atop him while he encircled her with those strong arms. They finally collapsed in her bed.

Somewhere in the early morning his cell rang. She heard him say, "Now? All right. Have a car pick me up at JFK."

She knew what that meant. "I have to go," he said. Laney kept silent. He bent down and whispered in her ear. "This isn't over. I will see you again." Then he left.

She gathered herself the next morning and decided to go back home. She still had $300 from the five he'd given her. She thought about slipping into a game, just to try her luck, but feeling the lingering warm glow in her bottom, thought the better of it. I guess he did teach me a lesson, she thought.

Two weeks later it was time to register for classes. Now she'd have to take out a loan. She went to see the Bursar. "Why do you need a loan?" the bursar's office manageress asked her, looking at her financial file.

"I'm out of money," she said.

"Well," said the manageress, scratching her head. "Your tuition for next term is paid in full. A gentleman came by and paid it. He also left you this note." She handed Laney an envelope.

Inside was a note that read, "Laney Collier, I expect all A's and B's. You know what will happen if you don't get them. Next time we meet, bring your report card. /s/ Dad, aka Jack."

Laney folded the note and smiled to herself. Let's see, she thought. She was actually a very good student. She pulled A's as a matter of routine. Of course, she mused, this term she did have that pesky art history elective. It meant nothing to her major. So what if she got a "C"?