“Are you ready, Ms. Currie?”
Claire nodded. She was standing very straight. They were outside the door to Theodore Sweitz’s bookstore. Claire was not only ready, she was eager to show how much she had learned.
“I have studied the book you gave me,” Claire said. “There were quite a few cruel, overbearing characters, but I chose the character Olivia Flay as my inspiration. I studied every scene she was in. I have practiced her speech and her mannerisms. I will be heartless, humiliating and full of venom.”
Mr. Dillon looked pleased. “Good. Mr. Sweitz has always had a weakness for dominatrix types. He is an avid collector of female domination erotica. Just put him down at every opportunity, and that will keep him so aroused that I will easily negotiate a better price. One quick question: Why did you choose Olivia and not the main character?”
“Simple,” Claire said. “Olivia sounds a lot like you.”
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Mr. Dillon smiled. “That is an excellent reason. Come, he is expecting us.”
Theodore Sweitz answered the door. He was much younger than Claire had expected. Instead of the usual doddering old man, Mr. Sweitz was barely in his 40s. He was exceptionally tall and loomed over them.
“Oliver, it is good to see you again,” Mr. Sweitz said. “And who is your lovely accomplice?”
Mr. Sweitz held out his hand to Claire. She almost ruined her character by taking his hand. She caught herself and just looked down on his hand like it was covered in filth. She snorted with affected annoyance.
“This is Claire Currie,” Mr. Dillon said. “You’ll have to forgive her rudeness; she’s British.”
Claire was offended, but the look of irritation on Mr. Sweitz’s face kept her silent. He looked offended, too, but he quickly mastered himself. That small chink in his demeanor encouraged Claire to push her advantage.
“This is Mr. Swiss?” she said to Mr. Dillon. “I thought you told me he was handsome and posh?”
Mr. Dillon did something Claire didn’t think was possible. He blushed. “I am very sorry, Theo; I haven’t taught her how to behave around clients yet.”
Mr. Sweitz sighed. “No need to apologize, Oliver. I’m sure you will break her in. Please, come in.”
They stepped inside. Claire was taken back by how upscale everything was. It wasn’t a bookstore; it was a gallery that happened to have books. She recognized several expensive volumes right away. This was a man who was used to selling at high prices. She was going to have to step it up.
“What a quaint little place, Mr. Swiss,” she loudly declared. “It reminds me of the cabin I stayed at for my summer breaks.”
Mr. Sweitz snapped his head towards her. He started to say something, stopped and started again. “It’s Sweitz actually.”
Claire looked at him as though he were a small child. “Are you sure?” she asked.
Mr. Sweitz’s mouth opened and closed a few times.
“Theo, maybe it would be best if we go right to business,” Mr. Dillon said. “I just have to see this pristine copy of ‘The Reluctant Actress’ with my own eyes.”
Mr. Sweitz’s shoulders relaxed a bit. “I felt the same way when I heard about it. It’s right over here in this case.”
They walked over to a glass case. Claire recognized the moisture-proof seal and the special light-protection glass. Mr. Sweitz opened the case and handed it to Mr. Dillon. Claire couldn’t help peeking over Mr. Dillon’s shoulder.
“Amazing,” Mr. Dillon said, and Claire knew he meant it. “I recognize it, of course, from the copy the collection has, but the condition is unbelievable. Where on earth did you find it?”
“I have my sources,” Mr. Sweitz said. He was very proud of himself. Claire had seen that collector’s pride before. As librarians, she and Mr. Dillon had wooed widows, climbed through boxes of books and done all sorts of tedious work. It was all worth it when you found that one special book.
“Oh,” Claire said. “You hire people to search for you. Expensive, but it’s better to hire professionals than blunder through yourself.”
“Ms. Currie,” Mr. Sweitz said with an icy tone, “I discovered this book by myself. I tracked down various publishing invoices and traced the ownerships of adult bookstores that operated around the time it was published. This book is the product of a year’s search, thank you very much.”
Claire was taken aback. Luckily, there had been a very similar scene in the novel she’d studied.
“Ah,” she drawled, “It took you a year, Mr. Swiss? Is this a new hobby for you?”
Mr. Sweitz began to say something, but Mr. Dillon quickly interjected.
“Theo, have you noticed that there is an epilogue?” he asked. “Our version ended with chapter 30.”
“Well,” Mr. Sweitz said, gathering his thoughts, “I believe that the epilogue was dropped during the second printing. It has no sex in it, but it wraps up the story.”
“Excellent,” Mr. Dillon said. “This certainly elevates the importance of this copy.”
“My, my, what a lucky boy you are, Mr. Swiss.” Claire said in what she knew was an infuriatingly condescending manner.
Mr. Sweitz snapped his head towards her. “It’s Sweitz! It’s German. It’s not Swiss like the cheese!”
“Oh,” Claire said. “My mistake, Mr. Swish.”
Mr. Sweitz’s lips twisted into a growl. For a moment, Claire was afraid that Mr. Dillon had been wrong. Mr. Sweitz didn’t seem aroused. He just looked pissed. She kept expecting Mr. Dillon to stop her, but he just kept smiling and looking at the book. Apparently, he thought she was doing well.
“Mr. Swish, I feel as though we have gotten off on the wrong foot,” Claire said. “I apologize if I have somehow offended your very sensitive nature with my comments. I am used to dealing with grand men who have steel resolves and virile passions. I see now that you are a minor player in the book-collecting world and I apologize for not treating you with the gentle touch that you require.”
Mr. Sweitz was speechless.
“Theo,” Mr. Dillon said, “I think your price is very reasonable and well within our budget.”
It was Claire’s turn to be speechless. Did Mr. Dillon think she had failed?
“Really?” Mr. Sweitz said. Claire relaxed when she heard how flustered he sounded. “I mean, great. I knew I was asking a lot, but I also knew the collection would think it was worth it.”
“Most certainly,” Mr. Dillon said. “But, if you knock 25 percent off your asking price, I will let you spank Ms. Currie for her rudeness.”
Mr. Sweitz smiled. “Deal. May I use a paddle?”
Mr. Dillon nodded. “I was going to recommend it. Ms. Currie’s bottom is very well-padded.”
“Sir?” Claire asked. This was happening too fast for her to understand.
“ ‘Sir’ now, is it?” Mr. Sweitz said. “I bet you’ll get my name right now, won’t you?”
Claire looked at Mr. Dillon. His face was impossible to read. She decided to go with the last command her boss had given.
“Mr. Swimp,” Claire said, emphasizing the “wimp,” ” I doubt I will even notice what you are doing.”
Mr. Sweitz gritted his teeth. He grabbed Claire by the arm and forcefully walked her over to a leather couch. He shoved her down over the arm of the couch. Her glasses flew from her face, landing on the other side of the couch. Claire squealed as she fell, her three-inch heels kicking behind her. She felt his hand lift her skirt to reveal her panties. Because it was a Friday, her panties were strawberry pink.
“Can I take off her panties?” Mr. Sweitz asked.
Claire was curious herself.
“Knock off another 5 percent and you can,” Mr. Dillon answered.
“Done,” said Mr. Sweitz.
Claire’s panties were roughly pulled down, leaving her brown buttocks completely defenseless. He kicked her legs apart, making her spread wide on his leather couch. She tried to lift her head, but Mr. Sweitz’s hand grabbed the back of her head and forced her back down. He pinned her there, smashing her face into the cushion.
“You were looking for this?” Mr. Dillon said. “I saw it hanging and thought I would grab it for you.”
Claire felt cold wood touch her ass. It must be the paddle Mr. Dillon had brought as a gift. It occurred to her that if Mr. Sweitz were a meek submissive man, a paddle would have been a poor gift.
“Thank you, Oliver,” Mr. Sweitz said. “I do find this paddle is the best tool for dealing with a rude mouth. Where did you say you found this?”
“There’s a carver in North Carolina who makes them,” Mr. Dillon said. “He lives in a cabin making endless paddles. He doesn’t make any effort to sell them, so I have to drive up every once in a while and buy them in person. Nice man, though a bit crazy.”
“He makes an excellent paddle,” Mr. Sweitz said. He brought it down hard on Claire’s ass. “Wouldn’t you agree, Ms. Currie?”
“Ouch!” Claire said. “Maybe if it were wielded by a real man and not a weak little bookwhore like yourself!”
“We’ll see about that,” Mr. Sweitz said.
Claire heard the paddle swooshing through the air a split second before it smashed into her round bottom. It was a hard blow with no mercy whatsoever. The next blow was harder. The next was even worse.
Mr. Sweitz’s hand kept her face pressed into the couch. Over and over the paddle landed on her cheeks with no rhythm except the speed of his anger. He was favoring her right buttock, most likely because of where he was standing. She tried to lean away from the paddle, but Mr. Sweitz’s swinging kept up with her. There was no escape as he relentlessly spanked her ass. She had pissed him off, and her ass was paying the price.
Claire couldn’t see the paddle, but she knew it was wide, hard and very painful. She knew it was big enough to cover an entire buttock with one hit. She didn’t know what color the paddle was, but she was sure her brown ass was turning a dark red from all the spanking. The paddle was an enigma, almost as mysterious as the trap Mr. Dillon had set for her.
Claire could not stop thinking about how angry he was. Every paddle swing was as harder than the last. There was no seduction or art. It was pure passionate hate. Such fierce passion was flattering to Claire. She had gotten under his skin, and her poor bottom was feeling just how well she had succeeded. Claire couldn’t help wonder if Mr. Sweitz was this passionate when he fucked. Her wet pussy felt certain of it.
The paddling stopped. Mr. Sweitz pulled Claire’s hair, lifting her head.
“Say my name,” he said.
“What?” Claire said between gasps.
“Say my name correctly!” The paddle landed on the center of her ass for emphasis.
“Mr. Sweitz,” she moaned.
“Louder!” he snapped.
“Mr. Sweitz!” she yelled.
He smashed her face back into the leather. The paddle returned to her ass, taking the pain to infernal new heights. Her ass took every blow while her legs kicked uselessly. The more the paddle struck her brown ass, the more moisture she could feel dripping from her sex.
Claire tried to imagine Olivia in this position. She tried to picture how the snobbish woman would handle being punished. Claire pictured the tantrum Olivia would throw, worried that perhaps she had failed in her impersonation. The paddle landed once more on her abused ass and she stopped worrying about her performance. She doubted she could survive antagonizing Mr. Sweitz much more than she already had.
His hand pulled her head by the hair again. He said something, but Claire didn’t catch it. The incredible tenderness of her ass made every movement painful.
“Say you’re a paddle-hungry slut,” Mr. Sweitz repeated.
Claire saw Mr. Dillon sitting across from them. His head nodded towards her barely half an inch.
“I am a paddle-hungry slut,” Claire said. The wet spot she made on the arm of the couch proved it.
“Louder!” Mr. Sweitz snapped.
“I am a paddle-hungry slut!” she yelled.
He released her hair and stepped back. “Yes, I know you are. Be sure to clean up that mess you made. There is leather cleaner in the cabinet.”
Claire blushed till her cheeks were as red as her ass.
To be continued,