Atonement Chapter 1
"He won't be back today. I don't know if he'll be in tomorrow, either."
I heard this exchange just as I opened my office door. It was Jane, my secretary
on the phone. She heard me and looked up, startled. I mouthed 'who?' and she
said "just a minute" and put her on hold.
"Her name is Jessica Mason. I don't like the sound of her voice. It's too
sultry. She's probably selling something. I'm telling her you are not here."
"Jane, put her through right now! We'll discuss this some more later."
I shot her a sharp look and headed for the inner office. I picked up the phone.
"This is Rollin Hand, can I help you?"
"Oh, Mr. Hand, your secretary said you were out." Jane was right. It was a young
sultry voice with a Southern flavor.
"She was a little, ah, confused about my schedule. How can I help you?"
"Yes, my name is Jessica Mason. You were referred to me by a friend of my step
daughter Libby, an Allison Carter. They are sorority sisters at the university."
Oh, yeah. Allison. It had been nearly 6 months now since the incident in St
Johns . The girls had finished out the year back at
UVA. I had talked to Aunt Linnea and had received a card from Erin thanking me
for my help. Allison had signed the card too with a note that suggested she'd
like to see me if I ever came to Virginia. I had been too busy though. Harriet
and I were exploring setting up a law practice. I wanted to stay in the US, she
wanted the islands. It looked like we might compromise on Florida.
"Allison is a fine young lady."
"She speaks highly of you, Mr hand. Anyway I'm calling for my husband, Henry.
Henry is a consulting engineer and an inventor. He has been working on an
invention in secret, but Henry was contacted by a company that he does some work
for, and they seem to know all about it. We don't know how. They want all the
rights to it. Henry has patents pending, but that's a secret too. Henry wrote
the patents himself. We need someone to advise us about this..."
In years past I had once done IP work as it's now called--on the litigation
side. I was a registered patent attorney and knew this stuff, but I hadn't
touched a patent in years. Burned out on it early on.
"I haven't done patent work in quite awhile Mrs Mason."
"It's Jessica, and we know. But what we need now is someone to speak for us with
this company, to negotiate."
"Who is the company?" I asked.
"They are called Corpun, Inc."
This triggered a memory. Oh, yeah. They were one of the new breed of
corporations getting into corrections. They made equipment and ran boot camps
and prisons on behalf of states and counties on a contract basis. Now with the
new emphasis on reeducation and corporal punishment for non-violent offenses,
they were getting into the business of setting up and running correctional
centers, as well as making "correctional devices". They were in a business
competing with some big players, too. With every county and city flocking to
embrace corporal punishment as an alternative to building prisons and jails, it
was inevitable that companies like Gates Correctional and Nike Prison Industries
would form. Gates Correctional was a spin off of one of the "Baby Bills" formed
in the wake of the Microsoft breakup. Some wags called it "Microhard". I hadn't
heard much about Corpun.
"I might be willing to take this on, er, Jessica, but you didn't tell me--what
is this invention that your husband made?"
"Oh didn't I say, Mr Hand? It's a spanking machine."
Why was I not surprised? It had to happen. A spanking machine. A limber strap
and elbow grease were not good enough. Technology marches forward. "Well, Mrs
Mason...er, Jessica, that is most intriguing, but I need a lot more
information."
"We know, Mr Hand..."
"Call me Rollin."
"Ok, Rollin. We would like for you to come to Charlottesville and see first
hand. Henry teaches Electrical Engineering at the University. We live there.
We'll pay your expenses, of course."
I agreed. We talked about logistics for a few moments more. I would catch a
plane to Reagan and hop a commuter to Charlottesville. That done, my attention
turned to Jane.
"Jane, I would like to speak with you--and bring your book."
Her demerit book, that is. Since her first transgression that had led to the
spanking in the office, we had agreed that she would keep a book. Errors would
be noted and an accounting duly conducted each Friday afternoon at closing time.
Oddly enough it was Jane who suggested this system. "I'd rather just have my
fanny tanned to keep me focused than to have you mad at me, boss." I had told
her if that's the way she wanted it, then...ok.
Jane entered and stood at my desk, book in hand. She looked contrite.
"You can write down 5, no, 10 demerits for almost costing me a client. You are
not to make judgements about who will or won't be routed to me. The only
screening you should do is get rid of the salemen and the ones I specifically
tell you about. Sultry voice, indeed."
Jane looked chagrined. "I'm sorry boss, but you're right, and 10 ticks it is,"
she said opening the book and making a note. "Ah boss, we should get started a
little early today. It's been a bad week. I have 36 demerits with that 10."
"36?" I said. That was a lot. That meant 36 stinging licks with an 18" ruler
across Jane's nicely rounded rump, which would be quite bare at the time. I
found the ruler to be perfect for the job. It was flexible and stingy and got
the point across without bruising. Jane in fact, needed her Friday afternoon
lickings. She had a boyfriend, Roger. But Roger was far too nice to give her
what she craved, so I had become her surrogate disciplinarian. Roger, though,
was the ultimate beneficiary of our correctional sessions. He probably wondered
why he had such a passionate Jane on his hands on Friday evenings.
"We'll shut down the phones at 4:30." Jane nodded and unconsciously smoothed the
back of her skirt, perhaps in an attempt to reassure her cheeky butt that it
wouldn't be so bad. The skirt was short and tight and emphasized the rounded
swells of her delectable fanny.
At 4:30 on the dot Jane appeared, book in hand. She opened it. "I recounted,
boss. It's really 40, not 36. I'm, ah, ready for my correction now."
I could see her hardened nipples through her blouse. Although Jane's spankings
stung, she was powerfully aroused by them. It must be the act of submission to a
commanding male, I theorized. Whatever it was, what was about to happen in that
otherwise drab office on a sunny Friday afternoon when everyone else was
thinking about weekend golf games, camping, or gardening. This was something
Jane needed, no, craved. And she was going to get it.
I put her in the corner and told her to lift her skirt. That took some tugging
along with a delicious little shimmy. Her nicely rounded nates were covered by
diaphonous black panties. A garter belt and hose, black of course, completed the
set. I let her wait for a few moments while I finished up a thing or two, then I
got up and dragged a chair over in front of my desk. I sat down and grabbed the
ruler.
"Let's get this over with, Jane. Come here."
"Yes, boss." She approached from my left with mincing steps and stretched
herself over my lap, naughty girl style. The view from my angle was
breathtaking. But, there was work to be done. I slipped my fingers into the
waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips in response and I tugged them
down. Her legs were straight, toes on the floor. Her hands supported her on the
other side. This arched her buttocks beautifully. I knew that before we were
done, her knees would buckle and she would drum her toes on the floor,
squealing. I tapped her fanny with the ruler. She gave a little wriggle at the
feel of the wooden ruler on the exposed flesh.
"You understand what this is for, right?" I said, tapping the pertly presented
seat as I spoke.
"Yes boss--my mistakes--and this afternoon."
"Especially this afternoon, Jane." I gripped the ruler. The ruler, it seems to
me, is perfect for this. It is light, springy and delivers a satisfying thwack!
The sensation for the receipient is a sharp sting, and a number of these merge
into a hot glow, like you had backed into the campfire. Well, Jane was due for a
roasting so I decided to get to it.
Thwack!...thwack!...thwack!...whap!...whap!...I smacked the rippling cheeks with
brisk wristy strokes. It didn't take long for Jane to become vocal.
"Ow...yeow, boss...ooh....I'm sorry....I promise ....please, yeoch!" The
spanking went on. I smacked her fanny with a steady rhythym. She drummed her
toes on the carpet, making her ass jiggle as the swats rained down. I spanked
from the crest of her sit spot to the juncture of buttocks and thighs. The early
rectangular red bands caused by the ruler's impact merged into a tomato red
glow. Toward the end her yelps became a steady chorus of
"Ohh...ooh...ooh...ooh...ooh" as the ruler relentlessly thwacked down. She
jerked and wriggled, but did not try to escape.
Thwack!..38..thwack!...39...and thwack! 40. "There, can you behave now?" And I
helped her to her feet.
"Oooh...yes boss...ooh that really stung!" she said, rubbing her inflamed rear.
"That's the idea." I felt better now, my annoyance at her conduct dissipated by
the sound smacking of her bottom. However, another condition had popped up.
"Er, boss," she said, eyeing my groin, which gave away my state of arousal, "do
you want me to take care of that?"
Part of our weekly ritual involved sex. Not always, and no fucking since she had
started going out with Roger, but I would frequently relieve her manually and
she liked fellatio. Sometimes there was both.
"You may proceed," I said.
She unzipped me and pulled out my hardened shaft. She caressed it for a moment,
then, licking her lips took me into her mouth. The things she could do with her
lips and tongue! I came in jolting spasms and she greedily swallowed every drop.
"You?" I said. She shook her head.
"I need to go. You know,... Roger. I'm having him over to my apartment for
dinner."
I knew. Lucky Roger. He won't know what hit him tonight. Yeah, she was going to
literally have him for dinner in her state. Someday I was going to have to take
the boy aside and explain his girlfriend to him, but then that would be the end
of all this. Well,...maybe later.
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I arrived at Reagan and changed plans. I rented a car and drove down to
Charlottesville. The area between Alexandria and Charlottesville is hilly,
green, and pretty. Too scenic now, almost, for its bloody heritage. This is
where the Civil War was fought. Manassas, Fredericksburg, Spotsylvania, Cold
Harbour, The Wilderness. As I drove, I could imagine Lee and Jackson surveying
the ground, picking the best spot for a fight.
Henry Mason was in a fight of another sort, and Corpun was the agressor. I read
the file before I got on the plane. Corpun claimed now that they, not Henry,
owned the inventions and they wanted Henry to sign over his rights lock, stock
and barrel.
I followed the directions Jessica had given me. Henry lived on the outskirts of
Charlottesville in an impressive antebellum mansion complete with white columns
and a veranda. Not bad for a college prof. I half expected to see them sipping
mint juleps as I drove up the circular driveway that wound around a
fountain--complete with nymphs.
Nor was I prepared for Jessica Mason. She was in her early 30's. Obviously
Jessica was wife no. 2 and not Libby's mother. She was a tall, voluptuous woman
with almond shaped green eyes and long flaming red hair, parted to one side and
tucked under where it fell below her shoulders, like a 40's movie star. Veronica
Lake with red hair. Or Julianne Moore maybe--only more voluptuous. I imagine she
caused quite a stir at faculty teas. She answered the door in jodpurs that were
skin tight across her curvy bottom. Her ample breasts strained the simple white
cotton blouse she wore. The riding crop was a nice touch.
She invited me in with that sultry Southern voice.
"Thank you for coming Mr Hand, er Rollin. Henry is on the back porch."
I followed the gentle sway of her jouncy rear as she led me to the porch.
I was not prepared for Henry Mason. He was in his 60's, easily twice Jessica's
age. Henry was was a robust bear of a man with close cropped gray hair. He
walked with the aid of a walking stick as it seemed he had a limp on his left
side. How did he handle the smoldering bundle of femininity that was Jessica?
"It is a pleasure to meet you Mr Hand," he said warmly. " I trust you are not
too tired from your trip."
I assured him that I was fine. A few more pleasantries were exchanged and we got
to the purpose of my trip.
"I did some consulting work for Corpun. They make equipment for secure
facilities like prisons. I designed mechanical-electrical systems and the
software that ran them. Ah, things like automated locking systems, video
surviellance, computer-controlled lockdown facilities, that sort of thing.
I did this work for them, turned over the designs and thought that was that.
Well, it wasn't. They came to me several weeks ago claiming that my discipline
machines were theirs.
"You see, I am also a free-lance inventor. Two events sparked my interest in
conceiving what I believe is my most valuable invention, the one that Corpun now
wants. The first is my beautiful wife here, Jessica."
Jessica beamed. My observation was that there was genuine affection between
them.
"The second is the revolution in corrections that has occurred as a result of
our political climate. When President Limbaugh and Vice President Schlesinger
advocated a 'return to the woodshed' it struck a chord in the American psyche.
As you know many state and local governments adopted corporal punishment for
entire classes of non-violent offenses. School districts as well have adopted
paddling policies to deal with misbehavior. One problem that I saw was that
punishments mandated by the state should be impartially meted out, and...they
should be the same for the same offense. Instead, what do we have? Some
corrections officials wield strap or cane correctly, skillfully, some do not.
Some are too severe while others too soft. Do you see my point?"
I assured him that I did.
"So I sensed a need. And I came up with a machine that dispenses discipline,
fairly, efficiently, and most of all, uniformly. All of those convicted and
sentenced will be treated the same. The machine has no emotions, no slow days,
no lapses in attention or coordination. And it is highly effective as Jessica
will testify," he said with a chuckle. Jessica blushed but flashed a naughty
grin. I couldn't understand this. Did he test the machine on her? And did she
like it?
"I sense your puzzlement, Mr Hand, but all will be explained. Let me be frank.
Before the accident that left me partially crippled and impaired in certain
other departments, Jessica and I were avid, well, lifestylers. You may be more
familiar with the term 'swinger'."
I said I was.
"Before my accident, Jessica and I were very active in this scene. My injury
left me unable to... ah, perform as it were, so I set out to devise a machine
that would take care of Jessica's needs--all of them. You see Jessica has a need
for discipline as well as sex. Perhaps we should adjourn to my lab where I can
show you." Jessica looked at Henry expectantly. He motioned in the direction of
the door.
"After you, my dear," said Henry gently but firmly. Jessica seemed flustered,
her eyes wide, but I caught a trace of excitement there too. We followed her out
of the room. I tried not to stare but I was mesmerized by the sway of her
luscious hips, the ovals of her bottom straining the fabric of the tight
jodpurs.
