The Paddles of Spankland -part the second of the Chronicles

[goodgulf]

The posts associated with Bamber are:
Bamber Intro and Index, which has no counterpart in the series because Zelazny (being a master wordsmith) didn't need one. It can be found at:http://www.spanko.net/spanking_forums/v ... ?f=3&t=114

Nine Princes in Amber became Nine Princesses in Bamber, serving as an introduction to the world and its plots and schemes. This story can be found at:http://www.spanko.net/spanking_forums/v ... ?f=3&t=115

The Guns of Avalon became The Paddles of Spankland, where the plot progresses and some new weapons are developed... And the hero falls for a woman named Lorraine (who is only briefly in the series). It can be found at:http://www.spanko.net/spanking_forums/v ... ?f=3&t=116

Sign of the Unicorn became Sign of the Royal Stag, where various things that were set in motion in the first two stories come to ahead. This story can be found at:http://www.spanko.net/spanking_forums/v ... ?f=3&t=117

The Hand of Oberon became The Hand of Titania, where it is revealed that a great work needs to be done (okay, this adaptation loses some of that theme). This story can be found at:http://www.spanko.net/spanking_forums/v ... ?f=3&t=118

The Courts of Chaos became The Chambers of Artwork, where various epic things happen and we learn just who the narrator has been telling his story to. This story can be found at:http://www.spanko.net/spanking_forums/v ... ?f=3&t=215


The Paddles of Spankland -part the second of the Chronicles of Bamber

I was smiling as I returned from the airport. I don't bother much with any particular Shadow's geography, but if you moved the Isle of Britain further away from Europe you'd have the place where I was currently staying - Beakerland Island. It was a place where a woman could give up her rights and if she did she was sure to be spanked and (thanks to a piece of mind control magic they put in the slave cuff they attached to her leg) she'd like it. Most of the world was normal, but a second trip to the city's main library had told me about another interesting place. It was either a series of islands off of what most worlds called California or California after The Big One (I didn't care enough to research which it was) that was basically the opposite of Beakerland Island. In short, it was a place where single males could enter freely but women could only get visas if they were part of a couple and instead of women giving up their freedom in that place men were the ones with the sore bums.

And yes, there were direct flights between the two places.

Soon after I arrived on this Shadow (which was one of countless worlds that exist, all reflections of the One True World of Amber) I had been ripped off by a pawnbroker calling himself Honest Ed. Now that I knew I was going to spend some time in this Shadow I had tracked him down. Honest Ed was currently passed out drunk on an airplane. When he sobered up he would on those islands where women spanked men.

He had a one way ticket and less than ten dollars on him. I had considered killing him but thought that this would be a better revenge.

No one else would know what I had done, but what did that matter? There was my honour to consider. No one from a random Shadow cheats Frank, Prince of Bamber.

Bamber isn't the real world, but it's a close reflection of it. In Amber they have the Pattern, in Bamber we have a Broken Pattern. It is usually said that there are nine princes in Amber while in Bamber we have nine princesses that scheme for the throne. One of those is my full sister, Brenda, who sought out a place where the majority of our powers wouldn't work. She had meant it as a trap for my other sisters, but once here she found herself enslaved and wearing a magical ankle cuff that slowly conditioned her to accept and enjoy spankings. I say slowly because she is a scion of Bamber; a normal person would have been converted almost instantly, but we of Bamber are tougher than regular folk. Not as tough as the royal family of Amber, but up there.

Brenda had called me for help, using a special playing card called a Trump. Originally created by the mad artist Dorothy Bargirl, those cards allowed our family to communicate across the many worlds that are Shadows of Amber. Since that insane genius disappeared I'm now the sole member of the court who knows how to produce them, so my mother Queen Titania commanded me to produce a new set of decks for our family to use. The thing is I can't make a copy of a copy so I had to make a new set of masters.

Anyway, I had arrived back on this Shadow with a vast fortune in jewellery and "Honest Ed" had ripped me off big time. Thanks to him I couldn't go out and buy my sister's freedom on that first night. No, I had to hit the local casino and win more money before I could free her, and while I was winning cash the Queen (my mom) noticed I wasn't around and sent me a message to get me working on the Trumps again. Since I had to kill two birds and only had time for one stone I ended up producing a Trump of Brenda after she had been spanked. Ever see the video for California Gurls by Katy Perry? Well, that was the pose I had her positioned in - only instead of being naked on a candy cotton cloud with only a piece of fluff covering her bum Brenda laid nude on a bed with glowing red (and bare) bum. I thought it was a playful pose, but once the cuff was off and she was free of the spell Brenda almost killed me over it. Luckily she bought my story that I'd done it to ensure that she could never be blackmailed over her stay on this world (because no one can be blackmailed over something that is public knowledge) but then she took my idea and expanded on it.

When it came down to it, my choice was between going along with the plan or killing my sister to stop her. I didn't want to kill my sister so now I stuck in this Shadow that I had named Spankland. With the extra time I found myself in the position to put paid to the insult that Honest Ed had given me. If I had mentioned to Brenda that he was the reason that she had to stay a slave long enough for the spell to wear down her resistance, well, I knew he would have died a slow death. I didn't mention him to her, and had decided that it was more appropriate for him to be trapped in a land where slave men were spanked and liked it.

Moral of the story? Don't trend on the honour of a Prince of Bamber. We might not be as mighty as the scions of Amber, but we were just as arrogant. Maybe more so. We have less to be proud of so we accept fewer things that might be considered insults.

Yes, I'm sure that other place really exists. No, I don't know why you've never heard of it before... Then again you never really heard much about this place until you came here, did you? Yes, I know she didn't want to you to know about... But that's getting ahead of the story.

And listen closely; you might recognise someone in this bit.


By now the people at the casino recognised me, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. I'd been so sure that I'd be leaving after freeing Brenda that I had won a bit too much too fast. Now the staff knew that I could be a player. I hated to do it (especially after paying out more rent money) but I started losing. That shifted me in their eyes from 'good' to 'occasionally good but desperate with no sense of control'. In short, someone who called himself a gambler rather than an actual player. Someone who chases bad money with good.

Then I went back to the $5 and $10 blackjack tables and started rebuilding my bankroll. That, and I started talking to the tourists. I couldn't let the hotel think that Brenda had meant anything to me, so I had to socialise with others who were (or would soon be) in her situation.

That is, women who would soon be slave girls who (thanks to that spell in the slave cuff) yearned to have their bums spanked. Then again, they were tourists and if they didn't already have a yearning then why would they come here?

Within a few days I learned there was another reason that women came here - to gamble. Edward Higgins, the man who had won my sister in a poker game, was just one of maybe 20 rich assholes who liked playing tourists to enslave them. On any given night there were eight to twelve of them at the casino, and while they were rich they weren't that good at gambling. They had enough money that they could afford to lose twenty hands for every one that they won. To them money was nothing compared to the thrill of enslaving a woman. If a woman was skilled and lucky she could make a small fortune at the casino, but if she wasn't, well, she'd wear a cuff.

I overheard one of them one of them saying that she had been here a dozen times, and her winnings had paid for a new house, two sport cars, and gave her comfortable investments. I later saw her look of horror when her all-in with four of a kind was answered with a straight flush and her new owner started to spank her before putting the slave cuff on. I noticed that Edward Higgins watching as well, and that he was laughing like a jackass.

Watching the action at that table, I almost missed the statuesque beauty entering the casino. A classic beauty whose hair was so dark it was almost a blue, wearing a business that was black with a red trim. She was almost sneering at the sight of the former gambler being spanked, which gave me the chance to move behind some slot machines. Not furtively, no, any attempt at sneaking might have caught her attention. I just moved, as if I had always meant to move that way.

And that was how my sister Erica entered the casino. I have no idea how Brenda had lured her here, or what Erica thought she was here to do, but Erica entered like the Daughter of Bamber she was (whether she was also a Royal Princess was subject to debate - which was one of the many reasons the line of secession from mother's throne was so confusing).

The bad thing was, I knew how she would leave. She'd be wearing a cuff. While Brenda is a horrible gambler who cheats when she wants to win, Erica is a horrible gambler who doesn't know she cheats. Using the power of the Broken Pattern, Erica shuffled reality so the cards she needed were the ones she was dealt. The only thing was, this Shadow's properties would prevent her from doing that.

I watched the scene unfolding from the corner of my eye and fought not cringe.


Erica was carrying a case of chips. I don't know what she brought to this Shadow, but whatever it was she clearly hadn't been ripped off by someone like Honest Ed. The case had far more chips than I had ever possessed in this Shadow, and resting on top of them was her Freedom Chip. When she lost that chip she would be a slave.

Erica started with over three hundred thousands in chips. In less that four hours she was broke and being led out. She wasn't fighting, which made me wonder again what she thought she was doing her. Erica of Bamber was lacking her favourite sabre but she could have put up a fight if she wanted to. Clearly she felt that being enslaved was just a part of a long-term plan.

I hung around the casino for a while, playing at blackjack more than playing blackjack. Two hours later I was maybe $10 up or down, but it was time to leave and hit the pawnshops.

The third pawnshop I hit had Erica's business suit hung up - it had to be the most expensive piece of clothing in the shop. I ignored it (Erica could always get more clothes) and looked around the knickknack section until I spotted a familiar looking tarot deck. I picked up some other things to conceal my interest in the deck (a comb whose minor enchantment caused it to glow, a souvenir deck from the casino, and a deck of naughty playing cards that showed women being spanked) and bargained the owner down by about twenty percentage for the lot before I bought them. Once outside I checked, and discovered that Erica had possessed a full deck of trumps.

Trumps that were now mine.


I knew it would be a week, maybe more, before the cuff worked it's magic on Erica, which gave me time to kill.

I spent the next day copying the new version of Brenda's Trump and that night I hit the casino to win some more cash. This went on for a while, turning into a familiar routine as I waited for Erica to crack.


Then I met her.

Her name was Lorraine. She was a tourist, sharing a suite with three friends as they nightly dared the casino. From what I heard they had saved up for a while and would spend a month together here at the casino. A month, or until they lost big and an owner took them home. A couple of her friends smiled as they talked about losing big, but Lorraine's smile was laced with worry.

Lorraine. Her eyes were blue and her hair the yellow gold of the sun.


I ended up taking a break in the bar, and she was there, fiddling with her chips. Somehow I wound up buying her a drink and suddenly she was pouring out her troubles.

"You see it all starts with my great-grandmother." Lorraine began. "Rumour has it that she was a sorceress, back when magic was all the rage. No, I never met her, but sometimes I think I've got some of her talents, and then sometimes I know I have. Nothing trained, but raw, natural power that I can kind of use."

I nodded. That sort of thing wasn't unknown among the worlds.

"I've always been interested in spanking." Lorraine continued. "I can't remember a time when the idea of spanking didn't fascinate me. Which was weird, because my parents didn't believe in spanking. Not ever. No one in my family did. But I had some friends whose parents felt differently."

"One of those friends were Deanna Tipton, and she was one of my best friends. Now her mom spanked. Not that I really saw it happen, nothing more than a swat or two to get her attention. But sometimes I heard it happening, mostly through an open window, and sometimes Deanna Tipton showed me how red her bum looked after it was smacked."

Lorraine paused, lost in thought, then began again.

"When I was, well, when my body started to change I started to get glimpses of the future. And sometimes, not always, but sometimes I knew I could nudge things to make other things happen. One night Deanna Tipton had a slumber party and suddenly I knew that if I did things just right and I said the right words then Mrs. Tipton would spank me. Actually spank my bum. So I did it. The next morning I lingered as the other girls left, I lingered even after Deanna Tipton left to do something, then I did the things and said the words. I knew I was pushing at things that I shouldn't touch, but I didn't care. I wanted to get a spanking and that was it."

Lorraine paused again.

"Well it worked, too well. I was thrilled when Mrs. Tipton said that she was going to give me what I'd been asking for, but less so when she lifted my nightgown and took off my panties. She didn't just tug them down, she took them all the way off. I didn't want to be there like that with nothing on below my waist, but by then it was too late to stop things."

"After the first few smacks I thought I knew everything that I needed to know about spanking, but of course she didn't stop there. She smacked me longer and harder than I had ever dreamed was possible, and my bum hurt more than I thought it could ever hurt, but still she didn't stop. I even stopped kicking and squirming, I was just laying there sobbing, and she kept on spanking until she decided that she was done."

"I thought about the spanking, how much it hurt, was the payback for nudging things, but I was wrong." Lorraine continued. "I tried to fix my face, but when I got home my parents noticed that something was wrong and then everything was wrong. Mrs. Tipton got arrested and was looking at a trial when her lawyer brought up something about in loco parentis applying since I had spent the night and she got off with a warning. Everyone knew what happened and everyone talked about it and two months later the Tiptons moved. And Deanna Tipton, who had been one of my best friends, didn't talk to me once after the day her mom spanked me."

"It was horrible when it happened, but looking back later... Maybe I romanticised it, but I used to fall asleep thinking about how Mrs. Tipton had spanked me. How it had felt, being trapped on her lap, as she spanked me again and again and again. As I thought about that I thought about how guilty I felt. If I hadn't had shifted things then she would never have spanked me and she wouldn't have been arrested or had to move and Deanna Tipton and me would still be friends. I had used my powers and in doing so I had ruined a woman's life and killed a friendship."

I nodded again. Payback like that was common when it came to powers like the ones Lorraine described.

"I didn't do that again until I was in high school. There was a boy that I really, really, really liked and I used to dream about him taking me out on a date and spanking me. So I used my powers and saw what I would have to do to make the dream real, and like a fool I did it." Lorraine revealed. "That spanking was totally different from what Mrs. Tipton had done. Oh, some parts were the same, like my bum being bare, but that was it. She had spanked me like a parent would, but Joshua Calvert was spanking a bratty girlfriend. Of course there was payback and I didn't have wait long for it."

Lorraine shivered at the memory.

"I wanted my panties taken down for a spanking, but Joshua Calvert wanted them down for another reason and when my spanking was over he wasn't hearing the word 'no', so we went way, way further than I planned. And then, the next day when I was still aching with a throbbing bum, he broke up with me. I thought he might be 'the one' but he was just a cherry hound and I was just another notch on his bedpost to brag about. I got my spanking and lost my rep in one night."

I said something sympathetic and took her hand.

"I was 20 before I knew that this place was real. Oh, I'd heard about it. I'd seen references to it in spanking movies and dirty magazines, but up until then I thought it was just the writers saying 'This happened in a far away land' and borrowing the name of this country because it's not easy to travel to here. It was a dirty rumour to me until I stumbled over some sociology books at the university library and discovered that it was real. That there was really a place where girls could go and get spanked and everyone thought that spanking them was normal. Right then and there I started saving, but it wasn't enough. I graduated and the years were starting to drift by when I decided to make things happen. I nudged things again, so Kat and Barbara and Ruth and I joined together for this package deal that Kat kind of arranged through her work. I'm here where I can get my bum spanked without anyone thinking I'm a dirty girl for wanting that, but I'm too scared to enjoy myself. I nudged things, and when I do that there's always a price."

I couldn't tell her that there wouldn't be payback. For one she wouldn't believe me, and for another I didn't believe that myself. I said what I could say.

"Maybe it won't be so bad."

"Right." Lorraine snorted. "So what's your story?"

I didn't tell her the truth, but my story started creeping closer to the truth for comfort. I spoke of scheming siblings, an overbearing and neglectful mother, a life of privilege that I didn't feel I had earned, and my desire to develop my art (not my Trump work; I didn't mention that) to higher level. How I was here in the city, eking out a living gambling while staying at second rate motel and working on an art project.

In the end we spend hours talking, her pouring out her soul to a non-judgemental stranger and me giving her a line of bullshit laced with the truth. We talked until she was overcome with yawning, then we parted without exchange room numbers or any other contact info. We were just two random ships passing in the night.

And that was when I met Lorraine.


The next day I read the cards, then I shuffled out Erica's Trump and handled it a certain way. Usually you just stared at a Trump until it went cold and then used it to contact the person who was painted there, but I knew secrets that the cards kept from others.

The card went sort of cold, then a picture appeared. It was wavy and blurry, but it was clear enough for me to see Erica getting spanked and appearing to like it. Now I'd see Erica nude far fewer times than I'd seen Brenda and Erica was only my half sister, but I was still glad that the image was blurry. Maybe if I was into voyeurism I'd feel differently but I didn't want to see Erica like that.

That night I went to the casino and bought her from her owner. It put a nice dent in my bankroll, but not as much as it might have. The guy who had won her, well, he was bored with her. He had spanked her until she begged for more and was now looking to win another tourist that he could break in.

I arranged for her delivery, booked a room, and went looking for the concierge. She remembered me - the semi-pro gambler who had his art career to fall back on. This time I was prepared - I had a pencil and inked sketch of how I wanted Erica laid out after her spanking. She accepted the signed drawing with a smile, made a joke about how one day it would probably be sought after by art collectors, and assured me that my model would be prepared the way I wanted.


The next day I produced a few more Trumps of Brenda and that evening I went to the casino. When I got to my suite I could hear the familiar sounds of spanking and Princess Erica's squeals each time a smack landed. After what seemed an eternity of me fiddling with my art supplies, a woman left the room. She was sweating heavily and grinning in enjoyment of a job well done. I tossed her a chip as a tip. She caught it, still grinning, and left.

I entered the bedroom and found Erica as I had requested her. Her head up with her chest (well, her nipples) partially covered by her arms. Her normally haughty face was wet with tears, yet filled with a look of serene acceptance. As for her bottom, it was practically glowing dark red. I carefully set up my easel in just the right place; from the right angle I could capture her face and red bum and duplicate the look of Brenda's Trump.

This time I didn't work silently. I didn't talk to her, not when she was like that, but I did mutter to myself. I said things like "This is a stupid idea", "why did anyone think that this would work?", and "How can I be expected to work under these conditions?". Nothing specific, just enough for her to know that this wasn't my idea. That I wasn't the one who had lured her to this Shadow and gotten her enslaved. That I wasn't responsible for that cuff on her leg.

Not that I really cared what she thought, but it might keep her from attacking me when I took the cuff off.

Off course the tears soon faded from her blue eyes (eyes as blue as mine) and her bum faded from red to pink to pale as I painted. Recovery time like that is the birthright of the scions of Bamber, at least for those of us who have walked the Broken Pattern. I worked as fast as I could but could only capture the outline I needed to construct the Trump.

When I had what I needed I approached Erica, who was passively laying where she'd been positioned.

"So you're in on this?" Erica asked. "Who else?"

"It is known to all that the Queen has ordered me to produce a new set of Trumps." I said, dropping one of Brenda's Trumps near her face.

Erica focused on that as I said the undoing spell and removed her cuff. The moment it was off, well, there was a total change in Erica. Her body tensed as her calm acceptance of the world left her.

"So I assume there are clothes somewhere? Or an I going to have to return to Bamber like this?" Erica demanded in an ice-cold voice.

"There are some bags with clothes in the other room."

Erica nodded and left. When she returned she was dressed in her favourite style of black with red trim.

"So how do I get out of this hellhole?" Erica demanded. "Because if it's over your dead body then that's how I'll do it."

I mentally relaxed. She was taking this so much better than Brenda had.

"I'll give you a Trump for the royal gardens." I told her.

Erica looked around for Brenda's Trump, but I had concealed it when she was dressing. There was no way I was going to let one of them surface before the set was complete.

Erica accepted the Trump with a bitter smile.

"I don't know who to thank for the last few days. I know you wouldn't have come up with this on your own, but either Brenda or Bleys is going to pay for this." Erica said in a firm voice.

"Why not wait a while?" I suggested. "Maybe until after Cora poses for her Trump?"

At times like this one, a panther would envy the predatory nature of Erica's smile. I would have said snake but snakes don't really smile, do they?

"Waiting would be good." Erica agreed.

Then she used the Trump to return to Bamber.


Two exhausting days took their toil, but finally I had Erica's Trump ready. It wasn't perfect; somehow I put six toes on her right foot. Then again, with a Princess of Bamber showing that much cleavage and a bare bottom I didn't think anyone would be looking at her feet. At least I hoped they wouldn't.

I really hate the Flaw. Every time I see it the damn thing reminds me that I'm not real.

I wearily returned to the casino for the first time since meeting Erica there. Not that I wanted to, but I had to keep winning money to pay my bills. Passing by the main bar, I caught sight of Lorraine sitting with a drink in front of her and looking down. Knowing that the blackjack tables weren't going anywhere, I detoured to the bar for a quick shot of something and bit of chat.

Lorraine gave a weak smile when she saw me.

"So, how's it going? Scotch and water, warm water." I said, ordering as I sat. I hate cold drinks. They didn't have ice when they developed scotch so it wasn't designed to drink chilled.

"It's going." Lorraine answered sadly.

"It can't be all that bad." I chuckled. "You're not wearing a cuff yet. Or is that the problem?"

"No, but I'm the only one in the suite now." Lorraine revealed. "The others are wearing cuffs. Barbara and Ruth were giggling when they were put on, but Kat was screaming and scratching. She wanted to lose her chip to one guy but somehow another guy won it and Kat tried to take her chip back but, well, you know the rules. She lost her chip and that was it. She even said that she had changed her mind about being a slave but it was too late and no one was listening to her. They just laughed and said she'd change her mind once the cuff was on."

"She probably will." I observed. "That's the point of the cuff."

"Yes, I'll probably like it when I have it on too." Lorraine said with a small shudder.

"Have you thought about not risking your chip?" I asked.

"I don't think that's an option." Lorraine said sadly. "I nudged things and there's always payback for that. Besides, I came here to be spanked. I'm been dreaming about being spanked for all my life, and now I'm here where it's acceptable to be spanked and I haven't even had my bum so much as patted. All my friends are getting real spankings and I haven't had any."

"And if I wear the cuff I'll never know if I really like spanking or not." Lorraine continued. "I know the cuff will make me love being spanked, make the heat in my bum spread to my crotch, and I won't know if I'm hot because of the spell or because I like having my bum spanked."

She sounded like she was close to tears. That the not knowing would be the worst part of her life.

I downed my drink and decided that the blackjack tables could wait until tomorrow.

"How's this for an idea. We leave here and go up to your room." I suggested. "When we get there I spank you bottom until it's bright red and you're crying. Then we see where we want to go from there."

Lorraine's face brightened. It was as if the sun had risen.

"Do you really mean that Frank?" Lorraine asked breathlessly.

"I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

She was practically running by the time we hit the elevators, giggling like a little girl all the while.


The suite was a double one. There was a central room with bedrooms leading off the left and right walls. One had a double bed and the other had two singles; both had a pair of dressers and an attached bathroom.

"I was sharing with Kat in the main room." Lorraine explained.

"Looks like a lot of room for just one person." I noted. "Why don't you change rooms?"

"Because this one is paid up for the rest of our stay." Lorraine replied. "We paid in advance, along with plenty for room service. We decided that we weren't going to lose it all and not have the cash for the hotel bill. They stop you at the airport for that. Even after the guy who wins you takes off your cuff you still can't leave without paying your bills."

I didn't mention the other alternative, that the owner might not take off the cuff when it was time to fly home. Lorraine had done her research. She knew the risks that she was taking by coming here and had come here anyway. She had nudged the fates to be here and knew that the fates would nudge her back, but she had risked it all to be somewhere wanting to be spanked didn't make you a "dirty girl".

"So, do you want to do it on the double bed?" Lorraine asked, quivering in anticipation.

"That would be comfortable for you, wouldn't it?" I asked. "Resting your body on the bed."

"Um, I guess... So not the bed, right." Lorraine nodded. "Um, should we work out what is going to happen?"

I knew she wanted me to take charge, but I wasn't going to do that. Lorraine would never know if she really wanted this if I made all the decisions. If I took charge then it would be like that friend's mother when she was young or that asshole rapist who had spanked her in high school. If she wasn't going to be a willing partner then there was no way I was going to do this. I was a Prince of Bamber and I didn't go where I wasn't wanted.

I might not be real, but I could still embrace the illusion of honour.

"Um, well, um, I really want it to be on the bare... or at least end up bare, right?" Lorraine asked, ending her sentence with a bit of a squeak.

"So we'll end up on the bare." I said, nodding.

"Um, what do you plan to use?" Lorraine asked nervously.

"Well, did you bring anything special?" I asked.

"No, but we can send down for..."

"Do you really want to wait?"

"So..."

"I was born with this hand, and there's always my belt." I offered.

"Have you, um, have you used it a lot?" Lorraine asked, staring at my belt.

"Not since I got here." I replied, going with the honest answer. "In fact, I don't think that this belt has every been used to do anything but hold up my pants."

Lorraine's eyes shone as she looked at the belt.

"So where and how?" Lorraine asked. "Should I change?"

I looked at her. Lorraine was wearing a blouse and skirt set and stockings.

"Well, if you don't want your stockings to be ruined you might want to lose them, but otherwise... Wait, do you have any pins? When you change out of the stockings you could bring back the pins?"

"Pins?" Lorraine asked in a worried voice. "I'm not really into... I mean, pins?"

"Not for you." I assured her. "For your clothes. Don't worry, it will make sense later."

"Oh. Okay then... I'll just go and change." Lorraine said, then danced out of the room.

With her gone I took off my belt and moved a straightback chair to the middle of the room, placing my case with my chips under it. The hotel had two basic styles of chairs: ones to sit in and drape someone over your lap and ones with arms designed to be bent over. Neither style was that comfortable for sitting. Maybe someone had thought about sitting in these chairs but most of the thought had been put into how they could be used as spanking props.

Lorraine danced back into the room, her feet and legs bare, and tossed me a box with some pins in it. I snared it from the air and it joined my belt and chips near my feet.

I patted my lap and she skipped over, practically throwing herself over it. I raised her skirt and exposed her bikini panties as I positioned her just right. Her head was pointed down and her bottom was in a wonderful position to spank.

She was giggling nervously.

"Now before we start, we pick a word." I told her.

"Word?"

"Chances are you'll start shouting stop or no or something like that, but you won't mean it." I explained. "So you need a word to let me know that you seriously want me to stop. How about Jade? It's nice and short and nice to think about."

And it wasn't "amber"; once, a long time ago, someone had chosen that as a safeword and it had really turned me off.

"Jade?" Lorraine asked in confusion.

"That's right. Now don't say that again unless you really, really want me to stop, because if you say then I will stop."

Lorraine considered that for a while. I don't know what it was like where she was from, but it had to be pretty repressed towards sex. She had never heard of safewords, being date rape ruined her rep, only dirty girls wanted spankings - it didn't sound like any place that I would want to live or even visit.

"Okay." Lorraine answered, snuggling into my lap. "Jade it is, but I won't say it."

"So, ready?" I asked, raising my hand in the air.

"Um, well..."

I brought my hand down hard on her left bottom cheek. Lorraine gasped in surprise and shock.

"I didn't say I was ready!" Lorraine protested.

"But you were." I said with a chuckle. "We both knew it so why would I make you say it out loud?"

"Because AH!"

I brought my hand down again. A shiver went through Lorraine's body. As my hand continued to rise and fall Lorraine began to rub her thighs together, her gasps started to be mixed with moans. Then I paused.

"Well Lorraine, we both knew that these would have to come down." I said teasing as I inserted my fingers into the waistband of her panties.

Lorraine started to twist on my lap, so I grabbed her free hand and bent it to the small of her back. Then I slowly pulled her panties to her mid thigh revealing cheeks with little more than pink in them. She was muttering something and I heard the word no a few times, but she never said the word Jade.

Releasing her panties I slowly ran my fingers up her inner thigh. When I reached her belly I probed lightly and could feel she was ready.

But I knew if we stopped now then she would never forgive me.

Lorraine gasped as my hand lifted again, quivering in anticipation. I didn't make her wait more than an instant before I smacked her left bum cheek hard.

Lorraine responded by rubbing her thighs together again.

The preliminaries were over, and it was now time for a good bum warming. I started a good rhythm, building up a tempo as Lorraine started making "ah" and "ow" noises. As I worked, well, I couldn't have planned it this way, but somehow when I pulled her panties down I had caught part of the shirttails of her blouse. Somehow there was a piece of her shirttail sticking down in the cleft of bum. Every time she kicked or squirmed it would wiggle there.

I thought it was one of the cutest things I had ever seen, and because of how it looked I used my hand a bit more than I had planned to. I didn't stop until my hand was sore.

Of course by this time Lorraine's gasps had turned into protests. She scream out how she had changed her mind, to stop, that her bum couldn't take anymore. I wasn't turning a deaf ear to her protests, but I ignored every word that she said that wasn't Jade. She was living her fantasy and not saying her safeword.

And as she kicked she kept trying to rub her thighs together. I couldn't help noticing that she was a natural blond whose muff ended just below her tan line - obviously trimmed to match her bikini.

"So much for phase two." I declared, pausing the spanking.

"Sniff. What's phase two?" Lorraine asked in a half sob.

"Phase two was when I bared your bum." I informed her, twisting and reaching for my belt. "It's over, and now it's time for the next phase."

"So what's phase three?" Lorraine asked.

"You know what phase three is." I answered, doubling up my belt as I spoke.

"Um, no, maybe I don't..."

I tightened my grip on her arm and announced "This!".

WHACK

"FUCK!" Lorraine screamed. "STOP THAT!"

Her bum was red, but the belt still marked it.

SMACK WHACK

"No! Stop! Too OWWW much!" Lorraine protested. "Stop AHH! St- OHH!"

SPLAT WHACK

She was begging me to stop, but she wasn't using the word so I didn't slow down.

Lorraine started to buck on my lap, but she lacked leverage. When your only point of contact with the world is a lap then the strength in your legs and most of your arms is useless. I could think of a dozen or so ways of twisting off someone's lap, but Lorraine didn't have my training or my wrestling experience. Or my strength, or drive, or my determination.

Lorraine was helpless and being spanked, which was what she had been dreaming about for years.

Her screams changed their tones, her protests mixed with sobs, then there a moment, a perfect moment, her body shook and she burst into tears. Real tears. Crying with utter abandonment.


Lorraine. She was a shadow, I was a shadow, but at that moment the spanking was Real.


Of course you can't spoil something like that by ending too soon, so I kept bringing the doubled up belt down on her near perfect bum and thighs until I had spanked the fight out of her. All that time she never said the word Jade or even muttered anything that could sound like Jade.

When it was over I held her on my lap until she returned to herself, then I marched Lorraine to a corner as she sobbed and cried. I stood her facing it and pinned up her skirt so her bare, red buns and thighs faced the room. Technically she was still wearing her panties, but they were below her knees.

"There." I said. "Now if you move one step out of that corner then we'll have to start this all over again. I'm timing you and you WILL do your corner time."


I went to the mini-bar and fixed myself a drink. Then I turned and admired the view. It didn't look like she would have bruising, well, at least not much. I'd told Lorraine that I was timing her, but that had been a lie, the only real one I'd told her that night. I didn't actually have a time in mind. I was just going to leave her in the corner until she had recovered enough to talk about what we should do next.

I waited, going through another drink as I did. Then I noticed that Lorraine was starting to rub her thighs together as she shifted from foot to foot and I knew I had waited enough.

"Okay, you can come of corner. Now what do you think..."

I didn't finish that sentence. Lorraine shot out of the corner and into my arms, wrapping her arms around my neck and her tongue with mine. Then her hands shot to my waist and I started unfastening her skirt. I could see where this was going and I knew that we didn't have time for me to find all of those damn pins so her skirt had to go.

It came off as we made our way to the queen sized bed. By now my pants and boxers were around my knees and Lorraine wasn't waiting for them to go down further. The moment we hit the bed she was guiding me in her as I fumbled at her blouse.

Buttons scattered and...

Well, if Lorraine had been a guy I would have called it a case of premature ejaculation, but women are built differently and we were far from done. Her bra went flying as she approached the peak again, and we still weren't done.

Lorraine had screamed while I was spanking her, but I think her cries were louder when we finally finished. Then we spent some time just laying there, not talking. Simply basking in the moment.

After we came down we cuddled for a bit, then she headed for the bathroom attached to this bedroom and I visited the one attached to the room with the twin beds. I ended up taking a shower and was a bit surprised when Lorraine didn't join me as I lathered up and rinsed off.

Drying off, I went looking and found her in the bathroom, oohing and aahing as examined her bum in the mirrors that covered the walls. It wasn't just looking; her hands probed at her bottom as if couldn't believe that it was giving off so much heat. When she saw me looking her, she hastily looked away and reached for a robe, instinctively cover herself.

"So what's next?" Lorraine asked, smiling slyly.

"Well, maybe we should get and talk about things." I suggested.

Later, I was sitting by the mini-bar while Lorraine stood and rubbed at the seat of her jeans. She had had to wiggling into those jeans, which were now gripping her hips tight.

"Let me guess, you always wanted to wear something that would keep the heat in?"

Lorraine nodded with a smile.

"It was this or short shorts that are so tight they bit into me, but I didn't want the marks on my thighs showing. At least not yet." Lorraine said, rubbing her seat joyfully.

"Those might look cute." I said with a smile of my own.

"Um, this might sound a bit weird, but did you have anything planned for the next little while?"

"Well, I did have a little idea." I told her. "What about a little game? We could head down to the casino, just so everything's official, then we play a little game of high card takes all. I'll put up cash while you put up your freedom chip. I'll draw first, show my card, then you draw. If you draw higher than me you win cash, and if I win I win you. Best of all, you won't have to show your card; you can just tell me if your card is higher than mine. It will be your choice, but if I win that will be the last decision you make for a while because I WILL put a cuff on you and make you my slave. After that I will make all of the decisions."

A shudder ran through Lorraine's body. She turned away and began to pace, rubbing at her bum as she did. The dreamy look on her face put lie to the concept that she was thinking things over, and a damp spot was slowly forming at the crotch of her jeans.

"I need to change!" Lorraine declared. "Whatever happens, I need to change first."

She disappeared into her bedroom, shutting the door.

Left to my own devices, I explored the suite. The dresser there was full of clothes, as was the closet. More were in the suitcases stowed under the beds. For women who had arrived on the island with the expectation of being enslaved they had definitely brought far too many clothes. Mixed in with their things, concealed to the point where you could call them hidden, were some magazines and novels. The covers of the novels and the pages of the magazines all featured red bum, which explained why the girls had come to the Beakerland Island - they wanted to be spanked as much as Lorraine did.

Finally Lorraine emerged from her room. She was wearing a business suit with a skirt that fell just above her knees and her black lace stockings were on below them. High heels, blouse, and jacket completed her outer ensemble. I was sure she was wearing something under it. The bra was obvious, but I wouldn't have been surprised to learn that she had a girdle, garter belt, and other things that she wanted me to remove.

"I've got my Freedom Chip, but we have to stop by the desk on the way." Lorraine said.

I nodded.

At the front desk, Lorraine added me to the room.

"It's paid for, including room service for four." Lorraine explained. "But once a girl is en... once a girl loses her Freedom Chip then she can't sign for things for the room. This way when... I mean this way if I lose you can stay in this room and use up some of our room service money. There were four of us, so even if you go wild there should be more than enough to cover everything."

"I see. So, up for a game of chance?" I asked nonchalantly.

"I think so." Lorraine answered nervously.

We entered the casino and for once I was happy that the casino slowed down at night. We able to find a free card table, and for the cost of the standard ante chip (I paid for both of us) she agreed to shuffle for our game. The dealer frowned a bit when I got to the part of how Lorraine didn't have to show her card, but agreed to ref our game.

Lorraine put down her Freedom Chip and I matched it some of my winnings. The dealer did a standard shuffle and put the deck between us.

I went first, cutting the deck and getting the eight of diamonds.

Lorraine breathed hard, gulped, and reached for the deck. She cut it and kept the card close to her chest. She stared at it long and hard.

"We said I had to get a higher card, right?" Lorraine asked nervously, breathing harder. "So an eight's no good, is it?"

"The odds always go to the house." The dealer said, speaking up before I could answer.

"But you don't have to show the card if you don't want to." I told her gently.

Lorraine didn't show the card, but as she placed it back in the deck she whispered: "It was the eight of spades."

"I see."

I swept the chips towards me and pocketed her Freedom Chip. Then I turned to the dealer.

"So, where do I get a cuff for my new slave?"

Lorraine was trembling. I couldn't tell if it was nerves or anticipation, but she was trembling.

"We keep them under the tables."

The dealer reached behind the box where she kept her chips and retrieved an open cuff. Luckily there was no spell needed to close it, only one needed to open it. Anyone could snap a cuff on but you had to know what you were doing (and not be wearing a cuff; the spell wouldn't allow one slave to free another slave) to take it off.

Lorraine held up her leg and wiggled her ankle, inviting me to put it on.

As far as I was concerned that was her last chance to say 'no' and her eyes were begging me 'yes'. Besides, sooner or later someone would cuff her and it might as well be someone who knew her. Someone like me.

Brenda had resisted for over a week and it had taken days for the spell to conquer Erica, but they were of Bamber. Both of them had walked the Broken Pattern and it had reinforced their reality as they did so. Lorraine, she was a different story. As soon as the cuff was on she twisted her leg free and dived over my lap, wiggling her bum.

"It looks like she's a willing one." The dealer said with a smile. "They only do that when they like it before the cuff goes on."

I gave Lorraine's backside a couple of swats and returned the dealer's smile.

"Now wait over there and I'll take you back to the room." I commanded.

Not that I wanted her to wait long, but I had to stow away my chips.

Lorraine pouted as she waited. I was closing my chip case when the dealer leaned over and whispered:

"She really wanted that. I saw her card; she drew a nine."

I nodded with a smile.

That was the second reason I didn't make her show her card. If she decided she didn't want to be a slave she had had the ability to lie and say she had drawn an ace, but if she did want the cuff and drew high she could say she had drawn a lower card.

Returning to the suite with my new slave, I had no idea that Lorraine had drawn the nine of spades. What? Of course it was the spade nine; that's the only thing that makes sense now. That bastard nine of spades had screwed me once again and I hadn't known it at the time.

That fucking card.


Back at the suite I unbuttoned Lorraine's jacket. She reached for it, to remove it, but I gently swatted her hand away.

"No you don't." I chided gently. "I'm the master. I decide what you wear and get to strip you if I want, and I want to do this."

Eyes glistening, Lorraine's face exploded in a joyful smile and she lowered her arms.

I removed her jacket. Then I untucked her blouse and slowly unbuttoned, going from the bottom button and working up. Surprisingly she wasn't wearing a bra but corselette (something akin to a merry widow). It disappeared below her skirt and I couldn't help think about how tightly it was hugging her red bottom.

Once her blouse was off I undid her skirt, allowing it to drop to the floor. Her black lace stockings were held up by garter belt, and that belt was the first thing that went.

Lorraine cooed as I rolled the right stocking down to her ankle, then move the left one (it was tricky to work it under her cuff). Then I undid her corselette. Despite herself Lorraine moaned in relief as the tight clothing left her stinging bum and thighs. Lastly I eased her out of her shoes, one foot at a time, removing the stocking as I removed the shoe. I wasn't sure if there was something special about stripping those shoes off, but as they left her so did her last items of clothing. She became barefoot and nude in the same instance.

I looked at my slave, who was eager for anything I wanted.

"We've done the punishment spanking, now for a fun one." I declared, leading her to the queen sized bed.

Sitting I put her over my knees. Playfully raining down light swats (which must have felt worse over the spanking I had already given her) I paused at times to stroke and fondle her. Maybe it was my skilful hands or the magic of the cuff but soon she was screaming once more.


The next morning I woke first and called down to the desk. Soon I had breakfast for two and a collection of brochures that listed the other services the hotel offered. I thumbed through some of them and called down for the first 'special feature' of Lorraine's stay here.

I knew it wouldn't be the last one.


Then I was watching Lorraine slowly wake. Her nude body was half burrowed in the blankets and she wasn't a quick waker. Finally her eyes fluttered open.

"Wow." Lorraine moaned. "It's still real."

"That's right." I nodded. "You're my cuffed little slave girl."

She looked down at the cuff and frowned.

"Where did that chain come from?"

It was clear where it went; to the wall. If Brenda hadn't been able to shift it free then Lorraine didn't have a chance at freedom.

"I sent down for it." I informed her. "I won't be able to spend the entire day here and I didn't want you wondering off."

"Um, but..."

"Don't worry, it's long enough that you can get to the bathroom."

Reassured, her eyes went to the breakfast tray then to the brochures beside it.

We broke our fast on raspberries and cream, followed by some real food. Then we turned to the brochures, which opened her eyes to what sort of games adults could play. There were bondage devices, sex tools, special outfits, and special services that the hotel would provide slave owners (or anyone whose name was on the room when his lady friend wasn't).

"Wow. Some of this is ... wow!" Lorraine said as we flipped through them.

"I'll make arrangements for the desk so you can get some toys while I'm gone."

"How about the spa services?" Lorraine asked, looking at what the spa offered the 21 and over crowd. "I might want to see how a shave down there feels."

"Are you fucking crazy?"

The words came out before I could stop them. Judgmental in tone and with the weight of ownership behind them. Lorraine's face fell and tears appeared.

"I'm sorry, but that's one of my turnoffs." I explained gently.

"But why? Do you think it's dirty or ..."

"No, it's not that."

I took a minute to organise my thoughts. I didn't want to go into details about Bamber or my role there, but I had to tell her something close to the truth.

"Remember when I told you about how I came from money? Well, when I hit that age when I noticed girls there were women and girls, maids, the children of servants or hangers on, that sort of thing, who wanted me to notice them. Some were very friendly, and an older relative took me aside and told me the old yarn about 'If There's Grass on the Patch, Play Ball' and explained how if there wasn't grass on the patch then it didn't matter what the girl said or how old she looked - she just wasn't mature enough for a game of grope in the closet."

That was close to the true, but there was more. Growing up in a matriarchy, well, back home they didn't really tolerant anyone who tried age inappropriate stuff with girls. Maybe there had even been a bit of magic woven into those words, I still don't know. Luckily there had been plenty of older girls who wanted to be my friend in that special way.

Or so I thought. It took a few years for it to dawn on me that most of them just wanted the status that would come from bearing a bastard child of the Royal Line. That I wasn't someone that they wanted to spend time with, only a nice looking and naive means to an end. Luckily the line of Bamber wasn't all that fertile; mom's countless (in a literal sense!) husbands and lovers had only produced nine princesses and four princes (well, there had been two other princesses, but they had long ago pasted into history). As for my generation, I had but a single niece.

That 'grass on the patch' lesson stayed with me, maybe because we of Bamber didn't age as others. Those of the Royal Court and the family itself reached their 20s, stopped ageing somewhere as they drifted towards their 30s, and lived for centuries, so the 'half plus 7' rule didn't work for us. At least I was fairly certain that Lorraine (unlike Lady P-----) hadn't lived even a single century...

"And that lesson stayed with me." I continued as Lorraine slowly recovered her aplomb. "A woman could be closer to 40 than 30, with stretch marks and c-section scar from a brood of kids and her breasts covered with marks from where she breastfed them, but if she's shaved down there I still think she's too young for me. I know it doesn't make sense, but there it is."

"Okay, that's something I can live with." Lorraine said teasingly. "But what if I'm naughty enough to do it anyway?"

"Then I'll never spank you again."

That threat struck home.

"I won't even get my bikini line trimmed." Lorraine vowed in a solemn voice.


We finished breakfast, then I sent down for some clothes for her. The ones she had brought with her, well, they in the other bedroom - far beyond the reach of her chain. Since she was my slave and could dress her like a doll I decided on a peek-a-boo skirt and tube top.

"Okay, I can see the skirt." Lorraine giggled. "It gives you access to my bum. But why the top?"

I rolled down part of the top to expose her left breast. I gave it a few squeezes and tweaked her nipple, evoking a moan and a nod of agreement on the fashion choice.

"And that's why." I told her as I forced my hand away from her. "In that outfit you're covered but instantly available."

"Do you have to go?" Lorraine asked, risking a bit of a pout.

"I do. I need to work on my art if I'm going to get anywhere. But don't worry, I'll be back."

"You better."


It was hard, spending the day at my studio, but those Trumps needed to be made. Mom wasn't going to wait forever and now I had a pair of them to duplicate.


When I returned to the suite my entry surprised Lorraine. She was on the bed with half a dozen sex toys spread out around her. It was clear that she had enjoyed her first day as a slave.

"Oh." Lorraine said, looking cautiously at me. "Um, are you going to spank me to punish me for, um, you know?"

She waved her hand, indicating the sex toys.

"No." I told her sternly. "I'm going to spank you because you like to be spanked and I enjoy spanking you. If I didn't think it was okay for you to have those things I wouldn't have let you see those brochures."

"So you don't think I'm a bad girl?" Lorraine asked.

I winced at how fragile her voice sounded.

"No, I think you're a wonderful, sassy girl whose bum should be spanked everyday. Now roll over so I can put some colour in those cheeks."

I did. It was partway between the discipline and fun spanking and it left Lorraine squealing.


I passed a few days that way, painting Trumps during the day, dropping by my motel for a change, of clothes, spending evenings with Lorraine, the early night at the casino where I earned my keep, and then finished the night with Lorraine. Her collection of toys slowly increased as we played and we started experimenting with other things. Hairbrushes, straps, a cane, martinet, and other toys that put a sting into her backside while revving up her front side.


Then one night I was down in the casino when I caught sight a rare beauty. She had physique to die for (and I knew some men had) with green eyes sparkling beneath her long black hair. She was flatteringly dressed in black and silver and she was here to gamble.

Of course she was another half sister - Cora. Some theories had Cora as the true heir to the throne (over Erica and the rest), but I had always believed that Bleys' claim was the superior one. Regardless of who would claim the throne (the one that technically wasn't up for grabs as long as mom sat on it) Cora was here, in Spankland, and was clearly the next sister to pose for me.

At least that was the plan. From the corner of my eyes I watched as Cora played. She wasn't the worlds' best player, but her luck that night! Two royal flushes - not one, two! She was slightly down in chips when she drew the second one, went all in, and four people called, giving her a mountain of chips.

If she had left then... Or later...

But no. Cora kept pushing her lucky. She was playing as if she expected million to one chances to always come through and damn if she didn't come close to making it happen for her.

But only close. Luck never lasts forever and the odds are always in the house's favour. Cora left the casino with an odd expression on her face. She was clearly fighting the unfamiliar effects of the spell from the slave cuff and who knew how long it would take for her to succumb to it?


Which had me thinking about the casino and keeping them in the dark of my true purpose here. I thought long and hard about it as I tracked down Cora's Trump deck and bought it (along with some junk) from a pawnshop. I was thinking about it when I returned to Lorraine, and to her disappointment I didn't spank her at all that night.

I was gone before she woke, and stopped by the concierge for a little talk. I think the woman enjoyed adding another sketch to her growing collection.


After working on the Trumps I returned to my motel for a shower and fresh clothes. Not that I had a huge wardrobe there, but it was an easy matter to Trump to my room at the palace and Trump back. Then I killed a bit of time before heading to the casino with my art supplies.

The sounds of spanking greeting me as I entered the suite. It was coming from what I thought of as the spare room - the one with the pair of single beds. I could hear that tears were flowing, mixed in with Lorraine's sobs. After a while a different technician left.

I didn't bother to tip this one. Leaving a lasting impression on a Princess of Bamber was hard work, but Lorraine's bum tanned as quickly as the next girl.

Entering the room I found Lorraine as I had requested her to be left - the now standard pose of her on her belly on the bed. She must have bucked and twisted for her golden hair awry from the spanking. Her lovely blue eyes were wet with tears. Her head lifted when she heard me setting up my easel.

"No, don't get up. And move your arms so they cover your nipples. Like this."

I was firm, but kind, as I set the scene and began painting.

I thought briefly about making it a Trump, but that seemed wrong; Lorraine just wasn't part of that side of my life. She didn't know me as a Prince of Bamber or have anything to do with the chaos that was my family. Beyond that, I wanted the painting to be good. Since I wasn't putting power into it the Flaw wouldn't creep in. I've spent scores of years perfecting my art, developing my style, horning my technique, only to have much of my work marred by the Flaw of the Broken Pattern. Not this time. No, Lorraine's portrait would be a near perfect example of the heights that my work could reach.

Not worrying about manipulating the mystic energies I was able to focus on the art. I zoned for a while.

When I came back to myself, well, Lorraine's tears were mostly gone but the colour was still in her backside. It felt odd, seeing it there and knowing that I hadn't put that colour there. That someone else had spanked Lorraine. Someone not me.

Putting my art supplies aside I gathered Lorraine up and carried her back to our room. As I placed her on the bed I reattached the chain to her cuff, securing her to the wall. Then we talked for a while. She was proud to have served as my model, but wished that I had warned her about what was going to happen. Then she went on and on about how it had felt to be over that woman's lap, and how it brought back memories of that time that Mrs. Tipton had spanked her. It was only later, when we were drifting off to sleep, that she wondered aloud over why I had arranged for someone else to spank her; I explained that I never spanked my models, that I didn't want to physically enter the artwork, and then she drifted off contentedly and fulfilled.


After that night Lorraine tried to experiment a bit with some bondage gear, but she didn't find anything that she enjoyed. Some of it was used, some was discarded without her trying them out. The weirdest device that she tried was a narrow strip of leather designed to run through her legs and attach to a belt (a belt that could be locked on her, securing it there until she was released). The edges of that piece of leather were covered with tiny needles. The theory seemed to be that if she was careful she would only feel the needles pressing against the sides of her most sensitive skin and if she wasn't, if she jerked around or clenched, then the needles would pierce her skin.

There is pain of a smacked bottom and then there are different types of pain. That strip stayed on for less than a minute, then I had to kiss her better as Lorraine vowed that she would never experiment with that sort of device again.


When I arrived at the suite and found Lorraine crying I thought she had gone back on that vow. She was wearing some belt like device, but it didn't look like that strip. It covered more, especially in the front.

"Frank! I screwed up soooo bad! You have to help me." Lorraine sobbed.

I soon learned that her tears weren't ones of pain but ones of frustration. It didn't help that I started laughing midway through her explanation.

"Stop laughing!" Lorraine pouted. "I thought I could try it on and if I didn't like it..."

"It's a time locked chastity belt." I laughed. "You knew what it was when you put it on. Why did you snap it shut?"

"I don't know, but we have to get it off!"

Still laughing, I called down to the desk. I had to have Lorraine turn around so I could read the serial number off of the backside of the belt. Sometime during that call my humorous mood vanished. Lorraine caught the change in my mood long before I put the phone down.

"Okay, we have a problem." I told her. "The time lock is just that, a time lock. Once on it's on until the time runs out. In theory we can get someone in here to work on the spell, but that would cost far more than you've got in your room service account. About two or three times as much."

"I don't have that kind of money." Lorraine whispered.

"They did something to check the settings, and they told me it was only set for two days. That's 48 hours from the time you slid it on. It looks like we are going to have to wait to do certain things."

That evening was a very frustrating one for us. I would have said extremely frustrating, but I was talking about "us", not Lorraine, and the blasted belt didn't cover her mouth. As for Lorraine, as I spanked her she squeezed her thighs together. Between that and her magically reinforced love of spanking she was able to find some release.

The next morning I woke Lorraine with a slap on her bum. I explained that it didn't feel right to leave her to her own devices in the hotel and offered to take her with me to my studio.

"It will probably be boring, but no more boring than being trapped in this room with that belt on." I said, warning her.

"But it will be better than being here with these toys that I can't... well... It will be better."

Of course I decided what she would wear. In addition to her now standard peek-a-boo skirt and tube top (things that she wore less and less while in the suite) she had a pair of sandals, a collar, a leash, and some manacles for her wrists. Technically they were chained together behind her, but the chain was over two feet long and she could have easily gotten her hands in front of her body. Oddly enough, her only objections weren't focused on what she was wearing but what she wasn't.

"But I have to have panties." Lorraine protested. "I can't go out without them. And definitely not in a skirt!"

"Nonsense! You're a slave and slaves don't wear panties."

"But I've seen some with them." Lorraine insisted. "They had slave cuffs and panties and they were slaves so why can't I have panties?"

"Because I, your master, forbid them. What, did you think slavery would be all spankings and fun? Slavery means that you don't make choices and have to do things that you don't want to do. Besides, that belt thing covers your front better than most thongs."

"But you can still see my..."

So we compromised, and I gave her some stripes from the cane to cover her bum and thighs.


No one gave us a second thought as we walked down the street. I was just another man leading a slave on a leash and Lorraine was merely another slave. Her thighs were marked, but that didn't make her stand out among the other slaves.

As we walked, Lorraine underwent a transformation. At first she was huddling down on herself, as if she was waiting for someone to take her to task for not wearing underwear, but as we continued and no judgmental passers by came up she began to walk taller. By the time we reached the studio she was relaxed and smiling. It was liberating merely to watch her transformation.

Once there, well, it was boring for her. Very boring. So I stopped working on the Trumps for a while and had her model for me. I did some sketches, including one that really captured her downcast (but gleaming) eyes and erect nipples (which were partly screened by a wild tangle of blond hair that descended past her shoulders) as she stood nude except for that blasted belt. She was clearly submissive, and just as clearly excited to be a slave.

But I couldn't spend all of my time sketching her, and most of the time Lorraine was bored. When we finally left the studio she mumbled something about not wanting to spend another day standing around watching me paint.

That night her bottom paid for that comment, in more ways than one. While there was no way anything solid could pass through the fine mesh that covered her front, but there was room enough in the back of the belt to allow solids to pass. Lorraine had a ruby red bottom and I had a great deal of lube as I demonstrated how if one solid could leave another one could enter.


The next day I delayed leaving for a few hours, long enough for the belt's spell to count down to its release point. Then I spent a few extra hours making up for the last two days. Alas, duty called and I was forced to leave.


It took Cora a long time to succumb to the spell, but the enchantment slowly worked its magic and her owner finally became jaded with her. My winnings took another hit (reminding me that I had to start spending less time with Lorraine and more time gambling) as I arranged a suite at the hotel and for the concierge (who accepted yet another sketch with a smile) to have my half sister prepped for me. Then I found an 'adventure' for Lorraine to go on as a distraction as I headed to the room where Cora waited.

As usual the near endless spanking was still going on when I arrived. Spanking? No, call it what it was - a harsh paddling. One that winded the hotel employee, who I tipped for her efforts.

Entering the bedroom I saw the beauty arranged just as I had ordered. Her nipples and belly were covered, the rest of her wasn't. There were tears on her once proud face and her bum was clearly the worse for wear from the spanking. Of course she noticed when I entered - she might temporarily be submissive but Cora still possessed her warrior instincts. Her body tensed slightly, but the cuff ensured that she obeyed the command she had been given to hold her position. Even when she tensed there was a look of near innocence on her face, an uncaring bliss I don't think I've ever seen before.

Setting up my easel I went to work, once more muttering enough that Cora should know that this wasn't my idea. I wasn't sure who she would blame, but I didn't want to go one on one with Cora.

I sketched like a madman, twisting the basic stuff of creation frantically as I tried to capture Cora's looks and basic attitude. It wasn't easy - her tears dried first and the colour was practically running out of her backside. Cora's endurance and fortitude were practically legendary in the family and this was just further proof that she was in a class of herself.

The outline wasn't finished, but I couldn't really add much to it without losing the essence that of the humbled princess. Still mumbling, I undid the cuff. The moment it was off...

Cora yawned and stretched, but that it was.

"I assume there's something to wear somewhere?" Cora asked, her tone relaxed. She could have been asking me to pass the wine at banquet.

"There are some clothes in the next room."

"Um... I couldn't have notice that our powers don't seem to work here. How are we getting home?" Cora asked, now relaxing on the bed.

"Trumps still work." I said, tossing her one of the new Trumps I had made.

"The royal gardens? Nice work. A shame about how the Flaw is so prominent."

I gritted my teeth at that comment and looked at the cuff. It would be so easy to snap it back on her... Then again, it would probably take days before the spell kicked in again - more than long enough for her to mop the floor with me.

Cora rose causally from the bed, standing with her back to me. She stretched and strolled towards the suite's other room, just as Erica had done.

Then came the unexpected.

I didn't feel the twisting of the worlds that I could usually sense when a Trump was used near me. Instead I heard the suite's door open and close.

I shrugged, gathered my supplies, and headed back to see Lorraine. Cora was big girl and could take care of herself. Especially now that she knew how Spankland worked.


I stowed my art supplies in the spare bedroom (out of reach of Lorraine's chain) and continued on to the main room. There was Lorraine, on the bed, wearing a diaper, bib, and these weird looking mittens on her hands. It took me a moment or two to realise why they looked so weird; they lack thumbs.

"Um, could you...?" Lorraine asked, holding out the mittens to me.

I had to smile. There was only one way I could answer that.

"No, use your big girl words and say what you want."

Lorraine blushed.

"Could you please take these mittens off my hands so I can walk to the bathroom and you won't have to call down for a clean diaper?"

I chuckled and undid the mittens.

"So how did you enjoy life in the nursery?" I asked as I freed her hands.

"Not that much." Lorraine admitted. "Them patting my bum pink was okay, but being treated like an actual baby, practically gagging me with a pacifier... No, I'm not into diapers, so if you'll excuse me."

Lorraine disappeared into the bathroom. After a brief shower she returned, her hair wrapped with a towel.

"So my naughty little slave girl didn't like the treat her master arranged for her?" I chided with mock seriousness. "If patting it pink isn't go enough for you then I guess I'll just have to paint it red."

Lorraine giggled, dropped to her knees, and started crawling towards the bed.

"Yes master." Lorraine said, still giggling. "You should spank your slave's naughty little bottom. With that brown strap."

"The brown strap? Not the hairbrush?"

"Oh no, I really deserve the brown strap." Lorraine insisted slyly.

Which was nice. The hairbrush (one of her favourite instruments) was a bit too much like that paddle that had been used on Cora, so using it on Lorraine tonight would have produced a bit of an ick factor. Tomorrow would be another day, but I was just as happy using the strap tonight.


The next morning I asked around a bit, curious about what Cora might have gotten up to. My first inkling came when I heard about a hotel employee who had had her arm twisted behind her back, twisted until it broke. The police were investigating but the woman (probably the one I had tipped the night before) couldn't provide a description. By the time I hit the casino that night (after a hard day of working on Cora's Trump) talk had turned to how one of the rich assholes hadn't turned up where he was supposed to and seemed to be missing.

Of course that rich asshole happened to be the one who had won Cora's freedom and spanked her until the spell had broken her.

I didn't give him another thought. It wasn't like he was anything more than a shadow. I knew he would never be seen again, at least not in this Shadow.


A day later I was still hard at work on Cora's Trump when I felt someone try to contact me. Someone? Of course it was Brenda, whose seemed to have a habit of interrupting me while I was working on Trumps.

I held off the connection until I ready to break for lunch, then accepted the call.

Brenda didn't beat around the bush.

"So what went wrong?" Brenda demanded.

"Wrong?"

"Don't be cute." Brenda snapped. "I want to know how Cora got out of the trap."

"She didn't."

"She did!" Brenda insisted.

"I'm working on her Trump now, and she's being painted in the same position as Erica."

"What? Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure." I answered, snapping back at her.

"But she ... That bitch fooled me? Impossible!"

"Possible." I corrected. "Possible, and it happened."

"But she's not acting like she's had her bum spanked!"

"You expected that?" I said, laughing. "The redness was practically gone the moment the paddling stopped. You know how fast Cora bounces back."

"That's... Okay, I have to think..." Brenda muttered, breaking the connection.

I shrugged and got back to my lunch. I was almost done eating when a question hit me - how had she gotten my Trump? I had her old deck, so whose deck had she used?


A few days later (after Cora's Trump was finished) I felt another contact. Since I was alone in my studio I answered it immediately. Again, she skipped anything that could be called a preliminary.

"I can't work magic there, but I found a Shadow where the laws were close enough to match there. Open a way and I'll send them through."

Brenda was my sister and always considered herself the brains of our little cabal, so I sighed and opened a link. Moments late I had an armful of paddles.

"Use these and things will go so much better." Brenda said, then broke the connection.

I sighed again. Looking at a Trump, almost activating it, I looked at the paddles out of the corner of my eye. As I expected they were mystically charged, each with the Broken Pattern worked through them. Brenda had conjured them with her magic and I was sure they had more weight than almost anything else in this Shadow.

After a day of painting I dropped by my motel room and stowed all but one paddle there, picking up a little something while I was there. That one paddle, a nice wooden one with only a small Flaw (the inscription read "For a cute little dear with a bare behind" instead of "For a cute little deer with a bear behind" - which would have matched the illustration) that I took with me.

The Flaw.

It was getting to be even more annoying as I worked on my master deck. Cora's Trump had come through fine, except her eyes were different colours. Radically different shades of green. People might not notice the six toes or a scattering of freckles, but different coloured eyes? Especially on Cora, whose Amber counterpart had once been blinded.

But back to the story. I brought the paddle with me when I went to Lorraine's suite. She giggled when she saw it, up to the point when she bent over the bed and I gave her a pop.

She jumped to her feet with a scream

"What the hell was that thing?" Lorraine demanded, rubbing at her bum.

That paddle had left a mark. It didn't fade for two days, and even then there was a lingering bruised spot. The magic of the paddle would work its wonders on my half sisters - it had been designed to mark the bums of a princess of a Bamber, not normal people.

But I couldn't explain that to Lorraine.

"I'm sorry. I won some magic items in a card game and..."

"Well don't use that again." Lorraine insisted, rubbing at her seat. Then the magic of the cuff took over again. "Unless you really want to, then you can."

"I'm sorry." I repeated. "It's supposed to be just a revved up paddle. Don't worry, I'm not going to use it again."

Lorraine relaxed, then a gleam came to her eyes.

"You said you picked up a couple of magic items." Lorraine purred. "What does the other one do?"

"Well, for that I'll need a strand of your hair." I responded.

A strand of her hair was woven into the brush, then I tapped it on my palm and Lorraine gave a little jump.

"That's wicked!" Lorraine giggled. "Do it again!"

I did, smacking my palm hard. Lorraine jumped again, smiling.

"Now that's a nice magic item." Lorraine said, rubbing and smiling. "Only we won't use that paddle again, will we?"

"Not again." I assured her.

"So can I keep this?" Lorraine asked, reaching for the brush. "I'd love to take it back with me. I mean I might have given myself a few pats and called it a spanking. But that was then, before I really knew what a spanking was. Now, if I was use that brush to tap my hand and real smacks landed on my bum, well, it would make things more real."

"Why not?" I said with a smile. "It was basically free."

Which was true. Honest Ed had practically tossed it in free while he ripped me off. The magic that powered it would only work in this Shadow, which meant it was worthless in the places where I spent the bulk of my life.

But Lorraine's question had me thinking about something else: her vacation was due to end soon and then I would have to make a choice. I could free her and set her on her plane, or I could keep her. Thanks to the cuff she wore, Lorraine would agree with whatever choice I made.

If I put her on the plane, well, she would be gone. Out of my life. Oh, I could track her down or even make a Trump sketch of her, but that would be cheating. She was a creature of this place and time, not of Bamber, and removing her from it wouldn't be a kindness. I would be spending months here, but only months here then I would be gone. If Lorraine was still a slave then, well, that wouldn't be good for her. Who knows if she could return to her life after I left? Odds were her job, apartment, and most of the elements of her life would be gone by then.

Keeping her would be enjoyable for me, but ruinous for her. Was my pleasure worth her life? She was from an anonymous Shadow while I was from the Royal Court of Bamber, so on one hand I shouldn't give her concerns a second thought. On the other hand, I had formed a connection with her, and if I ignored that connection then why would I bother keeping her? If I completely ignored her needs then could we still have a relationship?

There was only one answer to that question. She wouldn't resent me keeping her, but I would and that would spoil what we had. If we didn't have that, then why keep her?

Of course, there being only one answer didn't mean that I, a Prince of Bamber, had to accept it with a smile.


The next day I decide to gather more facts.

"I'm curious about something. If you hadn't added me to the room, what would have happened to it?" I asked.

"Well, the hotel would box up our stuff and rent the room again." Lorraine told me. "When it comes to women travelling alone they double or triple book rooms because they expect that most times the girls would be enslaved and not need the room. That's why we able to get such a great deal - they were banking on all of us being enslaved within days."

"So they gamble on the room bookings?" I said with a laugh. "That makes sense for a casino. So what happens now?"

"Um, well, the hotel staff will pack up everyone's stuff and have it at the airport with us." Lorraine explained. "Um, including mine. Um, will I need it?"

"Oh, that's something to think about, isn't it?" I replied with a smile.


Knowing that the other women would have their belongs returned I made a few plans. The porn I had found mixed in the other girls' belongings was pretty tame stuff - red and pink bums mostly. Some of the spankings they showed were clearly faked. Luckily this island had the motherlode of spanking porn so I was easily able to expand their collections, making sure that it was more explicit than anything that they had brought with them. Maybe the porn would get them in trouble with customs wherever they were going, but either way it would show the people back home what they really enjoyed.

Of course they enjoyed being spanked. If they didn't they wouldn't have come here.

The days flew past. I worked on the Trumps during the days, gambled during the evenings, and played around with Lorraine during the nights. They were fun filled nights, and I think that Lorraine would have enjoyed them just as much without the cuff.

Then came the day when the hotel staff showed up to pack up the room.

"Um, are you planning to let me go?" Lorraine asked.

"Who knows?" I said, being truthful. "But it's been a while I've seen the airport. Do you feel up for a drive?"

Of course she did. The cuff ensured that she would agree with anything I suggested.


The airport was as I remembered it. Women and girls in skimpy clothes, many of them getting their bums smacked. Some where there to be dropped off for their planes while others were being taunted with what would have been their release date. Then there were the careless; women arriving or leaving that day who found themselves in cuffs. There was a chance that the arrivals would later be freed, but those who were stopped from departing, they wore their cuffs on the right leg, indicating that they were permanent slaves.

Lorraine looked nervous, but the cuff kept her from voicing her concerns. She was dressed in the peek-a-boo skirt and tube top and sandals, which didn't make her look like she was travelling today.

I went to the departure lounge, took a seat, and flipped Lorraine over my lap. Spanking her bare bum, well, it was fun. She was enjoying it, I was starting to enjoy it, and soon she was in tears.

Letting her up I looked at her as she rubbed at her red bum. I could feel the nature of the Shadow trying to keep her here. She had played around with Fate and now the Fate of this Shadow wanted her to have the payback. A doom was forming, and if she had been enslaved by a native of this Shadow then the doom would have fallen. Regardless of her owner's mood, Fate would arrange things so she stayed.

I am a Prince of Bamber. I have walked the Broken Pattern and mastered the ways of the Trump. I laughed that the Fate of this particular Shadow. Lorraine was crying, colour was peeking out from under her skirt showing everyone that her pantyless bottom was red, and really didn't seem to fit with the other passengers. I reached down and worked the magic to remove the cuff and escorted her to the departure date. There she ran into Barbara and Ruth, both were much better dressed than Lorraine and neither looked freshly spanked. They were teasing Lorraine over the fact that customs back home would know that she had been a spanked slave while she was here. They seemed to think that she would be embarrassed for the rest of her life over this, but then they didn't know about the extra porn stashed into their luggage.

Lorraine had something extra in her luggage as well. In a carefully packed tube was a three by six foot portrait of her laid out on the bed in the same position that I had painted my sisters. Mixed in the rest of her things were drawings, sketches, and a few other paintings that I had done of her. I knew that I would never forget how she had looked while she was on the island, but as the years passed she might need a reminder of what she had done in her wild youth.

The fourth girl? Kat? The girl who had protested being enslaved? She had been brought to the airport as well, but that doom had to go somewhere. Her owner removed the cuff from her left leg and applied it to her right one, marking her as a permanent slave. The other three didn't seem to notice her absence, which was part of the doom. It would be a week or more, or until someone asked them about her, before they would remember the missing Kat. Otherwise they might not get on the plane without attempting to buy or rescue her and the doom would never allow something like that.

I didn't feel bad about Kat. I had seen her once or twice, listened to Lorraine talk about how Kat had helped arrange the trip, and that was all I knew of her. The doom had to go somewhere and if I wanted to save Lorraine then Kat had to pay the price.


I would meet many other women in Spankland. I would even enslave some of them, but Lorraine was unique.




A few days later something brought me out of my funk. I had slaved away at my studio and have a few drinks at the hotel bar when she walked in. She was wearing silks, mostly red and orange. Her hair was red and her eyes were as blue as mine (or Erica's for that matter), and if our plans ever came to fruition she would be Queen in Bamber (with Brenda sitting on her right and me on her left - advising her).

But that was in future. Right now my sister Bleys was being set up. Had Brenda lured her here, or had it been Erica and Cora working together on this? Regardless of how she was here the result would be the same: Bleys would soon lose her Freedom Chip.

I knew it was happening, but I couldn't watch. I turned and walked away.


The next evening I picked up Bleys' Trump deck from a pawnshop along with some other trash. Nothing worth buying, not really, mainly decks of playing cards to disguise the fact that I was after the Trumps. Nude decks, bondage decks, even one of nymphs. I don't know if they were real nymphs or not - or if this Shadow even had nymphs - but they caught my eye with their casual nudity, nature settings, and the flowers they wove in their hair. Then it was just a matter of scrying her Trump and waiting for Bleys to break.

Buying her wasn't cheap. Someone liked redheads and wanted to keep her. Mere cash wouldn't do it - I had to go head to head for more than seventy hands before I won her from him. I ended up going down cash, losing maybe a quarter of my bankroll to win my sister from him. He was happy with the cash (muttering something about buying redhead twins) and I was happy with my new model.

The concierge smiled as I handed her another sketch.

"And I want her bum as red as her hair, or redder." I told her. "I even have a new paddle to use. See, I've decided to do a series and now I want to make sure that I'm always capturing the same emotions, so I've decided that they should all feel the same paddle."

The concierge nodded, then spoke up.

"I understand you free them after the modelling session."

"I'm an artist looking at making art." I explained. "Not caring for a slave in the long term. Winning a slave in a poker game is one thing, but housing, feeding, and caring for one? In the long term? No, I want a range of models, not a long study of the same throbbing backside. And I make sure they get to the port."

The port wasn't as busy or as closely monitored as the airport, and was the way most longer term slaves left the island. Travel by boat was cheaper and gave the women time to come to terms with what had happened to them. Many worked their passage home, doing "willingly" what the cuff had compelled them to do, but they did get to their old homes.

The concierge nodded again, this time smiling.

Later I learned why she had asked - there was rumour going around about how no one saw my models when I was done with them. The people running Spankland approved of owning and using slave girls, but making them disappear forever? Not so much. When it came to submissive women they endorsed corporal, not capital, punishment.


Entering the suite I heard the paddling ringing out. It didn't sound as brutal as it had when Cora was being paddled. On one hand it was a shame that one of my favourite sisters was the first to feel the kiss of one of those magic paddles that Brenda had made, but on the other it meant fewer whacks were needed to produce the right shade of colour. Of course the whacks of the paddle were being answered by Bleys' sobs, but you couldn't paint a red bum without causing a few tears.

I got my art supplies ready, and when the woman left I tossed her a couple of chips as a tip. Surprisingly she missed one. It bounced and rolled, and I got down on my knees to help her look for it. Rising with it, I asked her something that I had wondered about.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask: why are all the hotel's spankers women?" I asked as I handed it to her.

She smiled, pocketing the chip.

"There are men who do it, but if they aren't specially requested a woman handles it. Having a girl naked while you spank her, that makes some people think of sex. It's not that they don't trust the hotel to find someone who can spank without touching, but this way they don't have to think about that. But if a girl wants to pretend that her daddy or her boyfriend is smacking her bum then that can be arranged. Or if hers isn't the name on the room then it can be arranged for her."

I nodded, saw her out, then took my art supplies into the bedroom. I had been trying to stall, but there was no way I could make the Trump without seeing my favourite sister that way.

Of course Bleys was waiting the way she had been instructed to wait, the cuff wouldn't let her behave any differently. Tears were still flowing from her eyes, eyes so much like the ones that greeted me in the mirror, as she waited. I didn't bother muttering as I set up my easel; Bleys would know that Brenda and I were partners in this, and she would accept it or not.

As I sketched, I couldn't help but try to do a better job on this one than the other Trumps I had recently done. I was never really sure if any of my work had captured the essence of my charismatic sister, but the sweet sight of her glowing bum and tear filled face would have to do.

Then I was done, or as close to done as I could be. The tears had dried from her face and the colour had faded from her bum. It had fled at a speed beyond that of a normal human, but (thanks to the magic paddle) slower than from Cora's bottom.

Looking at her face, I almost didn't want to remove the cuff. Bleys' face was relaxed, almost innocent. She didn't have a worry in the world, and here I was going to plunge her back into the cruel infighting that was our family. Back to the plotting and scheming and all the nastiness that was the birthright of a Princess of Bamber.

But I couldn't keep her as slave, so I worked the magic and freed her from the cuff.

The moment it was off a shudder ran through her body.

"Frank, is that you or one of your shadows?" Bleys asked, a hint of outrage creeping into her voice.

"It's me, and this is part of Brenda's long term..."

"She shouldn't be plotting without me!" Bleys snapped. "She's always taking crazy chances when sane ones will work just as well. And she really shouldn't be setting me up without warning. What would she do if I set up her up for something like this?"

"She posed the same way you did." I informed her. "It was in a different suite, but it was the same pose. Red bum, tearstained face, and naked body."

Bleys thought about that.

"Okay, bring me something to wear and send for something to eat. And drink! I'm dry as a bone." Bleys declared.

I took my art supplies to the other room and returned with the clothes. I found Bleys in the same position that she had posed in, and left the clothes there.

Room service arrived before Bleys emerged from the bedroom. She had taken a shower and we talked while she dined. She didn't have a high opinion of Brenda's plan but agreed that things had gone too far to back out now. That if we stopped before all of our sisters had posed for their Trumps then Erica and Cora would unite against us, maybe swinging the others on their side and turning mom against us.

We reached agreement on a few points, then Bleys Trumped home.

I worked like a madman, transcribing the sketches to a Trump. Three days later I had the best that I could do. Oh, I had captured her vulnerable side and a hint of the spirit within her, but the Flaw was there. It took me a while to spot it, but there, by her waist, was a hint of red. It almost looked like some of her pubic hair peeking out, but for that to happen that hair would have had to be about six inches long.

I hoped the others wouldn't see it, and turned back to the monotonous duty of warping reality as I copied the Trumps.


Cathy was the next fly lured into the web. I don't know how they lured her, she who was one of the most insidious schemers in the family. She entered the casino proudly, dressed in black and green satin. She left puzzled, wearing a cuff.

Two weeks of copying Trumps later I was drawing Cathy as she cried in the standard pose.


Julie's long dark hair and pure white dress caught everyone's eye when she entered the casino. Only those she gambled with got a good look at her eyes, which were blue and contained neither passion nor compassion. I regretted undoing her cuff, for her spellbound eyes contained joy and contentment for the first time in centuries.

Then there was Randi, with her sharp nose, smiling mouth, and straw colour hair. With her I felt guilty. She was the baby of the family and I couldn't remember the times that she had fled giggling from the nursery without a stitch of clothing on. She didn't play the games that most of us played, but I couldn't tell you whether that was from choice or self-defence, coming so late to the game.

No, she wasn't too young for what happened. Her age was in the three digits and she was the only one of us known to have an offspring, not that she spent much time around her daughter Mary. Looking at them, with Randi appearing to be in her mid 20s and Mary in her early 20s, you'd think them sisters, not mother and daughter.

But the Plan had to be followed. Yes, it had gained enough importance that it had to be capitalised. Randi posed bare bum and crying, the enchanted paddle having done its work.

Then that lousy Flaw kicked in! Randi's bum in the Trump was more pink than red, making it look as if she had gotten off easy. Hopefully Brenda wouldn't notice, and why would she? Randi wasn't really a rival for power so it shouldn't matter that Randi hadn't paid the same price our other sisters had.


Of course, nothing ever goes as planned. I have nine extant sisters, and I've only mentioned how seven of them posed for their Trumps. By the time I had produced Randi's Trump everything was getting very matter of fact. A routine had developed. We went from point A (Princess shows up) to Point B (Princess loses her Freedom Chip) to point E (I sketch their them for their Trumps) and everything worked out. Yes, I skipped a few points, but that's just because I don't like thinking about how they spent their time as slaves.

We had a steady rhythm going.

Which meant that things would have to start going wrong. It had to. This plan was based off magic (my Trump work and Brenda's conjuration) and all of our family's magic has that Flaw in it. Somehow, as the routine built up, I had forgotten that simple little fact.

But the Flaw would never allow you to forget it for long.


I reached the casino for a night of gambling. I had spent the day copying Trumps, had spent the afternoon in Lady P-----'s bed, and after a shower I was ready to gamble and win the money I needed to pay my bills in this Shadow.

I had a profitable night and was about to head back to my motel room when I overheard some people talking. What they said...

With a sinking feeling of doom I went to the bar where I was sure more people would be talking about it. And I was right.

The talk was all about one of last night's patrons. She had dark hair, green eyes, and was wearing a stunning blue and grey ensemble, one with a black leather belt. She had been a fun loving, life of the party type until she lost her Freedom Chip. When her winner went to put a cuff on her, well, she broke his arm. Someone went to help him and she cold cocked him. A four man security squad moved in to handle the situation, and soon had to be joined by another pair of squads.

Twelve trained security types had been needed to take her down, and six people were in now in the hospital. As for the rebellious slave, she had been given to the justice system to handle.

I listened to all of this in horror. You see, my half sister Geraldine has dark hair, green eyes, and often wore blue and grey. When it came to feats of strength all of the scions of Bamber were strong but she was in a class by herself. I could easily picture them needing 12 people to overwhelm her, and if I hadn't made an early night of it last night I might have seen it happening. If I had then I would have had to do something.

I rushed back to my motel room and then Trumped to my quarters in Bamber. Once there I grabbed a kit I had assembled in anticipation of this day (not that I really thought it would happen, but it paid to plan ahead) and Trumped back to the hotel. Then I shuffled Geraldine's Trump out of my deck and concentrated on it. And concentrated on it.

Forcing my will, I was able to make some contact - a contact I ruthlessly exploited using tricks known only to those of us who forged the Trumps. A shimmering occurred, and I forced my hand into the cold unknown. I caught hold of someone and pulled myself through.

I emerged in a cell. Its walls were of cold, grey stone and the single door was of metal. There didn't seem to be any cameras, which was a small stroke of luck. There was, however, a mostly unconscious woman. Geraldine didn't look to be in good shape but there wasn't much bruising around her head, which was a good thing. A very good thing. Bruising to skin can be healed, but bruising to the brain was far more deadly.

I had a bolt cutter with me (along with a people cutter, to be used if needed), but they hadn't bothered to chain her to the wall. Which made sense - she was barely conscious, behind stone walls and a metal door. More importantly she was wearing the spellbound cuff. Normally that meant that she wasn't going anywhere, but those of us from Bamber weren't normal.

I gathered her up, focused on the Trump of my motel room, and brought us through. Back in safety I discarded my sword and brought out the medical kit.

Geraldine was basically okay, at least most of her was. Her bottom, it had been beaten. Not spanked, smacked, or paddled - beaten. It looked like they used had used heavy straps. There was bruising on her arms and legs from where they had secured her to some sort of whipping bench and strapped her without mercy. I later learned that they had strapped her every hour on the hour, giving her a ridiculous number of strokes each time - just because she kept fighting back.

It all happened because Brenda had an idea that became a plan.


I hated to do it, but the plan had to be followed. I arranged her on the bed in something like the proper position and started to sketch. She had long ago cried herself out but the tearstains were still there. As for her bottom, the challenge would be to make it look spanked, not salvaged. I worked quickly, capturing as much as I normally did before Geraldine recovered enough to wonder what was happening.

I ditched the easel, took a deep breath, and did something that I hated to do. I revealed true details of a plot.

"It's a long story, but Brenda had a plan and... No, that's too long of a story. Anyway, she ended up here as a slave and contacted me... Which is still too far back. Look, I know that you could probably pound me into a pulp, but I have to tell you the truth: you were set up and I was in on it. Not for this, no, that wasn't part of the plan." I said hurriedly. "The idea was for you to be enslaved and made to wear one of those magical cuffs. Once it broke through your resistance then I would have bought you, or won you at cards, and painted a Trump of you with a sore bum. That was it! A sore bum, not a beating. I swear that by the Royal Stag and the Broken Pattern itself."

"The cuff is magical?" Geraldine asked.

"Sorry, I'll take it off now." I said, and quickly did the magic to remove it.

It might have been cruel to leave it on as long as I had, but maybe the magic was working well enough to take the edge off her temper. Not that Geraldine was known for angry outbursts but I hadn't been lying when I said that she could beat me to death.

"Everyone is getting their Trumps like this? Really?" Geraldine asked.

I quickly got out some of the finished Trumps. The first ones I showed her were of Brenda and Bleys.

"I don't understand." Geraldine said quietly.

"It's part of a long term plan and I don't have all the details, but no one was supposed to get seriously hurt." I assured her. "Embarrassment and a stinging bottom was part of the plan, but nothing dangerous."

Occasionally the truth has its advantages; if she had caught me in a lie then Geraldine would have... But I hadn't lied. I helped Geraldine back to Bamber and then walked her to a Shadow she liked.


Then I returned to my work, copying more Trumps. Not that I had much of choice. Mom hadn't said anything about a hard deadline, but she would want to see those Trumps sooner rather than later.

Roughly three weeks later I was leaving the casino, walking back to my motel. I was cutting through an alley, something I usually did, when I felt someone behind me. No, it wasn't something I heard, it was a feeling. A feeling almost instantly confirmed when a blade appeared at my throat.

I started to take shallow, very shallow breaths.

"You are about to tell me a story, aren't you Frank?"

I relaxed a bit at that; the voice was Bernadine's, my ninth and oldest sister. Half sister, true, but if you were going to have a blade at your throat it's better if it's held by a family member than a total stranger.

Usually better.

"Of course. What story do you want to hear? How about little red riding hood? That's a nice one."

"Don't get cute." Bernadine instructed.

The blade moved slightly. I stopped being cute.

"Something happened to Geraldine. Something that seems to be going around. Our sisters leave their usual haunts for two, maybe three, weeks, then don't talk about where they've been. When Brenda contacted me with her story I began to see the pattern, and finding you here completes it."

I hadn't known that Bernadine monitored us and our normal haunts. That was good to know. Brenda, Bleys, and I might have to adjust some of our plans to take that into account.

"What did she tell you? No, I'm not stalling, but I've been stuck in this Shadow for months and I don't know how she's sending our sisters here." I told her.

"A story that made sense, but only if you didn't think too much about it. I expect she's tailoring it to her target. She's always scheming, even against members of the family. Speaking of the family, do I need to remind you about the normal family etiquette for these situations?"

"No, there's no need to remind me."

Family etiquette was clear on matters such as these. If one of the members of the family needed assistance than that member was polite and helpful to the member who could supply it. Currently I needed assistance; there was a blade at my throat and I needed someone to move it away from my throat. My sister Bernadine was in a unique position to assist me (since she was holding said blade) so I would have to be polite and helpful...

But not craven. If she wanted craven she would have to open my throat before she got it. We of Bamber are never craven.

"It's part of a plot and you were suppose to fall for her story." I informed her. "Something embarrassing would have happened, but there wouldn't have been any long term harm."

"Something to do with spanking?" Bernadine asked. "I only mention that as I've seen a dozen or so spankings happen since I've arrived here. That, I couldn't help notice that I couldn't walk away."

"That's basically it." I admitted, fighting the instinct to nod in agreement. "The only way out this Shadow is to Trump and they have some magic. Not much, nothing impressive, but they have these spells on slave cuffs that makes a woman submissive and crave spankings."

"Only women?" Bernadine asked.

"Only women." I confirmed, conveniently forgetting the islands where the women spanked men. "The magic won't allow the cuff to close on a male. The cuffs work instantly on natives but take a few weeks to work on us, which is why people have been spending so much time here."

"Then what happens?"

"Once the magic takes hold I win them or buy them from their owner and then make a Trump of them with red bum. After that I take the cuff off them and give them a Trump that leads to Bamber. Oh, and I bring them clothes. Real ones, not the type of things the slave here wear." I revealed.

"Do you control who is enslaved and who walks free?"

"No, but when a women enters the casino she's given a special chip called a Freedom Chip. If she loses that then she's a slave." I explained.

"That ties with what Brenda said." Bernadine said insightfully.

I didn't respond to Bernadine's comment. It seemed rhetorical.

"Is it safe to move the blade?" Bernadine asked.

"I'm not going to try anything stupid, if that's what you mean."

I wasn't. I couldn't touch Bernadine with a blade. There was time, maybe 70 years ago, that she decided to fence with both Erica and Cora. Taking both of them on together and neither scored a point on her. It was more than just her skill with a blade; she was an unmatched strategist. She had seen through Brenda's scheme, marked my place in it, and determined a likely spot to ambush me.

It didn't like thinking about going up against my other sisters, but I feared thinking about going up against Bernadine.

The blade vanished.

I exhaled.

I turned and saw my sister. Unlike the others she wasn't much of a looker. She was tall, thin, and dour. Her strong jaw added character to her face, not beauty. Her hazel eyes were staring through me and I knew her brown hair had never held a curl. As for her colour choices, orange, yellow, and brown didn't really flatter her.

But while she was no beauty she was deadly. Very, very deadly.

The bars were all closed so we headed back to my motel to talk.


Her eyes went hard as I explained more of the plot, then her face dropped when I showed her the Trumps I had been working.

"This is bad."

I didn't need Bernadine to tell me that, but maybe she was speaking about something other than the collapse of the plan.

"Erica and Cora, Cathy, Julie - Bleys might have been in on it and I won't count Brenda, but the rest are all proud women. If their Trumps look like this, and mine doesn't... No, this isn't good. I might end up having to hurt one of them."

I nodded. It might happen.

"So it follows that my Trump has to match those."

I didn't nod. I didn't even breathe. Her logic train of logic hadn't gone where I thought it would.

"But I'm not going to be a slave. Arrange things." Bernadine commended

"Um, well, yes, it can be done, but probably not tonight. The town more or less shuts down at midnight."

"So tomorrow."


Which is how I found myself approaching the concierge with one last time, giving her a last (signed) sketch. This one was of Bernadine as I pictured her in the pose, and the concierge smiled when I said that the model was someone who had seen my work and wanted to pose.

"She does realise that the pose will be authentic, doesn't she? That once the technician is assigned that her backside will be as sore as the slaves' were?"

"Of course." I said with a smile. "That's why she wants to pose. She knows that once things are set in motion that there's no way she back out, and she wants to experience that without wearing a cuff."

"I see." The concierge was smiling, having bought my lie.


What followed was a demonstration in self-control. Bernadine has never been into pain, not hers or anyone else's. One of the reasons she had mastered the blade was to weld it with as much mercy as she could. She wasn't enslaved by custom or spell and could easily subdue the technician who was dealing with her.

But she didn't. Because she had worked out that this was the best course action, Bernadine submitted to a bun breaking spanking with a paddle that Brenda had conjured. She hated every minute of it, but she endured it.

As I sat listening in the other room, I vowed to myself that I would never make an enemy out of her.

I didn't tip the technician; it would have made a mockery of Bernadine's sacrifice to do so. Moving my art supplies into the bedroom I found Bernadine in that pose that was a mixture of prostrate and recumbent. Her head up but chest down and partially covered by her arms. Her hard angles lacked the gentle curves of Katy Perry in that California Gurls video, but Katy Perry wasn't a legendary demon slayer. Besides, Katy Perry's pretty little bum had been covered by that candyfloss and Bernadine's was glowing red from her paddling.

As I set up my easel, I thought briefly about tracking down Katy Perry, or a reasonable shadow of her, and doing a study of her in this pose. I could experiment with pink, red, and dark red threatening on black and blue. It might be something to think about.

Of course, this couldn't go the way it had gone other times. Bernadine was not wearing a cuff, and that made all the difference. For one thing she spoke while I worked.

"I ah suppose I should sniff thank you." Bernadine remarked, speaking through her tears. "That you didn't sob actually do it yourself."

"I wouldn't have." I replied, working frantically. "It wouldn't feel right. Spankings in this world are clearly erotic ones, not punishment ones, and there's no way I would do something like that with a sister."

At least not most of them. Mom had always been hard set against the concept of incest - something that my brother Donald in particular had always regretted. Me, I shied away from the idea. It was safer for everyone if no one dwelled on it.

So I worked, and Bernadine made the occasional comment.

"So you didn't spank any of them?"

"Of course not. Why would I? That's just one of the many services the hotel offers. Even the motels here will send up a girl if you feel like spanking one. Not hookers, just slaves that need spanking." I explained. "They actually point out that there's a price difference between the two services, not that I'd ever need to pay for the second one. Now if you'll just hold still I need to capture this scene before the red and the tears fade."

That held her for a while. But only a while.

"The red and tears are lingering." Bernadine observed. "I've had sword wounds that stung less. That paddle; magical?"

"Of course." I agreed, working frantically.

"Local?"

"No, the locals wouldn't have made something like that." I informed her. "There's no need; most bums turn colour here without needing magic to help make a paddle sting more."

"Is it a weapon?"

"Not really. Just something that Brenda whipped up. They only work in this Shadow."

"They?"

"She made a few of them." I admitted. "Just in case one got lost or disappeared in the hotel."

"Here's hoping that none of them get lost." Bernadine observed. "Imagine what they would do to a normal bum."

"Indeed." I said, working frantically. I didn't need to mention that experiment with Lorraine; that wasn't a name that needed mentioning in front of anyone from Bamber. She just was never going to be part of that world.

I worked hard, as fast as I could, and captured what I needed before Bernadine's patience ran out. Then she dressed and used her one of Trumps to leave.


She was the only one of my sisters to leave with her Trumps. I had retrieved all but Geraldine's deck. I hoped they wouldn't fall into the wrong hands, but even if a native did stumble on to their secret the only then that would happen is they would end up face to face with one of my family members. I didn't see that ending well for any native of Spankland.


It had been dangerous, but Brenda's plan had worked. I now had master Trumps for all of my siblings.

The other Princes? They had all dropped by my studio. Well, less dropping by and more me Trumping them and telling them that mom wanted me to do their new Trumps; I think them mentioning that to her was what was keeping her off my back. With them we stayed in my small studio and they never saw the world outside. When asked I told them that I'd gone somewhere boring so I work in peace in the hopes that mom would finally stop bugging me about the Trumps. Nothing of interest had happened while they were there, so I didn't bother mentioning their sessions during the flow of the story. Of course their Trumps weren't perfect, but they might have been better than the ones I had based off the sketches made in those hotel suites.

The Flaw in Fred's Trump? From the right angle it looked like he was pitching a tent in his pants, not that anyone would be shocked at the sight of the Royal Court's most infamous lothario looking ready for action. Lloyd's? I made his skin look a bit greenish, but since his hair matched his jade coloured eyes and he liked to wear green and grey I could excuse it as shades bleeding in. Donald? His Trump captured him all in black, but somehow he ended up with an extra ear.

And then there was mine. I nailed the red hair and blue eyes, but I failed to capture the look of my mother of pearl skin against my green shirt. My skin came out... Well, it was a self-portrait and the mirrors I set up weren't the best and there was the Flaw to think of, and I have never been able to capture myself in my art, so yes, I was disappointed with all my attempts and ended up using the best of a bad lot to add to my Trump the decks.


It was hard, almost mindless work, copying all those Trumps, but finally they were ready. Mom had said she wanted somewhere between 50 and 100 decks, and during one of my many trips home I'd picked up the other cards for the decks. Wonderfully done Cups, Wands, Orbs, and Swords - with backs that matched the ones that Brenda had brought home with her. To these I added my Trumps - I planned to call the decks the 'Princess in Repose' series.

A few more Trumps and I would be ready to head home for good. It would be nice to be home, to see Lady P----- socially, to relax in the castle, and most all, not to see hints of Lorraine everywhere I went.

Best of all, I could discard the Paddles of Spankland. They just weren't needed any more.

Goodgulf

[goodgulf]

Note:
When updating the link to the last story I discovered several typos and had to rewrite spots. If you enjoyed the story you may enjoy the corrected version.

Goodgulf