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Home / Stormy Night Publications Newsletter / Singing for Her Master By Rose St. Andrews – Extended Preview

Singing for Her Master By Rose St. Andrews – Extended Preview

Steph grinned as she made it to the parking garage. Brad had been so wrapped up in his phone calls and banging away on his laptop that she’d been able to slip out of the conference room unseen. Truth be told, he was cleaning up yet another of her messes, and so he had to be focused. She scanned the area, saw her limo, and whistled. Oscar pulled up beside her a moment later and hopped out.

“Where to, Steph?” he said, holding the door for her.

“Um… Alan’s house,” she said, barely above a whisper.

His brow wrinkled. “His house? Miss, it’s the middle of the day. He’s at work.”

“Oh. Yeah. Right. What was I thinking? Damn, I don’t know where he works!”

Oscar smiled. “Get in, miss; I do. Get you there in no time.”

She heaved a sigh of relief and got in, and they were well on their way before his words registered in her brain.

“Hey, wait a minute. Oscar, how do you know where he works?”

He laughed. “Steph, I’m a big-time fan of the theater. During the lunch break of the video shoot, he and I ‘talked shop,’ so to speak.”

“So, you’ve stayed in touch since then?” she said slowly, not really wanting to know the answer.

“Yup. Great guy, really decent, and with old-fashioned values. I’m thinking of introducing him to my cousin. I think they have a lot in common.”

She hung her head. Now she really felt like a world-class heel. Not only had she blown off Alan, he’d made friends with her driver—a man who’d worked for her for three years, and yet she didn’t know he loved the theater. Now she was faced with the prospect of losing Alan.

Not yet! They don’t call me Loco Lobo for nothing.

The drive was brief, yet seemed to take hours, and when Oscar opened the door for her she looked up to see a cute little building with a sign reading ‘Theater Arts Department.’

She cocked her head at the building as she got out. “This is where he works? I thought you said he worked at a theater.”

“He does,” Oscar said, gesturing at the building. “He works at the local college as the professor of theater arts. Didn’t he tell you all this that night you had dinner?”

“I… um… maybe. I don’t recall.”

“Don’t recall or didn’t pay attention?” he scolded.

She blushed. “None of your business! Now, ah… you wait here. I’ll go in and ask about him.”

He grinned and nodded to her. “As you wish, miss.”

She bolted inside before she said or did anything else to embarrass herself. The entryway was essentially the lobby of a theater, and two sets of double doors provided access to the auditorium. She entered and looked around. Rows of seats faced the stage and a set was under construction. A young lady, tall and muscular, and dressed for heavy-duty physical labor was moving some tools around the stage. Steph made her way down the aisle to stand at the edge of the stage.

She cleared her throat. “Ahem, excuse me. Can you help me? I’m looking for Alan Green.”

The woman snorted, still keeping her back to her. “Oh, you are, are you? Well, isn’t that nice? Scram, girlie, he doesn’t want anything to do with you.”

Steph was quite taken aback at her words and attitude. “Hey, do you know who I am? I’m—”

She spun to face her, a sour expression on her face. “Oh, I most definitely know who you are, missy! Care to hazard a guess as to who I am?”

Oh, crap, she’s Alan’s wife! No, wait a minute; Oscar said something about hooking him up with a relative. So, who could she be? “Um… Alan’s friend?”

“Not bad, Wile E. Coyote. I’m his best bud and assistant. Lisa Schneider’s the name. Friends call me Schneid, which means you can call me ma’am!”

“Hey, what is your problem?” Steph snapped. “You don’t even know me. So, back off, and just tell me where to find Alan.”

“Missy, I don’t merely know you, I know you,” Lisa shot back. “My girlfriend thinks you’re the greatest thing since music was invented. That means I know your reputation when it comes to men. Also, as I am Alan’s best bud, I’m the one he unloads to when he’s troubled.”

Steph cringed. “Oh, I see. Which means…”

“Which means you are most definitely not welcome here!”

“Um… look, Miss Schneider, I… the whole reason I’m here now is to apologize for how I treated Alan.”

“Really?” she said, cocking her head at Steph.

Steph nodded furiously. “Oh, yes! I mean, come on, if I wasn’t sincere, would I show up in person?”

Lisa chewed her lip. “Huh, good point. Pam’s told me you tend to throw money at problems, including boy toys you’ve grown tired of.”

“Hey,” Steph snapped. “That’s not true! I mean, that is, ah, don’t believe everything you read in some tabloid.”

Lisa looked her straight in the eye for a moment and then nodded and grinned. “Oh, yeah, you’re sincere. Okay, he’s in the workshop. Go backstage; you’ll see the double doors to the shop directly behind the last fly rail.”

“I can see him? Wait, who’s Pam?”

“My gf, soon to be wife. She’s told me the one way to know Mama Wolf’s true feelings is by backing her into a corner. It gets your dander up.”

“Wait a sec; this was all a test, wasn’t it?”

She shrugged. “Hey, actions speak louder than words. I’m not just Alan’s bud; I’m also rather protective of him. We grew up together. He defended me when I needed it, now I do the same for him.”

“I understand, and I’m sorry for the pain I’ve caused him.”

“Hey, don’t tell me, tell him,” she said, pointing back toward the shop with her thumb. “But, know this: you hurt him again and I will hurt you!”

“Eeep,” she squeaked. “Yes, ma’am.”

Lisa chuckled. “Call me Schneid.”

Steph couldn’t help it—she smiled and felt about ten times better as she made her way to the steps at the edge of the stage. she weaved her way through the obstacle course that was the platforms, flats, tools, and various other items scattered across the area, and before her were the doors she was looking for. They were ajar, and a light was on inside, so she eased a door open and poked her head into the shop.

It was a typical theater workshop. Racks of hand tools, table saw, piles of wood, muslin and other supplies, and paint stains everywhere. Alan was bent over a jigsaw cutting something, his back to her, which meant she had a great view of his tight little butt in jeans. He looked so very fine. She stepped in, eased the door closed, and cleared her throat.

“Ahem. Hey, Alan, how… ah, how you doing?” she called out.

He froze, paused for a moment, and then switched off the saw. He did not turn to face her.

“What do you want?” he said simply and without emotion.

“Is that any way to talk? Here I’ve been totally slammed for weeks getting ready for my tour, but I go and take time out from my incredibly busy schedule to visit, and I get the big brushoff? That’s fine, that’s just fine!”

He turned and crossed his arms, not looking happy, and frowned. “Really, Steph, lying to me right out of the gate?”

“Wha-wha-what are you talking about? Every word I said was—”

“Total BS,” he snapped. “Between what Oscar’s told me and what my friend Schneid knows from her gf Pam, I know full well what you’ve been up to, and that you’ve blown me off! So, what are you here for now, another quickie?”

“Oscar? That-that… he’s told y—? Wait a second, there’s no way he’d offer any info. You’ve been pumping him for details. So, seems I’m not the only person interested in the other.”

“Excuse me, missy, but I did make that clear when we were together. Now, Oscar was nice enough to give me your number, but that was all—at first. When you didn’t reply to my fourth phone call I did ask him what was up with you. Were you busy, had you moved on, what?”

She hung her head. “Oh. I… well… yeah, I guess I did kind of…”

“Show me the door? Why’re you here now, seeking forgiveness? Not going to happen.”

“Alan, wait, it’s not that,” she said quickly, taking a step toward him. “Well, it’s not just that. I want to make a sincere amends and ask if we can go on a real date to get to know each other. I screwed up, okay? Come on, haven’t you ever done something bone-headed and had to apologize? Well, that’s what I’m doing. If you really care about me you’ll accept it and we can move on.”

He grinned. “Oh, you’re good.”

“So, it’s working?” she asked tentatively.

“Well… mostly.”

“Mostly? Um, where did I fall short?”

“Steph, I do care about you—maybe more than I should given how little we truly know each other, which means I can forgive an awful lot of your shenanigans. However, there’s more to forgiveness than a mere apology. Just as you said, there’s the matter of making a proper amends, which means taking the punishment you deserve.”

She gulped as her hands slid back to cover her ass instinctively. “Eep! Pu-pun-punishment? Ah, wha-what do you want to… do?”

He looked around the room, his eyes focusing on a small piece of scrap wood on the floor. “Will you accept whatever I decide is appropriate?”

“Do you promise to be fair?” she said nervously.


She chewed her lip as she played with her fingers for a moment and then looked him in the eye. “All right, I’ll take whatever you think is right.”

He smiled and slowly nodded. “I’m impressed; you accept without asking what it might be. Now that is trust. Okay, go stand in that corner while I prepare it.”

He pointed at the far back corner of the shop. She shivered, her bottom quivering in anticipation, and moved to take up her position. It was like being five again and sent to a timeout by her parents. It didn’t help that she heard all manner of cutting and shaving going on behind her back. He was clearly working on something, but what? She shivered harder, not only from the expectation about what was to come, but also the fact that they were in a public place. What if someone walked in on them?

“All right, young lady,” he said firmly. “Turn around and come here.”

She turned and the air shot from her lungs. He’d created quite the stout little paddle. She cringed and bit her lip. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, and then her body went into automatic mode. She marched over to him, he ordered her to bend over and put her hands on her knees, and she did it. Her mind was screaming at her to stop this, to leave, to tell him in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t about to let him do this to her, but her body had other ideas. She stood there, facing the door as he moved around to her left side and bent forward slightly to give her a tap-tap with that hard hunk of lumber as he took aim at her poor defenseless behind.

She was in her snug little cut-off jeans—it was Friday. They were tight and short, the white pockets hung against the fronts of her thighs, while in the back the denim stretched taut across her firm ass and the ragged edge rode up to expose the bottom half of each supple cheek. The wood actually felt smooth and gentle against her bare skin. He’d apparently sanded it quite well. She stiffened, every muscle clenching as the sweat trickled across her skin and she licked her lips.

“Now, as you ignored me for two weeks you’ll get one swat for each day,” he said.

Her toes wiggled inside her shoes. The math was easy to do: fourteen smacks. “Th-that many?” she squeaked.

“Oh, we’re not done, not by a long shot,” he replied.

“What?” she said, her voice shooting up in pitch to reflect her shock.

“There’s also the matter of your lies,” he shot back. “So, let’s see… another six sounds reasonable, don’t you think?”

“Six? Twenty? Ah… ah…”

“And you are to hold position for every stroke. You move, take your hands off your knees and that smack doesn’t count, understood?”

Her eyebrows went up as she swallowed hard. Damn, what have I gotten myself into? No, this is stupid. I’m a grown woman. I’m not going to let him treat me like a… a…

Smack—the paddle struck, and a rectangle of pain shot through her.

“Ow,” she yelped.

“I asked you a question, young lady! Answer me,” he ordered.

“I… I… yes, sir,” she stammered.

“Very well, and so we begin,” he said, again giving her a tap-tap.

She stayed there, bent over, hands on knees as he slowly took aim. Never in her life had she been so embarrassed. Yet, other emotions washed over her. For some reason, she felt cared for and loved, which made no sense. Then there was how turned on she was, which was truly the most bizarre sensation of all. The air was sucked away from her bare cheeks. She froze and tightened her body. A mighty whoosh and… smack, another fire erupted in her cheeks.

“Eeep,” she choked out, trying to not make too much noise.

“That’s one,” he said simply.

She turned her head. “Hey, wait a minute, that’s two,” she whined.

“No, the first one was a penalty for ignoring me,” he scolded. “You want me to add more?”

“No, sir,” she said meekly.

“Very good, you’re learning. Now, face forward!”

She did so. Another tap came to her tender cheeks, and then—smack, the paddle landed. It seemed to go in slow motion. The wood impacted her flesh, her glutes compressed as the paddle’s energy was transferred to those muscles, ache and sting grew, she lurched forward a bit, her nails digging into her knees as she tried to hold position, and she let out a louder yelp.

“Ow,” she moaned, still trying to keep quiet.

After that, he set up quite the steady routine. His arm went back, he swung hard, fire grew in both cheeks as the paddle was long and wide, and thus able to cover the area in question with ease, and her howls grew steadily in volume. Eight, nine, ten landed. Her ass felt as if she was sitting on a stove and she thought her nails were going to draw blood from her knees. She braced for the next swat, her eyes shut tight, and then nothing happened. Slowly, tentatively she opened her left eye and looked around. Alan was still in position, but the paddle was at his side. He stepped around in front of her.

“Stephanie, do you understand why I’m doing this?”

“Ah… because you’re mad at me?” she said, tilting her head to look up at him.

She tingled. He looked so tall and commanding.

He shook his head. “No, not at all. I would never punish anyone, especially someone I love out of anger. This is about you betraying the trust and feelings that had grown between us, and also lying, which is something I can never tolerate.”

“Never? About… anything?”

“No, of course not,” he said with a chuckle. “A little lie is nothing, but lying about an issue that’s critical to our relationship—that’s unforgiveable. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Alan, I do, and I’m sorry,” she said softly. Her eyes filled with tears as she realized he’d just said he loved her.

He gave her a small smile. “Just hearing you say that means the world to me.”

Her heart soared with pure delight, even as he again moved into position and took aim at her poor tender ass. The throbbing and sting had dimmed a bit, but also spread out to encompass her cheeks like two hot hands kneading and caressing her pulsating flesh. She wiggled and squirmed as the fire fingered her, hot thrusts jabbed into her pussy. What in the world was going on with her body?

Smack! A particularly hard swat impacted her—or maybe it was merely that she was super sore by this point. Her reaction was immediate: she shot into the air, her hands flying to her poor behind, and she spun to face him.

“Ouch! Alan, no, I can’t, I can’t take it anymore,” she whined.

She almost flinched as he crossed his arms over his rippling chest as she was worried he might be mad at her. Yet, he just stood there, seemingly not reacting.

“Can’t, huh? Okay, fine, there’s the door,” he replied, pointing with his left hand.

“Wait, I can… go?” she said, cocking her head at him.

He grinned. “Steph, what, am I holding you against your will? Is the door locked? You can go whenever you want.”

She chewed her lip. “But. Come on, I know that’s what’s coming. Tell me, what’s the but?”

“Another reason I love you—you’re sharp,” he said warmly. “But, if you leave without taking the punishment you deserve, do not ever come back.”

Her heart was squeezed by a clamp and she let out an audible squeak. “What? Wait, you mean we’re…?”

“Exactly,” he said with a nod. “I cannot be with someone who doesn’t take responsibility for her actions.”

She hung her head. “I understand.”

“So, your choice. What’s it going to be?”

Her response was to get back in position.

“You have to verbalize it, Steph,” he scolded. “There’s to be no ambiguity here as to your wishes.”

“I was bad and deserve to be paddled,” she said meekly. “So, go on, finish the punishment, all of it—including the extra for breaking position.”

“That’s the girl I love!” he said.

She was barely aware of the tap-tap as he took aim, despite how sore she was. Her heart had just flown into the clouds. In fact, the next smack was like a pillow swatting her; she was so high on love it took her a moment to come down. However, once the ‘love rush’ dimmed, the fire and sting in her ass returned—with a vengeance. Each smack was like an inferno being added to her flesh and soon she gave up on any hint of concealing her pain. Her yelps and howls echoed through the large workshop, and she had no clue as to how far the sounds were carrying.

All she knew was throbbing aches.

Yet, in the background remained something else. When the paddle struck, it was always the same: there was an initial impact and a spreading sting as her poor cheeks wiggled and she lurched up onto her tiptoes howling loud and clear. Then came the aftermath. As she settled back onto her heels and Alan swung the paddle away, it was as if another version of him—an avatar, so to speak—was behind her. She could feel her breasts growing firm, her nipples so tight they almost hurt—and his hands caressing them. It was all she could do not to bring her own hands up to hold his. His cock, long and hard thrust deep inside her, delivering wave after wave of sexual fire to her pussy, which rippled through her body and up into her brain. She moaned and writhed as the paddling continued.

And everything stopped.

She blinked, her pussy throbbing ten times faster than her heart, whipped her head around and tried to figure out what was going on. Alan stood next to her, a sly grin on his face as he looked down at her.

“I’m very proud of you, Steph,” he said. “You took that last half dozen without moving much at all.”

“I… I… we’re done?” she said in total shock.

“Weren’t you keeping count? No, I guess I can see where you wouldn’t. From the look on your face, you were in quite the… other place. But yes, we’re done, and I love you all the more for taking the full measure.”

She slowly stood, biting her tongue at the new pains in her cheeks the change in position caused. Her hands went back to cup her throbbing ass. It was so very hot. She lightly caressed them, a bolt of sexual energy shot to her pussy, and she licked her lips.

He looked at the clock on the wall. “You should go. I have a class in ten minutes, but how about dinner tonight? This time we go out my way.”

“I… ah, sure. Wait, what’s your way?”

He laughed, and the air shot from her lungs. He did have such a wonderful laugh, and she loved seeing him happy. Even his teeth looked cute. Was that possible?

“I mean, I pick you up in my car, we go to a restaurant of my choice, and we have my kind of date. I know you big-time celebs live in your own world, but ‘slumming’ it with one of us ‘peasants’ for a night won’t kill you.”

She blushed. “Sure, Alan, that would be great. Hey, what class are you teaching?”

“Theater Production,” he said, gesturing around the shop. “We’re getting ready to do The Tempest and we’ve got sets to build.”

“Wow. Wait, I saw the sets out on stage. It looks like you’re doing a sci-fi story.”

“Yes, we’re giving good old William’s story a sci-fi spin; make it more accessible to the students.”

“Double wow. I get it. Instead of a shipwreck you’re doing a spaceship wreck.”

He nodded. “Right. Instead of an island, it’s a planet. I mean, after all, Forbidden Planet was pretty much based on it.”

“Cool! Um, could I stay and… help?” she said, frankly shocked as the words came out of her mouth. After all, she still had a lot to do that day, and Brad was probably going thermal looking for her.

“You might be a bit distracting to the students,” he said with a chuckle. “Hey, hold on, instead of working on the sets, how about you do a little forum with the kids? Talk about how you work, how you create your music. In many ways, you and your director friend work like Chaplin. We could work with that; talk to the kids about ‘stream of consciousness’ versus using an outline to develop a story—either prose, poetry, plays, and…”

She smiled and nodded. “Music. Okay, I’m in!”

His smile went ear to ear. “Oh, they will be blown away by this,” he said, then snapped his fingers. “Ah, tell you what, you wait here, I’ll set things up on the stage, and then bring you out, okay?”

Her brow wrinkled. “What are you up to, my man?”

“Trust me, I have a plan,” he said with a wink.

She melted, her legs turning to Jell-O. “Okay,” she squeaked.

His hands went to her shoulders, his lips found hers, and then he bolted out the room.

“Awesome,” he cried in delight.

Her hands kneaded her sore cheeks—and she was in seventh heaven.

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