Author: Jack Crawford
Title: Rosie's
Summary: During Prohibition, a hooker working in a Speakeasy gets sideways with the Mafia and learns a public lesson in obeying orders! 
Keywords: dom, MF, humil, md, spank, exhib
<!--ADULTSONLY--> Copyright: 2010



   The normally sedate, late morning hours of the establishment were
shattered by Rosie O'Farrell's shriek.  "She did WHAT!?!" demanded Rosie,
whose normally gregarious, Irish features were twisted in disbelief.  A
disbelief tinged with anger and fear.  The handsome young woman who cowered
before her trembled.

   "Don't blame me for it, Miss Rosie," pleaded the younger woman, her own
brilliant shock of red, Irish hair shaking from the force of Rosie's
reaction.  "I'm just tellin' ya what happened, knowing how Mr.  Harrigan
will be when he hears of it.  I didn't do nothing, myself!"

   "Yes, yes," Rosie waved her hand imperiously, then urged the young woman
to continue.  "Tell me again, lass, exactly what it was that happened and
how." Then throwing her hands up and looking for divine guidance, "Help me,
Lord," she implored, "I try to make a good place for these girls to work
and they aren't bright enough to open the door before tryin' to walk
through!"

   The conversation was taking place in a grand parlor, located in the
basement of a immense warehouse building in the meat packing district of
New York City.  It was 1928, the height of Prohibition and despite the
humble surroundings, that particular building housed one of the more famous
night clubs in the city.  It was a night club that served acholic beverages
in coffee cups and was locally known as a "Speakeasy."

   On the first floor was a legitimate warehouse operation that was owned
by Sean Harrigan.  Upstairs was a lavish night club, admission to which was
severely limited ...  you had to know someone who was a member and be
recommended.  Liquor was served despite the laws and even the cops were
regular attendees of the club.  There were small tables about a stage which
often featured some of the best musicians in town.  Harrigan's speakeasy
was a "classy joint".

   By means of a secret stairway, members could gain access to the
basement, taking two full flights of stairs to Rosie's bordello.  Actually,
it was owned by Harrigan, but Rosie was the Madam who ran it.  In the
evenings, the parlor would be filled with young ladies and clients, and all
would be entertained by an enormous black man, a piano player named Joshua.
Couples would wander in and out of the parlor to the private rooms of the
girls after the gentleman had made arrangements with Rosie.

   The night before, however, Rosie had left the bordello in the hands of
one of her most experienced girls, Elizabeth.  After the events of the
evening, Elizabeth was nowhere to be found, and her few belongings were not
in her room.  Rosie doubted she would see Elizabeth ever again.  Elizabeth
was a smart girl and knew she would probably end up dead if she ever showed
her face again in the neighborhood.

   Rosie recognized there would be big trouble as she heard the story
unfold.  "That big guinea," continued the younger woman, "You know, the guy
that's all covered with hair like an ape."

   "Tony Savarese?" urged Rosie.

   "Yeah!  That's the guy ...  always carrying a pistol in his waistband.
Anyways, before we knows it, that Tony fella' come a stalkin' out of the
back room, swearing like a sailor.  He storms through the parlor, slammin'
the door as he leaves.  You could hear him stompin' up the staircase like
he was real angry."

   "Where was Elizabeth?" asked Rosie.

   "Well, when all the hollerin' could be heard from in the back, Elizabeth
went to quiet them down."

   "Who was making all the noise?" Rosie tried to keep her Irish temper in
check, but this girl was making her work for all the details.

   "Why, Colleen and that guinea, Tony!" exclaimed the storyteller, as if
it should have been clear as crystal.  Lowering her voice, she told Rosie
as if it were a secret that, "The fella apparently wanted to poke Colleen
in her bung hole.  You know how she don't like that!  She also can't stand
them Eye-talian types either.  I guess she sort of snapped and told the
fella to bug off!"

   Rosie groaned and rolled her eyes.  Tony Savarese was the "enforcer" for
the Vitale mafia family.  Most of the other Irish "businessmen" had been
forced out of business or had taken rather permanent vacations, but
Harrigan had managed an uneasy alliance.  It was an alliance based on
mutual need: Vitale needed Harrigan's unparalleled connections for good
Irish whiskey, which he sold at a small profit to the Vitale family, and
Harrigan needed to stay alive.

   But, aside from the business arrangement that allowed Harrigan to
maintain his speakeasy, several members of the Vitale family had basically
unlimited privileges at Rosie's.  Frankly, Rosie was surprised that Tony
Savarese hadn't killed Colleen last night.  He was that volatile, but her
thoughts were interrupted as the story was continued.

   "Elizabeth chased after that angry guinea, but she returned right quick
with nothin' but a black eye to show for her efforts!"

   "And," Rosie filled in the rest of the story, "Elizabeth realized that
real trouble was brewing and took off."

   "Haven't seen her since," finished the story teller with a final nod.

   "Thanks, lass.  You done good to tell me about this right away." Rosie
patted the girl on the shoulder then looked towards the door and shouted at
the ever present bouncer, a gigantic hulk of a man.  "Patrick!" He looked
over in her direction.  "No matter what, don't let Colleen leave this place
until I get back!" He raised a finger to his eyebrow, informally saluting
and acknowledging her command.

   Rosie went to her own room, and quickly changed.  She put on a bright
green dress, that was nothing more than a straight sleeve of material
covered with fringe.  It was early in the day for the outfit, but she knew
Harrigan liked the latest "flapper" look.  Rosie then climbed the two
flights of stairs to the speakeasy and found Harrigan in his office.

   Sean Harrigan was a small, but wiry, man who always dressed
immaculately. His starched white shirt crinkled beneath his braces and bow
tie as he calmly listened to Rosie tell the story.  She finished and sat in
silence, knowing full well that Sean's entire operation, and his life,
depended entirely on the good will of Don Vitale ...  Tony Savarese's boss.

   Therefor, Rosie's well being was hanging in the balance as well, and she
knew it.  Don Vitale was a reasonable man, but he would consider the events
of the prior evening a serious slap in the face.  He was an honorable man,
and expected to be treated with honor and deference.  He would demand
restitution and might likely torch the entire warehouse as a warning to
others.

   Belying the stereotype of quick tempered Irishmen, Sean calmly retrieved
a piece of note paper, carefully dipped his fountain pen into the ink well
and penned an obsequious letter to Mr.  Vitale.  Then using his voice for
the first time since Rosie began telling him the story, he called for his
secretary, "Fiana!" She appeared quickly in the doorway to his office.

   Handing her the letter, already encased in an addressed envelope, he
told her, "Give this to Pat.  Tell him to drop everything and deliver it to
Mr.  Vitale and tell him to wait for a reply." The trim secretary took the
note and he called after her, "And tell him to be on his best behavior!"

   The office door closed and Harrigan turned his attention to Rosie.  "It
seems to me, Rosie, dear, that I have two problems to deal with." Rosie
squirmed, unfortunately already resigned to the direction that she knew
Harrigan was leading.

   "We'll have to deal with Colleen and I hope Don Vitale will accept my
offer and recommendation." He eyed Rosie carefully.

   "Of course," she agreed.  "What would you have me do with Colleen?"

   "Nothing.  We'll see what Don Vitale wishes to do.  That lass better
realize she was lucky Tony Savarese didn't shoot her last night!" He
allowed a few moments of lingering silence, then added, "But, we can deal
with the second problem right now.  I have no doubt, Rosie, that if you had
been on the premises last night, this whole affair would not have occurred.
Consequently, you will admit that you are equally at fault and must be
punished."

   Rosie trembled slightly, then nodded in agreement and answered, "Yes. 
Of course you are quite correct." The contrite madam nearly jumped as
Harrigan barked an order.

   "Fiana!" The efficient secretary was suddenly in the doorway.  Harrigan
smiled up at her and said, "I need to have a conversation with Miss Rosie,
Fiana.  Would you please fetch me the hairbrush that we keep in your desk?"
Fiana's eyes widened and she blushed furiously, but she turned quickly and
returned almost instantly with a large wooden hairbrush.

   She handed it over to her boss and was told, "Please close the door and
see that we're not disturbed, unless it's Paddy with news from Mr.  Vitale
or Mr.  Vitale himself!"

   "Yes, sir!" she acknowledged smartly, her eyes glinting with delight
that some other woman would feel the hairbrush today, and not her.  I'll
probably be able to hear everything through the door!  She thought to
herself.  The last time Miss Rosie got it, she really hollered.  Everybody
in the warehouse could hear her!  Fiana closed the door as she exited, the
click of the latch unnaturally loud.  To Rosie, the sound sealed her fate
and she sighed heavily in resignation.  She was suddenly aware that Sean
Harrigan had moved from behind his desk and stood to her side.  Rosie felt
his vice like grip about her upper arm as he raised her off the chair and
sat on it himself.  With frightening speed she found herself suddenly
upended and laying across his sturdy lap, her bottom now the uppermost part
of her anatomy.

   Harrigan dropped the heavy wooden hairbrush on the desk and Rosie jumped
at the sound.  Seconds later she jumped again, but this time from the loud
crack of Harrigan's palm smacking her backside.  He gave her a fierce
volley of hand spanks that burst like rifle shots against her bottom. 
Rosie regretted wearing the tight dress as it molded her round bottom as a
firm and inviting target.

   The hand spanking continued with rapid spanks that peppered her
delicious backside from top to bottom and fully left to right.  The
inevitable pain grew with each swat and Rosie began to squirm.  "Please,
Mr. Harrigan," she pleaded, "It wasn't my fault and you're really hurting
me!" If Harrigan heard her pleas, he ignored them and continued the hand
spanking until he was convinced that Rosie was feeling every swat.

   "Stand up, Rosie!" he commanded as the spanking suddenly stopped.  She
nearly fell off his lap in her rush to end the spanking, but she knew from
bitter experience that it wasn't over.  The haughty madam stood, rubbing
her sore bottom with both hands.

   Harrigan eyed her carefully and asked, "Tell me, Rosie, dear, did you
make sure that Colleen wouldn't be taking off like Elizabeth did last
night?"

   "Yes, I did," she nodded her head eagerly, "I left Patrick with orders
not to let the wench out of the building.  The only way out is up the
stairs and Patrick is sitting right there."

   "Good decision, Rosie, it'll save your arse a bit" approved Harrigan,
"That's the type of thinking that would have been handy last night ...  if
only you'd have been on the job!" Rosie dropped her gaze to the floor and
Harrigan continued, "You'll be raising up your dress now, lass, and pulling
your knickers down."

   "But, Sean ..." she began to protest, but the look in his eyes as he
peered over a wagging finger caused her to stop short.  Realizing no
protest would suffice, the stunning red head began the arduous task of
inching the tight skirt up and over her bum.  She know how much Harrigan
liked to watch this particular activity so she wriggled just a bit more for
his benefit.  She hoped it would ease his anger, then suddenly worried that
she was only fanning the flames that she was about to feel in her backside.

   The tight dress now bunched up about her waist, Rosie pulled her
expensive silk panties to her knees.  Most women would have blushed if
their bright red triangle of pubic hair had been suddenly displayed, but
Rosie was not phased ...  it was an occupational conditioning.  She was
more concerned about what was still to come.

   As the panties gathered at her knees, she once again felt herself pulled
into the time honored position across Harrigan's knees.  Clothed every
place else, her naked bottom felt even more exposed than if she were
entirely nude.  Harrigan's body squeezed hers as he leaned over to reach
for the hairbrush.  Then, without any announcement or scolding, Harrigan
brought the fearsome implement into sudden, vicious contact with Rosie's
now unprotected bottom.  CRACK!  Splatted the brush against her pink skin
and the flesh flattened then rippled in response.  Rosie shrieked from the
awful searing pain, then shrieked again as a similar spank exploded against
her other bottom cheek.

   The rise and fall of the hairbrush would have made an efficiency expert
proud.  There was no wasted motion, just the rhythmic and methodical
beating of wood against skin.  Rosie, on the other hand, was a much less
efficient machine as she struggled futilely to escape the awful spanking.
When she tried to escape, Harrigan pinned her arm to her back and draped
his right leg over both of her legs.

   Then he gave her 20 or so extra hard, extra fast spanks that made Rosie
scream and cry at the top of her lungs.  She begged and pleaded and
promised, but it did no good.  She finally fell limp over Harrigan's lap as
he finished the impressive punishment.

   When Rosie was finally let up, her bottom was bright red all over, with
many purplish splotches at the summit of each cheek.  "Dress yourself,
Rosie," said Harrigan in a business like voice.  "We don't want to disturb
the warehousemen, do we?"

   She pulled her clothes into place, wincing as the various layers of
material squeezed and rasped her tortured bottom.  Knowing she was
dismissed, Rosie turned for the door.  "Wait, dear," said Harrigan, and she
turned to see what he wanted.  "Make sure wee Colleen goes nowhere, and
don't you touch her.  We may have to offer her up to Tony Savarese for her
punishment.  At least that's what I am hoping for."

   Then he reached out and handed Rosie the hairbrush, which she noticed
was still warm to the touch.  "Give this to Fiana on the way out, will
you?" Finally, Rosie blushed with embarrassment, a blush that grew hotter
and deeper as she handed the brush to the smirking secretary.

   ~~~~~

   Don Vitale was a reasonable man and he recognized the value of a good
business relationship, so he wasn't going to give into the impulsive and
emotional demands of Tony Savarese.  But, he also had to make sure that
mick, Harrigan knew his place and he had to let Tony burn off some steam
... all without hurting business.  So, it was a relief when Don Vitale read
the note from Sean Harrigan.

   Looking up, Vitale told Harrigan's messenger, Pat, "Please extend our
courtesies to Mr.  Harrigan and tell him we accept his kind offer.  We'll
meet him at Rosie's at 11:00 tonight."

   "Thank you, sir," acknowledged Pat with a slight bow.  "I'll relay your
message to Mr.  Harrigan.  Good day!"

   After the Irishman had left, Tony Savarese exploded.  "What the fuck was
that all about!"

   Don Vitale waved his hand and said, "Sit down, Tony.  If you hadn't been
such a hot-head last night, we wouldn't have this little problem." Tony
started to sputter a rebuttal, but the powerful mafia don waved him quiet.
"If you weren't such a good friend, Tony, I'd be very upset.  Fortunately,
Sean Harrigan is a reasonable and sensible gentleman and has offered you
the opportunity to rescue your manhood."

   "What do you mean?" asked Tony suspiciously.

   "You are going to punish the young lady tonight," the don said simply.
Then he leaned forward, his countenance menacing as he added, "And, you
will not permanently injure or maim the young lady, do you understand?"

   "No, I don't understand," replied the confused underling.  "What the
fuck am I supposed to do?  Spank her?"

   "Actually," said Don Vitale in a calm and controlled manner, "that is
exactly what you'll do.  Give her the whipping of her life, if you want,
but you won't injure her otherwise." He let that statement sink in before
continuing.  "It's a brilliant idea, truthfully.  By giving that broad a
good hiding, you'll save your reputation, I'll reaffirm my position of
authority and because it will be a public spanking, the young lady will
learn a valuable lesson.  With Harrigan there, the other girls will
understand they have to toe the line also."

   "Well," mused Tony, a wicked smile creasing his already wicked face, "I
could get used to the idea!"

   "You better," he was warned, "Cause that's what we're doing tonight."

   Word had spread rapidly and by 10:30 P.M., Rosies was packed with
customers and others who wanted to witness the event.  Colleen was a
particularly beautiful woman, and she acted as if she knew it.  The
prospects of her being put in her place, as well as the thrill of the
public spectacle (not to mention the prurient interest in a bare bottom
spanking) had the crowd of gentlemen buzzing.  The working girls were both
secretly thrilled by thoughts of the coming event, and fearful that it
could get out of hand and that they might have to suffer the same fate that
Colleen was about to endure.

   Colleen had been kept in her room all day.  She had slept most of the
morning until Rosie came in to explain what had been decided and accepted
regarding her behavior the night before.  "You better resign yourself to
the fact that you're goin' to get a good strappin', lass," Rosie scolded.
"And be thankful that you aren't going to end up dead!"

   The young beauty, Colleen, had tried to protest, but Rosie would hear
none of her excuses.  "It's out of our hands, lass.  You should of let him
bugger you, and I suspect by the time Mr.  Savarese is finished, you'll be
beggin' him to bugger your bum!  There's no getting out of it.  You won't
be allowed to leave and we'll tie you down if need be.  All our lives could
be on the line, you stupid bitch!"

   "What's he going to do to me?" Colleen asked meekly.

   "Anything he wants," was Rosie's simple answer as she left the room and
locked the door.  Colleen had been left to worry over her fate.

   What the young lady had decided over the agonizingly slow passage of
time, was to act as dignified and controlled as possible.  She washed and
put on her sexiest silk panties beneath a straight sleeve of a dress that
would be easy to remove.  Although brassieres had become somewhat
fashionable in Paris, they had not yet been accepted in America.  Colleen
did not need one, in any event.  She had large, but firm and perky breasts.
Most men thrilled at the sight of her breasts, but she knew many of her
clients really lusted after her bottom.

   At 11:00, the crowd had reached a fever pitch, but it quieted
significantly as Harrigan, Don Vitale and Tony Savarese descended the
staircase.  The two Italians were escorted to a sofa that was the prominent
location in the room.  In fact, the furniture had been rearranged so that
all formed several semi-circles facing the back wall ...  it was almost a
theater setting.  In front of the concentric semi-circles of furniture, was
a wide open area, that sported a single armless, straight back chair and an
upholstered settee.  Harrigan stood behind the chair, his hands resting on
its back.  "Friends," he announced, the crowd becoming silent, "We are here
to correct an injustice one of our young ladies foisted upon a great and
grand friend of ours, Mr.  Tony Savarese.  You are all invited to witness
her punishment so that you will know just how willing our girls are ...  if
you have the proper cash!"

   The assemblage burst into laughter and applause.  As the noise subsided,
Harrigan continued, "What young miss Colleen has in ample supply is an
incredible beauty, but unfortunately she lacks the brains or at least the
common sense to use her charms wisely.  Our good friend, Mr.  Savarese, has
graciously agreed to inflict the much deserved punishment on our young
Colleen, and, to be totally honest, I've no idea what he has in store for
her."

   Again, another riotous cheer rose from the crowd.  The room was filled
with cigar smoke and as they cheered, the smoke swirled ominously about the
ceiling.  "And, ladies," Harrigan continued, "You best be paying close
attention, because this could happen to any of you." Now conspiratorial
winks, then pats and pinches on the behinds of the young ladies came from
the assembled men.

   Instinctively, the crowded room sensed the presence of Colleen.  They
all turned to see her being escorted to the front of the group by Rosie. 
As they reached "center stage", Colleen slowed, then turned to Tony
Savarese.  She approached him and Harrigan poised himself to intercept her,
should she have some strange notion in her head.

   Loudly, so that all could hear, Colleen apologized.  "Mr.  Savarese, I
am very sorry for what happened last night ...  I have no excuse for my
behavior.  Please, Sir, I would be honored if you would instruct me in the
errors of my ways." Her eyes were downcast, her countenance humble.

   The entire room was shocked into silence.  This wasn't the fiery Colleen
they all had come to know.  Tony Savarese was equally shocked.  He had been
spoiling for a fight, a struggle.  Momentarily, all the starch had
evaporated from him.  But, as he looked up into her beautiful face, he was
reminded of how she had turned on him the night before and his rage
returned.

   With a low snarl, he said to her, "Go to the chair and prepare yourself
for a good thrashing." Meekly, Colleen turned, approached the lone chair
and, with her back to the assemblage she pulled her dress overhead. 
Colleen was now clad in only her silk panties and high heeled shoes.  She
slowly turned, her hands clasped modestly in front of her and her ample
breasts were now visible to the onlookers.

   The energy level in the room rose several notches, although it was still
deathly silent.

   Tony stood and addressed the crowded room.  "I have a few ideas of my
own, men, but I'd like your recommendations.  What shall we do to this
wench?" Suddenly, strident voices began shouting.  "Give her the belt!"
shouted one.  "A razor strop!" "The bitch needs to feel a good switch!" All
manner of implements were shouted.

   Raising both hands, palms out, Tony quieted the crowd.  He looked to his
boss.  "Don Vitale," he asked, "How would you like to see this begin?"

   Without a pause, Vitale answered, "I would have thought a good, over the
knee hand spanking would have been the way to start." A cheer erupted and
Tony nodded in agreement and deference.

   He sat on the chair facing the crowd and without being told, Colleen
compliantly lowered her body across his lap.  She squirmed a bit, on her
own ensuring her bottom was well positioned.  Tony licked his lips, then
raised his right hand and gave a tremendous swat to Colleens right bottom
cheek.  She grunted slightly, then again, as he swatted her other cheek.

   Tony settled into a rhythm and alternately spanked each cheek with
vigorous swats.  Colleen could feel her bottom turn warm, then hot, then
uncomfortably hot and she was suddenly aware how much her bottom was
jiggling with each swat.  Her luscious breasts also bounced with each swat,
a fact that was not missed by many in the crowd.  Then as her bottom was
becoming very uncomfortable Tony stopped.

   Don Vitale had raised his hand and Tony stopped, a questioning, almost
pleading look in his eyes.  I'm just getting started, Tony whined to
himself, and now the old man wants me to stop!  "Tony," said Don Vitale, "I
thought you were going to spank Miss Colleen, not her undergarments."

   A lascivious smile broadened Tony's face as he hooked his fingers into
the waistband of the panties and peeled them to her knees.  The crowd
shrieked with approval as Colleen's pinkened bottom cheeks came fully into
view and Tony resumed the hand spanking.

   The sound of his slaps were much more sharp, now, as was the visibility
of the jiggling of Colleen's bottom mounds.  The young woman bravely
suffered the hand spanking although she wriggled and squirmed just a bit.
Her bottom was a hot pink all over when he stopped.

   "Mr.  Harrigan, sir," said Tony, "would you honor me with your
recommendation."

   "Certainly," nodded Harrigan, "it would be my pleasure.  Rosie!  Hand
Mr. Savarese the hairbrush that you have." Rosie scurried to the center of
the room and handed Tony the same hairbrush that had been used on her
earlier in the day.  Tony looked skeptically at the tool.  "I assure you,
Mr.  Savarese," said Harrigan, "that the implement is quite effective. 
Show them all, Rosie." She had half expected this, and was prepared.  Rosie
turned her back to the crowd and raised the hem of her dress, then lowered
her own panties.  The assemblage gasped at the sight of the large bluish
purple bruises.

   Nodding his approval, Tony tightened his grip on the wooden hairbrush,
raised it high and brought it down savagely against Colleen's bottom. 
THWACK!  OOWWW!  Hollered Colleen.  This little thing is pretty effective!
Thought Tony as he rained down a half dozen hard, nasty spanks.

   Colleen began to struggle and Tony effectively clamped his right leg
over both of Colleen's legs, keeping them in place.  Then, as the steady
rain of blows assaulted her aching bottom, Colleen tried to protect her
bottom with her right hand.  Tony neatly pinned it to her back with his own
strong left hand and redouble his efforts.

   She was crying outloud now, and her Irish temper surfaced.  "You sheep
pokin', hairy ape, guinea!" she screamed, "Let me up and I'll bugger your
bum with that feckin' hairbrush, me self!" The hairbrush rose and fell with
a steady rhythm, her bottom cheeks continuing to dance to the tune Tony
played on them, all to the accompaniment of Colleen's curses and threats.
Large dark splotches began to appear over her bottom, yet her curses
continued.

   Tony stopped with the hairbrush.  "It's about time, you sonofabitch!"
screamed Colleen.

   "Oh, we're not yet finished, you smart mouthed bitch," retorted Tony. 
"I'm just going to use something else.  Something that is more of my
favorite and something that you aren't going to like at all.  No, you won't
like it one bit!" Keeping her wrist pinned to the small of her back, Tony
stood Colleen up and escorted her to the setee.  "Joshua!" he called out,
and the enormous black man stood up from the piano and came to Tony. 
"Joshua, please place Miss Colleen over the setee so I can give her a good
whipping.  You'll need to hold her down.  I doubt she'll stay in place on
her own."

   "Yes, suh," said Joshua, who placed his large hands on Colleen's
shoulders and said to her, "Come along, Miss Colleen.  It won't do no good
to fight with ol' Joshua, I'se just too big fors you!" He gently, yet
firmly picked her up and laid he over the setee, her bottom up high and her
toes and nose at the floor.  Joshua sat in front of Colleen and held her
slim wrists in his massive hands.

   "Won't be needing these," remarked Tony as he peeled away the panties
that had slid down to Colleen's ankles.  He also removed the one remaining
shoe and tossed it aside.  Then, with all the panache of a master showman,
Tony removed from his jacket pocket a stiff piece of harness leather.  It
was about two feet long, and very, very stiff.  The crowd gasped and then
applauded their approval.

   Colleen tried to crane her neck to see what he had, but she couldn't. 
Joshua told her, "He's got a nasty lookin' piece of harness strap, Miss
Colleen.  No use lookin' at it, your goin' to feel all too soon." He had
been more prophetic than he could have imagined as the stiff leather
whistled through the air and bit into Colleen's swollen bottom just as
Joshua had finished his statement.  AAYYYEE!  Screamed Colleen as a wide
stripe creased her bottom.  Then another and another.  The pain was
incredible and Colleen could not help but scream out in pain, adding her
curses as she found her breath.

   "You need to learn better manners, Miss Colleen," advised Tony, "Maybe
these next few strokes will help in that regard." The leather whistled
angrily through the air and landed across both of Colleen's legs at about
mid-thigh.  She let out a blood curdling holler of pain, but he next lick
was already on its way, landing slightly above the first lines that
appeared on her thighs.  Again, another scream, then another stroke as a
full six cuts with the leather worked their way up the backs of Colleen's
legs.  The last vicious stroke landing just at the junction of bottom and
thigh.  The backs of her legs looked like twin barber poles, even though
Colleen was kicking her legs viciously.  She was going nowhere, Joshua was
seeing to that!

   Now Tony gave her a diagonal stripe that ran from the top of her left
buttock to the bottom of her right cheek.  Then he matched it with an
identical stripe running right to left.  "Please, stop.  PLEASE!!" begged
Colleen, tears running furiously down her face and pooling on the hard
floor.

   Tony leaned down and whispered in her ear.  "Next time I want to poke
your cute little bottom, are you going to give me any trouble."

   Shaking her heard earnestly, Colleen sobbed, "No.  NO!  Whatever you
want!"

   "I don't believe you, Colleen," he whispered again, then stood and gave
her two more fierce strokes.  By now, the new welts he was creating were
overlaying other fresh welts.  Again, Colleen screamed and cried for him to
stop.

   "Tell me something that will make me believe you, Colleen," whispered
Tony.

   "Please stop!" she sobbed.  "I'll do anything.  Anything!  Just stop."

   "I'm not convinced," said Tony.

   As he started to rise, presumably to inflict more pain, Colleen sobbed
out to him, "Wait, Please wait!" she gasped, and Tony knelt down to listen
to her.  Through her sobs, she said, "Bugger me now.  Then you'll know I
mean it!"

   Tony snickered, then answered, "Oh, believe me, Colleen, I am going to
bugger you, but not in front of all these people and not now." Then,
teasing her, he said, "Maybe I'll ask Joshua to bugger you right now."

   "If that's what you want," was all Colleen could sob, but as Tony looked
at Joshua, he could see in the big man's eyes that he wasn't too keen on
the idea.

   "No," said Tony, "What I want is to see you take four more strokes from
this piece of harness leather, and I want to see you take them and be still
with out Joshua's help.  Can you do that?"

   "Yes," she whimpered, "Please just stop if I take the last four!"

   "Joshua, help Miss Colleen up," ordered Tony.  The giant man stood and
gently helped Colleen to her feet.  As they stood, Tony addressed the
crowded room.  "Miss Colleen has indicated she can take the last four
strokes on her own and can stay in place for them.  If she can't, then
every man in the room can take her over his knee for a good paddling!" The
crowd roared its approval as Tony turned to Colleen.

   "I want you to kneel on the settee, and place your hands on the floor.
Bottom towards our audience, of course," he instructed.  The still sobbing
beauty did as instructed, but required some encouragement to space her
knees as widely apart as the settee would allow.

   He waited a long moment as Colleen became accustomed to her new
position. Joshua had backed away and was silently praying for her to have
the strength to endure just four more strokes.  The first angry caress of
the leather caught everyone by surprise and almost knocked Colleen off the
settee.  She did not cry out, but her sobbing grew more intense.

   The second and third strokes were similar, and Colleen's arms ached. 
She was not certain she could hold out on the last stroke without falling
over.  The audience screamed encouragement to both of them.  "Give it to
her good!  I want that haughty bum over my knee!" "Hold on Colleen, just
one more to go!"

   The last searing cut of the strap cut the air and bit angrily into the
junction of bottom and thigh.  Colleen screamed, wavered a bit, but held
on. Joshua rushed to help her up and Tony came forward to tell Joshua to
leave Colleen in place.

   "You made the agreement," snarled the gigantic man, his eyes blazing
fire from behind his dark face, "so you live up to it!" Tony backed down.

   Rosie rushed to help Colleen to the back and into her room.  She had
some cream that would soothe her tortured bottom.  Harrigan and Don Vitale
were shaking hands and Tony was talking to another voluptuous beauty.

   Joshua returned to the piano and began a lively Scott Joplin rag.  All
was right, once again, at Rosies.  
