IT PAYS TO ADVERTISE
by Jerry Howland

June 24, 1981 8:42 P.M. C.D.S.T.
46__ Pine St. ___________, Illinois

Marcia and Stephen were sitting on the couch watching the Cubs game. Actually, as was usually the case, Stephen was watching the game and his wife was reading a newspaper and glancing up just often enough to keep an idea of what the score was and how many innings were left. She had reached a decision and wanted her husband to say yes one more time. If he did, tomorrow she had decided she would write the letter.

She read the ad in the paper once again:

Gentleman, 44 yrs. of age, 6' 1" tall, 190 lbs. seeks females, married or single, who are in need of a firm father figure. Will provide spankings like you used to get or should have gotten. I am very experienced and very discreet. Toronto and S. Ontario.

The ad did not really say a lot, she decided, but it was the one she found herself reading over and over again. She, once again, scanned the entire page. Six green circles, made with a felt tip pen, looked back at her. She had read those six ads over at least ten times and all the other ads at least twice but always returned to the same one.

On the T.V. the annnouncer's voice had grown louder and drew her attention from the page. The screen showed a baseball bouncing toward the wall in the outfield with two cubs madly in pursuit. The announcer's voice, "...two runs are in and Smith is rounding third...he'll score... Hendrick is around second and on his way to third...the relay will not be in time and he is in with a stand-up triple...it's seven to two Cardinals."

Her husband's reaction was one that Marcia had seen many times before. "Shit!" he said and got up and turned the channel. Stephen lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply, and blew out a long stream of smoke." He should have got him out of there, " he said to no one in particular and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling.

Marcia had no idea who should have done what to whom but paused a respectable time as if to digest the wisdom of his remark. Deciding the time was right she began the discussion that in various forms they had been over three times in the past week.

"I decided on this one ad and was going to write a letter tomorrow if you're still sure you don't mind," she said, raising her tone at the end to make it sound like a question.

"It's O.K with me if you really want to."

"Well, all right, as long as you're sure, I'll put something in the mail tomorrow," she finished.

Stephen put out his cigarette and turned the channel back to the baseball game. As always the hope was there that he would find the Cubs with three runs already in and the tying runs on first and second with no one out. Instead, it was now nine to two with the Cardinals still at bat. He lit another cigarette and leaned back to endure the last three innings of suffering.

Marcia was sure of two things...yes, she really did 'want to' and, inspite of what he said, Stephen did mind, at least a little. They had talked about it for over a year. At first he had not thought she was serious and then, with gentle coaxing, agreed to 'see what they could find.' They had bought the paper at Christmas time while visiting Marcia's parents in Toronto. Since then, every month or so, they had talked about it. This was the third time he had agreed to her writing to someone and she decided that his agreement, not his enthusiasm, was as good as she was going to get. Tomorrow she would send a letter.

June 29, 1981 10:14 C.D.S.T.
THE UNITED STATES POST OFFICE, ________ Illinois.

Marcia stood before the slot marked out of town and forced her fingers to let go of the letter. With a slight 'click' she heard it fall to mix in with the others. It was gone...on its way with no way to stop it. She turned and walked back to her car. All the way home she thought about what the letter said. It was the fourth letter she had written. The first had been three pages long and she had been on her way to the post office to mail it when she had turned back. At home she had torn the letter to bits and thrown it away. It had said too much, she was sure, more than she had ever told her husband about some things and more than she wanted anyone to know. The next two letters were shorter...her age 27, height 5'4", weight 112 lbs, hair blond, and eyes blue. A few lines about when they would be in Toronto and a request for his phone number. Both of them had been discarded because, she felt, he would not know what she was looking for. The letter she had mailed was nearly four pages long. Gradually she had come to the realization that she had to tell him as much as she could. The desire for him to understand what she wanted, even though she did not understand it herself. She had written it all down...the spankings from her parents, which had seemed like a big deal at the time she was still considered young enough for this form of parental correction, but which were not much compared with what some of her friends got. The spankings from her husband which made both of them, especially her, so excited in bed afterward. She even told him about the time when she had been spanked so terribly hard by
her uncle. She had been sixteen years old at the time and had not been spanked
by her parents for over two years. It had been a terrible embarrassment and she
had kept it a secret from her parents, her husband, and everyone else for over ten years. All the details were now in the hands of the mailmen on the way to a person she did not even know. She was sure she must be crazy.

July 18, 1981 12:40 E.D.S.T.
46 __ Pine St. __________, Illinois

His letter had arrived. Marcia had been on pins and needles for nearly two weeks. The first few days had been no problem. She knew a reply would take at least a little while. Two days for her letter to get to the magazine forwarding department, and then another two or three days to reach him. After that a day or two for him to write and another two days for his letter to get to her. A week had become two weeks and then nearly three. She looked at the return address: Mr. Kurt Van Neff, 64 __ Thompson St., Toronto, Ontario, 1E6 L2P. Anxiously she tore the letter open and read.

My dear Marcia:

I must make an apology if the time it has taken me to reply to your letter has caused you unnecessary worry. I felt it necessary to examine your letter very carefully to arrive at an understanding of what you were seeking and, more importantly, a determination of whether or not I could provide it.

Having now gained that understanding I shall give my assurance that I am quite capable of providing what you need.

To this end I provide my telephone number below. I shall anticipate hearing from you in September when you and your husband make your visit.

Regards,

Mr. Van Neff

Marcia read the letter again. It almost sounded like she had written to ask about a laundry problem and he had decided on a special soap. Had he understood at all? Again she read and, as the meaning of the words became clear, she was left with the feeling that he understood her better than she understood herself. He had "determined what she needed." No request for a call to talk further...no asking for her thoughts on the matter...'he had determined,' and requested her to call so that he could deliver. Marcia felt, suddenly, as if she were standing on a busy street corner, totally naked, with every idea she had ever had made clear to anyone who took the time to glance at her. She was thrilled to the depths of her soul. He knew! Her letter had not put what she was seeking into words but she was sure that he was the right person. The fantasies she had lived with for so many years were now shared with a person she had not even met. Marcia folded the letter and put it in the pocket of her jeans. She returned to doing the housework with her thoughts a million miles away.

When her husband arrived home Marcia mentioned that the letter of reply had arrived. By this time she had read the letter at least ten times and examined every word. The first flash of excitement she had felt had gradually been replaced by a touch of fear. Since her early teen years the fantasies had always been there. She didn't know why then, and was not totally sure now, where they came from or why she had them. She was sure, however, that it was as much a part of her as her blue eyes. To be spanked...spanked hard...by someone (No! Not just someone. A man.) who would not stop until her bottom was on fire. Did Mr. Van Neff know that was what she thought about? Marcia could not really be sure, and more importantly, she was no longer sure she wanted him to know. Her husband read the letter without a lot of enthusiasm. It was still an idea that he didn't much care for, but seeing the look of expectation on her face, and not finding anything in the letter he could really object to, he agreed that they would call him when vacation time arrived and see where it led.

Sept. 8, 1981 3:36 P.M. E.D.S.T.
A small summer cottage on the north shore of Lake Matawaska in Southern Ontario, Canada.

Marcia had finished unpacking and now was taking an inventory of what food was on hand. A whole cupboard and now was taking an inventory of what food was on hand. A whole cubbord full of canned goods and another which would provide just about everything they would need for the two week stay. The "few things" that her mother had told her were in the freezer had, typically, turned out to be enough meat to feed a family of ten for a month. Just a trip to the store every three of four days for bread and milk and they would be all set, she decided.

Her husband was down by the lake taking inventory of what he considered to be the most important supply, gas for the outboard motor. Marcia knew that, as long as he had bait to fish with and enough gas to get him to the places he liked most, such things as food would not be very high on the list of what was most important.

Marcia sat at the old kitchen table and thought about the decision that would soon be hers to make. She knew, of course, that if she wanted her husband to say he was against it she would only have to tell him that she was unsure about the idea. He would decide it was better to wait. She also knew that if she showed no sign of having changed her mind he wouldn't say no. Was she really sure? No, she decided, and she never would be sure even if she waited another ten years. She was equally sure that if she let the chance slip away it might be more than ten years before it came again. She must do it! Tonight she would remind Stephen again and then call Mr. Van Neff. The subject had not been discussed with her husband in nearly two months. She had not brought it up so that he would not have the chance to change his mind, and, she suspected, he had said nothing in the hope that she would forget about the whole idea.

Sept. 8, 1981 8:27 P.M. E.D.S.T.
The Cottage by the lake.

Marcia tried the phone number at the bottom of the letter again. She had tried
every half hour since seven o'clock but each time there had been no answer. Each time the disappointment had been greater. She knew that soon Stephen would suggest they go to bed for the night. At dinner when she had very gently reminded him of their agreement of two months ago he had made clear that he still did not like the idea and did not want anything to do with it. Again she had coaxed him back. It was 'just for her' and 'just this once'. Finally he had agreed. Now, it was nearly eight-thirty...this call and maybe one more before they went to bed for the night. The telephone at the other end rang once...twice...and was answered by a deep voice halfway through the third ring. After confirming who he was Marcia explained who she was and reminded him of his letter with instructions to call when they were available. Yes...he had remembered and hoped she would call. As chance would have it, he would be visiting friends about thirty minutes drive from where she was the day after tomorrow. He would be staying the entire weekend and was sure he could find more than enough time, on some occasion over the weekend, to slip away and visit her. At his suggestion she gave her telephone number and he agreed to call when he would be about to get away, to make any further necessary arrangements and to get directions on how to find the remote cottage. She had thanked him and he had said no thanks was necessary. She had said good-bye and he had said how much he hoped to see her over the weekend and good-bye till then. And then, almost as an afterthought, had said, "Oh, and Marcia, I will be bringing my hairbrush with me." Marcia had not known what to say, and could not seem to get her breath anyway, so she was silent. "Did you hear what I said, Marcia?" Finally she managed a "yes". He said good-bye again, hung up the phone, and after a short time, after realizing she was listening to the dial tone, Marcia hung up.

Her husband immediately asked what had been said and, leaving out his reference to a hairbrush, Marcia related the conversation between her and Mr. Van Neff. Stephen was pleased. Nothing was definite. The call had been made but the actual meeting that he was still not in favor of had not been arranged. Feeling better than he had since dinner, he made the suggestion that they got to bed early. Marcia readily agreed finding that his idea, which she had feared fifteen minutes earlier, was now what she wanted most. Although it was early for them to retire for the night, it was well after midnight when an exhausted Stephen finally fell asleep. Sleep came slowly to Marcia and with it came dreams of a tall older man. Big and quite strong looking. In the dream Marcia had tried hard to see his face to find out who he was. The image was always a little too blurry. Was his hair grey? Or was that just the light? She couldn't tell. Just a very large man with something in his hand.

Sept. 9, 1981 10:40 A.M. E.D.S.T.
The cottage by the lake.

Finishing up the last of the breakfast dishes, and noticing the beautiful sunshine, Marcia decided it was an ideal day for a swim in the lake, and a few hours in the sun, for what would probably be one of her last chances before the long Chicago winter.

The water was still warm, even if the nights were already getting colder, and the sun, as she stretched out on the blanket, felt wonderful. There was not another cottage for at least a half mile in either direction and Marcia could have, if she wished, shed all of part of her two piece bathing suit. It was not an idea that occurred to her. She had once, with some girlfriends, made the concession to open the top half of her suit while lying carefully on her stomach, in the sun, at the beach. The other girls had done so first, and she had not wanted to seem afraid and draw their attention. Had she thought of the idea now she would have rejected it. People did not 'just take their clothes off'.

Her thoughts were of Mr. Van Neff. He wouldn't call today, of course, but he might call tomorrow. If not tomorrow, for sure on Sunday.

The idea of what she should wear occurred to her. She did not know why, but the thought was second nature for her, as it is with most women. What to wear to the theater is important. What to wear to a party. The idea that she was wondering what to wear to meet a total stranger who was going to spank her did not seem out of place. Since she had no experience with what was considered 'proper' for such an occasion, she decided to ask Mr. Van Neff when he called.

The day grew warmer as the sun climbed. A glance at her watch confirmed what she already suspected. It was past one o'clock. The fishing must be good...good enough to make Stephen forget about lunch...as he often did.

Her thoughts turned back to Mr. Van Neff and the phone call of last evening. Not much really. The conversation would have been much the same if they had been making arrangements to meet for dinner. Then she remembered his last few words, "I will be bringing my hairbrush." The words had surprised Marcia when she heard them. Not so terrible unusual, she thought. Lots of spankings were with more than just a person's hand, even if none of hers had been. Didn't most men like the feel of their hand on a woman's bottom though? And Mr. Van Neff was certainly large enough to spank her quite soundly with his hand. That was one of the reasons she had been attracted to his ad. Why did he need a brush? Would it hurt more than his hand? She decided it probably would. Gradually her mind put the pieces together. He could, of course, spank her quite hard with his hand, but because a hairbrush would hurt more, he would use that.

Doubt reared its head. He had been talking about a very hard spanking. Her mind thought back to the ad, @/like you used to get or should have gotten!@? it had said. Marcia was sure that what he had in mind for her was much worse than anything she had had. Even the one from her uncle had been with his hand. It had hurt a great deal. She had only thin pajamas on at the time and had he slapped very hard. She remembered how much it hurt. She had cried for nearly an hour when it was over. Mr. Van Neff was much larger than her uncle and likely a lot stronger. Suddenly the idea of him using a brush on her bottom caused more than anticipation. There was fear. It would hurt. Hurt a lot, if she was right. If it hurt too much could she make him stop? Probably he would be too strong for her, but maybe Stephen would make him stop. She decided...yes...Stephen would protect her and immediately felt better. There was really nothing to worry about.

Sept. 9, 1981 7:10 P.M. E.D.S.T.
The cottage by the lake.

Marcia was standing at the sink doing the dinner dishes and watching the sun sink lower toward the lake. The radio was on and she heard the forecaster say that tomorrow should be much like today. Out in the yard she saw Stephen carrying a can of gas down to the boat. The same thing he did every night so that he could be off as early as possible after breakfast.

The movements seemed natural until she remembered that tomorrow was Saturday. Mr. Van Neff might call tomorrow. Had Stephen forgotten. She decided, and hoped, that he had.

When he was back in the house, not much later, Marcia gently 'wondered out loud' if Mr. Van Neff would call tomorrow. She watched Stephen's face for a reaction but there was none. Marcia decided to probe further and asked how late he would be getting home tomorrow evening. She had hoped to hear that he would be home for lunch and spend the rest of the day at the cottage. But no, Stephen said he thought as long as the weather was good that he would spend the day and be home for dinner about six. The thought occurred to Marcia, for the first time, that perhaps he had meant what he said about 'having nothing to do with it.' It was also possible that he wanted to frighten her into changing her mind. The question had to be asked, so she did and was more that a little surprised to hear his answer. If Mr. Van Neff called it was up to Marcia what to tell him. If he could stop by in the evening when Stephen was there that was if if that was how she wanted it. If he could not come in the evening it was her choice of what to tell him. Marcia was shocked, but then saw the twitch at the corner of her husband's mouth. Not a smile, but the start of one. He had been thinking about more than fish when he was off in his boat, she decided. He was convinced that when the time really came she would not go through with it unless he were there. Marcia was less sure and would have hated to have to ask him to stay home after so much coaxing and promising for his approval. 'Just for her' she had told him when she wanted his approval and now he had turned her words against her.

Sept. 11, 1981 9:32 A.M. E.D.S.T.
The cottage by the lake.

Marcia was still in bed. She had not slept well or very long the last few nights. One minute she decided that she would not meet Mr. Van Neff unless Stephen were there, and the next minute, changed her mind. The phone had only rung once on Saturday. It was her mother calling to be sure that all was well. That meant today was the day. Maybe she would change her mind again or maybe he would, and decide not to call. Marcia rolled over and fell into a light sleep.

When the phone rang she was awake in an instant. She had lifted the receiver and said hello before having time to think. Has she been awake the thought had occurred to her that she would not answer the phone and, therefore, not have to tell him yes or no. That option no longer open, she listened as he explained that he was leaving his friend's shortly for the long drive back to Toronto. He was planning to stop and see her on his way and would be there in about one hour if that were convenient. Not knowing why, and never having made a final decision that she was aware of, she found her voice saying it would be fine while another part of her brain seemed to be shouting no. She had calmly gone on to give directions on how to find the cottage and her mind whirled for something to say when he read the directions back to her.

Finished he inquired if there was anything else and Marcia found herself, feeling stupid, asking what she should wear. She could hear his slight laugh before he inquired what she was wearing now. She told him she was still in bed and only had one of her husband's shirts on. She did not say that she usually slept in nothing at all but the cottage heating system was not set up for really cold nights. Calmly, he told her that what she was wearing would certainly save time, but since they had never met, perhaps she should put something on before he arrived. She would feel very strange meeting a stranger at the door dressed as she was, he said, and asked if he was correct. Marcia said he was right. He told her to put on whatever she felt comfortable with and said he would be there in about an hour. With that he said good-bye and once again Marcia was left listening to a dial tone.

She sat in bed and thought about the call just completed. She had been one of the persons talking, and yet, the whole conversation had seemed a thousand miles away. When had she decided to say yes, she wondered. She did not remember deciding. It did not matter now, he was on his way. My God! Stephen was not there. She must call him back and tell him to come later. Slowly she realized the only phone number she had was in Toronto. He was much closer than that, and getting closer all the time as she quickly got out of bed. A quick shower, she must hurry.

The water was warm and comforting and she felt better the minute it touched her skin. She was over reacting she decided. He had laughed on the phone. She did not remember why he had laughed but she was convinced he was not as stern as she had thought and perhaps would be just what she wanted when she answered the ad those many weeks ago.

It was not until she had dried herself off and put her bra on that she glanced in the mirror and remembered why he had laughed. It came like a dull thud and left her mouth dry. It would 'save time' if she only had a shirt on, he had said. Oh, God! he wanted to spank her on the bare. He couldn't. She couldn't let him. Only her husband and the doctor had seen her like that and she still dreaded trips to the doctor. Stephen would never have allowed it to go that far, of course, but he was gone fishing. She finished dressing and made an absolute decision. No matter what it would not be on her bare bottom. She just could not stand that. She would let him in and take the spanking no matter how much it hurt...but not bare.

Sept. 11, 1981 10:20 A.M. E.D.S.T.
The cottage by the lake.

The drive had taken less time than she had thought it would. She heard his car...then saw it coming down the dirt driveway from the main road. She had met him at the door and let him in. He had seemed very normal, commenting on the fine weather and saying what a lovely cottage it was. Marcia had said little.

Finally had come the part she was ready to fight over. He had told her that she knew his reason for coming and he now wanted her to remove her jeans and panties and get over his knee.

Marcia felt frightened, but tried to keep her voice as calm as possible as she explained that she would accept a spanking but could not possibly allow him to spank her bare.

He seemed to be in complete agreement and with this assurance, and a good deal of fear, she had placed herself face down across his knees. She had even obeyed him when he told her to put her hands behind her back, and then gripped her wrists in his strong hands. All this was done calmly.

He was also calm when he spoke. His words filled Marcia with dread. He explained that his ad said he gave spankings like she should have gotten and he always believed in spanking a bare bottom. He reminded her that his letter had promised to give her what he had decided she needed. What she was to get, he said, was fifty spanks with the hairbrush on the bare bottom. He would give them to her when she had taken her pants off herself. For now he would give her twenty on the back of her legs. He was then going to ask if she was ready to take her pants down.

With that the first spank fell. First one leg then the other. Marcia yelled, then threatened, then pleaded. When the twenty on her legs were finished he again asked if she was ready to take her spanking properly. Marcia's legs hurt. All of the spanks had been just below her bottom and the jeans had not been much protection. Still she could not bring herself to let this stranger see her the way he wanted. She cried no as she heard him say that he would see of another twenty on her legs would help her change her mind.

The second twenty were much harder. Much slower and each one seemed to sound like a gun when it cracked against her legs. After ten she was crying and after fifteen promised she would do anything if he would stop spanking her legs. He had asked if she was ready to take her pants off like a good girl and she promised she would. He had given her the last five anyway. Each as hard as the others with a long pause between. Marcia's only thought was how much she would like to take her pants off and not be spanked on the legs anymore and she promised to do so again and again.

When he let her up, Marcia just grabbed the top of her thighs and cried. It hurt so much and the sting would not stop. When he told her to take her pants off she did not resist. The pain gave her no trouble in acting her part. She was a naughty girl who had to be punished. If she refused to take her pants down and have her bare bottom punished he would be angry and spank her legs some more. Still crying she took them down and off.

Her only thought as she obediently got back over his knee was to not be spanked to hard and she voiced this plea again and again. she even promised to always behave as he took hold of her wrists again. What had never been clear as her fantasy was like like gleaming crystal in reality. She only hoped the spanks would not be hard.

They were. Marcia found out, very painfully, why he had insisted on spanking her bare. It had stung on the legs through her jeans and eventually grown quite warm. Bare, each spank felt red hot the minute it landed. The first twenty had been delivered to the sound of pleas of 'no more' and 'not so hard' from Marcia. She had struggled all that she was able, but had no chance to escape. Long before he was finished she had no words left and just cried. Her arms were too tired to fight for freedom and it was only one of her bare feet which would kick up when a spank found a particularly tender place.

Sept. 11, 1981 3:16 P.M. E.D.S.T.
The cottage by the lake.

Marcia woke up. She had a thought, for an instant, that it had been a dream. She had experienced dreams before and knew that they did not hurt when you woke up, so she knew it had all been painfully real. She could feel her bottom twitch. It still felt very hot and very sore in some places, but she found it was something she could bear. She was sure she must be black and blue all over. she made her way to the mirror to see, and was surprised to find no bruises. A dark red, almost purple, color to be sure, but no area seemed much worse than any other. She wondered how long it would look that way, and more to the point, wondered when the pain would stop. She laid face down again and fell asleep.

Sept. 11, 1981 7:58 P.M. E.D.S.T.
The cottage by the lake.

Marcia felt a familiar touch, then a kiss on her shoulder. Stephen must be shocked. she carefully rolled part way on her side before she realized that he had not turned on the bedroom light. He didn't know! He kissed her and rolled her on her back and even though she did not raise her hips for the reason he thought, the end result was still the same. That she made more noise when he pushed down into her just excited him more. Marcia, feeling the need to not have her still sore bottom pushed down too hard, pushed back.

The end result, which Marcia was sure was due to the after-effect of the spanking was the best either of them had ever known. A half-hour later, it was even better.

Dec. 20, 1981 5:42 P.M. E.D.S.T.

The apartment of Mr. Otto Van Neff.

Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

Just home from work Mr. Van Neff sat down in his favorite chair to open the mail. A Christmas card from Marcia and Stephen. How thoughtful...and a note on the back. They were well and looking forward to next years vacation. In the meanwhile, did he ever visit Chicago?

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