From the Top Shelf - The Tenant

This is a short story by Matthew Martin about a very manipulative landlord.

The Tenant

I could see that she was desperately keen to have the flat. Owing to the various rent control acts and the idiotic persecution of landlords by successive governments, there was an acute shortage of furnished accommodation in London, especially for young unmarried working girls. When I advertised the place in the 'Rentals' column of The Times giving only a box number as the address to write to, I had over fifty replies. From these I made a short list of twelve (you can tell a lot about people from the sort of business letters they write) with whom I communicated either by post or telephone to give more particulars or ask more questions...

In the end I arranged to interview the six applicants who appeared most suitable, taking into account social background, education, intelligence and earnings (which had to be enough to pay the rent). They were to meet me on the premises one evening arriving at half-hourly intervals. The last to appear was a girl I shall call Jean. Aged 25, as she had told me in her letter, she was a pretty brunette on the small side (which I prefer) and with a nice figure. She was dressed to kill in silk shirt and white linen trousers and used all her charms to convince me that she was the ideal tenant I was looking for - quiet in all her habits, very tidy, punctilious in all her money dealings, with excellent references - and also (though of course this should have played no part in any decision) she was very attractive.

"Oh do let it to me" she pleaded, "It's exactly what I want and you've done it up so well." As she spoke she fixed me with a sparkling gaze and the eager expression of a child begging for a sweet.

Other things being equal I usually reward the most attractive applicant - not only physically but with the pleasantest personality. I had been rather taken with two of the other interviewees, both of whom were keen to rent the place, but Jean's enthusiasm swayed me in her favour. It was as though she was trying to will me into accepting her as my tenant. Such determination, I felt, deserved to win - and might also perhaps, make her more willing to pay the price.

"All right," I said, "You've got it. I'll sign you on." It didn't take long to complete the formalities. I had two copies of the printed tenancy agreement with me and we filled them in together, sitting at a table with details of rent, length of lease, method of payment, etc. I made her sign one copy, and also write a cheque and a banker's order in my favour; the cheque for the first month's rent in advance and the order for the monthly installments. I had decided to charge no deposit for once. Jean followed the proceedings with mounting excitement and I sensed her mood of exultation...

She had done her part and it only remained for me to add my signature to the tenant's copy of the agreement which would entitle her to take possession.

With my pen poised I leaned back in my chair.

"Wait a minute," I said coolly. "There's something we've forgotten."

From joyful anticipation her expression changed to one of surprise and alarm. Was the prize to be snatched away from her grasp at the last minute?

"Forgotten?" she repeated anxiously.

"Yes, the key money."

"Key money? What's that?"

"Haven't you heard of it? In these days no furnished flat changes hands without the payment of key money."

"But what is it for?"

"Oh just a little bonus given to the sitting tenant by the one taking over."

"I see." She sat with eyes lowered, looking dejected, then raised them and asked how much it would be.

"Well it's usually about three months' rent on a yearly lease," I replied, "but I'd accept two from you."

"That's another four hundred pounds. I just haven't got it."

Her voice had dropped almost to a whisper, and the change in her attitude from jubilation to utter despondency was so tragic that my heart began to soften. However I had made my plan, it had worked so far, and I was resolved to go through with it - or at least put it to the test.

"Too bad," I said, " But perhaps we might come to some arrangement." At this her spirits seemed to revive but she looked at me curiously.

"How do you mean?"

"Well you could pay in kind, couldn't you?"

She looked at me, first in bewilderment, then with understanding, and finally with an expression of contempt.

"So that's the catch," she said angrily. "I suppose that was in the small print you told me I needn't read. But I wish you'd told me sooner. It would have saved me wasting my time."

She got up from the chair where she had been sitting, picked up her bag and, avoiding any glance back at me, headed for the door.

"No, hang on," I said, "That's not the catch. You're jumping to the wrong conclusion. I'm not trying to get you into bed with me, although no doubt that would be very enjoyable."

She turned and glanced towards me, her expression still hostile.

"Then what do you want?"

"Instead of paying me key money I want you to let me spank you."

I expected at least surprise, if not shock, but there was none. It seemed there were few girls who were not au fait with the erotic context of spanking even if they had no experience of it.

"So that's it," she said coldly. "Another kinky."

"Call it that if you like. Personally I consider myself a perfectly normal man. I have been happily married for more than thirty years, have four grown-up children and a loving relationship with my wife. Spanking is a hobby, that's all. If I spot an attractive bottom I like to explore its... possibilities, and yours has definitely taken my fancy."

"It seems I'm being blackmailed."

"Oh I wouldn't say that. After all, one good turn deserves another. I rent you the flat, which you're dying to have and you bare that lovely bottom which I'm eager to spank. A fair exchange don't you think? Incidentally has it ever been spanked before?"

"...I had a boyfriend who wanted to do it but I wouldn't let him."

"Why not? You might have enjoyed it."

Her nose twitched in distaste. By now she had become more relaxed again. "Well to begin with it would hurt. And then..it's kind of degrading. I mean to be treated like a naughty child."

"Aren't you ever naughty?"

"I don't think so."

"Well haven't you been using your sex appeal to soften me up from the moment you came into this room? Aren't you wearing those skin-tight pants for effect, showing me every inch of that curvaceous bum? Isn't that selling yourself?"

She gave a smirk of self-satisfaction.

"Well, who doesn't - if you've got it, flaunt it. What's wrong with that anyway?"

"Nothing, from your point of view. But I think it's naughty and I'm going to punish you for it - and pretty severely."

"Now hold on. I haven't agreed yet. I'll have to think it over."

"OK but be quick. I promised the other two an answer in 24 hours. Each of them is ready to sign on the dotted line. So you can sleep on it and let me know in the morning."

"Have they agreed to pay this key money?"

I grinned. "I didn't ask them for it."

Her mouth dropped open and her cheeks reddened. "But that's not fair. Why not?"

"Their bottoms held no attraction for me. One was too skinny and the other was too fat. Yours is just right. It's a peach and I'm shameless I know. I can't wait to get my hands on it."

...She looked at me with an expression halfway between defiance and amusement.

"You'll have to wait. I haven't decided yet."

"Oh yes you have. You're not going to lose the chance of a flat you've been dreaming about for six months just to spare your pretty bottom a good warming up!"

She put out her tongue and nervously licked her lips.

"If I've got to go through with it, I'd rather get it over."

"No chance. Thinking of what is to come is part of your punishment and a hell of a lot of my pleasure. Besides you might change your mind. So ring me in the morning."

As she preceded me towards the front door I had a good view of her rear. Rather small, but plump and perfectly rounded, the two buttocks formed an undulating motion as she walked, alternately raised and lowered in a gentle rhythm. The temptation to touch her was irresistible. When she stopped at the door I laid my hand on the curved surface and let it rest gently. She turned her head sharply and glared at me indignantly, but her lips were trembling and, in a second, broke into a half grin. I knew then that it was in the bag.

The next day, as can be imagined, I didn't get through much work. As expected, Jean phoned me early to say she had accepted my proposal and that I would meet her in the flat that evening. "No trousers please and no tights underneath either," I told her. "Wear your shortest skirt, some nice knickers, a suspender belt and stockings."

For the rest of the day my mind could contain only one thought; that of the moment when the lovely girl would be prostrate across my lap, skirt up and knickers down, proffering her delectable little bottom for the attentions of my palm. However I had not yet decided how far I would go with her.

Although I had plenty of experience of CP it was always in a mild form. I am naturally a rather gentle person and never liked the idea of hurting anybody seriously. In any case the pleasure I take from flagellation derives as much from preparation as execution; overcoming the resistance of the victim, enjoying her act of submission, relishing the dread of the pain, then revelling in her humiliation as, with nerves quivering, she obeys the ritual commands; to take down her knickers, to bend over the table, to spread her legs, etc. Probably my pleasure reaches its peak when the last garment is removed and the luscious globes are left naked for my eyes to feast on.

Having reached this point of satisfaction I would usually let the girl off lightly, with perhaps a dozen hard smacks of my hand on each of her cheeks, followed by a dozen with the strap covering both of them, and ending with six moderate strokes of the cane. This would leave a hot and smarting bottom, coloured all over a bright pink, but only slightly marked and leaving no lasting discomfiture.

In administering beatings to submissive females I had always erred on the side of leniency, partly because of a fear of doing injury. I had been told in no uncertain terms by one lovely young lady that I was 'too soft by half' and that women were well padded enough to handle considerably more than I was dishing out, so I decided to try out my new 'hard man' approach on young Jean.

How will Jean react to the 'hard man' approach? You will have to wait until next week to find out.