Realtors, estate agents, they seem to have a charmed life, the gift of the gab. Doing a few showings, waxing lyrical about someone else's home. Pocketing a hefty commission for doing very little. But Barbara Wilson was going to earn her fee this time...

Mr Smith taught me everything I know about real estate, and how to sell houses. He lived by two maxims.

"The customer is always right.

"Be truthful, but do what it takes, whatever you have to. Just make sure you get the sale."

Which is why I find myself here. My smart suit discarded; silk blouse hanging from a branch; Italian heels scuffed walking the woods. My hands secured round the tree with my own Herm├Ęs scarf. Vulnerable. Helpless. Barefoot. Naked.

Waiting for the customer. Despite everything my nipples had sprung, grazed by the rough bark; I was moist below. The gentle breeze brushed my hair. Birds twittered in the trees.

I could hear the client somewhere behind me, breaking off some young branches from the trees, stripping leaves. Getting a switch ready, green, pliable. Perfect for my ass.

Coming closer, maybe she is ready. Not that sure I am.

The swish of an experimental stroke through the air. Again, louder I can hear her breathing. Sense the switch held high. Silence. Pause.

Swish.

"Yowww." That hurt, panting for breath.

"One, thank you Ma'am."

When she had first walked into the office with purpose and intent. She had a notebook in hand. Over coffee we chatted and I learned a little of her, of her requirements.

Over the years I had also become adept at reading notebooks upside down. A list of counties, half of Tennessee the western half. And a few I wasn't sure about, perhaps Mississippi. Some had already been crossed through. An extensive and far-ranging search then. Not one driven by access to the right school or a specific commute, not tied to a community to be near family. Just finding exactly the right property.

Swish

"T...two, thank you Ma'am."

She had detailed her requirements. A very specific style of property rather than a location. A search with purpose. Six acres would be cramped, ten acres perhaps overreaching. Out of the way, but not hunting or fishing country. A main house, something imposing. The rest she could add later. A project, with purpose. Money then, she held herself like there was more than she could spend, even if her clothes seemed ordinary. Smart but ordinary. With significant money. Resources but discreet.

An enigma.

I had asked her about places she had already been, especially the places she had rejected, asked her why? She was precise in her information.

"Three, thank you Ma'am."

I was panting now, trying to ease the pain of that last stroke, to rub my ass, but my hands were tied securely. I wanted to rub something else as well.

She was expecting to build on part of the land, but still have the main house as a focal point. I had joked, "Like servants' quarters and pony stables."

She had been deadpan, "Kind of".

"Four, thank you Ma'am"

It had started as a joke, but the switch was now getting serious, painful.

I had showed her some brochures, some of the properties on our books. Too small. Too near town. Overlooked by the neighbours. On a busy road. No mains water.

So something with connections - water, drains and electricity. This was not to be a reclusive homesteading backwoods self-sufficiency. But creature comforts with discretion built in. A private luxurious space.

The pile of rejects grew.

"Just plain ugly.

"Private enough except the lake frontage - every boater can see.

"Too small."

We had a small, too small, list of maybes. Showing her round would start the next day, 9am sharp.

Sheeesh. Will this pain never end?

"Five, thank you Ma'am."

Viewings began.

"No good, interior rooms were too small, barely enough room to swing a cat.

"Too far out of town.

"Too open, not secluded enough.

"I guess I need to move onto Hickman county"

That was Kentucky, I was losing her, someone else would help her; find her dream house, take the commission.

"Six...thank you...Ma'am." Struggling now, but that ache between my legs.

I had suddenly been inspired - the old Miller place. Not strictly on my books, or not just mine. Half a dozen realtors had been trying to sell it for at least as many years. The bank owned it at present, been trying to sell.

It was a sad story - it had been built just before the Great Depression, David Miller just about finished it and then lost his business. He and his bride had only ever furnished about a quarter of the rooms. Never got a chance to host the lavish entertainments they had planned. It was built in the antebellum style but with modern facilities, some grand rooms, at least on the architects plans. They had lived there for a few years.

During the war it had briefly become a hotel for weekending officers and their wives, close enough to an Army camp to make weekend passes a meaningful pleasure; not in town where the enlisted men were rowdy. But when the army camp closed so had the hotel, it was too far from the main highways for passing trade. Not close enough to the really good fishing and hunting country to appeal.

It was too big for a family, perhaps too big for this woman, A lot of work to clear trees, and saplings.

"Owww", although she had made a good start finding this particular sapling.

"Seven, thank you Ma'am."

We had to track back part way toward town. I did warn her as we drove that it would need substantial work, although that was reflected in the price. You can no longer see the house until really quite close, most of the way up the drive. It sits on slight rise, a deep verandah and a matching balcony right across the front. On one side Miller had built the shell of a ballroom for his wife, but they never finished the interior. There was a snug and office on the other side for him. Eight bedrooms, plus the master suite, more if you use the servant's attic rooms.

She had looked hard at this place, perhaps she could see something everybody else had walked away from.

"Eight, thank you Ma'am."

Tears and mascara were running down my face. I could feel juices running down my thighs too, It hurt like hell, but in a nice way, so nice. Please make this stop. Don't stop.

I had made a deal with this woman, I had to see it through.

"It will need a lot of work to sort it. Fell a number of the trees, clear some space for buildings, fit them all to the mains, water, so on. Would not be cheap. I need a good starting price for the property..."

"What is the purpose, Ma'am?"

"Nothing fancy, a small training facility not a big place. A few small classrooms, modest dorm spaces. But not for young, not for rowdy sorts. These would mostly be more mature entrants, short courses, a few months. Strictly residential, disciplined, intensive courses. Strict rules about staying on campus.

"Do you think I will get consent for the building work?"

"This place has been empty for years, as you see. Not exactly an eyesore, it is tucked away and out of sight, but I am sure the County will be pleased to see it brought back to use. I am sure they will want the property taxes too. So, yes, I am sure the consents would be forthcoming."

"Very well."

I was so pleased I kissed her on the cheek, she turned in and kissed me firmly on the lips, my heart fluttered, my clitoris somersaulted as she held me to her ample breasts longer than necessary.

The relentless swish through the air, the line of pain on my naked ass.

"Nine, thank you Ma'am."

"Mind, I think the bank is cheeky - that asking price is steep, too steep. Not for something that is basically a fixer-upper. I will only offer ____."

There was quite a gap, I was not sure.

"I can put it to the bank, see what they say. Try my best, but not sure they will agree."

"Perhaps I can offer you an incentive, help you try harder?"

"If they accept my bid, then more than a kiss..." Her hand cupped my breast, I blushed as my nipple responded. There was a look of lust her eyes, I am sure mine were the same, I wanted to taste her pussy.

"But if they reject it, I'm going to tie you to that tree, and take a switch to your ass."

My heart was fluttering, nobody had whipped me since Momma. This woman. Tall and powerful looked like she meant business.

My heart was fluttering as I made the phone call. I was really positive to the bank, I don't think they had received an offer for years. Several realtors across western Tennessee had tried to sell the Miller place, all had failed. Now I had an actual offer for it, me of all people.

Despite all the challenges the bank came back with a counter offer.

"They want to meet you half way."

She was cool about it.

"Not really, not with all the extra work."

I was about to lose her, the bank stuck with this useless asset forever. I tried to persuade the bank, nothing.

"So, the bank won't deal, but you did, you made a deal. Time you paid the price.

"Strip, girl."

I was scared, yet I trusted this woman. Something about her way of being patient but resolute. Patient before, but decisive now. I slipped off my jacket. Birds tweeted.

And here I am.

"Ten, oh... thank you Ma'am." She really let go with that one, all her skill and experience.

Where did she learn that?

She untied my hands, kissed me, hugged me close, my ass was on fire. Settled on a fallen log. My ass is too tender to sit beside her, on my knees at her feet.

She opens her legs, I need no second invite, kissing her legs working my way up, she is excited and ready. I taste honey.

"Ma'am, let me try the bank again. Give me a few days. I know they have not had an offer in years. They are usually reasonable, maybe I can talk them round."

"Very well you have one week, back here, Same deal. My original offer, mind, not a penny more. Or I give you another whipping."

I wasn't sure she would be here. I had arrived early, eager. Then the flash of sun off chrome, I stepped from the car.

"Ma'am, good news. I had several talks with the bank. In the end they accepted. Accepted your original offer. Great news. Yes?"

"Great news, indeed. I knew you had it in you to make a good deal. Just needed the right motivation. But secretly you are disappointed too? You enjoyed last week, the breeze on your naked skin. The switch. You want it all again."

I blushed as she took my hand, pulled firmly.

"Yes Ma'am. Yes, Mrs Stone."

https://getrevising.co.uk/revision-tests/s-14

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https://geizhals.de/?sb=305068,,,9732155 & pg=7 & p=9732155#9732155

https://comicvine.gamespot.com/forums/off-topic-5/first-thing-that-pops-into-your-mind-when-i-say-573615/?page=1821

https://www.goodreads.com/author_blog_posts/14715057-man-s-invention-of-god

https://blog.goo.ne.jp/sofakawi/e/7acba020a7cef22ada9fdc063d001efb

https://preisvergleich.golem.de/?sb=65895,,,9732172

https://godotengine.org/qa/user/pekiliyo

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https://glamrap.pl/filipek-nie-podoba-mi-sie-zbytnio-rap-b-r-o/

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