Seoul Spankings by Anastasia Vitsky Page A

nostrils with the stink of beer and cigarettes. What would he say?
    Girl on girl. Hot.
    The phone rang, a gentle love ballad at least two decades old. She rattled off a string of angry-sounding Korean, but paused midway. I heard my name followed first by surprise and then concern. She gave her phone to me, and I fumbled with the sleek, lightweight gadget.
    “It’s your auntie grandmother,” she said. The gymnast in my chest fell off the balance beam, and my heart sped up. Who could it be but Great-Aunt Matilda, who had landed me in this mess?
    “Hello?”
    “Indi!”
    Before I could answer, a switch clicked, and a small buzzing sound came from Hyunkyung’s hand. No. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t, not while I was on the phone!
    She wedged a soft bit of silicone inside my panties, and she tugged on elastic straps and metal snaps until the humming intrusion rested just under the most sensitive part of my clit. I stifled a scream, shoving at the straps to take away the distraction.
    “Got your message. This better involve blood and ambulances, my girl,” Great-Aunt Matilda rasped with her usual brusqueness.
    “Oh!” I let out a ragged breath as the vibrations increased. “Can I call you back? I’m a little busy now…. Oh my God!” I lurched forward as Hyunkyung snapped the tip of something rubber against the back of my leg. The jolt of pain, combined with the pleasant warmth flooding my core, awakened every last sensation in my already-alert body.
    “Say my name,” Hyunkyung cooed into my ear, drawing the riding crop in circular patterns up and down each leg. “Say it correctly, or I’ll switch the butterfly to pulsating. And tell you not to come.”
    I nearly burst into climax at her words, but I gave Great-Aunt Matilda a rattled good-bye before hanging up.
    “That was not well done.” Hyunkyung tsked, taking the phone back. “I did not give you permission to end the call.”
    “Hi-yahn. Huh-yahn. Heeyunkyung!” Desperate for relief, I babbled every possible combination of syllables that might be close.
    “It looks like you don’t have sufficient motivation yet.” She reached back to unzip the top of her dress, allowing the white collar to billow around the tops of her shoulders. A red satin bra strap peeked out from either side, and my mouth watered at the creamy, delectable cleavage. I felt as if I should pinch myself. Could I be plain old Indigo Adams, former barhop and newly unemployed?
    “Say my name the right way,” she said, “and I’ll unzip my dress another few centimeters. Say it wrong, and I’ll spank you with my crop.”
    “Oh my God.” I writhed. How could she make me choose only one?

 
     
     
Chapter One
     
     
    Twelve hours earlier….
    “When she shakes your hand, support your elbow with the other,” Miss Cha urged for the tenth time. “Don’t squeeze too hard, and don’t get familiar.” She loosened the ties on the back of my bolero jacket and patted them into place. “Don’t show your teeth when you smile. Don’t laugh too loudly.”
    I tottered forward on sky-high, chiseled black heels, praying I wouldn’t fall on my face in front of Hyunkyung Han, the director of Han Incorporated. She could give me a job to end all jobs, or she could send me home on the next plane.
    “Miss Cha,” I whispered. “How do you say her name again?”
    “Ee Sajangnim,” the petite woman replied, confusing me once more.
    Great-Aunt Matilda had promised an interview with Hyungkyung Han, but this woman had a different name. No one could explain the discrepancy in the rush to prepare me for the meeting. When I showed up in my tank top and cut-off denim shorts, shivering after the twenty-four hour trip from Spillville, Iowa, Miss Cha had gasped in dismay and strode into the airport shop to purchase a new outfit. She insisted I put it on, and I understood once I saw the sleek limousine. I couldn’t show up at Daddy Warbucks’ mansion looking like Little Orphan Annie.
    Great-Aunt