Monday, 28 July 2014

Striping Tigger

(Another edited version of an old post.)



Veronica!

For over thirty odd years now I have wondered what her name was. To my friends and I she was only ever known as Tigger. Not that she ever knew that we called her that, she got the name from us by the fact that she more often or not, wore a t-shirt with a tiger's face on it.
It was nineteen seventy seven, or maybe even early nineteen seventy eight, what I do recall was that I was about seventeen. Seventeen or so and drinking underage in The Mount, we would always go there early each Thursday night just as the disco was starting.
When you went early on the staff were perhaps a little more relaxed about the drinking laws, glad of the custom maybe. Later in the night, as the room started to fill they were more picky about peoples ages.

Of course if you had been there necking back pints of lager since seven o'clock, they could hardly ask your age at nine o'clock. It was an odd strategy on our part, but a strategy none the less that did seem to work. As you can imagine the room at seven was fairly thin on the ground with people, fifteen, or twenty at the most on most weeks.

Veronica, as I now know her to be called, and her two friends were always there. She looked older than us, somewhere between nineteen and twenty three; I was later to find out she was our age, so really out of our league. Not that she was stunningly beautiful, but she had something about her, a kind of sexiness borne from confidence. Whatever it was I know we all lusted after her, more so when she danced, of course none of us did anything about this lust. Well not until I got up the nerve to dance with her.

The disc jockey seemed to play a tape every week, probably songs that he liked, as he sorted out all his vinyl records. I assume it was a tape as it was always the same songs in the same order. As soon as the opening bars of David Bowie's Sound and Vision came on, Tigger would be up on the floor, dancing quite happily on her own as Bowie's voice filled the room.

Once that track finished, she would either sit back down, or go to the bar for another round of drinks. One particular Thursday I decided I would join her on the dance floor. A brave thing to do, for if she turned her back upon my clumsy gyrations I would be left standing there in abject humiliation in front of my sneering friends.

She didn't turn her back.

She smiled; she also, didn't sit back down as the song finished, we danced to a further three more tracks before the DJ reverted to the staple diet of disco music. It became very much a bit of a ritual from then on, each week I would dance with Tigger!
Each week we would smile at each other, but each week we would return to our respective friends without a word passing between us. Shyness masked by bravado was always a problem with me in my teens that and the fact that I could never make up my mind if the signals being sent out were genuine or a mickey take. So I danced with Tigger but nothing more.

Now though here she was, sitting opposite me in my office, when I read the name it meant nothing to me, but as soon as she walked in I recognised her. Not that she would remember me, or if she did, she would certainly not recognise me. The lanky boy with the long blond hair had now been replaced by a bald middle aged man looking like an ex nightclub doorman.

"So how can I help, Veronica, you don't mind me calling you Veronica do you?" I asked trying my best to sound professionally detached.

"No, of course not, after all it is my name." She replied, and I nodded as we sat on our facing chairs. "I'm not even sure that you can help, to be honest I don't even know what is wrong with me. As a matter of fact, I think I'm probably wasting your time.

"At some point though, you decided that counselling would be a good idea?" I ask, trying to keep eye contact with her evermore nervous wandering gaze. "Or you wouldn't have taken the step to make an appointment in the first place."

"It was one of my friends who said counselling might help," She said, with an uncertain, weak smile. "it's since my daughter moved out, now I'm living at home alone my life seems to lack any focus or purpose. Maybe it's a late midlife crisis, but whatever it is it's affecting my work as well as my private life."

"It's affecting your work, in what way?" I ask still trying to catch her elusive eyes.

"I'm not meeting deadlines," She says, and I notice her blushing slightly. "and I'm finding myself distracted easily."

"Deadlines? Do you work in sales?" I ask her, finally drawing her gaze.

"No, I'm a writer." She said almost apologetically.

"Really! What is it that you write?"

"Historical romance," Now she is really blushing. "bodice rippers are the colloquial term for them. Not bestsellers but they pay the bills."

"So you are finding it hard to find the time to write, is that the problem?"

"No," She said almost laughing. "I have more time on my hands now than I've ever had. I just basically don't do it. I get side tracked, sidetracked very easily."

"In what way do you get sidetracked?"

"I have to do a lot of research on the internet, once I get online I wander all over the place." Now her face is beetroot as she tells me this.

"So you are looking for some kind of....remedy.... for your distractions?" I ask struggling a little for the right phrase.

She nods glumly; then I notice she seems to drift off into some dream world, then gives a little hollow laugh.

"What's funny?"

"Oh, nothing really, I was just thinking back to when I was at university." She said the redness reappearing on her neck and face.

"Yes go on... when you were at university?"

"Well... it was just... well," Veronica struggled to find the right words. "you know, my parents... sort of motivated me."

"Yes, they motivated you." I nodded for her to continue.

"Well my mam, even though I had left school... she sort of kept up... you know," Her face bright red now. "let's just say she was old fashioned about behaviour and studying... come on I don't have to spell it out do I!"

"Do you mean she spanked you?" I asked half in disbelief. Just the thought of the super confident, sexy Tigger going home after a Thursday night out to face a spanking, was causing me to have an unprofessional physical reaction.

Veronica nodded glumly, then said. "Sometimes... she would cane me too... if she thought I had really overstepped the mark."

"This was when you were at uni?" I asked still getting harder at the extraordinary idea of it.

"Well yeah, I went to Durham, so I just used to bus in I stayed at home.... no staying in a castle or halls of residence for me."

"So you found at the time this discipline helped you with your work?" I asked, still half thinking that this was all a wind up on her part.

"Yes. It gave me a sort of a solid base... do you know what I mean, I had set guidelines and rules that I had to either, follow or face the consequences. Now my life is anarchy, no one to answer to in any way may sound great, but it leads to bad lifestyle choices. I saw a comedian talking about living alone, saying he could get up at ten o'clock in the morning then watch early morning TV drinking wine, all the audience laughed at the thought of it, I didn't laugh as I've done that..." Veronica said now on the verge of tears.

Then a mad, mad, thought crossed my mind, before I could really think it through I articulated it to her. "So some sort of a return to a similar regime you think could be of help to you?"

She looked startled by statement, not in shock though, more sort of with a desperate hope in her eyes. "How?" She asked me.

Quickly, probably too quickly. I formulated a plan, a disciplinary regime that she would have to live by, all ideals or professional ethics on my part had long since flown out the window, as would my career if this became public. She agreed to emailing me a minimum of one thousand words per day of the book she was currently working on, any back sliding on this could incur a punishment. She left me looking a lot happier than when she came in. For my part, I just sat there thinking.

"God what have let your self in for this time Tom?"

The first two weeks went by great; the book wasn't to my taste, but she certainly knew how to write a tale, to be honest I more than half hoped that she would fail in some way, as I always had more than a mild curiosity toward spanking and CP. Then on the second Sunday I received no email from her. So, on the Monday morning I sent her an email.

---------------------

Hi Veronica.

I hope all is well with you, as I don't seem to have received Sunday's email.

Yours Thomas.

---------------------

Monday night, I received an apology, and a very badly written three thousand words littered with grammar and historical plot errors.

Tuesday morning I sent her another email.

---------------------

Hi Veronica.

I'm sorry to see that you are not taking this seriously; you have just earned yourself a spanking for this coming Saturday.

Yours Thomas.

---------------------

To my surprise, the reply I received was a heartfelt apology wherein Veronica accepted her fate. I had never really given this whole idea a realistic chance of actually taking place; I looked upon it as at best being a notional deterrent, it would seem Veronica saw it differently. For all her well meant apologies, and promises of doubling up both the quality and the required amount of words she failed badly.
Wednesday came and went without any email; Thursday's input was again lacking in her previous quality. I had no choice but to nominally at least up the ante. Late Thursday early Friday, I sent her this email.

---------------------

Hi Veronica.

I'm sorry to say that I am not in the least bit impressed by your output or should I say lack of output this week. So to add to your already allotted punishment on Saturday, you shall also receive four strokes of the cane.

Yours Thomas.

---------------------

This email I thought would be the one that brought her crashing back into reality, the idea of such punishments for a fifty year old woman, would make her see sense and buckle down to some real work. Her answer both thrilled and shocked me. Instead of looking upon my suggestion as the nonsense that I perceived it to be, she again apologised and agreed to my proposed chastisement.

This left me with a bit of a problem; it is one thing to threaten someone with a caning. It is another thing altogether to carry it out, more so when you aren't in possession of a cane. I had only one day to correct this.
The way I saw it was either a journey into one of the Newcastle sex shops to try and purchase a suitable instrument, with all the embarrassment of going into such a shop. Or I had the DIY option of buying a selection of bamboo rods from the gardening section of Focus.

I chose the coward's way, so instead of a fine looking crook handled cane of comic book fame, I ended up with half a dozen thin yellow rods. I admit not as aesthetic as the first option, but no doubt just as painful across the rear. I weeded out the most knobbly ones as unsuitable and kept the two smoothest, then got to work on practising my swishing skills on an old pillow. I also had what was supposed to be a quick bit of research on the internet into domestic discipline; the minutes soon turned to hours, as I waded my way through a plethora of articles, stories and even videos.

Was this perhaps what she was referring to when she said she was easily distracted?

Her books, though never explicit held an undercurrent of suggested corporal punishment. Her current work, and also some of her earlier stuff was littered with phrases such as, "the house was ruled by the rod", "the butler was feared throughout the house by all the maids" and "he was, a fair, but firm employer". Of course, it could be me reading too much into her writing, or maybe there was an underlying need within her?

Veronica was due at my house at one thirty pm; I arose at six o'clock in the morning, and the whole morning was spent watching the clock in a mixture of both anticipation and disbelief that this was actually happening. Just before one fifteen the doorbell rang, I quickly pressed play on my CD player remote, as a kind of homage to our more youthful meetings I had put on David Bowie's album Low.
I opened the door, and Veronica stood there in a long summer dress that came to her knees, a mixture of purple and blue splashes with a broad black belt across her still slim waist. I thought that maybe the length of the dress must have an attempt by her to save her blushes as she bent herself over my knee. As she walked into the room and heard the sounds of Speed Of Life, she laughed and said.

"This used to be my favourite album to do my homework to, and my college work!" I said nothing; I wanted to talk of tiger t-shirts, but I held my tongue.

"Well, Tom. We might as well get this over with... I suppose."

I shrugged my shoulders and tried to act cool, though my heart felt like it was about to burst from my chest, like Ridley Scott's Alien. I led Veronica up to my back bedroom; this room had no adjoining walls to my neighbour's house. Even though I had half expected Veronica to be no show, I had prepared the room just in case. A chair from the dining room by side of the bed, three pillows on top of each other at the foot of the bed, blinds drawn and windows closed. Veronica's eyes darted around the room; she looked like the condemned from a B movie.

I sat down on the chair; she put her shoulder bag on the bed next to me. Then to my uttermost surprise, she started to pull up the hem of her dress, almost as if in a trance, her eyes closed tightly as she tucked the hem into the belt around her waist, exposing to me her pale blue knickers. As she carried out this almost ritualistic action I could see that not only were her fingers shaking, but her whole body seemed to be almost shivering in either shame or excitement. Then once her dress was securely trapped beneath her belt she went to her bag and started to fumble through it, eventually retrieving a lipstick which she handed to me, then broke her silence.

"Mam always used to put a line across both cheeks... then would spank me till my bottom was that colour." She said to me though her eyes were pointed towards the ceiling.

"But you're... wearing... er.." I fumbled for words trying not to state the obvious.

"Mam always used to pull them down herself... it sort of adds to the.. you know... shame and stuff." Veronica stumbled out her words.

This was an invitation that I did not have to receive twice. As my fingers went to the waist band of her knickers, I could both hear and feel her gasp as her tummy contracted at my fingers touch. Slowly I pulled down her gossamer thin underwear that in truth would have offered her no protection whatsoever.
As it was in a direct line with my eye level, I couldn't help but notice her full natural, but surprisingly wispy bush, and the hint of the fleshy folds below it. She quickly scrambled over my lap once her underwear was at her knees.

I cast my mind back to our youth, the idea of a half naked Tigger being over my knee for a spanking. God I wouldn't have slept for a month at the thought of it!

I then drew a line across her full but still quite firm buttocks. I'm not really a person for knowing different colour shades, this was not pink, and it was not really red either, but I knew I had quite a bit of hue changing to do to make these pale orbs the same colour. So I set about doing just that, firmly not harshly though. I developed a sort of four beats pattern to put it into musical terms, it was sort of one, two, three, then a change cheeks on four and repeat.

After, about three minutes or so of this, her bottom was indeed changing colour, but still though the lipstick mark stood proudly against the now hot skin around it. By now Veronica was squealing and squirming around on my lap, her legs kicking up such a fuss, so I hooked my right leg over the back of her knees pinioning her in place as I tried to finish of her request. All this movement of her naked pubis upon my groin was having a reaction that must have been just as evident to Veronica as it was to me.
She surely could not have failed to notice my sexual excitement, though she wouldn't know that is was born of over thirty years of forlorn, unrequited lust. Here I was now, with the target of so many nights of my teenage dreaming, half naked across my knee.
The focal point of all those adolescent musings here almost at my fingertips, all it would take was a slight lowering of my hand, to move from her bottom to those inflamed lips below. However the two of us struggled through our mutual torment till Veronica's cheeks reached the required colour, and the lipstick stripes blended in fully with the adjacent skin. I then helped her back to her feet and said.

"I think five minutes reflection in that corner, then you can take your caning." I could hear the sound of David Bowie drifting up the stairs imploring someone to be his wife.

"Please can I come back tomorrow... I'm sore." Veronica said, rubbing vigorously at her bottom, each rubbing movement forcing her hips and her pussy toward my face, all her former coyness replaced by the wish to drive the heat from her stinging hot bottom, I held back from the temptation to lean forward and kiss, and said.

"Would your mam have put it off for a day?" She didn't answer, only shook her head sadly as she made her way to the allotted corner of shame.

Those five minutes!

They seemed so long to me, but no doubt so short to her. It was so odd really once I told her the time was up, without any argument she came to the foot of the bed and placed herself over the pillows. Her bottom now hoisted high, her anus and glistening pink full sexual folds on display, caning her was not what sprang to my mind as she lay there so temptingly presented, but I had a task to do and had to be professional about it.
I didn't want to hurt her, but also I didn't want her to think she was getting off lightly either; I had to somehow, strike a happy medium. The first stroke landed and seemed to cause the correct level of discomfort, I watched as it made a white line on her now quite rosy cheeks, then waited to see that white line turn to an almost purple wheal. I nodded to myself that seemed to be the happy medium that I was looking for I kept more or less that the same power for the next three strokes, blocking out her sobs and pleas till she had received all four strokes. I then helped her once more to her feet and led her back to the corner for a further ten minutes corner time.

As she stood there her back towards me, her fingers tentatively feeling at the cane marks, I couldn't help but have a little wry smile as I thought, "A nicely striped Tigger!"

THE END

Sunday, 27 July 2014

Dressed For Punishment

An earlier post, re-worked and loaded in its entirety.

(Inspired by seeing a girls unusual choice of office wear on my way to work on a summer's day.)



Amy woke up again, and looked at her bedside clock, 5.59, she moaned, and leant over to flick the alarm switch onto disarm. The night had been a fitful sleep, the heat in her flat making sleep hard, even naked she couldn't settle. It was one of those nights too cold to sleep on top of the bedclothes, and too hot beneath them. Then of course there was the other thing, the other thing that had been playing on her mind since yesterday lunchtime, she swallowed hard, her eyes closed, as she thought of was about to happen today. It was no good worrying about what was to come; she just had to get up, and get on with it. Whatever the day was to bring was all of her own making. After a very quick shower, she found herself with time on her hands. It was way too early to make her way into Newcastle. The idea of missing the rush hour appealed, but what would be the point, the office wouldn't be open, so anything she saved herself by travelling on an empty Metro would be wasted by having to stand in the square waiting for the office block opening.

Getting a taxi crossed her mind, but that would be more expense, and depending on today's outcome, an expense she could ill afford. Breakfast she thought, but her stomach was turning, and she dare not risk it. She could always look on that website again, but that would be like self torture now, now that a mild fantasy was about to become a stark reality.

A coffee and a ciggies, she could stomach that. Just.

After putting it off for an hour, she opened her parcel that her boss had given her, and read the note.

Dear Amy.

Please find enclosed your clothing for today. This is to find out if you can actually follow any instructions given to you. If you choose not to wear these garments, I will take it that you are handing in your notice, and any monies owed will be forwarded to you. Remember this is all your idea, so don't complain about today's outcome.

You will notice there is no underwear in this package,t hat is because you are not to wear any today. (I will be able to tell) I have enclosed a brolly should there be rain, no coat to be worn, only wear the clothes enclosed, and whatever shoes you think best suit for today, I would recommend trainers.

Amy looked inside the package and sighed. Black leggings and a thin white cotton t-shirt bearing the legend "Little Miss Naughty". What could she do but put them on?
The t-shirt was too tight; it fitted, but left too little to the imagination, and only just covered her navel, but what could she do?
The leggings seemed very thin, almost like dancers footless tights, but what could she do?
Looking at the bathroom mirror, she felt silly, dressed for aerobics, not for work, but again what could she do?
Leaving the brolly, as the day was set for another sunny one, she picked up her handbag and left her flat. Entering the lift, she looked at herself in the full mirror that took up all of the back wall of the small lift. She looked at herself and bit back the tears. The extra harsh lighting inside the elevator made her see now how she really looked. The leggings under this light were transparent; her charms open to be seen by whoever chose to look. Staring at herself in the mirror, she reflected on the events that brought her here. There was really no doubt that they were all of her own making.

On the previous Monday morning, at work at Mowbray Advertising, she was running off some work on the printer when it stopped working. The printer was in the IT office; the door clearly marked, No Food Or Drink Allowed In This Office, she ignored the sign, after all she would only be in for a couple of minutes max. Placing her can of coke on the new server, she tried to see what the problem was with the printer. Everything seemed OK, perhaps there was a lead loose. Going down on her hands and knees, she checked that all the leads were plugged in correctly.

Then it happened. A large spider ran across her hand; she jumped up in horror and stepped back quickly, her elbow catching her can, sending the black sugar laden liquid into the server. She stood dumbfounded; the server had only been put in last week, and she watched as the flashing lights seemed to die in front of her eyes. "Shit!" She cried out. Not knowing what to do, she made her way to Tom Mowbray's office, the main partner in the brother and sister business. Knocking on the door and entering Amy stumbled out the explanation of what had happened to her forty six year old boss. Tom sat behind his desk and shook his head, then raised both hands to his head to massage his balding temples.

Finally,he spoke. "I'm sorry, Amy, I'm going to have to ring Joan and tell her what has happened. She is going to want your head for this, she is always telling you all about the IT office. She will want you sacked, even if it's just to make an example of you. Not to mention the cost of having the server repaired, and then the data being put back into it. Again."

Amy knew that Tom was right, Tom's sister, Joan, may be the junior partner, but she was a right tartar, and a stickler for rules, unlike her easygoing elder brother. Then it came to Amy, a flash of desperation, a straw to clutch at. "Mr Mowbray," she said meekly. "could you not punish me yourself, in some other way?"

The two of them looked at each other, eye to eye, each waiting for the other to blink. The idea though was not as mad as it would seem, two months earlier Sue, one of the other girls at the office announced- "Tom's kinky!" to everyone in the outside ciggie shelter. Apparently Sue had been using Tom's PC, and he had either forgot, or couldn't be bothered, to clear his browsing history. "He keeps going on a site called Spankingtube, in work time as well!" Sue said beaming. "I don't know what it is, but it has to be a bit kinky with a name like that."

Everyone started laughing, everyone that is except Amy. Amy could feel her face redden, Sue had unwittingly hit a nerve with Amy. Since her early teens, Amy had been fascinated, and turned on by the idea of spankings, and now it looks like her boss has similar tastes. Or of course Sue could just be making it up?
That night when Amy got back to her flat, she rushed straight on to her laptop, to see if this site even existed. Indeed it did, her eyes were opened that night. So many of her dark fantasies being lived out in front of her eyes. Most were short clips, a minute or less; some though were real cohesive mini stories running into ten minutes to a quarter of an hour. She was hooked, no more soaps for her now, her early evenings were now spent watching naughty girls getting their bottoms warmed.

It is one thing though to have a fantasy, quite another to live it out for real. Finally, she blinked and looked away from Tom, her eyes falling to the floor. She sniffed back a tear, it had been worth a try, then Tom spoke again.

"Amy, have you told anyone about your little mishap with the pop?"

Amy shook her head, a lone tear tracking down her left cheek.

"Well don't then, I'll try to work something out. I have to warn you though, you are looking at a severe chastisement."

The elevator door opened, snapping her back to the present, as she walked along the corridor she dreaded the coming journey. "Severe chastisement?" She thought to herself; she had seen plenty of them, if only on the screen of her laptop.
"Laptop?" Is that how he was going to spank her? Bent across his lap like a naughty girl, like the naughty girl that her t-shirt proclaimed her to be? She could feel her face burning up again at the thought of it. Then she felt her stomach start to churn, as she walked out onto the street. What if he decided not to spank her over his knee?
What if he just cleared his desk, and made her lie back on it, and spanked her in what the Americans called the diaper position?
In these tights, her sex would be clearly visible, in the right light even her pubic thatch could be made out. She stifled back a sob at the thought of it.

Perhaps he wouldn't spank over her tights!

Maybe he would reach under her bottom, and ask her to lift up her hips, so he could slowly peel down her tights. Then she would be really on display; nothing hidden in that position; he would be staring straight down at her open sex. Looking at her traitorous pussy, damp and glistening, giving away her true feelings. She felt a wave of nausea cross her, but also she could feel the rough cotton rubbing against her erect nipples. She tried to walk quicker, to shorten her time in the bright sunlight, hoping for the sanctuary of the dark underground station. The faster she walked though, the more her nipples rubbed. The more her nipples rubbed, the more she was aware of their erect firmness, and the more aware she was, the harder they became. It was a self-perpetuating vicious circle. Finally, she made it into the station, and down the steps.
She took up at the end of the platform, and waited, praying that the train would not be full. Her prayers weren't answered; the train pulled in, and was standing room only. She got on, making sure she was last on, so that she could stand by the door for the short one stop journey. Now she had the dilemma of how to stand, or rather what to show to her fellow commuters. It was a simple choice, face the door and flash her arse, back to the door and flash a camel toe, and also her now hat peg nipples. She chose to let her fellow passengers see the delightful roundness of her bottom.

Then the train burst out of the darkness to cross the river Tyne, the bright morning sunlight flooded the carriage from the eastern side, making it clear to anyone who chose to look that she was indeed pantyless under those sheer tights. No sooner had the train been in the sun, than it returned to another underground burrow. To Amy that half minute seemed like an age.
An age of utter embarrassment!
The train pulled into the station underneath Central Station, and she leapt from the carriage as quick as she could. Then hung back, letting the bulk of the commuters go on ahead, knowing only too well what awaited her around the corner. She swallowed hard; the escalator had never before looked that long that steep, or that well lit.

As Amy contemplated the escalator, Tom Mowbray looked out of his office window sipping his coffee as he watched the activity in the small square below. He knew of course that Amy wouldn't come in to work today. If it had been one of the other girls, Sue perhaps, she may have just brassed it out and come in. Not Amy though, the shy little brunette would be in tears at just having to walk through the city centre in the clothes that he had given her. Still, it had been a bit of a lark, with Joan on holiday he could get away with his little joke, never having any real intention of sacking the silly girl. The server hadn't been badly damaged anyway; only the on/off switch burnt out, all the data was still there.
Though that didn't stop Tom putting a load of stuff onto an external hard drive, and then deleting it off the server. Just on the off chance of Amy actually coming in to the office, it would be like lines at school, a purely pointless exercise, he reasoned with himself. Also having the offices to themselves was no problem, as he and Joan had decided weeks earlier to have the office closed today so the staff could watch England play in the world cup. Of course, England being knocked out by Germany put a bit of a damper on that idea, but Tom had decided to declare it a holiday any way to thank all of the staff for being so hard working through the computer change over.
Also, just in case, he had put one of his Newcastle United slippers in his briefcase, because you never really know for sure. He had toyed with the idea of sending her over the road to one of the two sex shops to buy a paddle, or even sending her along Railway Street. The thought of her bobbing in and out of the timber merchants along there in search of a cane, dressed in those clothes amused him greatly. Of course though it was all just fantasy.

"Ah she'll never turn up!" he said to himself, just before he saw a small figure in black sheen tights, walk through the tunnel leading into the square.

For Amy the short walk from the Central Station had been a nightmare, once she had got out of the station, she found an area darkened by the shadows of the Victorian arches. She managed another quick ciggie there, the very thought of trying to go to Starbucks, as was her norm in the morning, made her feel physically sick. The idea of having to walk past all the usual suspects who would no doubt be sitting outside, she just couldn't stomach, even though she didn't know any of them, they were all used to seeing her, but never dressed like this.

Of course though, at some point, she would have to leave the shadowy comfort of the station, and face the effects of the bright sunlight upon her leggings. She had decided that to walk as quickly as possible, would be the way to get the embarrassing trip over with the soonest. So off she strode, up towards the suntrap of Times Square. Just before she reached the square, she caught a glance of two girls and a guy that she half recognised as working in the same office block as herself, crossing the road to her right. If the effect that her mode of dress, and the glances it was acquiring were not bad enough, what she heard next brought dampness to her eyes.

"Hey, look!" Amy heard one female voice from behind her say. "Oh, my god! It's enough to put me off my sausage bun!"

Another female voice said. "What must she think she looks like, and it looks like she's commando!"

Amy forced herself to walk faster, to get out of earshot dreading overhearing any comments from the male of the trio. Finally she reached the refuge of the tunnel leading to her workplace, now it was just a quick fifty yards or so to the office entrance. Fifty yards till she would have to face the nameless old security guards leering stare, he was bad enough on a normal morning but dressed like this!
Amy's supposition was not unfounded, as she walked through the glass doors to the shared foyer the guards eyes seemed to be out on stalks as he watched her walk in, and then followed her as she made her way up the stairs to the first floor. Half of Amy hated his lecherous looks, but to her surprise another part of her loved the extra attention that her new office wear was garnering her. Upon reaching the seemingly empty offices of Mowbray Advertising, Amy knew that at least one office would not be empty, that of Tom Mowbray's. Heart in her mouth,Amy,knocked upon his door. Equally as nervous though trying to hide it, Tom said overly loudly.

"Come in!"

Meekly, Amy entered the lions den.

"Thank you for coming in on such a glorious day, Amy." Tom said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "It would seem that I guessed your size perfectly, but we really should have a little uniform inspection. Don't you think?"

Amy stood in silence though, in her heart, she knew only too well what instruction was coming next.

"Hands on top of your head, please, Amy."

Dreamily, with shaking hands, she complied with his instruction, knitting her fingers together on top of her head, and standing up straight and proud waiting for his uniform inspection.

Tom Came out from behind his desk and approached Amy. "I will have to have a word with old George downstairs, and ask him to turn down the air conditioning, you seem to be a little cold," Tom said as his finger trailed over Amy's hard erect left nipple.

Amy felt her face burning up at both his observation, and his delicate touch.

"I'm very pleased to see that you followed my no underwear instruction, these leggings leave so little to the imagination, don't you find?"

Again Tom's question was met by silence; Amy merely swallowed hard and closed her eyes.

Walking behind Amy, Tom could feel his heart drumming in his chest as he looked at her sheen covered, rounded buttocks, he couldn't not give them a little pat to test out the feminine softness of those beautiful orbs. They were so soft but with a toned firmness giving a clear delineation between the buttocks and the tops of her thighs.

"Beautiful," he whispered to himself, but loud enough to catch Amy's ears. "Amy at some point today, it maybe this afternoon," Tom said regaining his composure, "or it may be this morning, I will call you in here for your well earned punishment."

Amy nodded, again gulping in fear or perhaps anticipation.

"Until then, I would like you to input the files that your little accident caused us to lose, I'll call you later." Tom then gave Amy's bottom the lightest of slaps to send her upon her way.

Amy sat, keying in on her computer, waiting for Tom's call. Waiting for Tom's punishing hand. Waiting there in her office dressed for punishment.


PART 2


As Amy sat at her desk in nervous expectation, re-keying data and awaiting Tom's call, Tom sat at his desk in total bewilderment, what to do now?
He had never even expected the young clerk to arrive at work this morning, less so to come in wearing the ridiculous clothes that he had provided for her. There were odd little things in her behaviour that had also caught him unawares. The way she now called him Sir all the time, the way that she put her hands on her head so compliantly and unquestioning. It was almost as if she too was living out her own fantasy. Or was Tom reading too much into the situation, was it all just so much wishful thinking upon his part?
He was now on the horns of a dilemma, what was the girl expecting to happen next, and how far to take things with her?
To pass up on this opportunity to spank Amy, to let her off with just doing the pointless keying would be one option. The option that Tom knew to be the most sensible one to take from the legal point of view, but it still struck Tom that Amy was, in fact, expecting, perhaps even craving corporal punishment of some sort. If indeed she was expecting a spanking, was she expecting it to be over her leggings, or with her leggings down or even removed for that matter?

The road to an industrial tribunal for sexual harassment seemed to be already well trod upon, so would he by suggesting a bare bottom punishment make matters that much worse?

Tom looked at his watch then realised that he had spent almost two hours thinking over his predicament. It was no good; it was now time to take the bull by the horns. He strode purposefully from his office to the outer office and said to Amy, "Would you like coffee or tea?"

"Er, tea, please, sir, a little milk no sugar." Replied Amy, taken by surprise by Tom's question. She had been expecting something far more ominous.

"Do you want to pop out for a smoke, Amy?" Tom asked, now feeling foolish at his impotence, for he had got this far and then fallen at the last hurdle.

"Er... no..., Sir I'd rather not today." Amy said, blushing and indicating with a wave her current dress and forcing out a smile. "I'd much rather not."

"Well you could sneak off to the ladies; there are no smoke sensors in there, I promise I won't tell if you don't." Tom said in a conspiratorial tone. "It will be like being at school again!"

To a certain extent it, to Amy it was indeed like being at school again, as she drew deeply on her cigarette. This was being at the school of her hidden fantasies, the school where bad behaviour was treated with a very sore bare bottom. The school where, well for today anyway; Tom was the headmaster, the headmaster that was keeping her in wait for her well earned, well yearned for punishment. She took her last draw upon her cigarette and threw it into the toilet. "I wonder how long he will keep me waiting?" She said to herself as she flushed the bowl.

Back in his office Tom had now decided upon his course of action, at eleven o'clock he would call her in here, he looked again at the clock on his desk, forty five minutes to go. At eleven fifteen, Tom picked up his phone and rang Amy's extension. "Miss Mathews, can you pop in now please?"

"Yes, sir! Right away, sir!" Was the reply that he heard in his receiver.

Amy knocked on Tom's door before entering. Politeness? Or another bit of fantasy play?

Neither party really new for sure.

"Before we go any further, I was wondering what you took severe chastisement to be, Miss Mathews?" Tom asked the small brunette in front of his desk.

"Well..." Spankings! Canes! Paddles and leather tawses, Amy thought to herself but replied. "I don't really know, Sir, I suppose whatever you feel fit. After all, I did make a huge mistake." Amy said her eyes now looking down at the diamond pattern blue carpet.

"Well anything less than..." Tom said, then cleared his throat with a nervous cough. "a really harsh spanking would be letting you off lightly, don't you agree?"

"Yes, sir." Amy replied glumly, still avoiding any eye contact with her soon to be chastiser.

"Also, I wonder do you think that you deserve the benefit of having your bottom covered?" Tom asked, biting the bullet of possible future litigation.

"No, Sir I don't deserve any protection against your hand." Amy whispered almost inaudibly.

"I'm sorry what was that, Amy?" Tom asked not really believing his ears.

"I.. said that I don't...don't deserve any protection from your hand, Sir." Amy repeated, her voice almost breaking.

"Come around here please." Tom said, pointing to the side of his chair.

Slowly, very slowly, Amy made her way to Tom's side her knees feeling like jelly. Tom swivelled his chair around to face her.

"Your foot, please, Amy," Tom said to the shaking girl. "either one first."

"Wha.. what?" Amy asked total confusion on her face.

"Well I can't take off your leggings while you are still wearing your trainers. can I now?"

Amy lifted first her left, then her right foot up onto Tom's lap, knowing all too well that soon she would be going half naked across that same trousered thigh. Tom made short work of removing her trainers, quickly undoing the single bow knots and pulling the shoes clear of her small pop sock clad feet. Amy stood, her arms and hands flapping nervously by her side as she stared up at the tiled ceiling, not really knowing what to do with her hands, waiting for what she knew would be coming next. She felt Tom's hands reach round, one hand on each bottom cheek, he then pulled her towards him.

"Sorry, sir!" Amy said as she stumbled slightly.

Then she felt his fingers go to the elasticated waistband of her leggings, she gasped then held her breath.

With his eyes level with Amy's tummy, Tom started to slowly peel the sheen tights down over her hips. Tom swallowed hard as the dark triangle of Amy's pubic bush came into view. He continued lowering her tights till they reached her ankles, unbidden she lifted first her right foot, then the left, so that Tom could pull the garment clear of her legs. There she was now standing in front of him, naked from the waist down, apart from her short white pop socks, feeling exposed and foolish. Then Tom moved to pull her over his knee, his chair moving under him as he reached out to her waist.

"This is no good, Amy," he said. "this chair is not really stable. Pop out to the reception desk and get me one of the wooden chairs."

Amy quickly padded out of the room, with Tom watching the fluid movement of her pale cheeks, each step creating a gentle ripple in her light pink flesh.

Reaching the reception, she darted out and grabbed a chair, rushing back before anyone could see her state of undress through the outer glass door. When she got back to Tom's office, he was standing in front of his desk, she held the chair out in front of her glad of the shielding effect of it's backrest. No matter how briefly it was, going to be hiding her already seen pussy. Without having to be told, Amy placed the chair down by Tom's side, her hands dropping to replace the job that was being done by the backrest. Tom sat, then pointed in silence at his lap. Amy, without any argument draped herself over his lap, steadying herself with her hands on the floor in front of her and waited. She didn't have to wait long, but it seemed like a lifetime, Tom's right hand came down upon her right cheek with a resounding slap. The noise of the impact to her ears seemed to echo throughout the room; then it was followed by another, this time to her left cheek. Then Tom built up a regular alternating rhythm, moving his hand from one cheek to the other. Though each slap caught Amy's breath, it wasn't that bad, it was bearable almost pleasant in a way. Often she had thought about self spanking just to see how it felt, twice she had tried, but could never get the force just right. Each time, she found herself pulling out of the required force to make it feel like a real punishment, but like Goldilocks she found Tom's hand to be "just right".

Well anyway she did at first, until Tom started to build up speed, and stopped alternating cheeks. Instead,now the spanks were raining down in flurries, little salvos upon one cheek at a time. Amy found herself now squirming on Tom's lap as the heat built up in her bottom, causing Tom more than a little discomfort as the constant movement of Amy's naked lower body across his groin was having the obvious effect upon him. So much so that Tom felt that he could be in danger of premature orgasm, with the combined effects of her movement, and the feel of her soft springy bottom on his palm. To alleviate this danger, Tom changed his and Amy's position, with a little bit of wrestling he managed to hook his right leg over the back of Amy's legs, locking her into a more steady position scissored between his left thigh, and his right hamstring. In this more stable position, he felt that he could increase again the rapidity of his spanking, ignoring Amy's squeaks and screams. Ignoring the office door opening. Not noticing the figure of his sister Joan until he heard her voice above the sound of his busy palm, and Amy's fruitless pleading.

"What the hell is happening in here," Joan shouted. "and how long has this been going on for?"


PART 3


Neither Amy or Tom, where aware that Tom's sister Joan was going to "pop in" to the office, to see how they were getting on with the new server. Joan was impressed that young Amy had volunteered to help her hapless brother out and had given up her day off to do so. The least she could do was pop in on her way home to see how they were faring.

So still mud splattered and wearing her jodhpurs, riding boots and an old sweatshirt. She had called into Gregg's and bought some sausage rolls as a treat for her workers on her way back home from the stables. As she unlocked and entered the reception, she was greeted by strange sounds seemingly coming from Tom's office.
Very odd sounds.
Though not as odd as the sight that greeted her as she opened Tom's door. There facing her was Amy's pinked bare bottom, and her elder brother spanking away at it.

"What the hell is happening in here," Joan shouted. "and how long has this been going on for?"

If there were one thing guaranteed to ruin Tom's ardour. It was the sound of his little sister's voice catching him living out one of his sexual fantasies. If there were one voice that Amy didn't want to hear at this moment, - apart from perhaps that of her parents - was the sound of Joan Mowbray entering the room.
Reactions were almost immediate; Amy burst into tears; Tom struggled to unlock their legs and help Amy to her feet, all the while floundering to make a cohesive sentence, to answer his sister with.

"It's not... well... we aren't... you see... er!" Tom struggled out.

"Don't you dare say it's not how it looks!" Joan almost screamed. "It's one thing you are diddling a member of staff, but another thing using our offices for your kinky sex games!"

Amy was at a loss at what to do or say, standing facing the two warring siblings; her hands locked over her pubis, tears streaming down her face.
How could something that was going so well turn so bad, he wondered?
Desperate for Joan not to think that she was gaining any sort of sexual satisfaction from Tom's treatment Amy interrupted the oncoming fight.

"Miss, miss, please miss!" She pleaded to get Joan's attention, wondering to herself why she called Joan miss, as she never has on any other occasion.

"Yes!" Joan said curtly, glaring at the almost naked clerk.

"He is right," Amy said, her eyes now downcast to the floor. "it's not a sex game. It was a punishment."

"Oh, this just gets better by the minute." Joan said, now turning her glare back to her brother. "Who do you think you are lord of the manor spanking one of the maids for not dusting properly? Or have you watched Secretary one too many times?"

"Let's just leave it at that," Tom said trying to calm his sister down. "it has all been sorted. Amy preferred this course of action to other.. er.. possible repercussions."

Still convinced that she had caught the two of them in a sex game, Joan was not so willing to let it lie. For unknown to Tom, Joan was all too aware of Tom's Spanking predilections.

When Tom and Joan were both still living at their parent's home, and Tom was at work during Joan's college holidays, Joan would always rummage through her brothers room. During one such rummage, she found his stash of old spanking magazines, copies of Janus, and Uniform Girls, these all made fascinating reading to Joan. A fascination that the dawn of the internet, allowed her to furtively continue. To this day; that's all it had been to Joan though, a mild curiosity.
Amy was a real surprise to Joan, obviously she was more than just curious. Unless of course they were telling the truth, and it was indeed a real punishment?

"So pray tell what heinous crime did young Amy commit, forget to fill your stapler," Joan said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "or left her coat over the back of her chair instead of in the cloakroom, maybe break some uniform code that I'm unaware of. Do, please tell Tom I'm dying to know?"

Amy, seeing the way that Joan had looked at her, and the silly t-shirt she was wearing when talking of a uniform code, realised that as far as Joan was concerned she had walked in on a foreplay session. Desperate to dispel that notion, and without thinking Amy interrupted.

"Miss it was the new server! I broke it... it was me that spilled the pop on it!"

Tom noticed the look on his sister's face change; she went from that of rage to that of sheer joy; her eyes now lacked their previous venom and now seemed to shine in excitement.

"That can't be right, Amy," Joan said. "you couldn't have spilt pop on the server. All food and drink are expressly forbidden in the coms. room. Aren't they?"

"Well I only meant to be in there for a few seconds, then the printer..." Amy's voice trailed off, as she realised that all she was doing was digging a deeper hole for herself.

Joan looked at Amy, wondering how all this was going to pan out, wondering if she could at last quench her curiosity. Joan had never seen herself as one of the girls in the magazine being spanked - not her thing at all - but one of the strict ladies dishing out punishments? That would be a different story.

Tom interrupted Joan's daydream. "As you can see, Joan, the matter has been dealt with already!"

"Oh, you think so?" Joan replied and then continued. "I'm not so sure. The little play spanking that you were giving her, may indeed have satisfied you but for something as serious as this, a couple of taps on her bare botty is barely enough. In my opinion anyway, though that seems to count for little around here these days." Then after a few moments of deep thought, Joan said, "Amy, hands on your head please!"

Like one of the models in Tom's old magazines, Amy complied, though with somewhat shaking fingers. Standing now hands on her head eyes tightly closed, her short t-shirt lifted high up above her oval inny bellybutton Amy was again fully aware of her exposed nakedness.

Joan looked the poor girl up and down, her eyes coming to rest upon the thick thatch of pubic hair, reminiscent of the grainy black and white photos in some of Tom's older mags.

"Amy, a trim every now and again might be an idea you know," Joan said, enjoying the power she had over the young clerk. "for one so young you don't seem to be that fashion conscious."

Amy sniffed back a tear at this latest humiliation.

"Right turn around please." Joan ordered, and Amy obeyed.

Then Amy started as she felt Joan's right hand first gently brush, and then knead each fleshy cheek.

"Hardly even warm!" Joan noted. "No, this is not punishment enough for the trouble that she has caused!"

Tom felt the need to speak up, to tell the truth, to save Amy any further pain and embarrassment. He stood in silence though. He reasoned the truth would only cause him to lose face, and probably not appease his sister anyway. Also, deep down he wanted to know what his sister had in mind for Amy.

"As luck would have it, I have just the thing in my car to up the ante a little." Joan said, then added. "I will make this a real punishment, then the slate will be wiped clean. OK, Amy?"

Tom held his breath waiting for their young employee's answer.

Amy knew she had gone this far, to turn back now would be foolish. "Yes Miss." She mumbled.

"Good!" Joan said, giving Amy's bottom a little slap. "I shall be right back. Amy you can wait as you are. In silence. Tom, do something useful and clear the floor, move that chair and push your desk back." With that, Joan left the room.

Amy stood hands on top of her head facing the wall, again wondering what the day was to bring her now.

The spanking from Tom, though not harsh had stung and warmed her bottom, for that matter not just her bottom. In truth, she had found it in a way enjoyable, almost like the pain and pleasure mixture of a love bite, but Joan arriving on the scene was a different thing altogether. The humiliation of being spoken to by another female in such a way was so different to the almost joking sexual innuendo that she had received from Tom. Her biting words and the slap that she had given to Amy's bottom, had affected her far deeper than she could understand and now what was to follow?

Tom for his part, as he too in silence followed his little sisters instructions, also wondered what Joan had in mind that needed the floor space to be cleared in such a way. He felt the urge to say something to Amy, either by way of apology or words of encouragement, but he kept his silence, his eyes locked on Amy's pink full bottom.

They did not have long to wait for Joan's return from the subterranean car park.

"Right, Amy we might as well get this over with shall we?" Joan said as she returned to the room.

Amy gasped; eyes agog as she saw the black riding crop in Joan's hand.

"Twelve strokes with this, Amy, then you can return to your desk." Joan said in an almost sing-song manner, the smile on her face was as if she had just offered Amy an ice cream on a hot summers day. "Or you can just get dressed and go home. The choice is yours." She then added ominously.

"Joan you can't be serious!" Tom interrupted.

"Shush, Tom!" Joan said to her brother, but with her eyes still locked with Amy's "This is between Amy and I, it was my direct instruction that she chose to ignore with such disastrous results. Normally I would have just sacked her, but she decided she wanted to go down this path. So that's her choice to make now, the crop, or home."

What choice was it really, this morning when she came into work she didn't know what Tom had in mind for her anyway, so how was this such a great departure from some of the images that her mind had conjured up, both in her sleep and on her journey here? That crop though, it did look vicious, but really the choice had been made when she set foot outside her door this morning.

"Yes Miss, I would prefer to take your punishment please." Amy replied, shocking herself even at the subordinate nature of her voice and words.

"Good that's settled then." Joan smiled, and nodded at the wiseness of the young girls decision. "Amy you look fairly fit and flexible?"

"Er... yes Miss, I jog a little and do Pilates." Amy replied bewildered at the question.

"Good." Joan said, her face now beaming and her eyes almost shining in excitement. "If you could go to the centre of the room, stand feet well apart."

Amy obeyed although somewhat hesitatingly.

"No dear, not like that, feet further apart wider than your shoulders. That's it perfect! Now bend over and grab your ankles please."

Amy closed her eyes tight in shame, she knew only too well the display she would be giving in that position. She was well familiar with the view it would offer, not from personal experience of course, but from the videos and the pictures she had seen. So often she would watch some girl being bent like that, and fantasised that it could be herself, now was the dark reality of it. In position, she opened her eyes looking back through her splayed legs she could see Tom standing at the back of the room. She knew only too well that standing there he would have a perfect unhindered view of her open glistening damp sex.

Joan glanced at Tom and gave him a conspiratorial smile that look caught Tom by surprise, never had he even suspected that he and his kid sister shared these tastes.

"Six strokes in this position to start with." Joan said, then brought the crop across Amy's proffered behind, the small leather tag at the end of the crop arriving with more of a "splat" than a "crack".

Joan had no wish to really cause Amy any injury, it was more the symbolism of her power over her that she wished to convey. Though having said that it still stung enough for Amy to know of it, and also to leave it's telltale oblong red mark.
By the fourth stroke, Amy was shaking trying hard to hold a position that is awkward to keep at the best of times, never mind when someone is whipping your bare bottom.

"Your doing very well, Amy! Isn't she, Tom?" Joan said, noticing the girls shaking frame. "Only two more to go."

Joan brought the next two strokes down, in quick succession realising that Amy would not be able to keep her balance for that much longer.

"Right dear back up, please, that's the first six done with." Amy stood back upright, her hands automatically going to her rear to try and rub away the sting.

"No, no, no! Hands back on top of your head, plenty of time to rub later." Joan chided the young girl. "Let's have little peek." Joan added pushing Amy's rubbing fingers away.

Joan slowly traced her fingers around each of the six little red oblong blocks. Amy breathed deeply at her touch, wincing as her fingers made contact with the punished area.

Amy tasted the bitter salty taste of a lone tear on her lips; this was all that she had imagined it would be, sweet, sweet humiliation.

The two siblings in the room were also caught up in the electric charge that seemed to be hanging in the air.

"Over the desk now please dear, hold the far end with your fingers and push your bottom right out. The next six I'm going to give you a little quicker, so it will soon all be over, but they will also be a little harder. OK?"

"Yes Miss!" Amy gasped.

True to her word, each stroke was quicker and harder, than the previous six. Each stroke causing Amy to cry out in pain, til the last caused her to cry out in relief. Then it was all over, Amy slumped across the desk, gasping to catch her breath, it hadn't been six strokes but ten. By the time, she had applied the sixth stroke Joan sensed Amy was so close to orgasm that she continued, adding another four at a slower, but much firmer rate until she saw the tell tale emulsion oozing from Amy's pussy. Tom and Joan watched and waited for Amy to pull herself together and rise from the desk. Elated and shamed, she turned red faced towards her bosses.

"Thank you Miss." she whispered.

"No problem, Amy," Joan said. "be aware though that now you are liable for corporal punishment now for any further indiscretions that either myself or Tom discovers."

"Yes Miss!" Amy nodded enthusiastically.

"Now I believe you still have quite a bit of keying to do?" Joan said smiling pleasantly

"Yes Miss." Amy said going to pick up her leggings.

"Oh! No need for them, Amy," Joan said taking the black tights from Amy's hands. "it's so warm in here you don't really need them till you go home, and I imagine you have quite a hot bot now anyway?"

Biting on her lower lip Amy nodded and left the office to go back to her desk, the two siblings watching her depart both pairs of eyes locked on her swaying pink bottom cheeks.

Pink bottom cheeks chequered with darker red oblong blocks. Both minds wondering what excuse they could dream up for a further day of Amy being dressed for punishment.

THE END

Saturday, 19 July 2014

Hot Tails In Saskatoon

Again, like my previous post of Evolution, here are three more previously posted, standalone stories, now in the order that I intended that they should be read in.



A Short Skirt In Saskatoon!

Isn't it odd how your memory works?
Things that may have happened some twenty or more years ago can seem like only months ago, where something that happened only two or three years back feels like another lifetime?
Defining moments in your life are locked in an almost crystal clear perspective; a full day from your deep dark past can be remembered in detail, whole conversations stored verbatim in your brain.
I would like to relate to you now such a defining day in my life.

It was back in 1999; I was, at least in my mind's eye, a mature eighteen year old embarking on my final year at a private co-ed high school. The school was ridiculously strict in many ways; we did not only have a dress code, but we had an official and much hated uniform!
For us, it was charcoal grey pleated knee length skirts, a blue pullover for the lower grades, a red one for the top two years, under which we had to wear a plain white shirt and school tie. Yes, that's right, school ties for girls I mean how old fashioned is that?
Footwear was flat black shoes, and white socks, no pantyhose for us not even in the bitter cold winters. During the hot summer months we were, however, allowed the luxury of being able to remove our pullovers, as long as we were wearing suitable bras under our shirts, suitable meaning plain white so as not to over excite the boys!
Yes, even our underwear fell into school policy, plain white or plain light blue panties were the only ones allowed according to our school handbook, though in fairness that was never really checked by the staff.
Also, we had corporal punishment, not, however, the strap that the state schools used, we had the paddle an import from our neighbours to the south of us.

Apparently the state schools strap was given across the hands, can you imagine that?
Having to stand there with your hand held out as some teacher whacked your palm with a leather belt?
At our school, it was so much more civilised, the paddle across the bottom, no having to look your punisher in the eye as it was being delivered. So much more civilised I thought, and I have to admit that I thought often upon that subject.

So in this, somewhat oppressive environment, I, for one reason or another became a bit of a rebel, well at least I did for one day anyway.
I can't really remember the details of my logic that day; I know my head was filled with ideas of "Girl Power" thanks to the Spice Girls, and I had only recently found a new heroine in Miss Britney Spears.
Some how or another, my "mature" brain had decided that flashing your underwear in a "schoolie" outfit was somehow empowering.
Going through my wardrobe on the Sunday afternoon, I noticed one of my old school skirts, one that I had outgrown a couple of years prior due to a sudden teen hight spurt. So, I tried it on, and it still fitted me. Well at least, it fitted to a fashion. I could only just manage to fasten it, it's length, however, bordered upon the obscene; my bottom now filled it like it never did before pushing hard at the pleats at the rear. As I looked into my mirror twisting my head around I noticed that if I bent, even slightly the lower orbs of my butt came into view!

Perfect!

Could I dare wear it for school though?

Like the idiot that I was back then I decided that yes I could.

I had also decided that if I was going to be treating the boys to an eyeful they would want to see more than just our plain uniform panties, I was more than a little naive in the etiquette of "schoolie" get ups then, so I searched through my panties for something that would offer more of a treat, than plain white cotton.
I settled upon a pair of white red trimmed panties with a Ladybug motif, so off I snuck to school on the Monday morning, with the lyrics of Hit Me Baby One More Time running through my head as I got on the bus.

To say I turned a few heads was an understatement, everyone was agog at my attire much to my pleasure.
It was my plans for lunchtime though that were foremost in my mind.
I somehow made it to lunch without being brought to book by any of the teachers, though I did get strange looks from all of them. To my surprise the worst looks, or should I say now on reflection, the most intense of looks were from Miss Bolan our young History teacher.

Miss Bolan was the "cool teacher", I think all schools have one, fresh out of college and not really that much older than us. Young enough to keep up with all the current music and trends. She was more like a buddy than a teacher, and her lessons were always fun to attend. So I was surprised that out of all the teachers it was her that seemed the most disturbed by my clothing, though she never said anything at the time, it was more in the looks that she kept giving me.

So lunchtime arrived; I quickly made my way down to the dining area and wolfed back my lunch and leaving my friends still sitting there I made my way to the school yard, to embark upon my master plan of accidental flashing.
One thing about living in the "Paris Of The Prairies" is that we have more than our share of high winds. High winds and short pleated skirts don't go together well; the pleats act as a sort aerofoil once hit by the slightest of breezes so you can imagine the action a good gusty day would have.
So I strolled around the yard my eyes intent upon my imported Tamagotchi keyring, seemingly unaware of my constantly billowing skirt and the "accidental" exposing of my underwear. I had been strolling around the yard for maybe ten minutes before I felt the tap upon my shoulder.

"Come with me, I think you know why," Miss Bolan told me, silently I followed the now stern faced young teacher back to her classroom.

Sitting at one of the desks at the front of her class, I watched as she quickly wrote out a note, all the time berating me for my deliberate exhibitionism, once the note was finished she put it in an envelope and said.

"Take this along to Coach Pasquale, he can deal with you as he sees fit!"

So there I ended up, sitting on one of the three stools outside of Coach Pasquale's office with other students walking by, all giving me knowing or questioning looks. Everyone knew that the only reason to be sitting there was to be waiting to receive a paddling; my red pullover though would throw doubts into their minds, as seniors rarely got paddled, female seniors even rarer.
I really just wished that he would hurry up and arrive, so I could at least get into his office and out of view of my passing peers. Then I saw the door to the yard open, the black curly hair and the trademark blue tracksuit of Coach Pasquale came into view.
Now I was not so keen to be in the coach's office as I took in his short powerfully built stocky figure.

"Bonjour mademoiselle puis je vous aider?" the coach asked a puzzled look upon his face.

"Hello sir, Miss Bolan sent me to see you and to give you this," I said standing up and handing him the envelope, making it clear that I was not going to be drawn into a conversation in French.

The coach nodded as he took the envelope from me; I could swear that I saw a look of joy cross his face as he read the contents of my sentencing note.

"So, Miss Bolan seems to think that you skirt is not of regulation length," the coach said, stating the blatantly obvious, "perhaps we should check if it is knee length?"

I looked at him in disbelief; it was plain to see that my skirt was nowhere near my knees.

"If you could just kneel down for me and we can see," he said his voice full of sarcasm.

"What here......now?" I said, ashamed at the idea of being checked in such a way in the busy hall.

"Yes I believe so," he replied, looking at me like I was being overly awkward to a reasonable request.

Slowly I knelt down, wishing the floor would swallow me up. I noticed now that the passersby were now not passing by at all, but either slowing down or even just stopping completely to watch my humiliation. Perhaps I should not have been quite so quick to disregard his French greeting?

"It would appear that Miss Bolan was correct," the coach said as the hem barely reached halfway down my upper thighs, "please stand and follow me,"

Just glad to be back on my feet and to get away from my increasing growing audience I followed him into his office.

"Well for your blatant disregard of our dress codes, you will receive three pops," he told me in a matter of fact manner, "for your deliberate lewd displaying of your underwear you will receive a further two pops,"

"What!" I asked, feeling the redness now draining rapidly from my face.

"The total is five pops mademoiselle, is math not one of your strong points?"

"What displaying.....what are you talking about.....OK I accidentally put on one of my old uniform skirts this morning.....but....."

"Miss Bolan followed you for quite some time before stopping you," he said, a slight smile now dancing across his smug face, "she noticed that you were deliberately allowing the wind to lift your skirt as you walked through the yard, walked through the yard on repeated occasions she has wrote here,"

I knew now that I was done for, five pops it was going to be, no amount of lying was going to change his mind. Still, pops couldn't be that bad could it?
I did my best at a Gallic shrug as I let out a deep sigh signalling my defeat.

I looked on in silence as Coach Pasquale opened a drawer and pulled out a large red book; he quickly started writing information from Miss Bolan's note into the what I rightly took to be the Punishment Book.
Then putting the book to one side of his desk, he opened another drawer and withdrew the paddle.
To be honest, it didn't look to bad, not half as scary as some that I have seen for sale in shops, though, of course, most of them were just for decorational talk pieces, see that's how naive I was back then, it was just a plain whiteish wood blade about fourteen inches long and three inches or so wide with a short taped over handle.
Even though I had never had corporal punishment before, I thought to myself, "I can handle five pops from that no problem!"

Then the coach pointed at a metal tubular bar fastened to the wall at more or less calf hight, you know the sort of thing that old people use to help them in and out of the bath?

"If you could grab hold of the bar shoulders width apart for me please," the coach ordered me in the most polite of tones, as if he was offering me an invitation to something nice, or that I would be doing him a great service.

As I bent forward I could feel my skirt making it's way up my bottom, I knew all to well the view that I would be giving him. When I had got dressed that morning, the idea of flashing to a middle aged vertically challenged sports fanatic was not that high on my agenda!
Then he asked me to move my feet a little further back and place them also shoulders width apart. Now my head was peering back between my legs, and I could see him take up his place behind me.

I waited for the first blow, but it didn't come?

"I'm sorry this is no good stand up again please," he said in the same pleasant tone, "your skirt is not covering your bottom," he added as I turned again to face him.

For a few moments of sheer relief I thought to myself, "he is going to postpone my punishment!"

"It is no good, your skirt is riding so high up your derriere that the paddle will land half on your skirts and half on your panties!"

I nod, waiting for him to dismiss me.

"You will have to take your skirt off, it is proving to be no more than a distraction!"

His tone of voice was controlled conversational almost; it was as if he was merely pointing out the obvious. So with shaking fingers I undid the button and unzipped my skirt, I struggled to lower the garment over my hip's self consciously aware that I was in real danger of pulling my panties down along with the skirt!
Finally, the dark grey material fell to the floor, leaving me now feeling ridiculous standing there before him in my panties.

"I must say mademoiselle, for all that you're little panties look very pretty on you, I am fairly sure that they are not of the kind deemed appropriate in our uniform code," as he said that I could almost feel his eyes burning into my crotch.

For an insanely mad moment, I was sure he was going to ask me to remove them also, and oddly enough I would have complied if he had asked me to do so!

"Back over as before, please," he said, a rather triumphant smile upon his face, "and we can get this over with!"

Again I bent over and grabbed the tubular rail, now all to aware of my barely covered bottom pointing up at him, looking back through my legs I saw him move behind me, I closed my eyes and waited.

"Try to keep yourself in this position, any movement will result in extra pops, OK,"

"Yes sir!" I replied through now gritted teeth and tightly closed my eyes.

Then I felt it!

I was wrong; five pops were going to be a problem!

My eyes flew open; and I still had another four of these to come!

The actual impact was harsh enough, but it was a four to five seconds after that really hurt, the heat seemed to build up and seep away from the paddle's original landing zone.
Then an odd thing happened, whether it was my just mind trying to displace itself from my current dilemma I don't know, as I looked back and up at the coach my eyes fixed upon his tracksuit bottoms. I reasoned with myself that having an eighteen year old bent before him, her bottom offered up in such an obscene manner must be having a reaction upon him.
So as I was bent there, waiting for the second pop my eyes were searching for any signs of an erection in his loose fitting bottoms.

The second pop brought me back down to earth, if not with a thud certainly with a whack!
As hard as I had tried, not to I let out any audible gasp of pain at it's impact, thoughts of the coaches cock left my head completely as my mind was re-concentrated upon on my now truly burning butt!

Then with thought of how things could not get any worse, with still three more to go, things did get worse.
There was a knock upon the office door, before Coach Pasquale could answer the door opened and in walked Miss Bolan.

"Ah, good I have managed to catch her before she left you," she said in an all too cheerful voice for my liking. " I see you saw the need to remove her skirt?"

"As I explained to the young lady, it was impractical for her to keep it on," he then replied as if I was not even in the room. "we are nearly half way through here, only three more to go."

"Very good! I'll wait as I have a skirt here for her to wear the rest of the day," she said still in an almost sing-song mode. "a skirt of a more modest length."

Now tears were in my eyes, it was one thing the reality of getting paddled. It was another thing altogether it being witnessed by the bitch that had condemned me to it.

The next three pops are more of a blur to my memory; they were basically just a blaze of pain accompanied by the humiliation of having the "Cool" teacher watching my reversion from a young adult to a crying little girl!

Once finished, Coach Pasquale left us in the office so that I could "make myself decent"!
Sobbing I put on the washed out dirty grey skirt that Miss Bolan handed me, then she sent me on my way back to classes with a couple of sound slaps on my now skirt covered bottom to help me on my way out of the office!


So that was it, my memory of a defining life moment, my first, but far from my last, taste of CP.
Some how the things that happened that day shaped my adult life, fired up the submissive side in my sexuality, being sent by the pretty young teacher to be paddled altered my whole way of thinking.
Four years later I bumped into Miss Bolan in a club in town; we had a few drinks, and obviously this day's events came up in conversation, but that is another story!

THE END


A Night Out In Saskatoon

The last time I wrote, it was of what I would call a "defining moment" in my life, my introduction to the physical side of corporal punishment. The paddling that I received at high school at the advanced age of eighteen was a punishment that marked me in many ways; those marks remained after the bruising and redness had long gone!

The licks that I received from the coach followed by the short brisk hand spanking from my young teacher was at the time a horrible and humiliating experience. Later though at home, in the privacy of my bedroom that experience took on a memory of sweet, sweet submission!

My history lessons with Miss Bolan also took on a whole other dimension, even though she never mentioned or even hinted at that lunchtime paddling she had condemned me to, and also taken a part in. I would, however, some times notice her giving me long, thoughtful looks, or at least in my minds eye I did.
Now though I would like to tell you about another "defining moment" the moment that brought corporal punishment out from the deep recesses of my sub-conscious to the fore of my mind, where it still stays even to this day. Again it involves my erstwhile teacher, but four years later with me now a truly mature adult.

It was a cold Friday night, and I was in a club in the city centre waiting for two of my friends, when the weather started to cut in. The snow fell fast driven by high winds; it soon started to drift. I realised after about half an hour of sitting alone nursing a glass of Molson, that my buddies were not going to turn up; no doubt put off by the rapidly deteriorating conditions outside. As it was only 2002, my life wasn't quite yet run by a cellphone, so it hadn't even occurred to me bring my cell out with me when I left my parent's house. Yes, I was still living at home, happy little singleton with no ties or commitments. So with no way of getting in touch with my friends, I had decided to call it an early night and just go home writing off the start of my weekend!
Then I felt a tap on my shoulder and heard an all too familiar voice.

"Hi Jenni, you here all on your own some?" I turned to face my old history teacher, though when I say old I really mean young as she was only some four years older than me.

"Er..hi Miss Bolan," I said feeling my stomach churning, and my face flushing in that way that they always did when she spoke to me after that memorable lunchtime humiliation, even now four years later she still had that effect upon me.

"We aren't in school now hun call me Alice, you know as in School's Out," she said seemingly laughing at my discomfort ,and her pun.

I just nodded, as she invited me to join her for a drink with her friend, leading me through the bar by the arm she took me to an alcove where there sat, to say the least, was a strange looking girl.

"This is my little buddy Paula!" Alice said referring to the oddly dressed girl; Paula was an elfin faced girl with short almost shaven black hair, the top of which though had been allowed to grow in to what could only be described as an Elvis quiff. It wasn't so much her hair though that caught one's attention, it was her dress. She was wearing a thin blue denim summer dress, adorned with an almost childish white floral pattern combined with her semi laced black boots and black pantyhose it all made a weird ensemble, more so with the weather conditions outside!
As I sat down at the table Paula gave me a reluctant, almost petulant nod.

Alice took over the conversation as she used to in her classes, flitting around from one topic to another but somehow holding the listeners attention, and making all the disjointed topics into one cohesive whole. After about ten minutes or so she declared.

"I'm off to powder my nose, I'll get some fresh drinks on the way back!"

Alice then left the two of us sitting in an awkward silence; I could almost feel the loathing seeping out from Paula as we sat there, thankfully Alice wasn't to long in returning, a tray in her hands with three beers and three tequila shots on it.
Sitting down she looked at me her face full of concern and said.

"Jenni do you still live out in Furdale?"

"Er...yeah I do, still with mom and dad," I answered surprised that Alice remembered, or ever even knew for that fact, exactly where I was from. I also noted a little smirk on Paula's face when I said that I still lived with my parents.

"Well I think you should ring your mom and tell her that you are staying in the city tonight, I noticed when I was coming back from the bathroom that the snow is really cutting in, I can't see any cabs wanting to go out that far in this weather,"

I think Alice must have read the panic in my face as she then added.

"You can stay the night at my place, it's just a block away and after all who could be more trustworthy than one of your old teachers?" the smile on her face though hinted at something else, something untold but implied, something that I was not at all sure about!

"Great...er thanks, is there a phone in here that I can use...?" I couldn't really turn down her offer without seeming rude; I could see though that this turn of events was not at all to Paula's liking.

"No probs hun, here use this," Alice said handing me her cell.

After I phoned home, Alice again ruled the conversation till she dropped the bombshell.

"Did you know Paula, Jenni was the first person that I sent off for a paddling?" Paula sat in her now customary stony silence, "not only did I manage to catch the end of her paddling, but I gave her a little hand spanking on her poor little butt as well!" my stomach started turning over as she told her friend of my punishment as if it had been some sort of entertainment for her, "that was naughty of me of course; hand spankings were a big no-no, it was an odd system really, you could send a girl, or a boy for that matter off to get their butt's whacked by a muscly guy with a plank of wood but you couldn't slap their bottoms with your hand, go figure huh?"

I noticed that Alice's eyes were sparkling, almost lighting up at her recollections.

"Just think Paula of the effect that I could have had smacking some naughty eighteen year old boys little tensed up bottom? I bet their cocks would get thicker and longer with each slap, what do you think Paula?" Alice asked her friend in rather unfriendly badgering manner, then added, "but of course you never think of cocks getting hard do you?"

Now it seemed that it was Paula's turn to be the one blushing at Alice's jibes.

"Aren't you going to ask what it was that Jenni did to earn a paddling, aren't you just dying to know?"

"No, not really, but I'm sure that she deserved it!" Paula spat out.

"Oh dear, we aren't going to add bitchiness on to your sin sheet are we?" Alice said to Paula sarcastically, then turned to me, "we had a little childish temper tantrum from Paula before we came out, so I told if she was going to behave like a child I would dress her like one, hence her lovely little dress!"

I searched Alice's face for a hint of humour. There was none, only a look of almost demented glee, was she drunk, high, or both I wondered, I was now having second thoughts about staying at her apartment.

"Anyway grumpy-grumps," Alice said turning back to Paula, "I caught this innocent looking young girl here deliberately flashing her panties to all the boys in the yard! Now you would never do anything so naughty would you?" Alice then burst out laughing, apparently just at the thought of Paula flashing boys.

"Anyway enough chitter-chatter, let's get back to my place before we need another round of drinks, I've got plenty alcohol there to last us through the storm!" with that Alice threw back the rest of her beer and stood up to leave.

Like two little sheep, Paula and I followed.

So when we got back to the flat, I entered with an odd mixture of fear and excitement, as I still could not work out exactly what Alice and Paula's relationship was.

"OK Jenni, what would you like coffee or wine?" before I could answer Alice had picked a bottle of red wine out from a rack on the wall before even removing her coat. "Paula pop in the kitchen and get us three glasses please,"

Paula stomped off into the kitchen, and upon her return she slammed the three glasses down onto the coffee table in an over theatrical manner.

"Ah, I've had enough of this," Alice said with a sigh, "I'll tell you what Paula, take one of these glasses back and fetch me your brush instead."

"No...you can't be serious...not with her here," Paula said her voice in now childish whine.

"Yes I'm very serious," Alice said now looking and sounding very sober, "you have been in a rude sulk all night, and as Jenni is my guest and it is her that you have been rude and disrespectful to, I think it is only right that she sees how I deal with you behaviour!"

I couldn't take it all in; my heart beat was racing at what her words were implying, Alice intended to punish Paula?

No, I must have misunderstood the situation, mustn't I?

Then with rather downtrodden look upon her face she again left the room.

"and fetch some pins back with you as well!" Alice shouted as an afterthought.

Alice then smiled at me as she poured us both out a large glass of wine.

"I can't apologise enough for Paula's behaviour, I think it's the weather getting her down, either that or she just doesn't like you!" Alice then laughed loudly at her little joke.

When Paula returned the first thing I noticed was the large wooden backed clothes brush in her hand, the second thing I noticed was the tears in her eyes. She silently placed the brush, and four safety pins on the coffee table.

"Don't worry though Jenni, I intend to teach her a memorable lesson in manners," Alice said though whether she meant the lesson would be memorable for Paula, or for me, I'm was not at all sure, dry mouthed in anticipation I gulped deeply at the wine the hot peppery liquid causing me to cough. "you can get a chair now Paula, no hold on not yet, come here," Alice said pointing at the floor to the right of the sofa that we were both sitting upon.

Still in complete silence, Paula stood on the appointed spot.
Alice leant forward and grabbed Paula's hips and span her around so that her bottom was now facing us. I heard Paula let out a little gasp as Alice lifted the back of her denim dress up her back way past her hips, then she pinned the dress up with two of the safety pins.
I was quite surprised to see that Paula had a much fuller bottom than I had expected, her opaque pantyhose masking the colour of her full cut panties.
Then with another push at her hips, Paula was again facing us, her eyes locked with mine, looking for sympathy perhaps, or maybe hoping for my intervention?
Either way, neither were forthcoming, I was too much looking forward to seeing how this would all conclude.
Now it was the front of her dress that was being lifted and pinned up, her hand fell in what must have been an automatic reflex to cover her crotch from my view.

"Hands on your head....stupid little girl!" Alice growled, and Paula did as instructed, closing her eyes tight as she did so "there that is much better!" Alice then turned to face me, her eyes sparkling wildly, "of course you know naughty little rude girls don't get to keep their pantyhose up for a spanking don't you?"

Much to my shame I nodded enthusiastically.
I watched in rapt fascination as Alice's fingers drew Paula's pantyhose down to her knees, revealing a pair of pale blue panties.

"Jenni, do you think that rude girls should get to keep her panties up?" as Alice asked, Paula's eyes flew open in terror she looked at me pleadingly.

"No, I don't think that they should Alice!" I replied adding to Paula's distress.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Alice tugged down Paula's panties till they met up with her pantyhose at her knees.

"You notice that I make Paula keep herself well shaven," Alice said her finger running down the length of Paula's slit, "I so hate it when pubes end up in your mouth, don't you Jenni?"

Alice asked, staring at me intently as her finger continued lazily playing at Paula's exposed sex.

"Er....well....I don't know.." I replied, now it was me who was blushing again, Alice smiled at me knowingly.

"Go and get the chair now Paula!" Alice ordered giving Paula a smart smack across the front of her thighs to hurry her on.

Watching Paula teeter along out the room, tiny little steps through the hindrance of her bunched up underwear, I was torn between a strange cross of pity and envy at her abject humiliation.
When she returned with a straight backed wooden chair, I poured myself another glass of wine and sat back to enjoy the show.
Alice took up her seat and patted her lap, the now shaking Paula lowered herself over, then placed one hand upon the floor, the other hand gripped hard at the rear chair leg.

Then Alice started no warning, no preamble, just a volley of staccato slaps with the brush. The blows didn't look or sound all that severe, the rapidity of them though was obviously causing Paula some distress going by the look upon her face, and the writhing and twisting of her body.
After what seemed an age, but was probably only a minute or maybe two, Alice slowed down, but as she slowed the velocity of each slap seemed to increase. Each slap echoing through the room, causing the now teary Paula to call out.

"Please Alice......I'm sorry....please...I've learned my lesson......I'm so sorry,"

"Don't apologise to me," Alice replied nonchalantly, "it was Jenni that you were rude to all night, not me."

"Jenni.....please tell her to stop....I'm sorry...sorry I was rude to you!"

As I watched her hair brushing, and listened to her pleas I felt disembodied as if I wasn't really in the room.

"Jenni....plea-se...she won't stop till you tell her to!"

"Alice, I think she has had enough now!" I called out as Paula's voice finally brought me back from my semi transcendental state.

Alice stopped and helped Paula to her feet.

"I think a half hour in the corner would now do you the world of good," Alice told the sobbing Paula, "while we finish our drinks,"

Without any back chatting, Paula stumbled her way into the far corner of the large living room, Alice then gave me a conspiratorial smile and said.

"Jenni hun, have you ever felt a freshly well spanked bottom?" for a few seconds I thought she was planning to treat me to the same punishment as Paula, "you can actually feel the heat on your hand you know?"

Alice then rose up from her chair and went over to Paula, who had more or less calmed her self down, to what seemed to my eyes Alice then ever so gently ran the palm of her right hand over Paula's red and purple bruised butt cheeks.

"Come here Jenni, try for yourself, I can assure you that Paula won't mind!" feeling rather light headed as the wine was really starting to hit home, I sort of stumbled over to them.

Paula was still standing with her back to Alice me; her arms tightly folded in the small of her back. I tentatively reached out to her naked rear, first just my finger tips, expecting one of her hands to brush mine away from her.
She didn't!
Feeling a little more confident, I cupped her right cheek in the palm of my right hand. Alice was right; I could actually feel the heat coming off her!
It felt so alien to me to be feeling another woman's naked butt, it was so different to feeling a guy's. So soft, jelly like almost, but with not so much an underlying hardness, more of an underlying springiness.

Paula's silence in the proceedings made me wonder had I indeed really just witnessed a punishment, or had I duped into a rather elaborate S and M foreplay?

Then I felt Alice's hand upon my bottom!

"Whoah.....I'm not gay!" I protested loudly.

"Neither am I," Alice said softly, "I so hate labels, Paula though she is a fully paid up member of the sisterhood, no male members in her club, is there"

"No Alice," Paula whispered, and Alice lightly ran the fingers of her right hand through Paula's black quiff, whilst her left hand somehow found it's way back onto my bottom. This time though I didn't shrug her away.

"You see Jenni," Alice said her eyes locked on mine, "life is about experiences, why deny yourself something just because of a silly label?"

I didn't answer, neither did I complain as that her hand slipped itself down the waistband of my trousers, her fingers then moved down inside my panties, her nails running down the cleft of my bottom.

"I think it's time for bed now don't you?" Alice asked me, her stare still unwavering, "perhaps the two of us can console poor Paula here?"

Again I didn't answer, again my throat too dry to speak, I just nodded.

THE END



A New Broom In Saskatoon

I'm not sure how, but some people just seem to have the knack of recognizing a submissive nature in others. It's like they are in possession of a BDSM equivalent of gaydar, spankdar maybe?
I've googled it, and it is a recognized word, so some people must possess it or else why bother making up the word in the first place?
Alice seemed to be blessed with it, myself, on the other hand, no way!
Alice could always pick out a prospective spankee with only a look and a couple of words, and I'm not talking about in BDSM clubs here, I'm talking about shopping malls and coffee shops. There was just something that she managed to pick up on, some magical, hidden to me, sign.

So this is my recollection of my last and most unexpected sojourn into the world of spanking.

I'll start at the very beginning, as they say, in the song 'a very good place to start'.

I knew our office in Saskatoon was not faring that well sales wise, in fact, our whole company had been struggling a bit since the start of the credit crunch. Most of our sales were in private medicine, and the big insurance companies were winding up their wheels, as more than ever people were relying on the state system; however, our saving grace always seemed to be our product development lab. The lab was working upon what was rumored to be a revolutionary new fertilizer that would increase crop yields by a huge percentage.

It turned out that our 'saving grace' made us a target for some of the big fishes, and our little fish of a business was soon swallowed up by a large multi-national conglomerate eager for the potential of our labs work.
At first though nothing much changed, we just continued cruising along in low gear as we had before and seemed to be pretty much slipping under the radar of the head office in the States.
That was until one fateful January evening as we were all getting ready to head for home; we were told of a staff meeting in the conference room for nine o clock the following morning. This was going to be a full staff meeting; everyone was required to attend, not just the sales team, but everyone from the office cleaners up over.

As you can imagine, this announcement fueled a great deal of speculation, cuts were upon most minds as we headed for the elevators. Cuts or maybe even the complete closure of our office!

So in that Friday morning we all trooped into work in a state of group dismay and consternation. I was one of the first to get into the conference room, so I took a seat at the foot of the long table. At the head of the table was John Nightly our area office manager, behind him was a woman, whom I guessed to be in her mid thirties or very early forties.
She quite tall, only a couple of inches short of six foot, with medium length dark blond, almost auburn, hair. Dressed in a business suit, with a skirt rather than trousers, which bearing in mind the outside sub-zero temperatures, was quite impressive in it's self. She prowled the small carpeted area behind Mr. Nightly like a tiger in a zoo cage, as we waited for the rest of my colleagues to arrive.

Finally, after what to me had seemed an age, though, in fact, was no more than a minute or two, the others finally filed in, and either sat down, or the ones that arrived too late for a seat stood around the table in a nervous silence.
Satisfied that all of his staff were now in the office, Mr. Nightly stood and addressed the room.

"Firstly, I would like to thank you all for arriving so promptly this morning, and I would like to introduce the companies head of strategic sales, Jennifer Dorset. Jen has come here to see if she can help us to get out of our current malaise, so I now hand you over to Miss Dorset!"

Mr. Nightly's introduction made us all glance around the room at each other. This was not just someone coming up from human resources, or even a new sales rep. coming in to knock us all into shape. The lady in front of us was one of the corporations top executives, one of the companies heavy hitters, the tension in the room was now palpable as we waited for her to speak.

"Thank you John," Jennifer said, in a surprisingly English accent. "that was a fine introduction, apart from that I only like to be called Jennifer; not Jen, Jenny or Miss Dorset."

Now all eyes fell upon our highly blushing area manager.

"Well ladies and gentleman, my mission here is quite straightforward, I will be here for a month, hopefully two. Mister Nightly has kindly loaned me his office for the duration of my stay here so he can take a more hands on approach in the telesales office."

Again all eyes fell upon our now visibly squirming manager.

"My remit is simple, save it, or shut it! If I can't see at least the green shoots of recovery after my first month, I then have to pass everything over to our human resources department, for them to sort out in their own inimitable manner. So with that in mind I will be speaking to each member of your sales team on an individual basis, with a view to widening our current customer base. So let us all hope that I'm here for two months rather than for the one, and on that note I'd like to thank you all for your prompt attendance today, an attendance that I would like to see here for the length of my stay."

To say the very least, Jennifer Dorset's speech had a great effect upon all listening. So it would now seem that, in the big scheme of things, our get out jail free card in our research department, was not that gold plated after all!

True to her word, we were all given appointment times to see her in 'her office'. My slot was at one o clock, the first appointment after lunch. So in a bid to show that I understood about her focus on punctuality, I turned up a few minutes early.
I was quite surprised to see at just how quickly she had made the office her own. On her desk, there were two pictures of what I rightly took to be her children. A boy and a girl, both of whom looked to be in their midteens, which would put her in at least her mid thirties, though most likely a bit older.
It was not only her desk I noticed that she had customised, the filing cabinet also bore more little trinkets from home. Curiosity got the better of me, so I went over to have a look at what was there.

Then my heart leapt in my mouth, sitting in the middle of the top of the cabinet lay a paddle. It was made to look like a decorative piece, but it's thickness gave it away as being a real 'stinger'.
The blade, the business end, was about twelve inches long, by about four inches wide. The blade was also drilled out, five holes, each hole holding a small shot glass. The handle bore the legend, 'bottoms up, or a rosy tail!' it also had a little drawing of a red bare bottom on it, just in case it's intended usage was in any doubt.

"That's a paddle in case you were wondering." A voice whispered in my ear, so close that I felt her breath, causing me to jump suddenly.

"Er...er I'm sorry, I wasn't being nosey." I lied as I turned to face Jennifer.

"It's OK....Jennifer," She said, as she checked her appointment rota. "So we share the same name, do you prefer Jennifer or....."

"Er...I usually get called Jenni." I stuttered out, feeling my face burn up at being caught redhanded snooping in her office.

"I see my little novelty decoration caught your attention?"

"Yes well sort of miss...sorry, Jennifer."

I could now see that she was actively enjoying my discomfort, the little smile that she was trying to suppress was given away by the twinkling in her eyes.

"Do you know what it's for?"

I nodded glumly: as somewhere in the back of my head, I madly half expected her to ask me to bend over her desk, and the knowledge that I would of done made my embarrassment worse.

"Really? I'm surprised at that; I always thought that paddles were only a USA thing."

"Well some schools used the paddle, you know, private schools."

She then made a really big deal about reading my printed out personnel file, as we both stood there.

"Oh...I see you went to a private school. Was that one of the schools you were referring to?"

I nodded, knowing only too well what the next question would be.

"They ever have cause to paddle you?"

Again I glumly nodded, then said.

"Just the once."

Smiling like a cat who got the cream, she then said.

"So you were a naughty girl back then, but not very naughty, just a little naughty?"

"Yeah, I guess so." I replied, really just wanting to be out of the office, to be out of the building even.

"Please Jenni, take a seat." She told me, still with that knowing smile upon her face. "It was a gift from some colleagues in New York. They presented it to me as a leaving present, sort of reminder of a drunken night out, though I have been told that that paddle really hurts," She said, motioning with her head towards the filing cabinet. "though I wouldn't know myself, but I have been reliably informed that it does. Anyway enough idle chitter-chatter, let's get down to business."

How the rest of the meeting went I haven't a clue, I must have smiled and nodded in all the right places, but my mind was on autopilot. All I could think of was that damned paddle, and Jennifer's voice saying 'so you were a naughty girl', 'that paddle really hurts' and 'I wouldn't know myself', those three phrases on a loop in my head.
After I left her office, all that afternoon I just thought of Jennifer and her paddle.


In fairness to Jennifer, she did seem to know what she was doing, she selected new areas for us to move into in a bid to capture some of the state controlled business. If anything, her being in the building seemed to bolster up our hitherto poor morale. Though Mr Nightly did not seem to enjoy her presence as much as the rest of us did, but if he had been doing his job in the first place there would have been no reason for Jennifer Dorset to have ever crossed our threshold.

So all seemed to be going well in the first fortnight of Jennifer's allotted span with us. Perhaps it was that sense of optimism that led to my being foolish, who knows.
All I do know is that I broke on of my own personal rules, nightclubbing on a weeknight!

I know; I'm in my mid-thirties, and I really should know better, but I just thought, 'what the hell I haven't seen a band for ages'. So I put on all my old grungy clothes and head off into town to see The Pigs Of Antioch, a Californian feminist punk band.
It was a great night, probably too great of a night, as always when out with Alice; the drinks flowed a little to freely, and the bathroom visits to 'powder our noses' were also a bit too frequent!

The next day at work I was a wreck, both mentally and physically. I was way too bad to hide the fact, as much as I tried to. Then it came the call that I had half been waiting for.

"Jenni, could you be a darling and pop into my office please." Jennifer said in a tone all way to sweet to be real.

As I entered her office I knew I was in trouble, I made to sit down, but was stopped sharply.

"Did I fucking tell you to take a seat?" Jennifer barked her sudden use of profanity shocking me.

"Er...no, sorry, Jennifer."

"Sorry! You come in here this morning still obviously drunk, knowing the state that this branch of the business is in. I've a good mind to sack you here and now...." She said calming down slightly. "but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, if you promise that this is a one off thing?"

"Yes! I promise; I don't know what happened last night; I only meant to have a couple of drinks..but you know..." I gabbled out in relief.

Jennifer then sat in silence, her elbows resting upon her desk, both hands joined in front of her face, her fingers interlaced together. After studying her hands for what seemed like an age, she finally broke the heavy silence in the room.

"Of course you know some sort of punishment is still required?" She asked me, her blue eyes piercing into the back of my skull; no other words were needed, we both knew only too well what she meant.
I nodded, and then for god only knows what reason, I replied.

"Yes Miss."

Our positions were now both clearly delineated with my reply; I had just agreed to receive a paddling from my boss. My boss who was only about three years my senior!

"Right Jenni, I will draw up a legally binding release form to say that this action was taken at your request. Then this evening at six thirty you will meet me at the coffee shop on College Drive, which is only a short drive from my hotel OK?"

I nodded silently, and made to leave the room.

"Jenni, you have forgotten something," Jennifer said, rising from her desk then going over to the filing cabinet.

I couldn't believe it, as she then started removing the little glasses from inside the paddle. She then picked up the paddle and handed it to me.

"You will need this after all, won't you?"

I felt like crying there and then.

She expected me to bring the paddle to our meeting, not only that, but she wanted me to walk out of her office with it in my hand. To walk out of her office for all my colleagues to see!
Reluctantly I took it from her and pushed it up inside my blouse, much to her amusement. I left the office and rushed back to my desk, quickly stuffing the paddle into my bag.

The afternoon both dragged and rushed by, half of me wanted to get tonight over with; half of me dreaded the evening. Even though I have a subbie side to me which I cannot deny, it is always in a 'play' environment, a real paddling was not on my wish list. Least of all one from my female boss.
Once I got home I quickly showered and dressed, the last thing I wanted to be was to be late. My clothes, now there was a problem in it's self, what to wear. I somewhat optimistically put on the fullest cut panties that I could find in my underwear drawer. Then a nice pair of thick denim jeans, I had an inkling that these items would not be in place for my punishment, but a girl can hope can't she?

I got across town to the coffee shop four minutes early, to my surprise Jennifer wasn't there yet, so I ordered a black Americano and sat and waited. I was thinking about how that paddle felt as I had put it into my purse; it was so heavy, the thought of its crashing across my bottom filled me with dread.
Then my thoughts were interrupted, my heart skipped a beat or two as I saw Danny, one of the younger sales guys from our office walk in. Our eyes connected in mutual horror; then we both realised almost simultaneously that Jennifer had double booked!

No sooner had Danny sat down next to me, placing a large plastic bag by his side, then Jennifer breezed into the shop.
We both sat in a doomed silence, as Jennifer ordered and collected her drink from the counter and came across to us.

"Ah, very good you both got here in time," She said as she sat down at our table, then opened her bag and pulled out two sheets of paper, and handed one to each of us. "you can both sign, and then countersign these. As you will both be each others witnesses, witnesses in every respect."

Danny and I both signed our own forms, then signed each others, though the legality of these forms seemed at the very least rather dubious.
Jennifer sat smiling between sips of her coffee as she watched us swap papers.

"Danny my dear, did you get the shopping that I asked you to get?" Jennifer asked; I noticed Danny's face pale at her question.

"Yes Miss, I have it here." He replied pointing at the black bag by his side; I noticed that he had also started to call Jennifer 'Miss'.

"Well let me see it then."

Danny passed Jennifer the bag with his hand visibly shaking. As Jennifer looked inside the bag, her face lit up with a huge smile.

"Good boy!" She said, and then added. "I wonder just how long it will be needed for...I bet you are wondering too eh?"

Danny did not answer; he merely stared at the floor, and as for me, I didn't have a clue as to what they were even talking about.
Jennifer's hotel was just a two minute drive from the coffee shop, or rather I should say her suite was a two minute drive. With her being here on a long stay, the company had booked her into a one bedroom suite.
As soon as we entered Jennifer turned on the TV, no doubt in an attempt to drown out the forthcoming noise of the paddle. She just seemed to have hit a random button, and it was a sports channel that came on, you know to this very day I can't watch downhill skiing in the same light!
For all that I was nervous, Danny looked to be plain miserable as the two of us stood in the small living area awaiting our instructions. Though we did not have to wait very long, no sooner had Jennifer turned on the TV, and taken off her long red coat, then she said.

"Right now, I want no arguing or false modesty here OK, just both of you get naked from the waist down. Now!"

I had been half expecting the instruction, but even so I had hoped against it, now all that hope was gone. Both Danny and I seemed to move in a belaboured fashion, neither of wanting to be the first to be naked, well semi naked to be precise.
Now I know this may sound voyeuristic but I defy anyone in the same situation to do any different. As I stripped down, my eyes were glued to Danny, let's be honest about this; no woman is going to miss the chance to see what a good looking and much younger male colleague looks like with his trousers and pants off.
So I admit it; I stared.
I stared and was disappointed.

I guess unless you live with a guy longterm; you never get to see 'his thing' totally relaxed, it's always just before, or just after sex that you see him down below.
So it was a bit of a shock for me to see his completely flaccid member, I'm not that good at guessing sizes, but it would have been less than three inches. Now Michelangelo's statue of David made more sense to me, I had always thought the statue to be very small in an important department. Looking at Danny, I could now see that it was more life like than I ever imagined.

Danny for his part seemed to be giving me no attention at all, which I have to admit piqued me in an odd way. I've always been careful about what I ate, and exercised regularly so, despite my age, I'm still pretty slim, even if I do say so myself!

His lack of attention quickly became secondary when Jennifer spoke again.

"This is going to be this evening's order of play," She announced, way to cheerfully for my liking. "Jenni you are due ten pops of the paddle."

Ten pops!

I was stunned by this announcement, ten pops on the bare ass, with that paddle!

"That is five for being late, and five for coming into work still drunk. Danny you will receive five pops for your lateness, plus another penalty for saying over the phone to one of your pals, 'oh the new boss is OK, but a bit miserable at times. A good ass fucking would put her right, and maybe make her smile'. I think that was the gist of what I heard you say wasn't it "

I looked open mouthed as Danny nodded, now a picture of pure misery.

"Jenni, you will be first. You will bend over the arm of the sofa to receive your first five pops; then you and Danny can change places with each other."

I took up my place over the arm of the red sofa, wondering just what Danny's second punishment was going to be, amazed that he could be stupid enough to say such a thing within Jennifer's earshot.
Then my wondering was halted, as without warning the paddle slammed into my proffered rear end. The pain was incredible; a hot fiery blaze shot across my left butt cheek. I closed my eyes waiting for it to subside, but it didn't subside, the heat just built up more.
Then the second whack landed, this time it was my right cheek that felt like it was on fire.
I gritted my teeth, awaiting the third.

"Don't you dare touch that!" I heard Jennifer shout at Danny. "Get your hands behind your back this instant!"

That fed my exhibitionist pride, knowing that I did indeed have Danny's attention made me feel strangely better about my situation. I know that it may seem a bit off the wall to some of you, but the thought of a nineteen year old tugging himself as he watched my ass get a tanning really turned me on!

I then felt the paddle brush against my left cheek, two little aiming taps, I braced myself. Then I shrieked out in shock as the paddle landed upon my right cheek instead, plum over the already burning area!
The next two whacks followed immediately, both upon that self same area.

"Right Jenni, get up!" Jennifer ordered me.

Dewy eyed, and feeling that one ass cheek was four times the size of the other, I struggled back up to my feet.
The fact that Danny's cock was now growing engorged cheered me slightly. Though he was still not yet fully erect, his cock shaft was at least twice it's earlier size!

Without being told, Danny almost threw himself over the arm of the sofa.

His paddling was quick, harsh, and over in what seemed like half the time of mine, though of course when you are waiting for another beating, time does sort of distort in your mind.

When he arose; his cock was pointing straight at the ceiling; his face though was deathly pale, in what could only be described as sheer dread.

"Back over Jenni!" Jennifer said, her cheerfulness now becoming really annoying.

This batch of five were delivered in rapid fire, all upon my left cheek, though the fact that the pain was now uniform across my derriere did not help any, as I was sobbing by the time the fourth, or the ninth depending which way you look at it, landed.

After giving me a moment or two to compose myself, Jennifer then invited me to rise from the sofa for the second time.

"Jenni, be an angel, please," Jennifer said, her voice was now saccharin sweet. "Danny seems to be in a state of excitement, which is no good for what I have planned for him. Could you rectify that for me please...with your mouth."


I took a moment or two for her request, or was it an order, to sink in. She wanted me to suck Danny off!

I immediately realised it was neither an order nor a request; it was a challenge. She like many others had made the mistake of thinking because of my looks, short hair and pierced nose, that I was a lesbian. Other than the 'odd dalliance' I have always been heterosexual, so this was no challenge at all.
I knelt down in front of Danny, and ran my tongue up the length of his shaft before gently encasing his glans in my mouth. I heard, and felt, Danny gasp as I took in his manhood, his fingers touched the back of my head briefly before Jennifer called out.

"Hands back behind you back young man!"

Now, he was completely at my disposal as I worked at his cock, my fingers clutched slightly at his ball sack causing him to jump. That answered my curiosity; all men are sensitive to touch in that area, some though are super-sensitive. So releasing his dick from my mouth, I ran my tongue this time down his shaft till I reached his scrotum, then taking one testicle in my mouth; I bit ever so gently upon it; my teeth barely even moving to meet each other.
I felt the shudder run through him as he gasped out loudly, more loudly than he gasped through his paddling.
Then as I took his again back to my mouth, I heard him gasp out.

"Jenni...I'll tell you when I'm about...."

"You will do no such thing Danny!" Jennifer interrupted him. "Don't you know that a girl likes a surprise? Plus I need Jenni to milk you dry."

Still not knowing what significance was meant by 'I need Jenni to milk you dry'; I happily continued on my mission. What with the hot feeling in my ass, and having a young guy's cock in my mouth, I was now getting more than a little agitated myself. So I slipped my fingers down between my legs, no sooner had my thumb found my clit than I heard Jennifer's voice.

"Jenni, I asked you to suck him dry, not for you to wank yourself!"

I so hate that English word; it just sounds so plain dirty, and embarrassing doesn't it?
More so when someone has just caught you doing it!

So I continued with my job at hand or rather in mouth. I knew that Danny was near his point of release, as now he was bucking his hips forward, forcing himself deeper into my mouth. For the want of a better phrase, he was face-fucking me.
Then I felt it as he came the hot spurt of semen shot to the roof of my mouth. I could now taste his essence on my tongue, a salty, meaty metallic tang.
Not forgetting my instructions, I sucked him till he was completely flaccid between my lips.

Then I sat back, my still painful buttocks resting upon my calves.

"Here Jenni, while you are down there you can deal with this!" Jennifer said, as a small box landed between myself, and Danny, she then placed a soup bowl full of water down on the floor. "If he should start to get hard again, just dip his balls in this, it's been in the fridge now all day, so it is icy cold!"

I picked up the box, and looked at it, it was a male chastity cage!

Now I really was in unknown territory, although I had an idea of how male belts worked, OK, I admit it I watch the odd kinky video!
I had not a clue of how to fit one, luckily the instructions were pretty comprehensive. So in no time at all I had the ring that went around the base of his cock, and behind his balls fitted. Getting the little plastic cage lined up, and around his cock, was both tricky for me, and going by his grunts, rather painful for Danny!
It was also a strange experience, to be holding, and manipulating a totally flaccid cock. More so to be doing it with the end result of orgasm denial in mind. Stranger still when I could still taste his last orgasm, for who knows how long to come, upon my tongue.
Through time though I got it all in place, so now Danny's limp cock was caged, and pointing down towards the floor, all without me having to revert to an icy ball bath. I snapped the padlock shut, as I handed the keys to Jennifer Danny give out a little defeated moan.

"Thank you Jenni," She said, with her usual smile, as if I was handing her a coffee. "you see I took young Danny boys foul talking very much to heart. Luckily he hasn't got a girlfriend at the moment, so he will be no big miss to womankind in that respect. Also though it will stop him having any...should we say...solo fun. No fun for Danny boy till I decide otherwise...it could be tomorrow, it could be in six weeks time. It's that uncertainty that makes it all so sweet isn't it Danny?"

Needless to say, there was no reply from Danny, he was to busy contemplating his miserable situation.

"Now Danny, I want you back over the sofa arm, arse right up in the air! Jenni you can get dressed and go now!" Jennifer said, her voice as amiable as always.

As I got dressed, I noticed Jennifer pull something out of a drawer by the side of the sofa. As she fiddled about with some sort of harness, I realised that Danny's punishment was going to be poetic justice.
The strap on dildo that Jennifer was now lubing was a good eight inches long, and it's girth was proportionate to it's length!
I dressed hurriedly and left, as I had no inclination to witness Danny's ultimate debasement.


THE END

PS After that evening, Danny and I rarely spoke, no doubt he somewhat resented me for locking him in such a way, and maybe saw me as the one who had brought about his orgasm denial. Also, there would have been an element of shame, me knowing that he had been butt pegged with a strap-on.
So I have no idea how long his time in chastity lasted for. Also, I have no idea how many, if any, other colleagues of mine visited Jennifer's suite after signing a release form.
What I do know is that she increased our sales, and saved our office from closure!