‘I’m going to smack you six times,’ he said, his voice trembling. ‘I don’t want you to scream or cry. If you do I’ll punish you for that as well. Is that clear?’
‘Yes,’ she said, her voice as nervous as his. ‘Yes, sir,’ she added, twisting round to look at him, her eyes sparkling with fear and excitement.
Stephen hesitated, eyeing her lovely long legs and beautiful rear. He reached over to the desk, to the photograph of happy laughing children, and turned it over.
The first smack echoed in the room, a sharp sound of flesh on flesh. Marianne moaned softly, her hands pressed hard onto the desk, her eyes half closed. Stephen waited a second then smacked her again, a hard slap on the other buttock. He stopped to admire the imprint of his fingers, marked deep red on the soft white flesh of Marianne’s backside.
‘Does it hurt?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes, it stings horribly,’ she replied quietly, her eyes still half closed. She was breathing hard, though Stephen couldn’t tell how she was reacting; her feelings were closed off from him, obscured by her silence and her half closed eyes.
He spanked her again, two quick strokes in rapid succession. Each time she tensed and then exhaled slowly, the breath escaping from her glossy red lips like a sigh.
‘Oh, it stings. It’s like a fire spreading…’ she whispered, as if talking to herself, telling herself what it was like.
Stephen’s prick was hard, throbbing. Marianne’s beautifully punished backside was the most erotic thing he had ever seen. He wanted to stop and touch her, to slip his fingers under her panties, to part her buttocks and stroke her there, to press a finger between the inviting lips of her sex.
Marianne moaned again. She was opening and closing her eyes slowly, breathing hard and deep, almost gasping for breath. He saw that her panties were damp, and that the wet heat was spreading. The look on her face seemed to hover between pleasure and pain, her lips parted, half smiling, half scowling. He smacked her again, a hard stroke directly between her gorgeous arse cheeks.
‘Oh Jesus…’ she moaned, her body tensing momentarily, her eyes flaring open. Another hard smack in the same place and she cried out, an animal cry that could only be interpreted in one way. She had climaxed powerfully, the heat from her reddened backside spreading deep into her sex.
‘Don’t move,’ Stephen ordered sharply, stepping away from her.
Marianne opened her eyes and twisted round to look at him, but he had retreated to the back of the office. He poured himself a drink from the glass cabinet and then turned back to her. He could see that her skin was patterned red with his finger marks, that even the white panties couldn’t obscure the evidence of punishment. But it hadn’t been enough. She had found pleasure in the pain, joy in her punishment and finally release.
‘Don’t move, not until it’s over,’ he warned.
‘Yes sir,’ she responded, so softly that he hardly heard her. He downed his drink and then stripped off quickly. It wasn’t what she was expecting, but then neither had he expected her to climax while he spanked her.
‘What…’
‘Quiet!’ he snapped, banging the bottle of whisky down in front of her. ‘You haven’t been very honest with me,’ he said grimly.
‘I don’t know what you…’
‘Quiet! Now I’m going to punish you properly.’
Marianne screamed when the heavy leather belt fell across her buttocks. She tried to move away but he held her in place and beat her again with the belt, striking hard at the top of her thighs. The office resounded to the rhythm of the belt and Marianne’s cries of pain and moans of pleasure.
‘Oh please… please…’ she whispered, sounding close to hysteria.
‘Please what?’ he asked coldly, his own nervous feelings swept away by the wave of excitement.
‘Fuck me! Hit me with the belt and fuck me…’
Roughly Stephen pulled her soaking panties down to her knees. Her sex was hot and wet. He felt her respond when he pressed his fingers into the sticky heat.
He raised the belt and brought it down swiftly between her arse cheeks and she climaxed again, arching her back and crying out deliriously. He picked the bottle up and poured the amber fluid over her smarting skin, watching it cascade down between her thighs, droplets glistening like jewels in the raw pinkness of her sex.
At last he took her by the waist and pressed his raging hardness into the velvety heat of her pussy. She was hot and receptive, raising her punished backside up to meet the hard thrusts of his cock. She rode with his rhythm, moving with his body, eyes closed and a look of ecstasy etched on her face. She was beautiful, sexy, the most fantastic lover he’d ever had. He fell over her, covering her body with his own, pumping hard, crying out with her, sharing an explosive climax as one.
Marianne was waiting when he emerged from the office. She was trying hard to look cool and composed, but her eyes were glowing and she still looked a little dazed. He knew that her bottom must still be smarting, it would be marked for days, an eloquent reminder of her punishment.
‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, counting the money at the same time.
‘Will we ever do this again?’ Stephen asked hopefully.
She shook her head. ‘I think not,’ she smiled.
Stephen nodded sadly. That was how it was. He had known all along that it would never happen again, but in the shared excitement he had hoped that Marianne would change her mind. He took the money from her and stuffed it into his pocket. They shook hands and then she disappeared back into the office. Stephen waited a second in the Saturday morning silence, hoping she would relent. He looked at the door for a moment, at the name plate that said ‘Marianne Hughes, Managing Director’, wishing it would open, but there was no point. He shrugged, then turned and left.
Coincidence
It had begun innocuously enough I suppose. Alan and his wife moved down from Doncaster to London when he was transferred to my office. Although technically I was his superior, we were close enough in age and outlook that we functioned better as a team than as competitors. He was a good worker, not afraid to get involved, and not afraid of putting in any extra effort either. I liked that about him, and I suppose that matched my own temperament and way of working. Moving down from Yorkshire to London was a big step for he and Madelaine to take, especially as she had already made one move from Scotland to Yorkshire to be with him.
Neither of them had friends or family down south, so it was natural that I felt a bit protective about them both. He was a good friend, and I didn’t want to lose him as a colleague either. So, once they had moved in I took them under my wing a bit and made sure that they met my friends, made friends of their own, and generally settled down quite comfortably. It hadn’t been difficult, especially as they were such a nice couple. He friendly, quiet, intelligent, she a bit bubblier, very attractive and a warm personality.
As I said, I liked them both, and when Alan told me the date of Madelaine’s birthday the coincidence seemed quite fitting. We shared the same birth date it seemed, and once the two of them found out they insisted that they take me out for a special birthday treat. I wouldn’t hear of it, but of course they twisted my arm, and when she gave me that special coy smile of hers I gave in graciously. As the day approached I can remember the two of them sounding me out as to what I wanted as a present. I was adamant that a night out was more than enough, but they wouldn’t listen. Here I did not relent, and I was scrupulous about not giving them any clues as to what I might want.
The restaurant they had chosen was perfect. Excellent food, waiters that didn’t patronise, service that was exemplary, and an atmosphere that could not have been bettered. As the wine flowed, as well as the conversation, I thought to myself just how lucky Alan was to have a pretty young wife like Madelaine. The two of them were so obviously in love that it hurt just to look at them.
It wasn’t lovey-dovey and sickly sweet, which always makes me immediately suspicious, no; theirs was more relaxed, more genuine and spontaneous.
She looked good too. There was something a little bit vain about Maddy, but given that she was so pretty anyway we could all forgive her that. Dressed in a little black dress, high heels and black stockings, she looked the sexiest creature on earth, and drew more admiring glances from the waiters in the restaurant than all the other women put together. Alan noticed of course, and we both took great pleasure in teasing her about it, which made her blush and us laugh.
‘That was, without a doubt, one of the best meals I’ve ever had,’ I sighed, waving over the waiter.
‘We should do this again,’ Madelaine laughed, leaning back into Alan’s arms. They were seated opposite me, and she was nestling up under his arms, wrapped around her in a loose, protective hug.
‘It’s on us…’ Alan began to say, but before he could complain the waiter was marching off with my credit card.
‘Hey! That’s not fair!’ Maddy complained, sitting up, a look of consternation in her dark brown eyes.
‘Fair or not, I’ve had a great time and I don’t want to spoil it with any arguments,’ I told her, smiling. She smiled back and then looked away shyly, as though embarrassed by the way I was looking at her.
‘In that case,’ Alan decided suddenly, ‘I think you ought to come back to our place for a nightcap.’
‘If you think I’m going to argue, then you’re mistaken,’ I laughed. Maddy smiled again, glancing up into her husband’s eyes quizzically. Something was going on between them, though I had no idea then what it might be.
The blast of cold air as we emerged from the restaurant into the street was bracing, a sharp jolt of sensation that cleared the mind instantly. Alan had parked his car a few streets away, and now in the sharp cold I could see that Maddy was in no mood to walk all that way.
‘I thought you Scottish girls were used to the cold,’ I joked, winking to Alan, who laughed.
‘No,’ he replied quickly, ‘she can’t stand the chill, which is why I have to warm her up every so often.’
‘Alan! Please!’ she exclaimed, stamping her heel on the ground angrily. Her face was bright red, and she hardly dared look me in the eye.
‘Tell you what then,’ Alan said, his voice still full of good humour, ‘you two wait here while I go and fetch the car.’
‘Sure, we’ll wait,’ I agreed. We watched him march off, bracing himself against a sharp gust that cut through the street.
‘Does he warm you up often?’ I teased, enjoying the flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. Her dark eyes were intense, and I knew that I was intruding on some private joke between the two of them.
‘You should have let us pay,’ she said softly, deftly trying to change the subject. ‘You’ve been good to us, this was our way of saying thank you.’
‘There’s no need,’ I assured her, touched by the earnest tone. She was changing the subject though, and I was more than a little intrigued to find out what the two of them were going on about. ‘It was worth every penny just to see the way he teases you,’ I added.
‘I knew you would,’ she whispered. ‘You two have so much in common…’
‘We’re common now, are we? I’ll tell him that when he gets back!’
‘Oh, you! You know what I mean,’ she giggled.
The car washed thick beams of light over us as it came to a slow halt at the kerb. ‘What are you two laughing about?’ Alan asked, pushing the passenger door open.
‘Your wife’s just accused us of being common,’ I reported, sliding into the rear passenger seat.
‘I did not,’ Maddy protested, getting in beside her husband. Her dress rode up and I was treated to a glimpse of black stocking top against smooth white thigh. She looked gorgeous, and Alan was watching me watching his lovely young wife.
‘Lovely legs, don’t you think?’ he asked me, lowering his voice a fraction.
‘Alan! Stop that!’ she cried, wriggling in her seat as she smoothed her dress down. It was no good, a dress like that was designed to flatter, designed to show off, not to hide.
‘Lovely legs,’ I agreed, delighting in the look of shame that made her face redden even more.
‘Sorry, Maddy, it’s just that we’re so common,’ he explained, straight-faced so that we didn’t know if he was joking or being serious.
‘That’s not what I said,’ she insisted, obviously believing that Alan was being serious.
‘Is that or is that not what she said?’ he asked me.
I hesitated, tried to measure the look in his eyes. ‘Yes, exactly what she said,’ I agreed finally.
He nodded, as though it was the answer he wanted to hear. Without warning he put his foot down and we sped off. The unexpected jolt of acceleration threw us back against the seats and temporarily silenced any further conversation. The atmosphere had changed, and where I had been comfortable before, I now felt more than a little confused.
Their flat was not too far from the restaurant, and at the speed that Alan was driving we were there in a matter of a few minutes. He parked quickly and efficiently and cut off the engine before we’d even realised we were home.
‘That’s not what I said,’ Maddy repeated, her voice low and indistinct. She was pouting, her lips pursed and kissable, red lipstick making her mouth look glossy and seductive.
‘Well, I’m a common sort of guy, perhaps I misunderstood,’ I said, wondering how to get the atmosphere back to the way it had been in the restaurant.
Alan ignored her and turned to me. ‘A drink?’ he offered, as though nothing unusual were going on. There was a look in his eye that I couldn’t decipher, but I nodded.
‘A drink sounds like an excellent idea,’ I agreed.
We walked from the car to the flat in total silence, though I caught the worried expression on Maddy’s face. Her heels smacked hard on the pavement, drawing attention to her long, stockinged legs, covered imperfectly by her short black dress.
‘I hope Maddy’s not ruined your evening too much,’ Alan remarked apologetically, showing me into the living room.
‘Listen, that was just a gag,’ I whispered, glad that she’d not followed us straight into the room.
‘You’re a good mate,’ he responded instantly, ‘and you deserve better.’
‘No, you don’t…’ I began, but stopped as Madelaine wandered into the room, looking thoroughly downcast.
‘I’m sorry,’ she mumbled to me. ‘I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’ll understand if you never want to see us again…’
‘She’s right,’ Alan added. ‘I’d understand if you felt insulted.’
‘A drink?’ I suggested, feeling thoroughly out of my depth.
‘Get the man a drink, girl!’ Alan snapped angrily.
Maddy jumped. She crossed the room and began to shakily pour two beakers of scotch, only she was pouring more of it onto the floor than into the tumblers.
‘Look what you’re doing!’ Alan scolded her.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ was all she could think of saying. She put the whisky tumblers down and then looked at the pool of scotch on the floor. Taking her hanky from her bag she knelt down to mop it up. As she did so Alan and I were treated to another display of her elegant thighs, stocking tops and soft pale skin. The shape of her backside was impressed against the tight black material, leaving little to my feverish imagination.
‘Enough of that,’ Alan told her promptly.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, sounding on the verge of tears.
‘You’ve been sorry all evening,’ he said coldly. ‘I think it’s time you really had something to feel sorry about.’
If I was tempted to intervene the threat in his voice, and the responsive look on her face, made
me bite my tongue. For a moment it seemed I had been forgotten about, that I was an intruder on some private domestic argument. Then Alan looked at me, the harsh look on his face not matched by the excitement I detected.
‘Please, not now…’ Maddy said, her voice barely a whisper.
Alan sat down on the very edge of the sofa, and motioned for her to step towards him. I watched, fascinated by what was unfolding between them. She stopped in front of him, her head bowed and her hands at her sides. She looked like a recalcitrant child, bowed with guilt for all her misdemeanours, meekly waiting to be scolded.
‘Across my knees,’ he barked, ‘I shouldn’t have to tell you that.’
She glanced towards me, her face red with shame, her dark eyes unable to meet my own. My heart was pounding and the excitement in the room was electric. Very slowly she complied, moving gracefully into place across his lap. Of course her short dress revealed all, and I enjoyed everything I saw. Her tight black panties were but a sliver of darkness between her bottom cheeks, the tight material parting the round globes of flesh as Alan pulled the dress higher.
In moments I was treated to the gorgeous sight of her posterior, the dress pulled up to her waist completely by her husband. The stockings were pulled tight by lacy black suspenders, which were pressed firmly across her bottom cheeks, and which served to part them slightly. Her panties were a thin satiny thread, contrasting to the whiteness of her skin.
Alan smiled, he was showing his young wife off to me, and enjoying every second of it. She muffled her complaints, and stilled for a second, realising perhaps that the time for resistance was over. Her long legs had never looked better, I was certain of that.
‘Next time,’ Alan warned her, ‘perhaps you’ll think twice about making stupid remarks to our guests.’
A Strict Seduction Page 7