by Sarah Veitch
'Let's hope for your poor bottom's sake that you never have to find out,' Miles said.
He pushed her dress further up her back, then once again pulled at the waistband to tighten her panties. 'Ten more over your knickers,' he repeated. Then he raised his right hand and doled out the entire number in an aching tattoo of spanks. Debbie tensed each buttock and jerked and shoved her belly forward in the hope of making her bum a smaller target, but she hardly had time to make a sound.
'Ah,' she said belatedly when he'd finished, 'those hurt like hell.'
'I'm sure Hell is hot, but I like to make disobedient girls even hotter,' the manager responded lightly. Debbie heard another smile enter his voice. 'Especially now that you're about to have your panties pulled down to your ankles so that you can be chastened on the bare.' She felt his fingers moving against the waistband of her knickers as he continued. 'I do so love to remove a protective pair of panties.' Debbie winced as she felt the material being dragged over her glowing bum. 'It's just so nice, knowing how shamed she feels as I watch her small bum cheeks tremble. Knowing that I'm about to teach her true respect.'
'Oh, just get it over with,' Debbie muttered, pushing her pubis against his lap in a craving-for-a-climax gesture.
'You can't rush a sound thrashing,' Miles added sweetly. 'No, I plan to make this naked punishment last as long as possible. After all, my right hand's got all night.'
'Don't you want to save some of your energy for your second trip?' the twenty year old shot back, determined not to be totally cowed by her would-be lover.
'The trip is already at a disadvantage given that you've ruined its showpiece,' the Masculine Mode manager said.
The student quivered as he edged her panties over her thighs, calves and feet. With her dress pushed way up her back, she was hugely aware of her newly-stripped buttocks, of her legs in the ten denier hold ups. It was a bottom which already stung all over from the heat of the manager's large palm.
'How many did we say that this bare bottom would get?' Miles murmured.
'Thirty,' Debbie said quickly.
She heard Miles snort with amusement. 'So you want the full thirty, do you, my sweet?' He teased his fingers over her newly-bared bum. 'We originally said that the third part of your punishment was to be decided but if you think that your buttocks deserves another full thirty, then thirty it shall be.' Slowly he cupped his palm around her quim, making her moan with desire and bear down against his fingers. 'I hope you don't orgasm whilst I'm spanking you. I'd like you to wait until it's time to plead for my cock,' he said.
Debbie knew that she'd plead. She could feel the gelatinous strands of lust making their slow steady way out of her hot gaping entrance. Her wriggling had caused further sexual excitement to smear across her inner thighs.
But when the first spank enlivened her already sore flesh, she forgot about everything except her tender buttocks. She cried out, the sound following on from the heavy slapping noise which filled the room. 'Not so hard. Don't. Aaah!' she pleaded, trying to reach her hands back in order to place them over her squirming bottom. If she could just hold the burning flesh...
'Bad girls don't get to soothe their bums till the thrashing is completely finished,' Miles said.
'Have a history of girls ruining your shirts, do you?' Debbie muttered, flexing and re-flexing her sore buttock muscles.
'Let's just say that most of my girlfriends have digressed in some way at some time,' Miles replied.
'And you spanked each of their bums three colours red?' Debbie added sarcastically, trying to stall the remainder of her thrashing.
'No, sometimes I caned them mercilessly,' the irrepressible manager said.
The prospect of the cane sent further seductive signals to Debbie's sex, then Miles hand sent further cruel sensation to her arse. It was funny, Debbie thought, how she'd gotten wet by being threatened with a spanking. Yet the actual punishment took most lustful thoughts away.
'Not so hard,' she begged again, twisting her head round to stare at him pleadingly. But he just played with her clit till she agreed that he could spank her to his heart and hand's content.
'Twenty!' said Miles after what seemed an agonizingly long time. 'Twenty-one! Twenty-two! Twenty-three!' Debbie felt his spanks land on the centre of each bare cheek. She felt his fingers mark her buttock sides. Other spanks strayed down near the tops of her thighs above her hold-ups. The ones over the full crevice between her globes hurt the most.
'It's only a spanking,' Miles said as she cried out, and Debbie wondered if he'd ever been spanked himself on his raised bare bottom. Surely not, for then he would have shown some compassion during these last few stinging whacks. If he'd felt the heat of a frequently applied palm, he wouldn't be saying 'Twenty-four! Twenty-five!' with quite so much zealousness. Only five more to go, she told herself bravely. Only four, three...
'Twenty-eight,' Miles continued, and Debbie winced as his large hand toasted the tender underswell. He added the twenty-ninth spank to the same susceptible region. Then he placed the thirtieth over the sensitive dividing crease. Not that it was really just thirty spanks, Debbie thought with bum-aching clarity - it was three sets of thirty, which made ninety in all.
'Permission to hold my bum, sir,' she whispered respectfully.
'Permission denied till I've examined it,' her punisher replied. He let go of her wrists, and she felt him take one hot buttock in each hand. He squeezed and stroked the tender rotundities till Debbie trembled. She was terrified that he'd start spanking them again.
'I'm sorry that I ruined your shirt,' she whispered contritely.
'I can tell you're genuine about that,' a gentler-looking Miles said.
'It hurts so much,' Debbie added gutturally as he continued to mould and cup her scarlet posterior.
'You ruined hours of work done by tireless silkworms - it's only right that you should be made to wriggle like they do,' Miles said.
She wanted to wriggle on his cock. She craved orgasmic satisfaction. Debbie waited for the man to order her to walk through to the bedroom. Instead he said 'Walk over to that mirror and look at your punished bum.'
'What if I don't?' Debbie muttered, feeling new shame spring through her.
'If you don't, then your clit doesn't get release. It's that simple,' her almost-lover replied.
'Alright - I'm walking. I'm walking,' Debbie shot back, her pubis begging to come.
All of the strength seemed to have drained from her arms, so that it took her a long time to lever herself up from his lap and from the low couch. Her legs, when she stood, felt equally languid. Another long string of lust started to wend its way from her wide-open vulva, and she hoped he couldn't see.
'What mirror?' she muttered, looking slowly round the room which now seemed brighter than she'd remembered.
'Turn round and walk straight ahead,' Miles said. 'No, leave your dress up over your waist,' he added as she moved to smooth it down over her exposed bare bottom. 'I want to see your bum cheeks jiggling about.'
Debbie turned quickly so that he didn't see the new blush which spread over her face and neck at his disparaging words. Then she realised that he was now staring at her sore rear - and that was even more shameful. She moved quickly towards the mirror, wincing every step of the way. She still wanted to cup her tender flesh and just hold it for a while till the fire subsided. But to do so might provoke further wrath.
'Now turn and bend over and look at your sore arse,' Miles instructed.
More lust flooding through her loins at his authoritative tone, Debbie hastened to obey. She stared back at the reflection of her rump; both small spherical cheeks were red from buttock top to thigh, especially in the centres. Each quivering globe seemed to radiate heat, to glow. 'You spanked me so hard,' she whispered, staring at her tormented derriere.
'And now I'm going to make you orgasm equally hard,' Miles promised, walking over to her and lifting her into his arms.
He carried her to his bed. She knelt then move
d her head onto her bent elbows at his request, moaned with relief as he slid deep inside her. These moans intensified till she climaxed, the waves of pleasure rushing through her pubis again and again.
'I was so desperate for it,' she whispered, after he'd enjoyed his own rapture. 'My sex felt so hollow. I needed to come so bad.'
'And you needed to be spanked,' Miles said, putting his arm around her shoulders as they lay on the bed together. Debbie hid her face in his armpit. She wasn't so sure about that bit. 'Your bottom is already fading to crimson rather than it's original ruby shade,' Miles continued, looking down at her small taut buttocks. 'Red is the least stable colour in the wash cycle. Did you know?'
Debbie took her face from his armpit. 'I did after I washed your red cycling shorts with your white grandad shirt,' she said. 'You know, I put the shorts in first to test them for colour fastness, and no dye came out, so then I added your shirt to the soapy water. Two minutes later half of it had turned a mottled scarlet shade!'
'And you earned yourself a scarlet bum,' Miles concluded.
Debbie swallowed at his words, then tried to divert him from the subject by kissing his nipples. 'Well, I've learnt my lesson! I plan never to touch your laundry again.'
'And you think that will save those tender young cheeks?' Miles asked. 'My previous girlfriend had to be disciplined for turning up late, for flirting with other men, for being grumpily pre-menstrual.'
'I get pre-menstrual,' Debbie whispered anxiously, closing her eyes.
'Well, before you snap at me in the midst of some hormonal tantrum,' Miles replied sweetly, 'just think about how it feels to go bare-arsed over my knee.'
'You mean you'd spank me for being bad tempered?' Debbie muttered. Already her breasts had started to gain weight, which signalled that her period was due within the next seven days or so. She usually snapped at boyfriends one minute and smiled at them the next.
'Oh, I might do more than spank you,' Miles parried. 'I might use this very effective long cane I keep in my wardrobe. Or I might just take off my belt.' He kissed her on the nose then pulled her closer and started to examine her round smooth contours. 'There are tawses and riding crops and paddles I can use on your bottom to turn it three colours red.'
Work Experience
He was being naughty. Very naughty. Vincent allowed himself a self-satisfied chuckle as he used the janitor's spare key to open Miss Kerr's office door. Any moment now he would be sitting in the big swivel chair that she worked from. He'd be as close to her warm flesh as he was ever likely to get.
Everyone bar the janitor who had lent him the key had gone home, so Vincent coolly put Miss Kerr's office light on. Then he walked over to the wire rack where she'd left a pair of her kitten-heeled shoes. Scarcely daring to breathe he picked up the well-formed footwear and traced its contours whilst breathing in her faint silk-stockinged scent. Now he must concentrate on reading Miss Kerr's work diary. He'd wanted to learn his unsettling supervisor's secrets for so very long...
An hour later the hairs on the back of his neck reared into sentry mode as he heard someone approaching. Vincent jerked his head from the second drawer of his superior's filing cabinet and whirled around to face the door. Alicia Kerr stood there in a belted black trouser suit and black velvet ankle boots. She was staring at him with obvious disapproval and rage.
'How dare you,' she said quietly.
Vincent felt the hot shame consume his features. 'I didn't mean to...' he said weakly.
'Tell it to the managing director,' the thirty year old goddess said.
'It wasn't... it's not work espionage or anything,' Vincent mumbled, running his hands through his short fair hair as if it could provide him with an escape route. 'I just wanted to know more about you - find those odd packages you sometimes carry about.'
For excruciatingly long moments Alicia Kerr stared into his eyes then she seemed to come to some inner decision.
'Alright,' she said slowly, 'bare your bum for me and submit to a damn good thrashing. I'll introduce you to the contents of my packages tomorrow night.'
Vincent felt his mouth fall open like an unclasped case. Women simply didn't say such things - not to him, they didn't. He'd always led such a small but undaunting life.
'Bare... a thrashing?' he stuttered, focusing on her long trousered legs and cinched-in waistline. He waited for her to say that she'd spoken in jest.
'Strip from the waist down now or wave promotion goodbye,' his boss said matter of factly. She crossed to her desk and perched on the end of it to watch him. She looked as if she were enjoying herself.
'Okay, I'm stripping,' Vincent muttered, turning his back to her and fumbling with the buttons on his linen suit. One half of him wanted desperately to escape from this disparaging situation - but he knew that to flee could curtail his career path. The other half was curious to know what would happen next.
When he'd undressed the lower half of his body he was relieved to see that his shirt tail covered his small oval cheeks.
'Lift that right up - now tie it around your waist,' his raven-haired dominator ordered.
Vincent gripped the shirt's hemmed edge and then hesitated. 'Couldn't I take you out for a meal or... send round a crate of champagne?'
'You mean buy my silence?' She looked at his naked thighs until he shivered with uncertainty and degradation. 'No, I'd rather have my pound of flesh.' Then she smiled and pointed to the rosewood executive desk. 'Bend over that then stick out your bottom and await the strap.'
Slowly Vincent took his naked hemispheres over to the desk and presented them for the ensuing discipline. He'd never felt so vulnerable in his adult life.
As if to prolong his uncertainty, Miss Kerr seemed determined to take her time. With measured steps she walked to the other side of the desk and tilted his chin so that he was forced to gaze up at her. Then she moved her fingers to her own waistband. 'Watch closely, boy, as I take off my belt.' She pulled the leather strap through its stout silver buckle. 'See how firm yet supple this cruel contraption is?'
'Yes, Ma'am,' Vincent forced out apprehensively.
'Kiss it and ask nicely for your comeuppance,' his superior said.
Beyond rational thought, the twenty-three year old pressed his lips to the smooth thick punisher. He knew his pale cheeks weren't going to stay pale for very long.
'Not too hard, please, Miss,' he whispered as she prepared to discipline his helplessly-raised lower quarters.
'You should have imagined this thrashing before you gained illegal access to my office and went through my private papers,' the authoritative belt-holder said.
The air currents around Vincent's backside changed as she drew back her arm. He moaned as the leather strap lashed forward, driving into his soft buttocks.
'And again,' Miss Kerr said, subjecting his fearful haunches to another blow.
'How many, please?' he gasped out, squirming around as if polishing the desk top with his belly.
His enforcer snorted with amusement. 'That's for me to know and you to find out.'
Vincent looked back at her slightly flushed cheeks and sparkling large dark eyes, the sure way in which she doubled the leather punisher. Something told him that he and his bottom would be here for a very long time...
But after a mere ten lashes Miss Kerr ordered him to stand and pull his trousers up over his rosy arse.
'It's late. I'm tired. As I said before, I'll deal with you properly tomorrow after work, young man.'
'Here?' Vincent asked meekly, then winced as he pulled his Y-fronts over his tenderised flesh.
'No, report to my house.' Miss Kerr walked over to her desk drawer then handed him her personal address card. 'As I said, I'll show you what's in those packages that you're so curious about.'
'And you'll... chasten me further?' Vincent realised he might as well know what further trials awaited him.
'Yes, I'll teach you the sort of lesson you'll never forget.'
The next day at work passed very slowly f
or Vincent. He looked at the clock. He looked at his supervisor. He remembered how it had felt to be completely at her mercy. Was she remembering how he'd whimpered and squirmed across her desk? If he took his next punishment well would she allow him to prostrate himself before her? Let him use his eager tongue to sweetly serve?
At 6pm Miss Kerr put her project notes away. '8pm exactly,' she warned without looking back as she walked out of the office door. 'Don't dare be late.'
He was there. He was prepared to make his bottom bare. But again she totally out-guessed him.
'Strip,' she said as he entered her large warm lounge.
'What? Everything?' Vincent whispered, his heart beating faster.
'Yes, take off every last stitch so that you're naked for the duration of your training session,' Alicia Kerr explained. She watched as he clumsily undressed himself and removed his footwear. 'Naked except for this,' she said.
When he dared look up he saw that she was holding a studded dog collar and lead. Humiliation and desire surged for supremacy in his lower belly. Obediently he got down on all fours then crawled up to her in order that she could fasten the studded leather strap around his neck.
'The doggy has been sniffing around at work - so now we're going to show the doggy what's in the mysterious packages. Walk to heel, you bad puppy,' the disdainful beauty said.
She took a measured few steps forward until the collar tightened slightly at his throat. Vincent hastened to crawl after her like a good little canine. He stared at her black-stockinged calves as he lumbered across the room, then simply concentrated on his posture as he made his awkward hands-and-knees journey up the stairs.
At last they reached a cream-painted door. Alicia Kerr unlocked it and Vincent fearfully followed her into a massive square shaped bedroom. A King Size in the corner had four posts with ornate wooden bars connecting the top two posts and the bottom two posts. Three pillows had been placed in a pile on the centre of the bed, and Vincent had a horrible feeling he knew what they were for.
'I believe you were interested in the packages I sometimes carry with me?' Miss Kerr asked, coolly opening a walk-in cupboard. 'Well now you can try them out for yourself.' She stood back, still holding the lead, so that Vincent could see the contents of each of the dozen or so full shelves. They held box after box of erotic aids. 'See? I'm a Thrills-For-Girls party plan co-ordinator in my spare time,' his supervisor said softly. 'You know the saying, all work and no play...'